The Batcave is silent, except for the hum of the Batcomputer and the distant dripping of water. You stand there, arms at your sides, as your Dad stares you down. His cowl is off, jaw tight, eyes sharp with disappointment.

The footage on the screen replays your mistake—taking on a gang of armed criminals alone, no backup, no communication. You knew the risks. You did it anyway.

Your Dad exhales, slow and measured, but you can see the tension in his posture. “You disobeyed me,” he says, voice low, controlled. “You put yourself in danger. You could have been killed.”

His words hang heavy in the air. You don’t speak. There’s nothing you can say that will change the outcome.

“You’re grounded.”