When pain emerges, men bargain. Boys will too. Man will writhe and turn, plead and beg. Some will last a long time, others will crumble shortly beneath the weight of agony, but no matter the man, in the end we offer whatever we must so that the hurting will stop, if only for a moment. Under the extreme duress of inhumane anguish, boys and men alike would rather give in than continue to suffer. A brittle thing I was then. Easy to break and hard to mend.

When Roslov gunned down Father, Mother couldn't hold her peace. Martha Wayne wailed and screamed herself hoarse until the same man who killed her husband fired his gun, the bullet tearing a hole into her throat to forever silence her.

I can't remember what I did when I saw the blood. I think I yelled at the sound of the gunshots, tried to call out their names in denial with the faint hope that they would respond back to me. What I do remember was trying to crawl to their side, but the chains held me then, its coiling embrace a sign of the many cruelties to come. Those damned chains that clung to my small body were taut and heavy, the many links not rounded but sharpened into fine edges. Like a thousand blades they carved my flesh the more I struggled, and struggle I did, but it was useless in the end…

Bruce Wayne could do nothing but watch in horror as his parents were murdered before him. Chained and bound, he was forced to watch as the light left his parent's eyes, as mother struggled to breathe her last while Father was slumped against the wall, his body riddles with gunshots.

The madness didn't end there – couldn't end. Pain was already carved into Bruce's flesh, etched into his very soul, but Roslov wasn't satisfied with just that. The burly man approached the boy with a grin, and under his sickening gaze Bruce was thrown ruthlessly into the pool of his parent's blood. The boy tried to move his shackled body, to fight back any way he could, but Roslov – putting all of his weight into the heel of his bloodstained boot – stomped on Bruce's head, submerging and grounding the boy's nose and mouth into the mass of blood and pulp of his parent's scattered remains, depriving him of life.

The boy began to drown in blood, his frantic thrashing only served to entrench the sharp chains that bound him even deeper. It was only when his body began to grow slack did the man pull his weight away with much reluctance. Still however, he left the boy to drown. Whether the boy could live a bit longer or not, none of it mattered…

Bruce sat at the edge of his bed in silence, his head which hung low was held in shaking hands as a few tears cascaded down his face. He couldn't help but laugh, his laughter tinged with sorrow and hatred.

'Who are you?'

Bruce drew a deep shuddering breath as he reigned in on his rampant emotions and pounding heart. Wiping the tears that fell from his face, the man stood up and walked over to the large mirror in his bathroom.

Looking at his gaunt reflection, the stoic man could barely recognize the face that glared back. He touched his face, his still trembling fingers roamed and searched for that which wasn't there. Aside from the growing stubble he hadn't had time for, his face was smooth, without blemish nor scar. Still, Bruce saw them in the eye of his mind. That which should have been. How could he forget…

''Who are you?'' whispered Bruce to himself.

With that question lingering within his mind, he took care of his necessities before taking a long and cold shower. The harsh water stung, helping him to repress the ever-constant nightmares. The blood, the filth, the anguished screams, he tried not to think of it all, lest the monster in his heart emerge.

Instead his mind desperately took him elsewhere, to thoughts of a woman sculpted by the gods and goddesses themselves. A fierce warrior with a heart of compassion and integrity. A woman who either gave everything she had or nothing at all. Just the mere thought of her was a balm to his soul.

'Diana…'

Bruce still remembered that fateful day when the Founders of the League united for the first time to fight against the impending calamity that Earth faced. Diana had never set foot outside of Themyscira until then, and even now he could still vividly picture her burning gaze full of curiosity and interest that she had towards him, the first man she had ever met.

Closing his eyes, Bruce allowed himself a small period of reprieve. For a small moment, he allowed himself to give in to the harrowing thoughts that plagued him so, that offered a prosperous life of pure bliss with a woman who would give him her heart so long as he did the same.

The sound of running water faded to silence, and in its place a faint voice growing stronger by the second could be heard. A voice that could only belong to a goddess. She called to him then, a soft yet pleading tone that resounded in the silence. His name carried from her lips filled his ears in the form of a pleading whisper that quickly became a murmuring chant. It almost felt wrong, he thought, to hear his name from her graceful voice. He didn't dare to turn back however, to look her in the eye. He couldn't let go, still couldn't reach out into the light she offered.

With her call left unanswered, the goddess chose to push further, never one to give up so easily. Her fingers playfully roamed across his bare skin, her every touch a promise of something more as they traced his numerous scars and wounds. All he had to do was surrender himself to her embrace, to allow himself to be healed.

'No…'

Bruce closed his heart to the temptation, his short-lived moment of happiness finished before he could ever let it begin. The goddess in his heart sighed then. Hers was a sigh full of longing and desire that tugged at his heartstrings, one that pulled on his very soul and threatened to crumble the walls that caged his heart.

The sound of running water faded back in. Gone was her presence, the lingering warmth she gave faded away. His refusal disappointed her. This was not the first, but he always feared it would be the last. He knew this couldn't go on for much longer.

Diana didn't deserve such treatment, and he didn't deserve her…

Turning off the shower head, the scarred and battled man steeled his heart once again. Raising his battered walls and drinking from his well of poison, he headed off to start the day anew as playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Bruce examined the scenery outside the wide windows of his grand office. Before him laid Gotham City in all its beauty and glory. Plastered on his face was a pleased smile, but internally he gazed upon his city with a quiet sadness. Underneath the unique Gotham architecture and bustling liveliness was a city in decay and decline. Corrupt from within, it clung to the people like a disease, affecting those innocent whilst the wicked benefited.

''She is quite the beauty at night, isn't she?'' asked Bruce as he began to pour a bottle of red wine for two.

''I'm almost jealous, Mr. Wayne,'' said Katerina Petrovna as she took the glass of red wine, her jewel-like eyes perusing the handsome figure of the man before her.

''I will admit, I didn't know what to expect when coming here,'' stated Katerina as she swilled the expensive wine in her hand. She decided not to mince her words as she bluntly spoke with an accented tone. ''Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Wayne. Even before coming to Gotham I heard all about the Playboy billionaire, the 'King' of Gotham. Every meal said to be a feast, every night an orgy with only the most beautiful of women. A man filled with endless lust and boundless sin.''

She cocked her head to the side, a peculiar glint in her eye. ''Imagine my surprise when I heard my Grandfather praise you to no end. He told me you were more than meets the eye, an astute man who shouldn't be looked down upon. The Patriarch was extremely determined to meet with you despite his recent decline in health,'' said Katerina.

The Russian beauty beside him demurely took a sip of wine, closing her eyes for a moment to appreciate the intricate notes before speaking. ''I was adamant on having him refuse your invitation for business at first not only in regards to his health. Forgive me for saying this, but nothing about you seemed remotely reliable. Your proposition was too good to be true. Grandfather chided me however, telling me to look past the rumors and your reputation, and in doing so I learned an astonishing truth.

''Inheritor of Wayne Enterprises, you singlehandedly managed to expand your business from its foundation in oil, mining and shipping. You own multiple subsidiary companies and have branches in several industries ranging from entertainment and technology to even pharmaceuticals, all of which you are at the forefront of. Wayne Enterprises owns a majority of Gotham and with the knowledge and resource of alien technology, you rival – no – perhaps even surpass LexCorp. Your enterprise spans the globe, with you having the power and influence few in this day and age possess.'' Katerina shook her head ruefully. ''Most don't have the power to read the fine print Mr. Wayne, but if they did then they would regard you as far more than just a rich man who likes to indulge in his desires.''

Bruce cast a watchful glance at the dark-haired woman. ''You've done your research Ms. Petrovna. Color me impressed. I take it that my achievements are the reason you decided to accept my invitation on behalf of your grandfather? I had quite the shock when my secretary told me that a Duchess from Russia was waiting in my office. I didn't expect you to travel all the way to the States for this.''

Katerina nodded solemnly. ''Russia could use a man with your power and influence in these trying times. This deal you've proposed benefits the both of us, the Petrovna Family and Wayne Enterprises, but my people have their concerns regarding the finer details. I must ask Mr. Wayne, just what exactly are your intentions on the Motherland?''

A roguish grin emerged from his lips. ''Maybe we can discuss it over dinner tomorrow night?'' asked Bruce as he took her by the hand. ''I would love to get to know you better. Besides, you must be exhausted from your travels.''

A faint blush involuntarily crept up Katerina's cheeks when she saw the intensity at which Bruce directed at her, but she quickly dismissed any impure thoughts. She was beginning to comprehend why so many women would fall in love with the renowned Bruce Wayne despite his vile reputation. The towering figure before her looked more god than man.

''It would be a pleasure, Mr. Wayne. I look forward to tomorrow night then,'' said Katerina as she diverted her gaze in an effort to hide her slight blush.

''Great. I'll pick you up at eight,'' said Bruce smoothly as he began to escort her hand-in-hand to the main floor of the Wayne Tower, his mind already drifting to other pressing matters despite him conversing amiably with Katerina.

When the two finally reached the grand jet-black steps that led to the Wayne Tower, Bruce shook the petite hand of Katerina Petrovna with a dashing grin before kissing her on the cheek to close the night. Bruce waved a goodbye as he watched her depart with the armed guards who awaited her.

Alone in the cold midnight, the carefully crafted mask that Bruce wore quickly fell apart. The bright light of the Wayne Tower sign casted a long shadow across his face, leaving only his frosted blue eyes to gleam in the frigid night.

The first thing Bruce did when he returned to the Manor was occupy himself with more work. Little did he know that the night would be far more significant than just his meeting with the heir to the Petrovna Family.

Within the Batcave sat Bruce in silence, his full attention on the computer screens before him. It was difficult to estimate how long he'd been there. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he stood on the precipice of what he knew could change everything as he knew it.

Impartial Eye. An autonomous central management and surveillance system AI. The crystallization of a multitude of technology both alien and human, it was on par with the cutting-edge technology of the Watchtower, perhaps even better in certain aspects.

Years of work fueled by distrust and a lack of supervision on the world's metahumans had led up to this single moment, and now that it was here, Bruce hesitated to activate it. Nothing would remain the same once he decided to go through with it. The implications of his decision would affect every metahuman and living being on Earth.

Impartial Eye was created with the sole purpose of keeping the metahumans in check. Every movement, every action, nothing would escape the watchful gaze of Impartial Eye, but it didn't stop at just surveillance. Impartial Eye had the capabilities to analyze any metahuman and develop a contingency to defeat them, whether that be to incapacitate or kill. It would study everything, from behavior to skill, and it would exploit any weakness exhibited.

The Batman needed such a tool. One of the reasons why he included the analytical abilities as part of its core directives was due to the fact that metahumans were appearing more by the day, and the harsh truth is that the strongest of them all wouldn't stagnate at their current power level. Though he loathed to admit it, he couldn't do it all by himself. He was slowly falling behind compared to the others. With Impartial Eye in his arsenal however, more lives would be saved. There would always be a contingency in place long before the need even arose.

It plagued the man's mind constantly. How many innocents died before a villain's weakness was exposed and exploited? How many suffered because a corrupt hero turned rogue and no one was able to stop them before they could hurt anyone? How many got away with it and were never brought to justice?

Impartial Eye was Bruce's solution, but he wasn't blind to the consequences should he go through with it. There would be hell to pay if the presence of his creation were to be discovered. Not just metahumans, the governments of the world wouldn't allow for the threat Impartial Eye created to exist.

Bruce drummed his fingers against the cold steel table, his mind racing with countless thoughts as he ruminated on how he should proceed.

'Victory cannot be achieved without sacrifice, Bruce. We know this better than anyone. What a man is willing to risk, or not to risk, that's a measure of his soul. Never forget that. You must never falter on the path you have chosen. Hesitation is defeat…'

For a moment Bruce was reminded of the past. Though he didn't know it, his eyes had become devoid of any emotion in that sparse moment. His gaze was hauntingly apathetic, cold and distant.

He made his decision then.

''This is Batman,'' said Bruce in a forceful tone. ''Security level Alpha. Password: Delta Charlie-33-7-1598. Enable new protocol. Title: Impartial Eye. Should any metahuman – not just the members of the League – decide to turn rogue or misuse their abilities, then we need to have countermeasures in place to handle each and every one should they become a threat.''

''Protocol Impartial Eye authorized. I am at your service Batman. Begin execution of set core directives?''

Batman took in a deep breath when he heard the flat and emotionless voice he had designed so many years ago. One breath, two breath, three…he counted to seven before releasing, his gaze entirely on the single crimson eye that took up his monitor screen.

''Authorized. Perform all core directives as intended.''

''As you command. Set core directive I has been executed, Batman. Stealth surveillance is online and fully operational. Tracking of all known metahumans has commenced…''

The enormous monitor panels before him lit up as a map of Earth in its entirety was displayed. Countless red and blue dots were scattered all about the map, some moving rapidly while others remained stagnant. In a matter of mere seconds Impartial Eye showcased its terrifying power as both enemies and allies were traced and monitored effortlessly.

''Set core directive II – continual analyzation of metahumans and development of metahuman contingencies – has been executed. Results will be directed to pre-existing database in known files Alpha, Beta, and Gamma according to power level.

Set core directive III – infiltration of world governments and prominent organizations – has been executed. Extraction of classified intelligence is in progress...

Set core directive IV…

Set core directive…''

It was finished, yet Batman felt no joy in seeing his creation do as expected without flaw. A necessary risk, he told himself. It had to be done – needed to be done. There was no other way, he thought.

He stood up from his chair and walked away from the supercomputer. In the deafening silence of the Batcave, Bruce found himself walking down the aisle of glass cases that served as a display for the older Batsuits along with the other uniforms of past and present members of the Bat Family.

He briefly paused to look over each one before stopping at the first trophy case on the aisle. His Father's Bat-Costume which was fashioned for a masquerade party decades past was suspended within the glass.

'I'm an older man now and my heart is a battered vessel, but within still beats a fluttering pulse to carry on. There is no rest for me in this world. Forgive me Father, Mother.'

With one final look at his Father's costume, Bruce continued to walk until eventually stopping at a dead-and. Activating the hidden contraption known only to himself, the cave wall lined with lead and other preemptive security measures turned, revealing a gaping mouth of darkness eager to swallow him whole.

Bruce stood there before the gaping maw of which no light could pierce. His mind urged his body to move forward, but his legs refused. The knowledge of what lay deep within made him waver.

''Inhale, count to four. Exhale. Count to four,''murmured Bruce as he stepped forth into the abyss, the cave wall behind him closing shut soon after.

Warped and distorted by the entity within, time was meaningless here. Neither seconds nor centuries. The senses of man did not exist in this secluded domain. Bruce heard nothing and felt nothing. He could neither feel the ground beneath his feet nor that of his own body. His mind desperately insisted he was in a cave traversing without light, but the truth he knew so long ago had also been twisted beyond recognition.

It was in this timeless place of which no light could touch that held Bruce's greatest possession. It was in this forsaken domain that defied everything he believed and stood for that kept his greatest secret, and his darkest fear.

Bruce's greatest torment was the absolute silence that enveloped him. Nothing could compare to the horrors he could paint on the darkness is a quiet moment. A blank page on which Bruce could write his wounds and scars with the ink of blood and wrath, grievance and pain.

This place deliberately drew it out of him, gradually bleeding Bruce of his darkest thoughts and emotions. Tearing old wounds open whilst carving anew. Forever driving him to the precipice of despair. To the edge of insanity. Only when Bruce's true self was revealed would he be granted freedom from the agony. When the canvas of darkness was painted with despair and insanity, only then would he reach the end.

Within the darkness echoed a voice Bruce discarded years ago, appearing only after Bruce had been whittled down to the core.

''Why have you come?''

'Who are you?' thought Bruce as he searched the darkness with a tormented gaze, his mind in pieces barely strung together.

''Have you lost your eye for the truth as well as your memory?''

'That voice…' Bruce couldn't help but clench his jaw as he felt fear and dread well up inside him, furling his insides into knots.

That damnable voice was a sinister cold, harsher than steel and razor sharp. A deep-rooted baritone lined with rasp that terrorized one's very soul. It terrified himself the most, as it reminded him of who he once was, and what he could very well become once again.

''I have no problem with my memory!'' snarled Bruce as he struggled to push down his surging emotions.

''Tell me then, who are you really?''

''What?'' said Bruce in a bewildered tone.

''A monster acts naturally in darkness and so it's easier to be revealed. In the light however, the monster puts on a mask, making it unpredictable and indiscernible. Right now as you are, who is the man named Bruce Wayne really? Laid bare from the masks you wear, who are you truly in the darkness?''

''I-I am…I am…'' Bruce struggled to speak. There was a look of visible frustration on his face. He couldn't say it. No matter how much he tried he couldn't say the words because they weren't true.

''Every day and night you gaze upon your reflection in the mirror and ask the same question. 'Who are you?' Take away your memories, and you yourself is lost. We are the sum of our memories Bruce. Erasing the memories of one's own self is the same as losing oneself.''

The voice chuckled scathingly, echoing throughout the darkness. ''Bruce Wayne. Though you've erased your memory and lost yourself, you still have your heart don't you?''

Bruce shook his head feverishly. ''What the hell are you talking about!? Erasing my memories? Losing myself? I remember everything!''

''You reach out in search of the truth time and time again, yet each time you stand on its precipice you turn your eyes away from its blinding glare. It's pathetic to falter so, Bruce. You can't live in falsehood forever. Didn't you know? One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it. And yours is a cruel one…''

Bruce grasped his head in pain as unspeakable agony washed over him. A searing pain took hold of his body, as if a blade were slowly piercing the back of his head. 'No…NO! You're wrong! You're wrong!'

''Shorn of fate…born of wrath…raised in anger. He the Empty, mark my words. The day shall inevitably come when all is remembered. When the world of lies you have weaved upon yourself is torn asunder.''

Bruce's steps came to a halt, a faint red glow reflected in his weary eye. The truth was before him, but he couldn't comprehend it. It was right there within arm's reach, yet the man couldn't grasp it.

''Dark is my heart…'' echoed the voice before fading away.

''…The greatest of secrets.'' whispered Bruce despairingly as he fell to his knees.

Alone in the darkness kneeled a man, his eyes hauntingly distant and apathetic as he stared at that which loomed above him like a deity.

It was faint but there. Deep within the cold and merciless abyss, a fluttering pulse of a beating heart could be heard. A heart that held the cruel truth…


A/N: First off, I want to give special thanks to LOTSlover for all the wonderful stories written throughout the years. Through those stories I was introduced to the BMWW paring, making me fall completely for the two characters to the point of writing my own take on them.

I've been working on this gem for quite a while, and though I'm just getting around to making the chapters, I've already created the timeline and major plot points for the story. A fair warning, this story is rated M, so it will contain heavy adult themes such as smut along with violence and gore. Oh, and I don't own any of these characters. All rights belong to DC Comics.

5/18/2021 update: I've been meaning to update the first chapter for months, but I never had the time to sit down and properly do so. The second chapter had also been completed months ago, but I subjected it to several rounds of editing and review before I was satisfied. I'm still tweaking it here and there, just a few words and sentences that could be more concise. The second chapter will be uploaded this week, tomorrow if not the day after.