𝐓𝐔'𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈 تقبرني,
❝ their love was a silent symphony,
beautiful and tragic,
played only for them,
and heard by none but the night. ❞
𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 ━━━━━
B. WAYNE x FEM!OC
...
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سكينتكتحيطبي... برقةتؤلمني calmness wraps around me ... so gentle, it hurts
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THE TAPE never tears clean.
It stretches first, straining, fibers snapping one by one before the blade finally slices through.
A quiet sound, but in an empty room, it lingers.
The Bat steps inside, folding the knife back into his belt. The door closes behind him, sealing him in with the stale air, the scent of blood long dried.
The room is as it was.
The crime scene techs have been through, swept it, cataloged it, and left. Yet something gnaws at him. A gap. A detail that doesn't sit right. He moves, slow, deliberate, scanning the space like the answer is waiting for him to reach out and take it.
A voice cuts through the silence.
"Hey — what the hell are you doing in here?"
He turns.
Martinez stands in the doorway, half-lit from the hall, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Not gripping it, not drawing, but close enough. He's cautious, maybe even a little nervous.
The Bat says nothing. Just looks at him.
Martinez shifts. He wants to stand his ground, but he isn't stupid. His fingers slip away from his gun. His weight eases back. A second passes, then another, and whatever confrontation might have happened simply ... doesn't.
Batman turns away, already moving. Martinez exhales through his nose, stepping inside. He's not here to stop him, but he's not about to leave him unsupervised, either.
Near the center of the room, a bloodied metal tool lies on the floor. Batman crouches, reaching for the small UV light at his belt. A quiet click, and the blacklight hums to life, casting an eerie glow over the surface. He tilts it, scanning, watching how the light catches on faint streaks, invisible under normal sight. His fingers trace the edges, slow, searching.
