Unknown Location

Darkness.

Bruce moans as he wakes, his mind groggy, vision blurred. His arms and legs are tightly secured to a wooden chair.

His shirt has been removed, but he can feel a familiar material wrapped around his abdomen. He attempts to free his hands but is interrupted by a searing pain that shoots through his ribcage.

"Arrrggg…" His teeth clench his lower lip. This isn't the first time he's felt such pain and he knows that he's suffered at least two cracked ribs.

What happened?

His head throbs as he recalls his most recent memories.

Diana's lips.

Clark.

"Goodnight, Paolo."

The pain is debilitating, prompting him to add 'concussion' to his list of injuries; but he doesn't allow himself to quit.

"Will the Princess not be joining us this evening, Master Bruce?"

"Not tonight, Alfred."

"…Mr. Fox called earlier, sir, he says…"

"Alfred, look out!"

"Alfred…"

Confusion is quickly replaced with anger. Taking a deep breath, he steadies his breathing and closes his eyes, allowing the other senses to take over.

Sniff, sniff. Turpentine, rubber, motor oil. He was in a body shop.

He focuses on his hearing. The distant pitch of a whistle travels through the crisp night air as a late train pulls into station miles away.

"Hmm…"

He lowers his head and rubs his chin against his bare shoulder. No significant growth in facial hair, which tells him that the train has to be pulling into Metropolis.

A door slowly creaks open across the room before the area is bathed in bright, florescent lighting. Oil stained rags and tools litter the floor; a small, red sedan is abandoned on a lift, waiting to be worked on the next morning.

"Good, you're awake." A deep voice says, as three sets of feet approach.

It takes a moment for Bruce's eyes to adjust to the bright lights, but he can just barely make out the outline of the tall, thick man standing before him.

"Good evening, Bruce." The man says casually, as if they are talking over coffee. "I'm sorry I had to pull you away from your friends, but we need to talk about some things."

The voice is familiar and, although his eyes have yet to completely adapt, Bruce knows exactly who is standing before him. He is one of the few people in the world richer than himself. Amadeus Rothschild, owner of half of the oil industry in the world, giving him control of several small governments, and even a few larger ones. He wears an expensive gray suit and several gold rings on both hands. The oversized Rolex on his left wrist looks as if it's weighing his entire arm down.

"Amadeus," Bruce growls, still squinting through the light, "it's been a while."

"Yes," The man looks up as if trying to recall their last encounter, "I believe the last we met you were just a toddler, visiting my office with your father…unfortunate, though, it was only a few days later that he and your mother were murdered, I'm afraid." He tries, unsuccessfully, to suppress the grin that crosses his face.

"You can save the little game, I ruled out your involvement in my parent's murder years ago…even you couldn't orchestrate the demise of Thomas and Martha Wayne."

"No, but an insignificant street criminal could…"

Bruce's jaw tightens, but he forces himself to remain disciplined.

"We all thought you were dead, you know, when you left Gotham for so long; figured you'd gone off and killed yourself."

"Then it must've been tough to watch when I came back and led my company to the top of the Fortune 500. If I recall, you put in quite a few offers for Wayne Enterprises in my absence."

Amadeus feigns a smile, hands clasped casually behind his back.

"Let's not spend our reunion reliving petty arguments and trivial disagreements of the past, Bruce. I realize that your father and I had our…differences – which ultimately led to his downfall – but I've brought you here to see if you have learned from your father's mistakes. After all, what are we if we can't repent the sins of our father?"

Bruce glares at the pompous tycoon of industry.

"You see, I'm the leader of a… how do I put it…?"

"Clandestine organization comprised of the world's most powerful individuals, hidden deep in the Colorado Rockies…?"

Amadeus tries to hide his shock, but Bruce can see the gears in his mind trying to figure out how he was privy to such confidential information.

"Well…it looks like I won't have to explain myself then, so I'll just cut to the chase."

"No." Bruce answers before the question is presented. "Like my father, I am not interested in being part of your group of egotistical, power-hungry tyrants."

Amadeus loosens his tie, becoming visibly frustrated with his captive.

"You realize what your father sacrificed when he left us?" He grips the arms of Bruce's chair, leaning in close to the younger man, "Your family had been with us since the beginning; the Wayne's were the first family of the greatest nation in the world, adored by all. Your grandfather led us through two World Wars, and we came out as powerful as ever! Then your father, the doctor, the pacifist, left us and nearly ran your company and the Wayne legacy into the ground!"

A quick silence fell over the men as Amadeus stepped back and straightened his tie, trying to compose himself.

"He sacrificed short-term power for long-term success, which is why Wayne Enterprises is poised to become the top privately-owned corporation in the word."

Amadeus takes a moment in thought, staring at Bruce, hesitancy in his eyes. "I didn't want to resort to this but I can see that you've already made your decision. I hope this doesn't make you think any less of me, Bruce." He motions to the guard standing behind Bruce who hands him a small tablet. "It's not everyday that Bruce Wayne visits Metropolis, but when he does you notice; especially when he's such breathtaking company."

Bruce holds back a smile as he thinks of the consequences of attempting to use Wonder Woman as blackmail, until Amadeus presents the tablet for him to see.

"No…"

"Unfortunately, we couldn't keep tabs on your lady friend, but we did manage to find someone else who's rather important to you."

The screen streams a live-feed from a small hospital room somewhere in Metropolis. An old man, heavily wrapped in gauze, lies motionless on the bed. The camera slowly zooms in on the patient…

"Alfred!"

"That's correct. You see I own that hospital; I own his doctors. Right now they say that he has a very good chance of making it out of their relatively unharmed…but if I tell them to accidentally give him an unhealthy dose of painkillers…"

"You sonuva…!" Bruce tries to free himself of his constraints, violently jerking his body towards Amadeus.

"Bruce, your company has the industry-leading, advanced weapon technology. We're about to enter a war, the likes of which the world has never seen, and can hardly understand. With your company as part of our organization, we will truly become more powerful than any government. So, what will it be?"

Bruce stares up at Amadeus, hatred in his eyes. He looks down to the tablet still presented in front of him.

Alfred…

"Okay," He says reluctantly, "I'm in."

"I'm so glad that we could settle this petty dispute, Bruce." He motions for his guards to untie him, "I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that we look forward to working closely with the Wayne family once again. You'll be introduced to the rest of the group tomorrow; you can sleep on the plane. Oh and if you try to get your butler transported to a different hospital…well, you know."