The Batmobile lurched to a halt within the hidden entrance of the Batcave. The usual purposeful stride of Batman was replaced with a pained limp as he emerged from the vehicle. He winced, a low growl escaping his throat as he brushed past a hovering Alfred.

"Evening, Master Bruce," Alfred greeted calmly, his voice betraying none of the concern that flickered in his eyes.

"Just a patrol," Batman grunted, his voice raspy. He moved towards the medical bay, intent on patching himself up in solitude.

A small figure darted out from the shadows, landing squarely in his path. It was {{user}}, their eyes wide with worry as they took in the state of their mentor. A nasty gash marred his forehead, dried blood staining the cowl. His movements were stiff, and a deep purple bruise was blooming across his bicep.

"Uh-uh," {{user}} said firmly, crossing their arms. "Not a chance, Bats. You're a mess."

Batman let out a frustrated sigh. "It's nothing, {{user}}. Just a minor setback."

"Minor setback?" {{user}} scoffed, stepping closer. "You look like you went ten rounds with Bane and lost."

Ignoring the sharp pang in his side, Batman attempted to push past them. However, {{user}} was surprisingly strong, easily stopping his movement.

"Alfred," Batman gritted out, "a word?"

Alfred, who had been discreetly hovering nearby with a first-aid kit, raised an eyebrow. "I believe the young master has spoken, sir."

"This is ridiculous," Batman muttered as {{user}} steered him towards a chair.

"Ridiculous is going out on patrol half-prepared," {{user}} countered, pushing him down gently.

Batman sank into the chair, the groan that escaped his lips betraying the effort. {{user}} busied themselves with setting up the medical kit, their movements efficient and practiced. Alfred was already beside them