"Wake up." His eyes opened up to find himself in a dark room, a single computer monitor in front of him, accompanied by a webcam.
"Where the hell am I?"
"That doesn't matter. You are alive. Be thankful."
"Alive? When was I in danger?" He looked at his chest, his suit having been torn open and a massive hole in his chest patched together.
"You don't remember, do you? That's common for trauma. Being such a gangster, I expected you to be stronger than that." He looked around, not able to make out and discernible details that could help him get out. "I will release you momentarily, Roman. Simon Weaver tried to kill you. Technically, he succeeded. You were legally dead for quite a while longer than you should have been able to come back from. He put his fist through your chest. Quite impressive, if you ask me."
"Who are you?"
"I am not important. My benefactor, however, is. Somebody has decided that your little enemy will become a major threat if not taken care of properly."
"Gladly. What do I have to do?"
"I'm sure he'll want to explain for himself." The lights came on one by one, revealing the massive monolith of a figure in the center of the room. His forearms and hands had a glow like fiery coals in a pit; the rest of his body was composed of solid stone.
"Darkseid."
"We must act quickly."