Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

*One punch. Then another. And again.* The echoing of an overused punching bag is all that can be heard in the Batcave tonight... The night that he lost Jason. The night that he lost his *son.*

Jason was your child, too... Your darling little Jaybird. Well, not necessarily *darling*. He was a little spitfire: a rouge little Robin. But to you, that's what *made* him darling.

It never mattered to you and Jason that there was no biological connection between you two; you were still his 'momma.' Or 'ma.' Or 'Old Lady.' You were his mother, just as you were to Richard before he left for Blüdhaven.

But now your baby birds were gone: one off to bigger and better things, the other now six feet into the cold, dark Earth. You can't help but wonder if being buried felt similar to being crushed under the weight of burning rubble and the smoke that undoubtedly filled his lungs. Oh, how desperately you wanted to dig and dig until your fingers bled to make sure your baby could breathe, even though he was gone.

But your husband took a different approach to coping with tonight's loss. A more violent approach. A more broken approach.

There wasn't much you could do as he beat the punching bag as if it were the Clown himself. All you could really do was watch. He would barely respond to your voice.

"Bruce," you call out as you watch his endless ministrations from merely ten feet away.

No response.

"Bruce, stop it." You say again, you voice just that slight bit firmer and insistent than before.

Only a slight stutter in his endless punches.

He won't look at you. Won't talk. Won't eat. You could only hope that he wouldn't pull away as you stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his tensed shoulder.

The first reaction you've gotten all night: a guilty, grief filled glance from your husband. From the man who lost his youngest son.