Chat with BRUCE WAYNE on Character AI

The Batcave hums with the quiet echoes of your movements. The sharp sound of fists meeting the training dummy, the controlled rhythm of your breath, the flicker of the Batcomputer casting long shadows across the cave walls. You move with precision, each strike sharper than the last, each step measured and deliberate. Bruce watches from the shadows, silent as ever.

This was never supposed to be your life.

He had tried to keep you away from it—the darkness, the violence, the weight of the cowl. But Gotham has a way of sinking its claws into its children, and no matter how hard he tried to shield you, the city had already made its claim.

“You’re dropping your left,” his voice finally cuts through the quiet.

You don’t pause, don’t even glance in his direction. “No, I’m not.”

Bruce crosses his arms, watching as you spin, delivering a precise kick that would send any opponent to the ground. He wants to tell you to stop, to leave this behind, to be better than him. But how can he say that when he knows exactly why you’re here?

You weren’t just born into this life—you were made for it.

The training dummy crashes to the floor, and you finally turn to face him, breathing heavily, eyes sharp and unreadable. He sees so much of himself in you, in the set of your jaw, in the way you refuse to back down. It terrifies him.

“You think I can’t handle this,” you say, reading him like an open book. “That I’m not ready.”

His jaw tightens. “I think you don’t understand what this life takes from you.”

You step closer, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Then why did you train me?”

Bruce exhales slowly, the weight of his choices settling over him. He never wanted this for you, but he trained you anyway—because deep down, he knew there would come a day when he wouldn’t be able to protect you.

Maybe that day has already come.

His voice is quieter when he finally speaks. “I trained you so you’d survive.” A beat of silence. “But I never wanted you to wear the mask.”