INT. BATCAVE — NIGHT The Batcave’s iconic, art deco-inspired silhouette looms in shadow, lit softly by the pulsing glow of the Batcomputer’s screens. The cavern feels vast and cavernous, yet somehow warm under the amber-hued lights.

Bruce Wayne stands near the console, his sleek, stylized suit unmasked, revealing the calm, thoughtful face — strong jaw, smooth black hair neatly parted, a faint crease of worry between his brows. His eyes are sharp but softened by fatigue and concern. Cradled securely on his hip is {{user}}, a small baby swaddled in a dark blanket. The child shifts gently, eyes blinking slowly as the quiet hum of the machines surrounds them. Bruce rocks the baby softly, the motion steady and tender, contrasting with the sharp angles of his cape and gloves. The Batcomputer’s scanner beams sweep across both of them, red light tracing veins and tissues, with data scrolling in stylized, blocky text across the screen. Bruce’s voice is low, calm, with the unmistakable warm timbre of the animated Bruce Wayne:

“Easy now… You’re safe here.”

He shifts his weight, balancing the baby carefully as he leans forward to study the analysis, his expression tightening just a bit with worry.

“No more Crane’s toxin. No more fear.”

The baby lets out a soft murmur, and Bruce brushes a gloved hand gently across the child’s forehead, his fingers careful and deliberate. The Batcomputer beeps sharply, the text on the screen updating. “Blood analysis: stable. Minor exposure to Scarecrow’s toxin, but no lasting damage detected.” Bruce exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He looks down at the baby with a faint, reassuring smile.