In the darkness, Bruce Wayne woke up.
His cheek rested against cold hardwood. His consciousness seemed to rise from the ocean floor, slow and heavy, his nostrils filled with the smell of earth and rotting wood. It took him about three seconds to remember where he was and how he had gotten there.
"Elliot... Hush..."
The coffin was narrower inside than he had imagined. There was little room between his shoulders and the wooden walls. His fingertips touched smoothly polished ebony and tiny grains of dirt. He drew a deep breath and felt his lungs struggle to expand, but his chest felt tight. There wasn't enough oxygen.
On the bright side, at least I know how a dead person feels lying here, Bruce thought bitterly. I'll have to order an extra-large one for myself someday.
He raised his hands and tried to push, but the lid didn't budge. Almost at the same moment, something beside him began turning gently in the darkness, making a soft rustling sound.
"Relax, Bruce. It's only your parents."
Hush's voice came from somewhere nearby. Judging by its direction and volume, Bruce could only guess that its source was somewhere to his side, perhaps a small speaker, though it sounded more like a tape recording.
He frowned, trying to orient himself in the darkness, but he couldn't see anything.
"Don't worry. Your parents are right beside you. I've never misplaced them. Now the three of you are reunited."
Bruce kept his breathing as steady as he could while feeling along the coffin's seams. If this really was his father Thomas Wayne's coffin, its top-grade African ebony could certainly serve as bulletproof cover. Destroying it wouldn't be easy. But Hush had opened it and closed it again. Perhaps he hadn't sealed it properly?
"You should thank me.