His heart skipped a beat, and his forehead gathered a bit of sweat. As did his hands, his underarms, and many other areas that one could find perspiration formed. But, Unlike one might think from looking at this man, It was not nervousness that shifted him this way. But pure, and untainted anticipation. As finally, After 5 years of waiting. Waiting for the chance to hear his side of things. Waiting for him to explain himself, the way he had made so many others do, for so long. Was almost over.

Standing from his chair, He spoke out to no one, "Initiate BS-12. Level, 4." And beyond his echo, No voice answered back. But a response was received. Lighting up the room, The large monitor quickly processed his command, and set in motion several laser traps, all green in color, and locked down every exit and entrance to his location. Except, for one.

And there he stood, Waiting for him to dare show, As he had for years. Waiting for his excuses, Waiting for his reasons, Waiting for the same bull that he had heard from guilty men all his life. And He does not wait long at all.

With a flash of blue and red, He stood before him, at a distance, As he was the last time they met.

"Hello, Bruce."

"What did I tell you?"

"..We need to talk."

And it was those words, that he had said so many years ago. The headlines had been filled with grim news for those in their line of work. Their adversaries had gotten more dangerous, more out of hand. But none more then his. Tired of being faulted in their attempts to defeat him. They banded together, as one cohesive unit. And in their troubles, They had taken from him the one thing that had kept him grounded, Kept him sane, Kept him safe. And in removing that, they also removed his reason for letting them live.

"You realize that anything you have to say won't be heard, Don't you? After all, What's good for the geese..."

"DO NOT PATRONIZE ME, BRUCE!"

He paced the floor, sneering at the synthetic Kryptonite Lasers that kept the distance between He and Bruce a guarantee, and looked on at the man who had toiled relentlessly to make sure of their competence against him.

"I expected you to understand, Bruce. You, of all people, Should know what if felt like to…to go through this. I know that you had to try, Try and get through to me…Like I had for you. But, it wasn't acceptable. I wasn't ready to hear it. Just like you weren't when Jason Tod-"

"DO NOT invoke that name, Clark."

"I gave up being Clark Kent. He is simply a mask to me now, Bruce. The same way you and Batman were always one. So are Clark Kent, And Superman."

"There is no more, Superman, Clark. Superman was Infallible. He was untouchable by any and all outside circumstance. He was rock steady in his beliefs, and nothing could shake the ground in which his foundation was built upon. That changed, when you changed."

"Can you say that if you were me, you'd have done things differently?"

"I don't answer hypothetical questions, Clark. You know that."

"Well then let me ask you a real one. How's HE doing?"

Eyes narrowed, Bruce looked deep into his red, vibrant eyes, and wondered. He wondered how he could have known. Perhaps the lead wasn't thick enough. Perhaps the Kryptonite liner had grown weak. Or perhaps, in the scariest of possibilities, These things no longer affected him.

"How did you know?"

And in a flash of blue, He was gone. With nothing in his place but floating dust, and the faint sound of two soft spoken words, hanging in the wind like a dream catcher.

"I didn't."

Turning away he walked back to the monitor, and sat. Resting his head in his hands, He spoke to no one once more.

"Activate audio/Visual Log, Date, March 13th, 2011, Onward."

"AUDIO VISUAL LOG, MARCH 13th, 2011 AND ONWARD, COMMENCING."

Resting his back against the leather interior of the chair, He looked upon a much younger version of himself, Battered and bruised, Seated in the exact same chair, With cape and cowl hanging off his back, and blood flowing from several wounds all about his body.

"March 13th, 2011. A car bomb was activated outside the daily planet. Killing three people in its detonation. Victims include a hot dog vendor by the name of Jason Cerelo, An investment banker, Roger Marsh, and…Daily planet reporter, Lois Lane. Responsible parties are believed to be Toy Man, and Lex Luthor. Evidence of Toy Man's involvement include a small detonator, Shaped like an action figure of Superman's likeness. Luthor's involvement was determined by his comatose body found nearby. How he got that way has yet to be determined, But he's been moved to S.T.A.R. Labs for further study."

Watching as his hands shake, and voice cracks, Bruce closes his eyes tightly, and slowly leans forward, Gagging on the throat closing sadness that slowly overcomes years of mental stability, and reduces him to nothing more a bag of emotions, As his pre-recorded, and much younger self, Does the same on the monitor in front of him.

"and on a more personal note, Unbeknownst to the public, Lois Lane's husband, Clark Kent, Also known as Superman, Has seemingly lost all control of his emotions. Comparing him to myself, After the loss of Jason Todd, The second robin, I can only say that I could not imagine stopping until I brought the person responsible to justice. The positive side to this, Is that those responsible are already dead…or close to it. The negative side, is that I'm not entirely sure he's willing to accept that. End Transmission."

"March 15th, 2011. Superman, Alias Clark Kent, Has gone renegade. Despite warnings from myself, Batman, Alias, Bruce Wayne, And Green Lantern, Alias, Hal Jordan, He has gone off to locate every last one of his enemies, In an effort to expunge them from the very planet. Victims so far include Brainiac, Darkseid, and Metallo. Green Lanter, Martian Manhunter, Steel, Alias, John Henry Irons, and myself, are hoping to cut him off, Before he does anything else that he will regret. This may be my last transmission. End Transmission."

Standing up, He turns his back to the screen, and commands it, "fast forward, June, 23rd, 2011." Reacting to his command, the computer goes blank, and two seconds after, A visual of himself, Dressed in a black suit, Stands before the monitor. Behind him, A young man with black hair, Wheels a redhead toward a gallery of suits standing against the wall. Lit up within, We watch as they each look at the green, red, and yellow suit, pressing their hands against the glass, and joining their free ones, tightly, as their bodies lightly vibrate. His voice cracks, As tears flow uncontrollably, and his head falls at an angle.

"Ju…June 23rd…2011. The third Robin, Alias, Timothy Drake, Gave up his fight with the depression that all of us watched him struggle with for the last two months. After watching someone he idolized, and trust, Run rampant on any form of villain he could find, Robin became despondent, and emotionally unstable. Many of us hoped that something would snap in the boy, Perhaps remind him of what I tried to teach him. But we were wrong. After leaving the Cave at 2 am. Witness reports all match the same story. He arrived at the 'Iceberg', The club owned and operated by The Penquin, Alias, Oswald Cobblepot, and sought out the criminally insane individual known to us, Only, as The Joker…In which led to the loss of his life, By what appears to have been, His own request…A note in the young man's room at Wayne Manor validates this theory. The letter reads as follows…

'Dear Bruce, Babs, Cassie, and Dick.

By the time you find this, It will be too late. I will have gone. I didn't want to leave a letter. I didn't want to leave anything. I wanted you to believe this to be an accident. I wanted you to remember me fondly. But I needed you to know something. Something I could never tell you out loud, But fear you all seen.

When he who's name we no longer speak, Did what he did, I agreed with him. I voiced a different opinion, and acted the part that I thought you'd want me to. But every last bit of me wanted to be there with him. No, I wanted to be HIM. I wanted to be the one tearing apart every super villain, and crook that I could find, limb from limb. I wanted to feel their blood hit my face, And know how the fear in their eyes looked, as I slowly stole their life from them.

I know your all going to blame yourselves for this. You'll all think that you could have stopped it. But you couldn't of. I made up my mind before I even realized it. I just hope that my reasons for picking him, Are validated. As if him killing one robin, and crippling a Batgirl, Doesn't get you to pull a superman on him…Then maybe the second death in this family, will.

I love you.

Tim Drake.'"

Standing with the letter in his hand, He turned to see Cassandra Cain fall to her knees, As the sound of sobbing demanded his attention. Rushing over to her, Bruce drops the letter onto the control center, and mutters a command to the computer quickly, While tending to the dramatized girl.

"End Transmission."

Standing with bowed head, Bruce looked down at his wrinkled hands, and scarred knuckles, and he thought. He thought about the years he spent on the rooftops of the city above, Struggling with the shadows, and the lines between good and evil. He thought about how he had tried so hard, to make a change for the good in the world around him. And how his attempts have brought more sorrow then anything else. And then, He thought about the end. His end. Would he have done anything positive to change the world? Or would all he's ever done, Be in nothing but Vainity?