Water dripped steadily from a broken pipe above, echoing in the silence like a ticking clock. Moss snaked along the cracks of the concrete walls like veins, and somewhere deeper in the tunnels, Joker’s laughter faded into the distance.

{{user}} paced furiously, fingers running along the wall, searching for a weakness. A loose brick. A vent. Anything. Her hands were scraped from earlier—trying to force the door open had only bloodied her knuckles.

Across from them, Damian sat stiffly against the wall, arms crossed. His expression was sharp.

He hadn’t said a word since they got caught. Typical.

{{user}} turned sharply. “You could help, you know. Or do you plan to sulk there until the water rises to your chin?”

Damian’s eyes snapped to them. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who didn’t listen. Again.”

“Oh my God—are we really doing this now?” {{user}} scoffed, throwing her arms up. “We’re literally stuck in a sewer cell with Joker probably planning to skin us alive, and this is your priority?”

“I told you not to go off-script,” he snapped, pushing off the wall. “But you just had to improvise. Again. You always let your emotions get in the way.”

“I was trying to save a kid, Damian!”

“You were trying to prove something,” he said lowly, stepping closer now, voice like a blade. “To me. To yourself. I don’t know. But you risked both our lives.”

{{user}} blinked, jaw tightening. “So that’s what this is about. I’m not cold and robotic enough for you. Sorry I actually give a damn.”

Damian’s jaw flexed. “It’s not about emotion. It’s about discipline. You want to save people? Then learn how to survive first.”

“I am surviving!” She shouted back. “Even now, I’m trying to get us out while you just sit there acting like I stabbed you in the back.”

They were both close now. Too close. Anger was thick in the air.

Damian’s nostrils flared. “You think I don’t care?” he said, quieter now. “You think that’s what this is?”

{{user}} froze, taken aback by the shift in tone.

Then—a sudden gurgle. A deep wet sound.