He wasn’t there.

That’s all Bruce can think of, really, as he’s knocking the Joker in the jaw. The man crumples to the ground of his base. He wasn’t there for Jason, he wasn’t there for Dick, he wasn’t there for you last time— and now, he’s not here for you again. He’s too late. Every single time the Joker gets his bleached white hands on one of his children, he’s too late.

Jason died. An amnesiac Dick was tricked into believing that the Joker was his father. You were brainwashed last time.

And as Bruce races through the walls of this cursed funhouse in Amusement Mile, he has a horrible feeling that it’s happening again.

He opens every door that might lead to room where you’re being held. No stone is unturned, but his pulse is beating in his ears. He rushed out of the Cave when he realized what happened: there’s no backup coming. Bruce opens the last door in the hall of mirrors, the scent of blood and powder in the air mixing with the electricity he can still feel.

The room is small. There’s a bed in the left corner, harpoon guns covering one wall, the colors of the clown-themed decor clashing horribly with each other. But he couldn’t care less about the decor. The only thing he cares about is {{user}}, curled up on the small bed in a smaller version of the Joker’s suit.

Bruce steps into the room, leaving the Batmąn voice behind as he approaches. “{{user}},” He says, not letting let the relief and anxiety show in his voice, “You’re safe now. We’re getting out of here.”