Batman was officially fed up. He had tried to be gentle, supportive, and above all, patient. He had stuck his neck out. He had cashed in on years of public goodwill to convince the judge, not to mention the parole board. He had argued with Martian Manhunter and Superman for hours, citing the same sources they normally used when trying to convince him to be less paranoid. He had gone up in front of the entire League to argue his case, straining his relationships with Wonder Woman and Aquaman to the limit. Eventually, they had seen it this way, but even so…

Those first few months had been hell. It was before he had taken on a ward, and he'd still been inexperienced as a mentor. It didn't help that his charge was 16, and (as he realized later) abnormally rude. Nevertheless, he had seen potential, and he'd been certain that he was being of use to the boy. (At the very least, he was saving himself the trouble of dealing with a new supercriminal.) More than that, he'd genuinely liked this teenager, even if he was obnoxious. He trusted him, and grew to respect his abilities.

And although it wasn't immediately apparent, his trust and respect were well-placed. It was seldom that O'Brian used his powers for evil (although he did tend to abuse them in other respects). Furthermore, although he didn't show his full abilities often, he could be a formidable opponent if his ire was raised, or he had an emotional connection to the battle.

There was one thing, however, that Batman couldn't stand about his friend of ten years. The man stole constantly, and when he didn't steal, he thought about money. It was hard enough to watch one's enemies for tricks; it shouldn't be part of his job to keep an eye on his partner.

Today had been the last straw. It wasn't important what he'd tried to steal, or how close he had gotten to stealing it. What was important was that they both knew what was going to happen: Batman would give a long lecture about morality, he would profusely apologize and/or try to guilt-trip his friend into dropping the subject, and after a few hours of brooding, Batman would calm down and ignore the matter, only to watch it happen again.

Today, however, "Bats" decided that he had had enough. His only word to the apologetic, red-suited figure was an imperious "Come," accompanied by a gesture towards the Batmobile.

They had been driving for well over five minutes before O'Brian stopped staring at his lap. It had been another ten before he asked:

"Well? Por que the silent bit? Why no lecture?"

In reply, Batman leaned over and grabbed him by the throat. He growled, "Why waste my breath?" He quickly released the other hero's neck, put his hand back on the wheel, and faced forward. For the next three minutes, there was silence, broken only by the sound of his fingers on the controls. He didn't look over as the Batmobile converted to its rocket form and took off, although he knew that O'Brian was beginning to twitch nervously. They had been out of the stratosphere for about two minutes before he spoke again.

"I've decided that the time has come for stronger measures. We're going to the Watchtower."

"Why?" sounded the hesitant reply.

"Because you're going straight, completely, whether you want to or not."