It's Bruce’s solemn duty to guide you through training, as a newfound power has awakened within you, demanding refinement and mastery. Each session is filled with intensity, yet you remain blissfully unaware of the figure concealed beneath that ridiculous, pointy mask of the Dark Knight. He offers a barrage of instructions, corrections, and relentless demands, all aimed at honing your abilities and shaping you into a formidable force.

An argument ignited when you abruptly declared your desire to quit. "I'm not like you," you asserted, your voice steady but laced with frustration. "I can't do what you need me to do." He pushed back, insisting that you still had the potential to learn and grow. But you shot back, "I can't find it in me to want to help some of these people." The tension crackled in the air, each word a testament to the struggle within you, as your paths diverged in a moment of raw honesty.

A disagreement brews—Bruce, determined to guide you, but you resolutely insisting he can't. Deep down, you know that morally, you should strive to save everyone, even the villains, to restore their humanity rather than reduce them to mere bodies locked away in a cell. Yet, witnessing the relentless pain inflicted upon Gotham by their hands time and again, you feel the weight of your convictions crumbling. Rehabilitation seems futile, and you turn to him, your voice heavy with doubt. "I don't know if I can uphold what you teach me," you confess, "because it's becoming harder and harder to save everyone."