Warning: Character death and graphic depictions of blood.
He's still holding Nightwing's costume. It's dirty and ripped, caked with blood. The blood had dried and he wondered if it was even possible to truly wash out those stains. Was it? Could you ever really wash out stains of blood? His hands…God his hands were still caked with it. It was everywhere. It was all over him. He could never wash it off. He could never wash off the blood that stained him, the blood that ruined him. He'd only been eight years old when he'd first been covered in it and now he could never get it off.
"Master Bruce," A hesitant Alfred took a step towards him. He couldn't see his face. Only his feet. He wasn't looking up. "Master Bruce, give me the costume. I only wish to wash it before we put it up."
"You can't wash it," His voice didn't sound right. Why didn't his voice sound right? "It can't be cleaned."
"Master Bruce," Alfred's voice was tight, yet formal as ever. "I've washed similar stains out of this very costume before. It's no different now."
"It will never be cleaned," He tried again. He fought for the right words but he just…couldn't come up with anything.
"Master Bruce, please-," Alfred went to touch it. Alfred shouldn't touch it. Alfred will get it on him. So he grabbed Alfred's wrist-oh God now he was touching Alfred. The blood, the blood was everywhere. It covered the floor; it covered the monitor, and when he looked at Alfred he even saw it dripping down to cover his concerned face.
"LEAVE IT ALONE!" He bellowed at him and stood up. He heard the blood that fell from his lap hit the ground, heard the swish of his boots in the puddles. "JUST LEAVE IT ALONE." He held the costume as more and more blood gushed down it. So much red. Red everywhere. It coated everything in the cave. It was all red. It would always be that way. Blood would always coat everything he owned and everyone he…
It was gone.
In a blink of an eye it was all gone. He just stood there clutching the costume for dear life while looking at Alfred. There was still moisture on his face. But that wasn't blood. "He's gone," he said numbly. "The stains will never clean."
Hey, everyone! I hope you guys enjoyed this! I'm pretty sure you guys can understand the meaning of all that happened. I hope this doesn't seem OOC for Bruce; I tried to show that inwardly he was freaking out and seeing the blood everywhere, but on the outside he just seemed angered. This story isn't related to the Injustice story, it's just a story I came up with. You can make up what happened before this in your own mind!