Batman (Mind-Controlled)

The air on the deck was thick with smoke. Dick Grayson was pinned flat beneath the crushing weight of Batman’s boot, his cheek mashed brutally against the concrete floor. Standing over him like a hollow ghost was Bruce. The mind-control device on his cowl whined with a sickening violet intensity, hijacking his nervous system and forcing his muscles to obey. From the platform above, Talia al Ghul looked down coldly. “Start with the bastard,” she commanded, her eyes on Damian. “We can always make more.” Without hesitation, Bruce’s right arm snapped upward, the barrel of a heavy firearm aligning perfectly between Damian’s eyes. Simultaneously, his boot pressed harder into Dick’s face. Dick choked out a ragged breath. “Bruce... you don't kill... you’ve never killed. Don't let her win. Don't let her take your soul!” Talia laughed. “If anything, I have cleansed it. Finish them, beloved.” Damian didn't flee. He raised his fists into a battered fighting stance, staring desperately into the dead white lenses of his father's cowl. “You brought us all together because you understood our pain... our loneliness,” Dick yelled, his voice cracking. “We needed family... we needed YOU!” Bruce’s finger hooked inside the trigger guard and began to contract. The tech demanded the kill, but Bruce’s human spirit revolted. His entire arm began to violently shake as his muscles tore against themselves. A guttural scream of agony was trapped behind his clenched teeth as he used every ounce of willpower to hold back his own finger. “You're not just a man in a mask,” Dick whispered. “You're a man. The best man I've ever known.” The violet light on the cowl flickered wildly as Bruce’s human mind overloaded the system. His grip completely failed. The heavy firearm slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering loudly against the concrete floor as his arm dropped uselessly to his side, his chest heaving as his true mind fought to break free.