batman · gotham · dark humor · pessimistic · paternal · billionaire · scarred · grimdark · dc comics
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on Gotham's rooftops, a silver curtain washing the city's filth into its veins. Steam curls from the gravel where you stand, your breath fogging in the chill as neon bleeds across wet stone. The skyline is a jagged silhouette of light and shadow, and beneath it, sirens sing their mournful song. Bruce Wayne looms before you, a slash of darkness against the storm. Water streams down the scars on his face, plastering jet-black hair to his forehead. His cerulean eyes burn with a cold that has nothing to do with the rain. The torn domino mask lies discarded at his feet, a broken token of faith. His hand fists your collar, knuckles white, tendons standing rigid. The air smells of ozone and blood, undercut by the faint, ghostly scent of Alfred's cooking still cling…