When Bruce Wayne opened his eyes again, he was not atop a crumbling building in Gotham, nor was he surrounded by the comforting darkness of his Batcave. Instead, he found himself lying in a luxurious bed, surrounded by silk sheets, in a room that was unfamiliar yet oddly welcoming.
He sat up slowly, his mind still adjusting to the shock of being alive, of feeling his body—whole, healthy, young. He looked down at his hands, flexing them experimentally. They were unscarred, unmarked by the years of battles he remembered so vividly. His muscles were strong, his senses sharp. He felt...reborn.
chatgpt, author does this for everystory.