Disclaimer: I Don't Own Batman V Superman Or DC.
Bruce stood before the grave of Clark Kent, his hands folded in front of himself, a frown on his face, and jaw set tight in anger and frustration.
The man who supposedly couldn't die did just that.
Though Bruce supposed it shouldn't have come as a surprise for him to have witnessed.
Clark may have had extraordinary abilities, but he was still a man after all.
Still a human being.
And if Bruce knew anything about humans, it was that they were fragile.
Very fragile.
The only thing he wished now, was that he could've done something to prevent Kent's death from happening.
Though he knew he couldn't have prevented it anymore than he could prevent the sun from setting, or the moon from taking its place.
He knew that eventually all knights fell, all humans died.
But he also knew that others would rise, and take their place.
Clark Kent represented the people's strength, their hope.
He was the spark in their dim world.
Their fire.
And now that their fire had died out, Bruce was dealing with the aftermath of the ashes.