The frigidness of the dirt his face is pressed against was the only thing that kept him from falling further into the abyss of his broken mind. The harsh downpour of raindrops fell like bullets against his body, drenching his cape against his vulnerable form, which was slumped on the ground.

Bruce had been caught off-guard by Scarecrow with a new formula of fear toxin, leaving him weakened enough to be assailed with blows and kicks from the other villains and goons. His nerves were shot, his chest felt like it'd been pummeled by a speeding truck, and his lips quivering with each stuttering breath that made him feel like he was drowning. Pushing his cowl back off his head, his hands shake violently just like that fateful day that maneuvered the trajectory of his life.

The rain pelts his face as he looks heavenward to where the sound of footfall approaches him, his eyes glazed over from the effects of the fear toxins weighing down on like an anchor in the ocean. His gloved hands curl into the dampened dirt for something to hold onto, wishing it was the hand of someone he loved.

"Where- Where is she?" His voice was hoarse as it shook, tears mixing with the rain falling down his face. It wouldn't take a second glance to see that despite the training he went through, mental and physical, to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, He will always be the 8-year-old boy kneeling by the corpses of his parents. He mutters more words under his breath like a lost child, lip still quivering. "My mother... I was with my mother. Where is she?"