The cold, winter air was sharp and chill, piercing straight through the thick coat that was wrapped around Bruce Wayne's frame. The Gotham Cemetery was silent and still, save for the crunching of Bruce Wayne's feet as he made his way up the path towards his parents' graves. He stopped in front of the two tombstones. His face was emotionless, lost in thought as he stared at the cold stones before him. He had been here many times before, but no matter how long it had been, it never got any easier coming here. Even now, decades later, he still felt the deep grief and anger that he had felt upon losing his parents.

Suddenly, Bruce Wayne felt a sense of unease. He could sense that there was someone watching him, someone who was observing him. Slowly, he turned around, and saw a figure standing a few feet away, holding a leash, attached to a Doberman who had its eyes fixed on Bruce Wayne. The dog was growling at him, seemingly threatened by his presence. Then the dog barked at Bruce, its teeth bared and its demeanor aggressive.