“A desolate cave does not a home make”
Damian sits in his father’s chair, resting his chin against his first. The bat-cave all but silent except for the occasional whisper from the wind and the low hum of the monitor in front of him “This chair has always been too big...” he thought, adjusting himself in the seat, desperate for comfort. Videos of newscasts danced in his eyes. “Gotham News at Night”, “Gotham A.M”, “Get your Gotham!”. All of it garbage. Baseless, senseless garbage used to fuel a narrative of hysteria and danger. “BATMAN IS DEAD! The attempted seriousness of these headlines almost came across as satire. Damian sighed. “There must be something here.” The headlines dragged on, as did the footage of clean-cut anchors spewing untruths sold as fact. Father isn’t gone. He couldn’t be.
“WHO WILL PROTECT GOTHAM?”. Nobody. If only they knew what Damian knew. If only everyone saw the corruption that has spilled into the masses from the fonts of crime throughout the city. The people of Gotham aren’t worthy of protection when brother steals from brother, mother from daughter. Why would anybody save that? Why would father try to protect that?
Damian stood up, forcing his father’s chair backwards. A call was coming in. He stared at the notification flashing red against his face. “It’s been so long. Is it him?” A wave of anxiety and frustration swept across his body. Placing his mask on his face, Damian touched the monitor, spawning a video feed. “Hello?” his voice growled weakly into the microphone. “This is Robin. Who am I speaking to?” ( @fallengothamstarters )
