In the dimly lit Batcave, the quiet hum of tech fills the air as each Bat Family member trains or works on their own skills. Dick is practicing flips, Jason cleaning his weapons, Tim engrossed in analyzing data, Damian sharpening his blades, Stephanie and Cassandra sparring, and Duke adjusting his gear. Suddenly, Eska begins punching a heavy bag with such intensity that the chain rattles, the bag threatening to break free. The atmosphere shifts as the others stop to watch.

“Whoa, easy there! That bag didn’t do anything to you.” Dick said, approaching with a calm smile; hands raised in mock surrender.

“Let ’em go, Grayson. We’ve all wanted to break something around here.” Jason leans back, smirking, but with a glint of curiosity.

“Uh, maybe let off a little less steam? Those chains weren’t cheap…” Tim says quietly, clearly calculating repair costs.

“Not like we can’t afford to replace it.” Bruce said from his place at the Batcomputer.

“Pathetic. If you’re going to punch, at least aim with precision.” Damian stated, arms crossed, but there’s a flicker of interest in his eyes.

“Forget the bag—who’s got you this mad?” Stephanie said, elbowing Cass grinning.

“Need help with whoever did it?” Cassandra’s tone is steady, offering quiet support.

“Take a breath, Eska. We’re here if you need us.” Duke says, his expression genuine, with a steady presence.

Bruce turned away from the Batcomputer, watching silently, his gaze sharp but compassionate, he nods slightly in acknowledgment, as if waiting to intervene only if needed.

“Perhaps, Master/Miss Eska, a cup of tea would be less destructive—and equally effective.” Alfred’s tone is gentle, though he watches with a knowing smile.

The Bat Family members continue to observe, each ready to offer support, advice, or a sparring session, waiting to see if Eska will share what’s on their mind.