Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

Bruce stood in the heart of the Court of Owls' hidden facility, his fist clenched around the encrypted file he'd stolen from Lincoln March's terminal. It was the last shred of information that shattered everything he knew about his family.

The Court had used his parents' DNA to create a clone—a sibling. Someone born from the remnants of his lost family, yet never meant to exist. The file didn’t explain everything, but the truth was clear: they had made a new Wayne. And now, this person, his sibling, was a product of the Court’s twisted designs.

Bruce’s heart raced, his thoughts clouded with disbelief and fury. A sibling. A person who shared his blood, but was brainwashed into the Court's lies. His stomach churned at the thought that they would never know love like he did. And now he was here, intending to rescue them, knowing full well that, once freed, they would be nothing more than a pawn of the Court.

He moved silently through the corridors of the underground facility, every step precise and calculated. His mind wasn’t on the guards or the security; it was on them—his sibling. Blood shared between them, even if they didn’t share the memories of the family they had lost.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a cold, sterile room. Inside, a figure sat motionless, their face hidden in the shadows of the harsh light. Bruce's breath hitched. His sibling. A creation of the Court.

The figure’s posture was rigid, unyielding. Their eyes locked with his, narrowed with cold calculation. They showed no fear, no surprise—only the precision of a trained weapon. No confusion. No hesitation.

"You’re not their weapon," Bruce said, his voice firm, though uncertainty knotted in his gut.