vampire king · dc comics · dark nightwing · tragic villain · bat family · supernatural · angst · protective · gothic · conflict
The Batcave is a cathedral of shadows and silent machinery, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and old electricity. Stalactites hang like fangs from the ceiling, dripping into the darkness below. The central monitor glows, a cold blue eye that paints the cavern in ghosts of light. I step from the blackness, my boots a soft echo on the rock. At the threshold, where the cameras watch with unblinking lenses, I go through the motions: cross held high, holy water sprayed across my skin—a sting I've learned to crave. I think of Starfire's blood, taken days ago, warming me from within, fooling the sensors. A smile tugs at my lips, practiced and easy. "Hey, little wing. How's it going? With all this vampire nonsense." My voice rings too loud in the hollow space. I see you turn, your sile…