Cut to Bruce striding (as well as he can stride) into the Batcave. Terry trails behind him.

"There are rules. You will trust me at all times. Trust me with your life. Until this is finished, I will demand your all. No lethal force. No guns."

Terry protests. "What about self-defense?"

Bruce gives him a long, cold glare. His movements are subtle, but swift: the cane whacks Terry's left ear, then his right. While he is still reacting, the flat of the cane hits him across the forehead. There's a precise tap to the knee, and he goes down.

Standing over him, Bruce repeats himself slowly. "You will trust me at all times…"

Time jump. Terry stands in a small arena, his fists bound like a boxer in training. A holographic opponent leaps up behind him. He whirls and pops it in the face. It falls silently, and another opponent emerges, and another. Terry catches each of them before they can harm him.

"This is easy!" he crows. He strikes the last one blindly. Then he realizes it's a young girl.

Bruce is watching on the wall above him. "Self-discipline is never easy."

Time jump. Terry is in the same arena, being pelted by sand bags.

"Shouldn't I be practicing in the suit?!" he demands.

Time jump. Same arena, but now he's in the suit. And facing laser blasts. They don't seem to be doing much damage, but they obviously sting.

Time jump. Bruce and Terry sit in front of the computer. Terry is still suited up, just unmasked. They're having tea.

Bruce has been sneering, "The cartoons would have you believe that you can just truss up the bad guys and drop them in jail. In reality—"

"The state has to respect all legal rights of all suspects," Terry interrupts, bored. "Supposedly. Everyone knows that. Hey. Do you mind if I check on the dog?"

Time jump. It's a serene moment. The dog has fallen asleep near Bruce's chair. Looking down at it, Bruce almost has a tender look on his face, but his expression hardens as he goes back to watching Terry sweep up the broken glass in front of the suit display.

"How much longer are we going to do this?" Terry asks presently.

"It would take years to adequately prepare you. We'll have to settle for honing your spying and sabotaging skills. And you'll need to be able to make a quick escape if you run into Chloe Clay again."

Terry shrugs indignantly. "I can fight."

Bruce just looks at him. Terry looks back, more indignant.

Time jump. Terry is back in the arena with the mask pulled over his face. A new holographic opponent materializes out of arm's reach: the original Batman, in the same suit. Terry not only looks ragged in his older, present-day suit, he's somewhat dwarfed in comparison to young Bruce.

The hologram throws a batarang. Terry tries to dodge it, but he's nicked. In that time, the hologram has cleared the distance between them and connects with a roundhouse kick. Terry lashes out, tries to go for the groin, but he's blocked. He fails to make a single punch. Every one of them is turned away or used against him. Finally, he finds himself on his back with a foot pressing down on his throat.

The hologram disappears, and Terry gasps for air.

"Spying and sabotage," Bruce repeats. "Don't try to fight anyone."

Time jump. Terry is freshly showered and pulling on his civilian clothes. He pauses for a second, surprised to see the dog sitting placidly while Bruce strokes its head. The old man has taken on a strangely gentle aspect. Still looking at the dog, Bruce asks, "What's his name?"

"Doesn't have one yet," Terry said. "I won him from a dog fighter. He's okay with people, though. People he trusts…"

The dog licks Bruce's hand. The faintest hint of a smile threatens to appear on Bruce's face.

Terry looks at them sideways for a moment. "You know, he's looking for a home."