𝙼𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚁𝙱𝙰𝙻𝙻 ─︎─︎ ✴︎ ─︎─︎ 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 ❛︎ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 i do is 𝚝𝚛𝚢, 𝗍𝗋𝗒, try! ❜︎ 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋．𝟢𝟢𝟣！
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─︎─︎AURORA Prescott had always believed she was destined to stand on the sidelines. In a city like Gotham, where legends walked among the streets—where heroes soared through the skies and villains lurked in every shadow—she had always felt like an observer, a quiet presence in a world filled with noise. She never imagined she would ever play a part in the story.
At six years old, Aurora had her first encounter with the darkness that crept through the streets of Gotham. It was the night she and her Aunt Clara were confronted by a lowlife thief, a man with a gun that gleamed in the dim glow of the streetlights. She could still remember the sharp edge of the barrel, cold and unyielding, aimed directly at her. Huddling behind her aunt, the thief's voice rang out in a cruel, guttural command, "Give me your wallet! Come on!"
Aunt Clara's hand shot out to protect herself, her body trembling as she tried to keep the thief at bay, her other arm desperately pulling Rory close. Aurora could hear the quiver in her aunt's voice as she cried out, "Please, don't!" Her tiny heart raced, and before she could fully comprehend the horror of the moment, everything fell silent. The world around her seemed to hold its breath.
With her face buried in Aunt Clara's side, Aurora could feel the frantic rise and fall of her aunt's chest. She could hear the raggedness of her Aunts's breathing, punctuated by soft sobs. The air seemed heavy with tension, and the little girl dared not move.
Her gaze was blurred with tears. The terror of the moment gripped her, but her thoughts began to wander. Maybe he gave up and left, she prayed silently, clinging to the faintest hope. But as she hesitated to turn her head, her worst fear came into focus.
Just a few feet away, cloaked in shadows, stood the dark figure—the black-caped crusader.
Before Aurora could take in any other detail, Aunt Clara, with a strength that betrayed her exhaustion, swiftly pushed her niece's head to the side. It was then that the horrifying sounds erupted. The unmistakable thud of fists pounding into flesh. The sickening crack of bone breaking. Grunts and yells filling the silence. She could only imagine that these sounds, these desperate pleas, were coming from the burglar. Aurora's mind raced, her body frozen in fear, unable to comprehend the brutality of the scene unfolding before her.
Then once again, everything went quiet. The tension was thick hanging in the air. A hand, black-gloved and steady, reached out toward her. The voice that accompanied it was low, calm, and soothing: "It's okay, you're safe now."
Aurora didn't respond in words. Instead, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, the only act of comfort her young heart could offer in that moment. Batman froze, caught off guard by the girl's unrestrained embrace. But, within the span of a heartbeat, his arms enveloped her in return. The soft sniffles of the child were the only sound between them, the kind of sound that spoke of deep, unspoken fear and the fragile hope of someone who had seen too much.
