The lights were dim, with only a faint yellow glow welling up from the darkness. Bruce felt himself lying on the cold floor, the shadows of railings cast across his face. He moved his head slightly and saw flickering light before his eyes.
Rustling came from outside. Bruce forced his eyes open and saw Batman sorting through something at the table. The light fell across his profile, making him look as resolute as a mountain.
Bruce coughed twice and felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he found his upper body bare, his chest wrapped in bandages, and his broken arm fixed in place. The wounds still throbbed with pain.
"You broke through the shield with Tim." Batman wrote as he spoke. "They can only focus all their efforts on helping me crack the shield so we can rescue you."
Bruce gave a low laugh. "You're more decisive than I imagined. You're almost as quick as you are when dealing with the Joker."
"Not even close." Batman stood, glanced at Bruce, and said, "It looks like you wanted to draw everyone else's attention, but in the end, you were trying to get mine. I don't know why, but you'd better stay put. Only then can I give your teacher an explanation."
Bruce looked up at him, seemingly trying to find some clue on that stern face, but Batman quickly turned and left.
Bruce watched him go. Only after confirming that Batman had completely disappeared from the room did he close his eyes and sink his thoughts into the depths of his consciousness.
There was not much there, but a mass of incomparably dark and heavy energy had been preserved deep within his soul all along—it was dark energy from Barbatos.
In Bruce's universe, the traces of the owls