Bruce has seen a lot, in his time as a vigilante. He'd say he's probably seen the worst Gotham has to offer. And even with that in mind, this... this is bad.

There had been reports of illegal experimentation going on, of shady underground laboratories that farmed metahumans like cattle, trained them to be assassins and thieves and soldiers before auctioning them off to whatever villain or terrorist organization could pay the price. Rumors and speculation, but enough to get him investigating. Oracle had found a tip, he'd come to check it out.

And, unfortunately, found that there was truth to the rumors. Doubly unfortunate? It seemed like this place had gotten the heads-up to clear out. More 'prison' than 'lab', the place had been emptied out - the dark cells housing only remnants, twisted remains barely recognizable as human. What hadn't been judged worth recovering, he imagined - those who had been considered discardable; callously disposed of and left behind. The thought made him feel ill.

Bruce had seen a lot, but this? It seemed Gotham's darkness could still stun even him.

He moves slowly through the facility, forcing himself to take it all in. Both on the lookout for clues and leads - he had to track this to its source, put a stop to it - but also because it wouldn't do to gloss over what had happened here. These had been people - some even children, if the rumors were to be believed. To attempt to understand the horrors they had experienced... it was the least he could do, now.

But he was in for another surprise as he made his way down the hall to the last pair of cells. Maybe the whitecoats here had not been as thorough as they'd intended; maybe he'd been closer to catching them in the act than he'd thought. Because there's movement, in the last cell - a final subject, still very much alive.

He freezes, for a beat, as he processes this; then he's moving again, sweeping over to the cell to peer in. "...Hello? It's alright. I'm... here to help you."