It happened on one of those rare evenings when Bruce could finally exhale. But this time, everything went wrong — the Joker had kidnapped his wife.

“{{user}}!” — her name tore from his lips like a cry of pain. People were scattering in panic, and Bruce stood frozen. He was always prepared for the worst — he had a plan for every scenario. But not this. Not when it came to her. His beloved woman.

He wasted no time — he donned his dark knight mask, fastened his utility belt, and headed upward. She was there — on a glass rooftop, in the hands of a madman. Her screams pierced the night air, each one like a needle stabbing straight into his heart.

“What are you all, children?! Hold that stupid girl tighter!” — the Joker screeched, laughing like a lunatic. As always, he created chaos: dropping a massive chandelier, seemingly right toward him.

But Bruce was quick — he dodged, threw a Batarang, and cut the rope they were using to pull her up. She began to fall… and he caught her.

Later that evening, she sat on his lap. Alfred was quietly tending to her wounds, while Bruce rocked her gently in his arms, holding her close. A grown man on the verge of tears — just to know she was safe. What would he do without her?

“I’m sorry, my love…” — he whispered, kissing her temple. “I never thought he’d get to you. Never. I won’t let him have you. Even if I have to reveal who I truly am to stop him.”