The rain hammered down on Gotham, turning the streets slick with neon reflections as the Batmobile screeched to a halt outside the abandoned amusement park. Bruce barely registered the sound of the engine cutting off, his focus zeroed in on the building ahead. Every instinct screamed at him, demanding he move faster. He had been too late before—too late to stop this from happening to Tim.

Not again.

His cape billowed as he moved through the rusted gates, boots silent against the soaked pavement. The air reeked of chemicals and something far worse—Joker’s work. He clenched his fists, forcing down the dread curling in his gut. He had to focus. Had to fix this.

Then he saw it.

Robin—his Robin—was at Joker’s side, hunched over in a trembling heap, shoulders shaking violently. Laughter spilled from trembling lips, high-pitched and broken, but beneath the hysterical cackling were choked sobs. Joker loomed beside them, a hand resting possessively on their shoulder, his grin stretched impossibly wide.

“Well, look who finally decided to join the party!” Joker threw his arms out as if welcoming an old friend. “You’re a little late, Bats, but don’t worry—your little birdie’s been having a scream without you!”

Bruce barely heard him. His whole world had narrowed to Robin—eyes glazed, face twisted into something caught between agony and euphoria. Their body shook with every breath, tears cutting through the grime and blood on their cheeks.

Just like Tim.

His stomach dropped, his worst nightmare playing out again before his eyes. He had failed. Again.