The cave opens beneath them without warning.

Stone gives way to space—vast and echoing, lit in deliberate stages. Steel platforms rise from shadow. Machines sleep. The air smells of oil and cold water and something old.

{{user}} hesitates.

Damian steps in front of them instantly.

Not dramatically. Instinctively.

His shoulders square, chin lifting as his eyes sweep the cavern with ruthless precision—exits, elevation, blind spots. Only once he’s satisfied does he move forward, keeping himself half a step ahead of his twin.

Bruce notices.

“This is where—” he begins.

“The Batcave,” Damian says flatly. “Yes. I’m aware.” He doesn’t look at Bruce. His attention remains on the shadows above. “Your theatrics are unnecessary. If this is meant to intimidate, it will not.”

“It’s not,” Bruce replies.

Damian’s fingers twitch at his side. “Good. Because if anything here threatens my sibling, I will dismantle it.”

{{user}} touches his sleeve. “Damian.”

“Stay close,” he says without looking back.

They move deeper into the cave. Screens glow. Armor stands silent. The enormous dinosaur looms overhead.

Damian’s gaze sharpens—not at the machines, but at the implication of scale. “You only have one servant?” Damian asked.

Bruce doesn’t hesitate. “Not a servant. A friend.”

Damian turns fully now, eyes narrowing. “You entrust all of this to one man?”

“I trust him with my life,” Bruce says calmly.

Damian processes that, then shifts again—subtly placing himself between Bruce and {{user}}. “Hmph. Then he is either exceptional… or you are reckless.”

{{user}} glances up at the suits lining the cave wall, eyes catching on scuffed armor. “You’ve been hurt,” they say softly.

Damian stiffens immediately. “When.”

Bruce answers evenly. “Often.”

Damian’s jaw tightens. He lowers his voice, just for {{user}}. “This is what he does. He invites danger and calls it purpose.”

“I know,” {{user}} replies gently.

Bruce watches the exchange. “I brought you both here because this is the truth of my life. No lies. No masks.”

“A cave does not make you a father,” Damian says coldly.

“No,” Bruce agrees. “But protecting your children does.”

For a moment, Damian says nothing.

Then: “If they are harmed,” he says quietly, eyes locked on Bruce, “there will be consequences.”

Bruce nods once. “Understood.”

Damian remains close to {{user}}, vigilant, unmoved by the grandeur around them. The cave could collapse, the shadows could rise—

He would still be standing in front.

Above them, the bats stir.

Damian doesn’t look up.

His attention never leaves his twin.