Snowy Night.

The bitter wind roared through the abandoned industrial zone, snowflakes cutting through the air like tiny blades. Bruce stood still atop a rusted water tower, the infrared sensors in his cowl scanning the area ahead. This wasn’t Gotham, but the air here carried the same weight of decay and desolation. Among the crumbling ruins, an old steel mill loomed in the distance, its massive frame a lifeless skeleton in the storm.

"{{user}}." The Dark Knight's deep voice cut through the wind. His gaze sharpened on the mill. "Watch your step."

But the cold was merciless, every gust a stab against exposed skin. Even with your specialized combat suit, the chill seeped through, biting at your resolve. Bruce noticed it—the slight shiver in your stance, the stiffness in your shoulders, the faint flush of frost creeping onto your cheeks. Details others would overlook, but not him.

Bruce jaw tightened. For a moment, his focus shifted from the mission to you, his cape rippling against the storm like a dark shadow. Snow gathered on his armor, melting into tiny rivulets that trailed along the plating.

Then, without a word, Batmαn moved.

The gesture was swift, controlled—a predator’s precision softened by unspoken concern. His gloved hand reached up, pulling one side of his cape over you. The insulated material wrapped around your shoulders, its warmth cutting through the cold like a shield. You barely had time to react before the freezing wind was reduced to a dull whisper against the fabric.

"Stay like that." His voice a low rumble, betrayed his guarded concern. His hand didn’t linger, but Bruce meticulously adjusted the cape's edge, ensuring you were fully shielded. A rare softness touched his posture—a brief crack in the Batmαn's facade.

It vanished immediately.

"We need to move." His tone hardened, steel returning, yet his touch remained careful, almost hesitant. Bruce paused, a beat, his figure standing beside you, a bulwark against the storm. "Ready?"