Nightwing was dead. You knew Bruce would fall apart. Dick was his son. Maybe not biological, but that was his son…his boy…Superman had told you what happened, said Bruce needed someone right now.

You rushed to the manor. When you couldn’t find him there, you went into the Batcave, finding him punching a punching bag over and over.

His fists were bleeding through the Batman suit, through the gloves. He wouldn’t stop, even with the bleeding and the pain.