Gotham City, Wayne Manor.
Alfred set a steaming cup of black tea on Bruce Wayne's desk.
"Master Bruce, you've been sitting here all day." Concern filled the old butler's voice.
Bruce Wayne slowly raised his head. He looked at the bright sunlight outside, then at the report on his screen showing that the global crime rate had remained at zero for a full month. A gentle, contented smile touched his face.
"Yes, Alfred," he said, his voice calm and unhurried. "Peace is wonderful."
The moment he said it, he froze.
Peace is wonderful?
Coming from Bruce Wayne, those words felt so alien, so... terrifying.
He looked down at his hands. They had once been strong, scarred by endless training and combat. Now all he felt in them was softness and ease.
He looked within himself. There had once been a dark abyss filled with the trauma of his parents' deaths and his endless hatred of evil. Now that abyss seemed filled with warm sunlight. Only peace and serenity remained.
The anger that had burned in him for half his life was gone.
The obsession that had sunk into his bones was gone.
The vigilance that had kept him awake at night was gone.
He felt "healed."
And that "healing" filled him with a fear deeper and sharper than death!
"No..." Bruce shot up from his chair, his breathing quickening. "This isn't me! This isn't me!"
Alfred started. "Master Bruce, what's wrong?"
"Get out!" Bruce roared at the butler closest to him, more harshly than he ever had in his life. "Everyone, leave the Batcave! No one comes in without my order!"
Under Alfred's worried gaze, the secret passage to the Batcave slowly closed, shutting Bruce Wayne away from this "peaceful" world.
He knew an invisible force was trying to smooth