"Let's talk about the Golden Apple first," Bruce said. "As I've gotten older, I've had to admit that the human body has limits. I'm gradually paying the price for the damage I did in my youth. My decision to slowly retire from vigilantism wasn't only because of the psychological blows I suffered. In truth, my body is nearing its limit too."
Bruce gently lifted the side of his sweater. Diana's eyes widened. There was a deep indentation in his side; the flesh there looked completely necrotic, and even the ribs beneath had been affected. Though Diana lacked X-ray vision, she could tell that more than one steel pin had probably been driven into that area.
"You pushed yourself too hard when you were young." Diana set her cup on the table and said, "I've seen plenty of young people like that. They relied on their strength and youth, ignored danger completely, and charged through trenches without a care. After getting blown up, they'd climb back to their feet as if nothing had happened. Then, thirty years later, when their bodies were examined, dozens of shrapnel fragments would be dug out of them. Most people don't truly understand how fragile their bodies are, but I never thought you'd be one of them, Batman. Everyone says you're very smart."
Bruce could hear Diana's dissatisfaction, but it wasn't malicious. It sounded more like a grandmother scolding a child for not knowing his own limits.
"I've seen a great deal of death," Diana said. "Many of them had no regrets. They pressed onward one after another, risking their lives without hesitation. Death is brief, after all, and the pain it brings is limited. But nearly everyone I've seen who suffered severe injuries and then endured illness and pain for years afterward eventually went mad."