So last chap wasn't even 400 words, and I got 6 reviews in like a day! You guys ROCK!

um using a lot of 30s slang again. Jap was what they called the japanese, and assuming this is in WW2 they would have been against America, which is where this is set soooo

this chapter is very choppy, but dont worrying the rest won't be like this

Bruce wasn't having a good day.

That said, he rarely did.

His new recruits were set to arrive within the hour. He wasn't supposed to be training them, but with the failure of his last mission and his recurring leg injury, he'd been demoted by the General Alfred.

He'd refused to kill a Jap - who looked just out of his teens - in cold blood, and as a result, his cohort had been captured and tortured.

They still hadn't found Roy Harper.

x

Boys. All of them.

The oldest of his trainees was maybe twenty seven.

Bruce couldn't help but notice that they all looked old behind their years too.

Except for one dark haired boy - smaller than the others, who was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

Normally, Bruce would have found the motion irritating, but amongst the sea of solemnity, it was a welcome break. The boy's enthusiasm was almost palpable.

"Private," Bruce barked, marching over to get a good look at him, "what are you doing?"

The child - that's all he was really, definitely not 18 - smiled up at him brightly, shockingly blue eyes crinkled. "Just excited, sir."

He had to conceal a smile at that. The boy was probably the only one remotely happy to be there, the rest had likely been drafted. "What's your name, private?"

"Grayson, sir. Dick Grayson. It's a real honor to meet you sir, I've heard loads about you from my-"

Bruce gave him a hard look. As refreshing as his overzealousness was, professionalism had to be enforced. This was war.

Marching back to the front of the bunker, Bruce clasped his hands together.

"I," he began threateningly, "am Seargent Bruce Wayne. I will be your commanding officer, I will be a trainer, a teacher, a mentor, a leader. I will not be your friend, and certainly not," he added, judging their young faces, "a father."

They all stared at him, silent and wide eyed.

"Understood?" Bruce demanded.

Nearly all of them stumbled in saluting and saying, "Yes, sir." Bruce couldn't help but notice that the Grayson boy hadn't, instead taking the command with effortless grace and falling perfectly into position.

"Tomorrow, I expect you all to be awake and alert at 0600 hours. I suggest getting acquainted and then getting some rest," Bruce paused ominously. "You're going to need it."

With that, he spun on his heel, making his way back to his personal bunks, what Commander Ra's had christened 'Wayne Manor'.

x

0600 hours came too early for even Bruce's liking.

But he disliked how it came even more.

"Hello, Seargent," a voice called cheerily.

"Damn it, Clark," he grumbled, turning over in his cot.

He could hear Clark's grin. "It's like you aren't happy to be training recruits again!"

"I'm not, Kent, now get the he-"

"I mean," the man continued, "you're the best at it."

"Noted. Get out."

"Bruce, if you don't get up now, I'll start listing everyone you're training."

"No."

The alien - that's what he had to be, to withstand all the idiocy and wake up this early a sighed. Bruce heard paper rustling and a clipboard snap. "In order of enlistment - Jason Todd, Jack Kelley, David Zavimbe, Joey Wilson - oh, you've got one of Slade's boys, J. B. Barnes, Victor Stone, Richard Grayson, Colin Wilkes - have I convinced you to get up yet?"

"Kent, you're a reporter - "

"My official title is 'war correspondent'."

" - so how did you convince (who is it taking care of data, Edward Nygma?) to give you access to military information?"

Bruce felt hands rip away his thin covers. He forced his eyes open, watching the broad figure of the bespectacled man glare down at him.

It was 6 in the morning and Bruce was already having a bad day.

Again.