A/N: This is more of a Bruce-ccentric chapter compared to the last one. No more all-Founder POV's. Alas! And as I said before, I'm a bit awkward with action-oriented scenes. Hope you enjoy anyway.

WATCHTOWER

Green Arrow yawned. He hated Monitor Duty, and was starting to get the feeling that Batman purposely scheduled all his shifts whenever he had a date with Dinah planned.

That guy was nasty.

Oliver was ripped out of his fantasies of beating up Batman with a baseball bat when suddenly, the power went out. He was encased in darkness, and met with the silence of a hundred different machines' quiet whirring turning off all at once.

"This would happen on my shift," he grumbled to himself. He touched his comm. "Green Arrow to Mr. Terrific."

No response, even when he repeated himself several times. He was actually going to have to get up.

Just as he did, Mr. Terrific, accompanied by a serious looking Fire, walked into the Monitor Womb.

"Watchtower systems are down," Mr. Terrific said grimly. "Communicators aren't working."

"And we're in lockdown," added Fire in her heavy accent. "What are the chances?"

"Computer malfunction?" Oliver suggested hopefully.

"Highly doubtful," replied Mr. Terrific. "I wonder if it's happening to the Metro, too?" But they had no way of knowing.

"How long will it take to fix?" Oliver asked, finally. Dreading the answer.

"An hour at least, with the limited personnel we have aboard at the moment."

Oliver groaned. He was so going to invest in a nice, titanium baseball bat.

GOTHAM

"No..." he whispered. But his eyes did not deceive him.

In front of him, in the midst of the graveyard that he had returned to so often, there lay...

Nothing.

Just holes in the ground, freshly dug up dirt spewing over the sides onto the grass. Coffins removed.

His parents were gone.

Bruce fell to his knees, unable to stop the agony from spreading over his features. "No," he whispered again. He put his head in his hands. The emotions that he usually kept faithfully buried with his parents were flooding to the surface, and he couldn't stop it, he couldn't control it, he couldn't control himself. "No."

So blinded he was by his emotion that he almost missed the sound of a near silent approach behind him until it was too late.

He was up in a flash, wheeling around at an almost inhuman speed. But it wasn't fast enough. The last thing he saw was a heavy flash of steel, before pain erupted in his head and he descended into the darkness.

METROPOLIS

"What's the point?" said the man on the rooftop with a hint of desperation to his voice. The gun was pressed to his head, his hand tightly fisted over the trigger.

"Trust me," Superman said calmly, floating some ways away from the man, who had threatened to pull the trigger if he so much as imagined Superman making a move. He still reckoned he might be fast enough to take the gun from him first, but he wasn't taking the chance just yet. "Life does get better."

"Easy for you to say," sneered the man. "You're the most powerful guy in the world, you've got a hot reporter girlfriend and everybody loves you."

"The grass is always greener on the other side," Superman said. He acknowledged to himself that he wasn't the best at this, but he was trying. Sudden inspiration struck him. "Maybe I'm not the best example. But I know a guy who has been through more hell in his life than most of us put together ever will. Most people don't understand how he finds the strength to keep going, but I think I understand. Just a glimmer of hope in your darkest times is enough to think, what if tomorrow will be better?" He cleared his throat. "And it will be. I promise."

The man seemed to waver in his resolve for a moment; his white knuckled grip loosened slightly. "You think?"

"Yeah," said Superman with a small smile, his confidence returning as his efforts were apparently not in vain. "I do."

"Then you're a damn fool." The man pointed his gun at Superman and shot him.

He fell.

GATEWAY CITY

"The rumours are right, Diana," Cheetah taunted, taking another swipe. "You are getting slow."

Diana expertly dodged and executed a scissor kick to catch Cheetah's neck and use her momentum to slam her into the ground. "Rumours are hardly a reliable source to base your arrogance on, Cheetah."

Cheetah sprang up just as quickly with a snarl, and the two women engaged again in a flurry of deadly-looking punches and kicks. Cheetah finally managed to hit Diana on the side of her face, boxing her ear.

"But they usually hold a grain of truth," grinned Cheetah.

Blood dripping steadily down the side of her neck, Diana felt anger grip her. With a battle cry, she jumped again at her opponent, this time determined to take her down for the damaging of her Amazonian pride.

Her eyes felt a little bit blurry, but she fought on anyway. Did Cheetah have poison on her claws? she wondered. She banished the thought from her mind.

Cheetah, infuriatingly, twisted out of Diana's grip again and backflipped out of her line of sight. Growling, Diana wheeled around, only to stop short.

A crowd of Cheetahs stood before her, grinning ferally and sharpening their claws. The words they murmured were lost on Diana's ears.

Was this some trick? "Cheetah!" she yelled. "Where are you?"

"Here," all the dozens of Cheetahs replied distinctly.

Her heart beating at a wild pace, she scanned and decided she could take them down. She could.

But there were more.

CHINA

He was screaming, she was screaming, and there was laughter, tinkling softly in the background somewhere.

Pain. Pure, unadulterated agony ripped through him. Everything screamed. He felt himself stumbling, irrationally, thinking, water, water, water...

Foolish of him. Even as he fell over the railing and into the water, the fire that burned him was never more alive.

Unfinished thoughts flickered through his head. Poison... Sweated out... Magnesium... Dying...

But soon every coherent inkling of thought left him.

GOTHAM

He woke with a gasp.

It was completely dark, and Bruce couldn't see a thing. With a groan, he tried to get up.

Within two inches from lifting himself, his back hit the ceiling. All his breath left him as he collapsed back onto his stomach. He waited a minute, letting his eyes adjust to his surroundings. He was lying on a cushioned surface... But the wall right next to his head was wooden... and if he turned his head he could see the ceiling of the-

Casket.

He'd been buried alive. And judging by where he'd been knocked out, he'd been buried alive in his parents' grave.

Barring the fact that this was completely sick, at this point most people would have gone into a hysteria that would ultimately be their end- hyperventilation that would lead to a lack of oxygen that would lead to a slow, agonizing death of asphyxiation. Bruce knew this. Still, he felt the panic descend upon him, making his breath into short, rapid puffs of air. But he forced himself to calm down. He forced his fear and his roller coaster ride of other emotions deep, deep down below the surface. Batman was all about logic.

But even as his fear retreated, he felt a new feeling take its place and become dominant.

Rage.

And this was an emotion that Bruce was quite familiar with; one that he embraced, actually.

It was what made him reach into his pocket and withdraw his keys.

Put his keys between his knuckles and grit his teeth at the pain that was to come.

And punch the ceiling of this coffin.

He was not dying here. He was getting out to avenge this insult to his parents. And it was going to test his control. His face was a snarl of anger. It burned within him like whiskey, lighting every nerve on fire, so much so that he couldn't feel the slick pain that shot dully through him as his knuckles bled.

He made himself take deep, slow breaths as he continued hitting as hard as he could. Blood dripped down from his hand, running down his arm and splattering onto his face. But he didn't even notice- his vision was already a haze of red.

~Sometime later~

It was raining when Bruce finally staggered home.

Alfred answered the door, already looking haggard, and even more concerned when he took in Bruce's appearance. Blood was all over his suit, dying his shirt red, clothes rumpled and ripped, and his face was bruised and expression murderous. "Master B-?"

Bruce brushed past him. He heard Alfred follow closely. He had not allowed Alfred to drive him to the graveyard, preferring to see the sight of his parents' abandoned graves for himself.

Predictably, Bruce went down to the Batcave and sat down at the computer. He turned off the news channel that had been on, warning of several earthquakes in the Middle East, and pulled up the press release from his parents' deaths. "Master Bruce," Alfred called. "I will forgive you from telling me what happened only because a more pressing matter is at hand."

His charge looked at him, expression bleak for just a moment. "A more pressing matter?" Alfred felt a pang of something in his chest, something like pity that he would rather not feel but couldn't help.

"Channel Five, sir," he said quietly.

Bruce tapped a few buttons on his computer, only to be met with a live news image of an unconscious Superman lying on his back in the middle of a Metropolis street. His back was the centre of a large crater in the road, surrounded by a dozen medics. "Emergency personnel are doing all that they can," the reporter was saying. "But nothing they have done seems to be effective. Meanwhile, the Man of Steel is not waking up. We can only hope and pray that he will stay alive long enough for someone" her voice lost its professional edge and was overcome by a desperate tinge- "someone who will be able to help."

With difficulty, Bruce forced his concerns over his parents' missing bodies out of his head for the time being to focus on the newest challenge at hand. It had to be Kryptonite- the Boy Scout's great weakness was fairly well known in the criminal world. And nothing else would affect him like this. It wouldn't be too difficult of a matter to solve the issue, but Batman might not get to Metropolis in time to save him.

He made a decision and pressed another button on his computer. "Batman to Flash. Superman's in trouble. I need you to go to Star Labs and have them make a scalpel out of kryp-"

"I can't right now, Bats," said Flash through the comm; Bruce could hear him breathing a little more loudly than he usually would while he was running. "I'm in a bit of a fix myself."

"What?" asked Bruce, instantly alert. Three Leaguers attacked in one day could not be a coincidence.

Flash huffed, indignant even at his most perilous hour. "It's this stupid bomb drilled through my wrist. Mirror Master tricked me into getting it put on me. Batman, it's not a normal bomb. If I stop running-"

"It'll explode," Bruce guessed, a growing sense of dread rising within him.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Hold on, Flash," commanded Bruce, his keen mind working very fast. "Keep running. I'll get back in contact soon." He pressed another button without waiting for a response. First things first, selfish or not, he needed to see if she was all right. "Batman to Wonder Woman."

He got no response, but he heard something more terrifying: a wild, out of control scream. The sounds of fists on flesh.

"Diana!" He was standing up in a flash, shouting her name, losing his composure in front of Alfred. He felt the urge to jump in the Batwing and fly to Gateway City right now. But he wasn't that selfish, not yet.

A sudden thought struck him. He got down on his knees and started scanning the Batcomputer's exterior with his hands. Alfred looked on with raised eyebrows until Bruce found what he was looking for: a tiny electronic bug, on the bottom side of his keyboard.

"Alfred," he barked. "Send for Talia. Right now." He had a feeling he knew exactly what was happening to his teammates, and with it a horrible realization was dawning over him.

"I'm afraid she isn't in the manor, sir-"

"Check. Find her."As his butler made a hasty exit, Bruce pressed another sequence of buttons on his keyboard. "Batman to J'onn."

He heard J'onn's agonized scream. Then, weakly: "Batman... Help me..."

"Stay with us, J'onn," Bruce commanded forcefully, as if his direction alone could keep his teammates alive.

"Batman to Green Lantern."

He heard scuffles. "Batman!" John's normally calm, controlled voice was panicked. "I've- I've gone blind. And I'm being attacked by people I can't even see. My ring isn't working!" John gave an anguished yell of pain.

This was something he could deal with right now. It would be too time-consuming to explain the post-hypnotic suggestion that had been given to him, so Bruce cut to the chase. "Your ring is only a tool of imagination," said Bruce harshly. "And an extension of your will. If you believe yourself to be blind, it will make it so. If you believe you can see, you will."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, broken only by some muffled hits and muted groans. John was still fighting, only blindly swinging his fists. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I go on frequent missions with the Flash," John said finally.

John appeared more calm now that he was speaking to him, Bruce couldn't help but notice. "Trust me."

He felt the hesitation in John- so much that it was palpable. But he also felt it when John got over his hang-ups enough to say, "All right."

Bruce cut the line immediately, knowing John would do it. The man didn't trust too easily, but when he did, he did it with his whole heart.

"Batman to Hawkgirl," he said next, not really expecting a coherent answer. He didn't get one.

He knew exactly what was happening to her. He tapped a few more buttons. The Watchtower was unresponsive. And his worst fears were confirmed.

"You called, Beloved?"

Bruce turned, feeling anger pulse through his veins. He held up the electronic bug he'd kept in his fist. "Want to explain this?"

Talia looked startled, then miserable. She turned her face away. "I'm sorry, Beloved," she whispered. She closed her eyes.

They flew open when Bruce grabbed her- hard- by the shoulders and got in her face. "You hacked my computer," he snarled. "Gave Ra'as my plans, didn't you? You betrayed me. Again."

Her mouth was a line of misery at this, and then suddenly her eyes sharpened as she took in his ragged appearance. "What happened to you?" she gasped.

"Oh, nothing," Bruce mocked her. "Just got buried alive in my parents' grave. By the League of Assassins, I'm guessing." He heard Alfred's sharp intake of breath but chose to ignore it. "I trusted you!" His voice came near cracking but he controlled it at the last second. "And now they're after the League... The whole league? Or the Founders? Tell me!" he snarled, and his face was a mask of hate that didn't need the cowl to look menacing.

"The- the founders," Talia stammered as he shook her. "But Beloved, he said- my father promised he wouldn't kill you! I don't understand!"

"And you believed him? I thought you were smart." He shook his head, disgusted, and let her go, roughly pushing her away from him.

Talia was the picture of regret. She hugged her own upper arms. She was no longer flirting, no longer trying to seduce. She suddenly looked like a very lost woman; a very lost woman torn in two and forever struggling. Just like him. In that moment when he saw her as she truly was, for that fleeting moment, his heart took pity on her. His gaze must have softened, for she then said, "How cynical you have become in these years," she said, not accusing, just... sad. "I remember you used to be much less dark. Less forboding." She shook her head. "More trusting. More forgiving."

He clenched his fists, wanting to shout, to make her realize that manipulative people like her and her father were the ones that had made him this way, hardened his shell and tucked away the real Bruce Wayne so far into the shadows that he wasn't even quite sure he existed anymore. Closing himself off was the only way he could survive- not for himself, but for the people that needed Batman.

"Get out," he said finally, his voice no longer carrying the weight of barely restrained rage. He was surprised to find it sounded rather hollow. He felt utterly spent of emotion. "Get out of my house. I'll deal with you later." The threat hung emptily, lacking conviction.

He turned to Alfred, now ignoring Talia, who stood there, a single tear dripping down her face now. And his heart would break again over this betrayal, right after the urgent matters were done with, when he had time to torture himself with the knowledge. Right now he had to be strong. Maybe he could correct his mistakes before it was too late. "Alfred, ready the Batwing. The Justice League is under attack."

Alfred's tone was confused. "By who?"

As he went to put on his suit, Bruce thundered, "By me!"

A/N: Spent a lot of time on this chapter. Wow that was super long. Anyway I love reviews! :D