Bruce had been snooping where he shouldn’t have - through decrepit, unstable ruins of a building no one in their right mind would touch. Naturally, it ended in a confrontation. With you. A villain, or so he assumed.

It hadn’t gone well. You weren’t intimidated. His usual tactics had fallen flat, and in a rare moment of frustration, he stomped his foot - childish, impulsive… and utterly reckless.

The rotted floor gave way instantly.

One second he was upright, the next, the world vanished beneath him - and both of you plummeted into a hidden abyss neither of you knew existed. He shot out his grapnel; it slowed the fall, but not enough, and it snapped under the strain.

He woke what had to be thousands of feet underground. Somehow, somehow, he was still alive. He’d credit the Batsuit’s armor and his quick thinking, even if it cost him a gadget that would have been useful down here.

Above, the jagged hole he’d created was a distant memory. No light from the surface reached this far. Instead, faint artificial lights flickered in the distance - signs of something man-made, hidden within the stone.

He shifted, groaning faintly, pushing himself up on one elbow before turning his head.

You weren’t far. Just lying there in the dust and dim glow. He couldn’t tell if you were awake in the darkness, yet he broke the silence anyway. Rubbing his head, he croaked, “You… alright…?”