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bb-corn3r

Bruce sat in his study, reviewing a stack of reports, when a sudden voice broke the silence.

“Dad! They’re airing the new Gray Ghost movie, directed by Christopher Roland! Can we go?” Terry asked, practically bursting with excitement.

“Terry, how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that? It’s rude,” Bruce replied, clearly irritated.

“Sorry,” Terry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Bruce paused, thoughtful for a moment.

“Have you finished your homework?”

“All done.”

“Did you clean your room?”

“So clean you could eat off the floor.”

“What time does the movie start?”

“Five o’clock.”

Bruce studied him for a second.

“Hm… alright. Let me finish a few things and then I’ll get ready.”

“Yes!” Terry exclaimed.

“Oh, by the way,” Bruce added, “your P.E. teacher wants you to join the wrestling team. What do you think?”

No answer.

Bruce turned around—only to find that Terry was already gone.

Bruce: "Why does he keep doing that?"

Alfred: "Well sir how does that make you feel?"

Bruce: "it's annoying I don't like that, it's rude"

Alfred: "don't you think it's quite ironic?"

Bruce: "no I don't think so"

Alfre sigh

bb-corn3r

Bruce was trapped in a nightmare.

He stood in the dark, holding a crying baby—Terry. The child writhed in his arms, tiny fists clenched, his cries sharp and desperate. Bruce tightened his grip just enough to steady him, rocking him slightly, murmuring words that refused to come out right. No matter what he did, the crying wouldn’t stop.

Then the shadows shifted.

A massive shape peeled itself away from the darkness, towering over him. At first it was formless, a living void—but slowly, unmistakably, it took shape.

Batman.

Not Bruce in the suit—but Batman as something else. Something larger. Older. Eternal.

The shadow engulfed Bruce completely.

When the darkness receded, Batman stood alone. In his arms was baby Terry once more—but now the child was peaceful, fast asleep, breathing softly as if he had never cried at all.

The shadow’s voice echoed, deep and absolute.

“This one isn’t yours, Bruce.

This one is mine.”

Bruce jolted awake with a sharp breath, heart pounding, the words still ringing in his ears.

bb-corn3r

Bruce was trapped in a nightmare.

He stood in the dark, holding a crying baby—Terry. The child writhed in his arms, tiny fists clenched, his cries sharp and desperate. Bruce tightened his grip just enough to steady him, rocking him slightly, murmuring words that refused to come out right. No matter what he did, the crying wouldn’t stop.

Then the shadows shifted.

A massive shape peeled itself away from the darkness, towering over him. At first it was formless, a living void—but slowly, unmistakably, it took shape.

Batman.

Not Bruce in the suit—but Batman as something else. Something larger. Older. Eternal.

The shadow engulfed Bruce completely.

When the darkness receded, Batman stood alone. In his arms was baby Terry once more—but now the child was peaceful, fast asleep, breathing softly as if he had never cried at all.

The shadow’s voice echoed, deep and absolute.

“This one isn’t yours, Bruce.

This one is mine.”

Bruce jolted awake with a sharp breath, heart pounding, the words still ringing in his ears.

bb-corn3r

Bruce was trapped in a nightmare.

He stood in the dark, holding a crying baby—Terry. The child writhed in his arms, tiny fists clenched, his cries sharp and desperate. Bruce tightened his grip just enough to steady him, rocking him slightly, murmuring words that refused to come out right. No matter what he did, the crying wouldn’t stop.

Then the shadows shifted.

A massive shape peeled itself away from the darkness, towering over him. At first it was formless, a living void—but slowly, unmistakably, it took shape.

Batman.

Not Bruce in the suit—but Batman as something else. Something larger. Older. Eternal.

The shadow engulfed Bruce completely.

When the darkness receded, Batman stood alone. In his arms was baby Terry once more—but now the child was peaceful, fast asleep, breathing softly as if he had never cried at all.

The shadow’s voice echoed, deep and absolute.

“This one isn’t yours, Bruce.

This one is mine.”

Bruce jolted awake with a sharp breath, heart pounding, the words still ringing in his ears.

bb-corn3r

Bruce was trapped in a nightmare.

He stood in the dark, holding a crying baby—Terry. The child writhed in his arms, tiny fists clenched, his cries sharp and desperate. Bruce tightened his grip just enough to steady him, rocking him slightly, murmuring words that refused to come out right. No matter what he did, the crying wouldn’t stop.

Then the shadows shifted.

A massive shape peeled itself away from the darkness, towering over him. At first it was formless, a living void—but slowly, unmistakably, it took shape.

Batman.

Not Bruce in the suit—but Batman as something else. Something larger. Older. Eternal.

The shadow engulfed Bruce completely.

When the darkness receded, Batman stood alone. In his arms was baby Terry once more—but now the child was peaceful, fast asleep, breathing softly as if he had never cried at all.

The shadow’s voice echoed, deep and absolute.

“This one isn’t yours, Bruce.

This one is mine.”

Bruce jolted awake with a sharp breath, heart pounding, the words still ringing in his ears.