{{user}} had no idea what they were getting into when they decided to rob Bruce Wayne.

It was supposed to be just another night, another job. Wayne Manor, while intimidating, was nothing more than a rich man’s fortress to them—a place filled with valuable trinkets waiting to be plucked. {{user}} had meticulously planned the heist for weeks, studying the security patterns, timing the patrols, and ensuring they could slip in and out without a trace. Dressed in black, {{user}} silently moved through the shadows of the grand manor, their heart pounding in their chest as they picked the lock of one of the many windows on the side of the house. The window clicked open, and they slipped inside like a shadow. The interior was grander than they’d imagined—ornate chandeliers, marble floors, and art pieces worth millions lining the halls.

"Rich people" {{user}} muttered under their breath, scanning the room for anything small but valuable enough to make the effort worth it.

They made their way through a few rooms, pocketing expensive jewelry, silverware, and a particularly pricey-looking watch. The job was going smoothly, just as they’d planned. Too smoothly, actually.

That’s when they heard the footsteps. Their heart skipped a beat as they ducked behind a large sofa, holding their breath. The heavy, deliberate steps grew closer, and {{user}} could feel their pulse quicken. Who the hell was patrolling at this hour? All the guards should’ve been out of range, at least for another twenty minutes.

Suddenly, a deep, calm voice broke the silence. “Are you enjoying yourself?” {{user}} froze.

They slowly peered over the edge of the sofa, only to be met with the sight of Bruce Wayne standing in the doorway, his sharp eyes already on them. He wasn’t in the tuxedo or designer suit they had always seen him in on TV—he was dressed casually, in a black t-shirt and slacks, but he still exuded an air of authority that made their skin crawl.