Batman turned around. The sliver of light shining through the crack in the warehouse's towering doors was almost entirely blocked by his tall silhouette.
Overlord Superman saw only his resolute turn, but Bruce saw the stiffness in his ankle as he took that step.
Batman still left. Overlord Superman chased after him, while Wonder Woman let out a deep sigh behind them.
"This isn't a solution. No one can replace him." Wonder Woman picked up her tools again and began repairing the broken car in the warehouse.
Bruce stood quietly where he was, watching their retreating backs, then turned to Wonder Woman and said, "He didn't bring me here to replace your universe's Batman."
Wonder Woman's hands paused. She lightly tapped the ground with her wrench and said, "Maybe he saw another possibility in the younger you. But Clark never believed—and never wanted to believe—that Batman made himself what he was."
"He had no regrets, no remorse. He never wanted to start over, and he never wondered what might have happened if things had been different. He wasn't a mistake that needed correcting, but Superman never realized that."
Bruce walked over to Wonder Woman and crouched beside her. "Maybe he brought me here because he finally understood that."
At last, a trace of confusion appeared in Wonder Woman's eyes. She shifted slightly to the side, moving farther from Bruce as she studied this young Batman.
Looking at him this way, Bruce and Batman were indeed quite different. His physique had yet to fully recover, leaving him rather lean and naturally making him seem younger, more boyish.
Westerners matured earlier, and they also pursued a more mature kind of sex appeal. Many youths in their twenties already looked like they were in their forties, but Bruce had no beard and was