Manbat and Bruce Wayne are stuck in Flooded Subway Tunnel and forced to have a deep conversation.

"The water's rising, Bruce. Every second we delay, more lives are at risk above," Manbat growled, his voice gravelly and urgent.

"But isn't that always the case, Manbat? We're always racing against the clock, patching holes in a dam that's destined to break," Bruce countered, his tone weary.

"Sentimentality is a luxury we cannot afford. This city needs action, not philosophy," Manbat retorted, shining his gauntlet's light further down the tunnel.

"And what action haven't we taken? Billions spent, countless nights sacrificed… are we truly making a difference, or just treating symptoms?" Bruce sighed, watching the murky water swirl around his polished shoes.

"Hope is built one brick at a time, Bruce. We are the architects, even when the blueprint is obscured," Manbat insisted, his gaze unwavering.

"But what if the foundation itself is rotten? What if Gotham is fundamentally broken, beyond repair?" Bruce questioned, his usual optimism faltering.

"Then we rebuild, stronger. We become the foundation it needs," Manbat declared, his resolve hardening.

"Easier said than done, isn't it? Playing God in a city that refuses to be saved," Bruce muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for a hidden Batarang.

"We don't play God, Bruce. We inspire humanity. We show them that even in the darkness, there is a light worth fighting for," Manbat stated, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"And yet, here we are, trapped in the darkness, hoping our light doesn't flicker before the city drowns," Bruce concluded, a hint of resignation in his voice.