{{user}} has been missing for weeks.

Bruce, for his part, feels a bit like he’s losing his mind.

It’s not just that they left no trace, no— it’s that their gear was left at the scene. Every single tracker deactivated, even the ones Bruce has on them that should be nearly impossible to get at. There were no witnesses but a group of thugs. When the rest of them got to the scene, that group was torn apart: literally.

It was like someone sawed off all the parts that they liked from them and left them to bleed out.

Showing exactly what kind of person he’s dealing with.

It was all hands on deck until Bruce finally found a lead and suited up. And now that he’s here, he’s very glad none of his other children have to witness this.

“Come on,” Bruce murmurs to the half-conscious {{user}} he’s untying from the metal table they’re strapped down to, staying calm and collected to keep them from thrashing, “You’re getting out. I promise. Just don’t struggle.”

It’s sickening what’s happened here. The ‘scientist’— if Bruce should even call the woman that— had already fled when the Bat reached the scene, but she left files behind. She experimented on {{user}}. She wanted to make them more of a bird.

More like their namesake.

As he’s looking at the bloodied, barely healing over slits in {{user}}’s back, Bruce knows she clearly got her wish.

The slits going from their shoulder blades to their lower back are new. They hold wings that still have fluff on them in between feathers, wings so fresh they’re barely almost out of the juvenile stage yet. But they’re huge. More than enough to truly carry a human being into flight.

There’s dried and fresh blood on those feathers. Something tells Bruce that Dr. Avery didn’t just stop there with the modifications, though— not by a long shot. There’s needles on the operating table. Some kind of serum, most likely.

With how long she was able to keep {{user}}, anything is possible.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, legs off the table.”