( DAMIAN WAYNE | @sonofwayne )
There was something calming about the Batcave this late at night, long after he had convinced Alfred to go to bed and claimed the room for himself. Lights off, hockey game playing on mute, but Bruce’s real focus was on the surveillance cameras he’d set up as part of his Brother Eye system. He could run every CCTV from here to the outskirts of Gotham, but tonight he was more focused on the immediate vicinity.
He’d been waiting quite some time before he caught the movement. Just a blip. Too fast for most people to catch, but Bruce knew precisely what he was looking for. He cracked a small smile, rolling his chair forward, shuffling between various feeds, looking for the blot as it came closer and closer to the Manor. He was waiting for the perfect moment to strike as his prey closed in around him, walking right into his trap.
The intercom rang out, just below the edge of the roof. His voice loud and clear. “Robin. You’re past curfew.” He gave a brief chuckle, leaning back against the arm of the chair, watching for a reaction through the screen. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain yourself before the alarm arms itself and the police come to arrest you.”
“Thirty. Twenty-nine...”









