There's a threat coming and Bruce Wayne is having no luck recruiting metahumans to join his team.
Aquaman will not bulge, Flash is too busy trying to get his father out of jail, Cyborg has identity issues and Diana..well..she will have nothing to do with Bruce Wayne. She made that quite clearly 10 months ago at Clark's funeral.
After weeks of sending emails and text messages, Bruce still hasn't heard from her.
And he was getting desperate.
"These parademons are showing up more and more in our city Alfred. I cannot continue fighting them anymore.
"I need help...we need help."
The elder man can feel a sense of helpless in his protege's voice. He looked tired. Beat.
"You could give her a call?", he matter-of-factly suggested.
"I've tried. She wont take my calls."
"You could go see her." It wasn't a question.
The younger man stared in the fireplace for what seemed like an enternity before mumbling..
"Do we have another choice?"
"I'm afraid not Bruce."
...
The sun shone through the tall windows at the top floor of the Louvre as Bruce - dressed in a dark business suit - strolled into the Antiquities section.
Atop a ladder, Diana was putting the final touches to a commissioned Greek marble statue, salvaged from the depths of the Red Sea some months before.
"You're a bit far from Gotham aren't you Mr Wayne," she addressed him without missing a brushstroke. Calm, precision and attention to detail were some of her finer qualities.
Surprised, Bruce quickly looked around before stammering.
"Well..you know, I was..I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by and pay you a visit.."
"Oh?" she replied. Emotionless.
"Uh..yea..to see your work of course."
"Is that so?..well, now that you have..you can leave now.."
Bruce fished through his head, quickly thinking up something to prolong their conversation.
"Well, since I'm in the neighborhood..perhaps I might buy a few pieces.."
"Is that so?..See anything you like Bruce?"
A grin curved up on his lip.
"I do now."
"Tsk..tsk..God you're so predictable." She stated in a steely tone.
"I was referring to the sculp-"
"Save it Bruce. I know all about you. I'm not one of your Gotham whores you're used to playing with. So take yourself and your money and get out of here..Leave me alone."
Bruce had run out of options. He stood his ground.
"There's a threat coming Diana. I need help. The world needs your help."
Diana slowly climbed down the ladder. She put away her paintbrush on the table. Walked over to Bruce until she stood face to face with him. He could see the anger in her eyes.
"If you hadn't killed Clark the world wouldn't need any help. You wouldn't need my help."
Bruce closed his eyes.
"I know Diana. I made a mistake. I'm sorry."
Exasperated. Her eyes averted him. Focusing beyond him. Deep inside, she found no delight in seeing him admit defeat. After all, the Batman has done a lot of good through the years fighting crime in one of the world's most dangerous cities. That, she respected.
"I'm sorry too Bruce..but I'm at peace now..I'm at the happiest I've been in decades..I've fought many wars for mankind..I simply cannot come running every time I'm told the world is in danger..sometimes, the world has to save itself..sometimes, you have to save yourself.. Go home Bruce..go back to Gotham..there is nothing more I can do for you.."
She turned around and walked back to her work bench. Bruce dropped his head as he slowly made his way to the exit door.
...
Four hours later as Diana headed to her car, loud laughter can be heard from the open cafe across the parking lot.
"Drinks on me!" Bruce shouted to the barman as the two French blondes giggled and clinked their wine glasses. He exchanged flirty looks with the leggy one opposite him as the other sat astride his lap.
"I don't believe this." Diana mumbed under her breath as she looked over across the street.
Dropping her work files on the passenger seat, she briskly strode over to the trio.
"You're drunk Bruce. Get up!"
The lap blonde looked at Bruce and again at Diana and said..
"Brucey, you know this bit-"
There was something about Diana that quickly cut her off. Something in her steely gaze that warned the blonde not to pick a fight with this woman.
"We'll be at the bar Bruce.."
"No, you're not going any where girls," Bruce retorted, "I don't know her..she's just leaving.."
But the pair, fearing trouble, were already making their way to the bar.
Turning around. "Now why the fuck would you do that Diana?" he said with an alcohol fueled glint in his eyes.
"You already told me to get lost. So I did."
"Yea, I told you to go home..not hang around here at bars in Paris entertaining bimbos."
"Whats it to you princess? This is me..fucking bimbos is what I do best. Surely you Ms high and mighty in all your glorious fucking spendour would not want to be seen or care about a guy like me.
"Keep your voice down," she warned, through gritted teeth.
"Why should I? You told me the world can save itself. To save myself. That's what I'm doing.. I'm enjoying myself..to the fucking fullest..the world can go fuck itself!"
Bruce got up. But after three bottles of the house's best wine and an eight hour flight from Gotham, he was in no shape to go anywhere. He stumbles and fell between two tables.
Diana grabbed him by the arm as he struggled to get up.
"Get off me Diana..go back to you fucking museum..I don't need your help"
"You're not going anywhere mister."
"Where's my car?"
"Your car is safe here. You're in no condition to drive."
Knowing that any further attempt to argue was futile, Bruce reluctantly gave up the struggle and allowed her to lead him to her car.
Bruce stretched out in the passenger seat as Diana got behind the wheel. He was still mouthing off at her as she backed out of her parking space. But soon, he fell quiet as the day's combination of wine, long-haul travel and disappointments got the best of him. He was sound asleep.
Diana pulled down the sunshield mirror in front of him and studied his face. He was still handsome. But the years and the toil was showing. His was the face of a man weighed down by the world's troubles, weathered by personal guilt and dedication. But there was something else there. Desperation.
She thought about driving him to his hotel. Surely she could find the address and room card in his wallet. Must be one of those fancy city hotels. But no. She'll take him to her home instead where he can sleep it off. He came all this way to ask her for help, it was the least she could do.
She shook her head.
Was it a sense of obligation coming over her? Was it a sense of protectiveness she was feeling for him? Or is it something else?
"What are you getting yourself into Diana?" She asked herself.