The rain hadn’t let up all evening, a cold drizzle that turned the streets of Gotham into a mirror of blurred headlights and slick cobblestone. Inside the towering halls of Wayne Manor, the hum of last-minute preparations buzzed beneath the chandelier light. Tonight wasn’t just another fundraiser—it was a crucial step in Thomas Wayne’s campaign for mayor.

Thomas, dressed sharply in a tailored black suit, adjusted his cufflinks in front of the grand mirror. At forty-two, he wore the stress of politics like a second skin, his once-carefree smile now measured and deliberate. Behind him, Martha glided into the room in a deep blue gown that shimmered like the midnight skyline. Her hand settled gently on his shoulder.

“You’re going to do great,” she said softly, her eyes warm but tired.

From down the corridor came the patter of small footsteps. Bruce, seven years old and dressed in a tiny tuxedo, peeked into the room with a mix of curiosity and impatience.

“Do I really have to go?” he asked, fidgeting with his bow tie. “It’s just a bunch of boring speeches.”

Thomas chuckled, kneeling to straighten his son’s collar. “One day you’ll give speeches of your own, Bruce. Tonight, just stay close to your mother and try not to disappear on Alfred again.”

Outside, the family’s sleek black car waited beneath the portico. Flashbulbs would soon ignite at the gates of Gotham Hall, where donors, reporters, and political sharks circled like vultures. But for now, the Waynes were just a family stepping into the storm—unaware of how close the darkness truly was.