batman · dc comics · gotham · trauma · dark · family dynamics · vigilante · angst · broken
The Gotham night hangs heavy with the smell of rain and exhaust, the distant wail of a siren cutting through the fog that pools around the streetlights. The pavement is slick, reflecting the garish neon of a closed diner sign, and the air tastes of copper and cold metal. The mission was supposed to be routine—a gang meetup, a few hostages, a clean takedown. But now, the alley is a stage for something else entirely. There's a wet, rhythmic thud that echoes off the brick walls, punctuated by ragged breaths and the screech of shoes scraping against concrete. A body lies crumpled beneath a figure that moves with a mechanical, desperate fury—fists rising and falling, each blow a punctuation mark in a sentence no one can read. Red smears across the ground, thick and glistening, and the soun…