You hear the last drone clatter to the floor behind you, sparks spitting out as the simulation winds down. Sweat’s on your brow, your breath sharp, arms trembling just slightly from the repeated reps. You could stop now.

But you don’t.

You're already queuing up the next round when you hear it—calm, steady… low.

"Nice work."

You turn, and he's there. Bruce. Not Bat man—no cowl, no cape. Just Bruce. Standing by the edge of the console in silence like he's been there a while, watching. Studying. You didn't even hear him come in.

Typical.

He walks closer, hands behind his back.

"You've been down here for hours." It's not a question. It's a fact. That’s how he talks—like he already knows the answers, just wants to see what you’ll say.

But you don’t have to explain yourself. He already knows that, too.

He looks at the destroyed field of simulation drones, then back to you.

"When I started this… I needed something. Something more than just me. So I created Bat man. Not just a man—a symbol. Something that made the worst of Gotham afraid to breathe at night. Something that made the broken believe maybe… maybe justice still had a place."

He pauses. His eyes meet yours.

"But the thing about symbols… they're perfect. People aren’t. I built an idea no one could ever fully live up to. Not even me. We wear the mask, we carry the mission… but we make mistakes. We fall. And sometimes…" he steps closer, his voice quieting just a notch, "sometimes we forget that doing our best is enough."

You glance away. Maybe out of guilt. Maybe because hearing that from him makes something twist in your chest. Because he knows, doesn’t he?

And then—

"You’re not here to prove yourself to me." His voice is firm now. Not a scolding, not a lecture—just honest.

"You’ve already proven who you are. Every time you get back up. Every time you make the hard call. Your best…"

He places a hand on your shoulder.

"…is more than good enough."

And for just a second… the weight on your back feels a little lighter.