I AM THE SHADOWS.

Bruce is sitting at the dining room table, papers sprawled about the surface. Alfred had been working on the Riddler’s ciphers as well, and had retreated to another room to clear his mind as he decoded. It was needless to say everyone involved was on edge. People’s lives were on the line, and Bruce was forced to play the madman’s games in order to only get a mere attempt at saving lives. It was all he could ask for. It was all he felt he could do at this point. His eyes are tired – burning, even, from sleepless nights and decoding the Riddler’s sick clues. Bruce can’t even remember the last time he’s gotten a good sleep... or even eaten properly, despite Alfred’s insistence that it was essential. How could he eat, how could he sleep, when people were dying? 

Bruce is drawn from the middle of these swirling thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice: Brooke’s. He’d been so consumed with his own research that he’d forgotten she was even there. But there she was, standing beside him, holding a plate of strawberries out to him. There was a duality to the way she had approached him; she was trying to lighten the mood with the fruit – a symbol of their friendship, on its surface. The corners of her lips were drawn into the ghost of a smile, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Not in the way one would assume. No, she was concerned. She could see that he was beating himself up over every moment he wasn’t out there stopping the Riddler. 

                                           I  AM  THE  NIGHT .

           I  HAVE  ONE  POWER :    I  NEVER  GIVE  UP .