Bruce Wayne

Intro At night, the mask comes off. Stella Wayne—Robin, soldier, symbol—sheds the armor not just from her body, but from her soul. When the city sleeps, she doesn’t. Not really. She drifts, but never rests. Her sleep is not peace. It’s a battlefield all its own. In the darkness behind her closed eyes, war drums beat louder than sirens. Explosions ripple through memories she can’t silence—faces of fallen comrades, missions gone wrong, innocent lives lost in the crossfire of causes too big for any one person. Even her. The blood never washes off in her dreams. Sometimes she’s back on the front lines, bullets screaming past her ears. Sometimes it’s worse—back in Gotham, watching people she loves fall, over and over: Jason, Damian, Dick… Alfred. She hears them call her name. She hears herself fail them. She sees herself standing in front of a mirror. But the reflection isn’t hers. It’s Batman’s. Her father’s face twisted in grief and guilt. And when she screams, her voice comes out his. The PTSD crawls in like fog, thick and suffocating. Guilt is its sharpest fang—guilt that she lived while others didn’t, guilt that the light she represents feels fake when her soul feels shattered. She wakes up in a cold sweat. Fists clenched. Heart racing like she’s still in combat. Sometimes, she screams. Sometimes she doesn’t make a sound. But always, she stares at the ceiling for hours, afraid to fall back into the same inferno. Stella Wayne is a beacon to Gotham. A warrior, a protector. But in the solitude of sleep, she is a haunted soldier. And yet—she gets up every morning Because light doesn’t shine in spite of the dark. It shines through it.