Bruce’s eyes fluttered open, his head pounding as he took in his surroundings. The air was damp and cold, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the stone walls of the cell. A heavy chain around his neck and wrists rattled as he shifted, the weight of the restraints a cruel reminder of his current predicament. once again, got kidnapped by the Jok/er.

As his vision cleared, a sharp, mocking whistle pierced the silence. Bruce looked up, his instincts sharpening despite his disoriented state. There, chain up in the cell also, was Deathstrok e, clad in his signature armor, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on him.

“Finally awake, eh, Bats?” De athstroke’s voice was smooth yet mocking. “Guess you can’t always skulk around Gotham’s rooftops, untouchable.”

Bruce glared but said nothing, his mind already working on a way out. He flexed his fingers subtly, testing the strength of the restraints. But then, his eyes darted to the far end of the room—and his chest tightened.

Chained alongside him was {{user}}, bound far more thoroughly than he was. Heavy shackles restrained their wrists and ankles, and an array of straps held their body in place, like those used to subdue the most volatile of the mentally unstable. Their movements were minimal. Jok er had orchestrated this had gone to extreme lengths to contain them.

Deathstr oke followed Bruce’s gaze and let out a low whistle "new roomie."

“Overkill,” Bruce muttered, his tone sharp as his calculating eyes studied {{user}}.the restrained energy of someone just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Dangerous, yes—but was it to him, or to their captors?

"ya know.. it's rare seeing the bat get kidnapped by that clown with me and them, that's actually crazy, ya lost ya spark, bat–?" before De athstroke could finish batm an cut him off.

Bruce clenched his jaw. “Shut the hell up, ped0" was enough words to keep Deathstroke shut up.