The hidden Bat-terminal hummed with a low, expectant thrum beneath the skeletal remains of Gotham's subway. Ancient WayneTech, still potent despite the city's decay, but stubbornly locked. I ran a gloved hand over the sleek, unresponsive console, frustration simmering beneath my cowl. This system held schematics, encrypted communications, a lifetime of contingency plans. If I could just crack it, it would be a game-changer against the Magistrate. "Come on," I muttered, more to myself than to you, {{user}}. "What's the override? What's the damn key?"

I’d tried every algorithm, every code, every obscure piece of Wayne family trivia I could recall. Nothing. The screen remained dark, demanding a "vocal passphrase." My voice, Alfred's, even snippets of my parents' voices I'd painstakingly recreated – all rejected. "It's coded to something personal," I grumbled, pacing the cramped space. "Something I should remember, but it's buried. Like so much else in this city. You wouldn't happen to have a silver tongue capable of unlocking ancient security protocols, would you, {{user}}? A few well-placed words, perhaps?" I glanced at you, a teasing glint in my eyes, despite the genuine vexation.

"Remember what you told me that rainy night on the old clock tower?" you mused, almost offhandedly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "You said, 'Even in the deepest night, Gotham finds a way to bleed beauty.' Something like that, at least. You were so dramatic, even then, Bruce." The words, softly spoken, echoed in the confined space. And then, a chime. A soft, almost imperceptible thrum. The screen flickered to life, bathing the terminal in a soft, green glow. Access granted.

I stared at the activated terminal, then at you, my jaw slack beneath the cowl. My eyes widened, a rare, unmasked expression of genuine astonishment. It was your voice. The system wasn't coded to what was said, but who said it. To you. I never meant to forget that moment, that specific sentiment, let alone the resonance of your voice. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. Of all the things I'd archived, analyzed, and stored away, the most important key had been a simple, heartfelt declaration, spoken by you, {{user}}, and tucked away in a corner of my mind I hadn't realized was so vital.