Author's note: Hey ppl what's happening, I hope you all have had a great New Year so far. It's been a while since I posted anything, been busy with outside life & all that, still I wanted to post something so here it is. It's mainly a filler chapter and I also wanted to make it longer, and maybe get a bit further but I've just been stumped by writer's block plus my other projects have kept me from really getting into this. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this ch and as always let me know what you think about it, whether its good or bad and also let me know what you would like to see in the next chapter. Again I hope you enjoy & i'll catch ya's all l8r.

Place: Gotham City

Crime Alley

Once again he finds himself back here; standing in the same spot he has stood numerous other times, staring down the same alley, the infamous Crime Alley; dressed in a black overcoat with a pair of roses in his hand. It was here, in this very alley, all those years ago, where everything changed. That night still haunts him to this day, it gnaws when he becomes restless and rips at him in his darkest hours. He considered this moment to be one of his greatest failure's, his greatest shame, but not his last.

That night put him on his true path and lead him to becoming the symbol that he was truly meant to be. He comes here once a year on the anniversary of that night, not only to remember those that were taken from him, but to remember the promise he made that night. The promise; to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, to bring justice and vengence to those who deserve it. This promise turned into something more, for him and others it became crusade.

But, for the moment, his thought's weren't on saving the innocent or protecting his city from the lastest threat. No, he was here to pay his respects, to honor that which he lost that night so many years ago. In his hand, he clenched together two roses, one for each life taken, each life lost.

Bruce: (He stared down at the ground in front of him for a moment, before kneeling down.)

"Hello. It's been a while since I've visited. Work's been keeping me busy, especially my evening activities."

(A small smirk flashed across his face, lasting only a split-second before he continued.)

"I'm still here; mom...dad. I'm still fighting the good fight. Just like I promised, but..."

(His tone grew more serious, no hint of sarcasm or joy in his voice.)

"I've made mistakes. A lot of mistakes. And it's cost me. I've lost friends, partners; lost the trust of those closest to me. Even still, despite everything, I continue the crusade. Alfred says that I'm stubborn, just like my father."

(He slowly placed the roses on the ground, their stems overlapping one another.)

"I know that this is not the life that you wanted for me, but it's the only one that I know now. The only thing that gives me purpose."

(He slowly rose to his feet, during which he recalled something that his father and mother once said to him.)

"When you feel yourself being dragged down by the tide, you push through and move forward. It was you two that taught me that. So that's what I'll do. Move forward, never back."

(He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly and opening his eyes.)

"Goodbye mom...dad. I love you. Always."

At that moment, he felt the wind shift, ever-so-slightly; going from cold, to luke warm within seconds, it was strange, but not uncommon for Gotham City. He shrugged it off, despite feeling as sense of familiarity, that is until he heard it; like a voice off in the distance, or a ghostly moan from the ether, he heard it.

"Mom, Dad come on..."

The voice sounded faint, but it was definitely that of a child, one who sounded all too familiar to Bruce. He quickly looked to the right and when he laid eyes on the boy his world stopped. A sharp cold chill went down his spine, his skin went cold and his eyes widened. The child could be no more than 10 years old, dressed in a black overcoat, slacks and a white buttoned up shirt underneath, much like he himself was dressed at the moment. But this wasn't what had Bruce so freaked, it was instead the boy.

Bruce: "No, it can't be..." (He muttered in a dishoveled tone.)

He stood there, frozen in place, a mixture of shock and confusion washing over him. This couldn't be possible, it shouldn't be he thought. Yet it was happening, he was here, watching the boy jumping around, pretending that he was fighting off imaginary villians.

Bruce: "That's-that me?"

(He couldn't believe what he was seeing, despite all that he has seen through the years, he still couldn't believe that this was happening to him, right before his eyes.)

"No, this has to be a dream, it has to-"

(Things only grew more confusing and shocking when he saw two more familiar faces join the fray.)

"Mom, Dad?" (He muttered as his eyes widened and mouth gaped open; shock plastered across his face.)

Thomas Wayne: "Alright Bruce, time to head home." (He said with a smile.)

Young Bruce: "I'm Zorro, hiyah; take that, and that."

Martha Wayne: "Okay little hero, let's go. We don't want to keep Alfred waiting." (She said softly, between chuckles.)

The three didn't seem to notice him, as they stood next to him, still chuckling and laughing without a care in the world. Then, Thomas looked down the alley, and signaled with a slight jerk of his head.

Thomas Wayne: "C'mon, we can cut through here." (He stated confidently with a smile.)

Martha Wayne: "Come along Bruce."

Bruce: (His eyes widened as a haunted look washed over his face.)

"No, stop! Don't go down there; it's not safe!"

(He shouted, but his words fell on deaf ears as the family continued down the alley.)

"STOP, TURN BACK! (He persisted only to once again fail.)

Thomas and Martha huddled together, with young Bruce in the middle, still smiling and laughing; blissfully unaware of the tragedy that was about to befall them.

Bruce: "No, I can't-I won't let this happen. Not again!" (Shortly after, he bursted into a sprint, rushing towards the family. He was still a few feet away, but he was quickly closing the gap and for a moment, however brief he had a glimmer of hope.)

I can save them. Just need to-

(His thoughts quickly dissipated when he saw the family stop suddenly, just as a stranger shrouded in shadows steps out in front of them. Around the same time everything around him began to slow, as if time itself was trying to stop him. Although the strangers face was hidden in shadow, Bruce knew all too well who the stranger was, and what he was about to do.)

"No! I won't let you take them from me! Not again; never again!"

Less than a second later, the stranger brandishes a revolver, aiming it at said family. The father and mother stood there, frozen while the boy looked on in horror. As the stranger cocked back the hammer, the sound bounced off the walls of the alley and echoed in Bruce's mind. His mother stepped in front of young Bruce, trying to shield him while his father rushed towards the attacker.

Bruce: "NOOOOO!" (He shouted as he reached out for them.)

They were mere inches away, just out of reach when he saw the hammer slowly slam down... BAMM - - - BAMM.

His eyes suddenly snap open, his heavy breathing the only sound he hears; his head felt muddled, foggy, until he realized that it was all a dream, a nightmare that he couldn't seem to shake. It felt real, but it was over now, for which he was grateful for. As he sat up, pain riadated throughout his entire body.

Bruce: "Ugh..."

(He looked down to see his right arm wrapped in a bandage while his left was in a sling; his ribs were wrapped up as well. As he grabbed the blanket which covered his bottom half and lifted it; just enough to see that he was decent, before he quickly threw it off to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed.)

Every subtle movement felt like broken glass, cutting and grinding into his muscles, his bones. He took a quick look around, but did not recognize anything; nothing was familiar, though he couldn't be 100% sure, since his mind was muddled. He rested his elbow on his leg and placed his sweat drenched forehead in his palm. After a few moments it all started coming back to him; Croc, Supergirl, the attack on L-Corp, all of it, including where he was.

Slowly he began rubbing the sides of his temple, trying to quell the migraine that was pounding away in his head. A few seconds later he stopped to look around, but saw that his suit was nowhere to be found. He did noticed a large gym bag over in the corner of the room, next to the door, but before he could even begin to investigate further, the door suddenly opened and a familiar face poked his head in.

Father Micheal: "Ahh, you're awake."

(He said, happy to see the Dark Knight had finally awakened. The priest crossed the threshold holding a tray with two cups; closing the door behind him.)

"It's 'bout time. I was beginning to wonder."

(He stated as he grabbed a nearby chair, scooting it over, next to the injured Bruce.)

"Heh, you look like hell."

(A small smirk streaked across his face.)

Bruce: (He couldn't help but chuckle a little at Father Micheal's comment, before giving a reply.)

"Thanks."

Father Micheal: "Well you know me; I call it like I see it."

(As Bruce shifted a bit, his face radiated with pain. Father Micheal placed the tray down on the seat before placing his hands on Bruce's shoulders to keep him steady.)

"Easy there kid, easy. Last thing we need is for you to go collasping on me again, yeah?"

(Once things settled, he grabbed a cup out of the tray and held it out for Bruce.)

"Here, you look like you could use a little pick-me-up. Hell, you look like you could use five."

(Bruce slowly and cautiously took the cup, after, the father picked up the tray, taking the other coffee cup before placing said tray on the nightstand beside the bed. The father sat down in the chair, eyeing Bruce warily.)

"There's a new coffee shop that just opened up a few blocks down. They make one helluva cup-of-joe."

(The father watched as Bruce, bruised, battered and beaten, slowly sip.)

Bruce: (He gave the priest a small smile before replying.)

"Not bad. Thank you."

(He said, slowly releasing a sigh.)

The two sat there for a moment, drinking in silence, Father Micheal waiting for Bruce to say something and vice versa. Instead, they sat there, in utter silence, The Father watching as Bruce stared intently at his drink. Despite his current, relaxed state, Father Micheal was more than a little shocked when he found out that none other than Bruce Wayne was under the cowl.

Father Micheal: "You know, if someone had told me that Bruce Wayne and Batman were one in the same, I would've looked them dead in the eyes and said not a chance in hell."

(He stated, breaking through the silence. The priest chuckled a bit as he looked down at his cup, which was now ony half full. After taking another sip, he met Bruce's gaze. It was calculating, his eyes analyzing him as if trying to determine what was going to happen next.)

"Relax son. Seal of Confession ring a bell?"

(He said with amusement in his eyes.)

"As far as me and the big man upstairs are concerned, this whole thing is one giant confession. So, no need to worry your pointy-eared cowl about it."

(Father Micheal took a sip of his coffee, but before that, he noticed that Bruce had relaxed a bit, but only just.)

Despite Father Micheal's reassurance, Bruce couldn't seem to relax, not even for a moment. His mind, his every thought was fixed on that dream; it haunted him still, even awake it was relentless.

Father Micheal: "Son?"

The Father's voice snapped him from his thoughts and once more their eyes met. Bruce could tell that Father Micheal was worried, perhaps even a little curious, still, he tried brush it off.

Bruce: "Sorry Father, I was just..."

(Try as he might, he couldn't seem to find the words, in fact, he found himself flustered. He never gets flustered, ever. The dream had more of an effect on him than he originally thought.)

Father Micheal: "You were somewhere else."

(Bruce shot him a questioning look, one which Father Micheal simply ignored for the most part.)

"I've seen that same distant stare before, and for someone like you; who's been through and experienced what you have, well...Your mind is bound to wander on occasion."

(The Father hit the nail on the head, but he wasn't finished yet. He knew about the tradegy that had befallen Bruce Wayne, when he was a little boy. And he also knew, or at the very least heard about his feats, and deeds, especially during the Culling.)

(Even with Bruce's stone-cold expression, Father Micheal could see that there was some sort of conflict going on within this man, this legend. And he was bound, determined to help, however he could.)

"But the question that I'm asking...is whether it's wondering here, in the present, or is it in the past, with those that were left behind...those that you lost?"

Bruce stared at the priest, his cold pierecing gaze fixed on Father Micheal's, knowing all too well what the Father was trying to do. Now wasnt' the time to open up, to pour his problems, his guilts and faults out to a friend, no. He had a job to do, he had to track down Jones before he caused anymore mayhem and destruction; for that he needed to focus. As he clenched the side of the bed, he slowly stood up, pain cutting and tearing through every movement no matter how subtle or slow he took it.

Father Micheal simply sat there, watching in silent protest as the man in front of him walked over to the dresser, where he had some clothes laid out for him. After finishing off the last sip of his coffee, Father Micheal turned his head slightly; just enough to see Bruce finished getting dressed.

Father Micheal: "What are you going to do... about Jones I mean?"

(He asked curiously.)

Bruce: (He turned around and leaned against the dresser using it as support. Bruce knew he wasn't a 100%, but he's been in worse shape than this, on multiple occasions.)

"I'll find him, take him down and bring him in."

(His coarse voice beamed with intensity, or at least that's what he tried to convey inspite of how he really felt.)

Father Micheal: "That sounds easier said than done, given how well that worked out for you last time."

(He turned fully in his chair, staring into Bruce's stern yet uncertain gaze.)

"Even someone as capable and as stubborn as you, needs help."

(He posture changed, it was slightly more relaxed than before.)

"And...just so you know, National City does have a superhero of it's own. Maybe you've seen her. Red cape. Blonde. Can leap buildings in a single bound?."

(He stated jokingly.)

Bruce: (Bruce couldn't help but sigh as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had thought of that, coming to her for help, but they come from two different world's, figuratively and literally.)

"She and I...have very different methods."

Father Micheal: (He simply shrugged at this.)

"Well, I'm sure she's willing to put aside any misgivings; if it means stopping Jones."

Bruce: "I'll think about it."

(He pushed off the dresser and approached Father Micheal, who was already in the process of standing up. Bruce held out a hand, which the Father took without hesitation and the two shook.)

"Thanks again, for everything Father Micheal."

Father Micheal: "You want to thank me? Ask her for help, because let's face it, you could use a little right now."

(He gently patted Bruce on his right shoulder before making his way over to the door, only to stop and turn around as soon as he reached it. He pointed to the dufflebag by the door.)

"I put your "other" suit in here. It's kinda heavy but...you're a big guy, I'm sure you can handle it."

Bruce: "Again...Thank you."

Father Micheal: "Just, be careful out there."

(He opened the door and was halfway out when he stopped once more.)

"One last thing."

(Bruce looked at him intentively, for which the Father gave him a look.)

"Kick his ass this time will ya."

(Once again Bruce smiled a bit, then nodded. After that, Micheal closed the door and once it was shut he looked up.)

"Yeah, yeah I know, language."

9:00 a.m - CatCo

Kara: Crap, crap, crap! I'm late, I'm late...

(This was her one and single thought as she quickly made her way across the lobby towards the elevator, nearly bumping and almost knocking down a few fellow CatCo employees; once atthe doors, she began frantically tapping the call button.

Despite being flustered and near-panicked, Kara was careful enough to refrain from using her super strength on said button. After a few seconds of waiting impatiently, the anxiously nervous reporter glanced down at her watch, only to be reminded of her tardiness, at which point she groaned and whimpered under her breath.)

"I'm so late. Snapper's gonna fire me for sure. C'mon, c'mon you slow piece of-"

Before she could finish, the elevator doors opened and inside, waiting, was a group of people who slowly began pouring out of said elevator. Kara gave an anxious smile and mumbled hello a few times to her collegues and co-workers while she waited for an opening. Once the group cleared and dispersed, she quickly entered the elevator and began tapping the button for 34th floor.

A few seconds later the doors finally closed and the elevator began moving. Kara let out a small, restless sigh as she looked over at the panel, watching as each button lit up.

Kara: (Her eyes drifted from the door to the panel, and back again.)

"Jeez. Can't this thing move any faster. C'mon." (She mumbled in an slightly annoyed tone as she grew more anxious by the second.)

Luckily, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors finally opened on her floor, but instead of rushing out blindly, Kara stepped forward just enough to peak her head out, looking to her left and then her right for any sign of "the Chief". With the coast seemingly clear, the reporter cautiously stepped out of the elevator and casually made her way across the floor, past reception, and over to her desk; all while she scanned around, trying to keep an eye out for Snapper. Once she was safely at her desk, Kara gave one last look around just to be safe and once again found him nowhere to be seen.

Kara: (As she let out an relieved sigh a small, grateful smile creeped across her lips.)

"Whew...dodge a bullet there. Must be my lucky day."

(She said gleefully, as she sat her handbag on her desk, not knowing that the Chief Editor for Catco Magazine himself, had made his way from the "Bullpen" and was now standing behind her.)

Snapper: "Don't count on Danvers."

(Though he'd never admit it, he took joy in watching these young wannabe reporter's jump everytime he barked there name out of nowhere, and Kara Danvers was no exception.)

Kara: "Crap..."

(She muttered under her breath, while internally berating herself for not only jinxing herself, but for not paying more attention to her surroundings.)

After taking a quick second to collect herself, she turned around, putting on her best fake, cheery smile and prayed to Rao and every other god that she could think of that he didn't notice how late she actually was and wasn't about to fire her for it.

Kara: "Hey Chief, how's your-"

Snapper: "Don't even. You're late ponytail...again."

(He stated humorlessly, cutting off Kara mid-sentence. The Chief editor looked away momentarily to look over some papers that he had in his hands, bylines from other reporters and such.)

"It's starting to become a pattern with you Danvers; an annoying one."

(He glanced up from the papers, shooting her an annoyed glared, before returning his gaze back to said papers.)

"Crap...crap...crap..."

(Each paper that he thought was crap, he quickly tossed the paper in Kara's trash bin, until he had only one left and even that one he disliked. He glanced around the floor and shouted.)

"Do any of you millienal's even know what Spell-Check is or how to use it!?"

(After that outburst he turned his sights back to Kara, which made her shudder just a bit.)

"So, what's your excuse this time Danvers?"

Kara: "I umm I-I mean I was..."

Snapper: "Anytime time today would be good Danvers." (He grumbled, growing more and more annoyed with each passing second that she didn't answer.)

Kara: "Uhh yes sir it's just..."

(She laughed nervously hoping to break the tension building between them; needless to say it didn't work. Instead Snapper just stood there, silent, scowling at her. After a deep gulp, she adjusted her glasses before finally answering his question.)

"Right umm...The reason I was late was because I was out late last night, like really late you know; having a few drinks with som-"

Snapper: (Once again, The Chief cut her off, not wanting or caring about her her late night.)

"Danvers!"

(He barked in an annoyed tone, after which he removed his glasses to better glare at the oblivious reporter.)

"Do I seem like the person who cares about your social life?"

(Of course it was a rethorical question, though he suspected that she didn't think so.)

Kara: "Uhhhh..."

Snapper: "No Danvers...the answer is no."

(After his intial response, he let out a heavy sigh before bringing the subject back on topic.)

"I'm asking what your excuse is for why you haven't turned in you're article."

Kara: (Upon hearing this, she felt somewhat relieved, albeit for a few meager seconds until she realized that she didn't have her article finished, or even started for that matter.)

"Oh yay, right, the article..."

Snapper: (He rolled his eyes as he lets out a disgruntled sigh.)

"Yes Danvers, the article, remember? The attack on the shipping yard, injured security guards? Any of this ringing any bells?"

(Despite his sarcastic tone, hidden underneath he truly wondered why she had yet to turn in an article yet, especially since the deadline for said article was today.)

Kara: (The reporter glanced away for a quick second, wondering what in the world she was going to say, besides the truth that is.)

"Right yes, the article uhh...well see Chief I-I just need a few more days; to wrap up a few loose ends and of course you, Spell-Check and I promise that it will be on your desk by Thursday sir."

Snapper: "It is Thursday ponytail."

(He stated stalely.)

Kara: (Confusion quickly settled across her face, and in her tone.)

"Really?"

(She glanced away for moment before mumbling.)

"Wow, I guess time really flies by when yo-"

Snapper: (This time, instead of cutting her off outright, he held up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence.)

"Let me stop you right there blondie. Despite my cheery, glee-like exterior, I'm not running a charity here. I don't give exstentions and I don't make exceptions...for anyone, and that includes you Danvers."

(With that finished, he was about to head back to his office, only for Kara Danvers to quickly move around him and block his way.)

Kara: "I understand that Chief, really I do it's just..."

(Kara knew that she had to choose her words carefully, because what she says next could make the difference between keeping her job or losing it.)

Though only seconds passed, to Kara those seconds felt like a lifetime as she tried to figure out her next move. The problem, is that she couldn't come right out and tell Snapper the truth about what she knew. There would be too many questions that she couldn't answer, questions that would not only put her own identity at risk, but would also expose her friends, her sister and the existence of the D.E.O.

So, there was only one course of action that she could take and even that was risky play, but it was her only shot.

Kara: "Look Chief, there is a lot more to this story than either of us think I know it-I can feel it in my gut."

Snapper: (After letting out a quick sigh, he took off his glasses and looked her square in the eyes.)

"I can't hold a story based solely on your gut Danvers."

(He placed his glasses back on his face before stating plainly.)

"Give me something to work with ponytail."

Kara: (The hesitate reporter took a moment, a quick one to consider her options. In the end she decided to give him a bit of what she knew.)

"You've heard about the attack on L-Corp last night, right?"

Snapper: (Once again, he shoots a irritable glare at the young reporter.)

"It's kinda hard to miss. Every newstation from here to Metropolis has been running it since 5 a.m."

Kara: (Kara chose to ignore Snapper's ever-growing sarcasm and continue with what she was trying to say.)

"Well, according to one of my sources, there is a strong connection between the attack on L-Corp and what went down at the shipping yard. And it turns out that one of the containers was made by CAD Industries, in Gotham City."

Snapper: "And I care about any of this why?"

Kara: (She was quick to reply, knowing that the longer she went on, the more annoyed Snapper would get.)

"According to records, CAD Industries was only open for about a week before they closed down, just long enough for them to make and ship the container. And you wanna hear the most interesting part?"

Snapper: (The Chief editor simply glared at the reporter, not wanting to be held in suspense.)

"You expecting a drumroll or something? Get on with it Danvers, my coffee and bagel are getting stale."

Kara: (Once again, she ignored his sarcastic comment and continued on.)

"A friend of mine who works over at NCPD Special Crimes had an old friend from Gotham look into it. They found documents showing that the building, staff, the equipment, everything was purchased ot bought by ."

Snapper: "Who the hell is ?"

Kara: (A confident look splashed across her face asshe answered.)

"She doesn't exist, not really, but this friend-of-a-friend, tracked wire transfers through 7 shell corporations until he found the person behind it one and only Lillian Luthor."

(A small, brief look of satisfaction streaked across her face.)

Snapper: (He took a moment to think on everything that Danvers laid out before him. If she was right, this could potentially be a great article, but there was one, small detail that was nagging at him.)

"This friend of a friend...works with GCPD I assume?"

Kara: (Her eyes widened a bit as she answered hesitantly.)

"He's uhh...more of a freelance detective sir."

Snapper: (He shoots a questioning look at the reporter, before moving on; wanting more detail before giving his final answer.)

"So this "freelancer", has proof to substatiate these all of these claims, because we don't print gossip here Danvers."

Kara: (Of course he does, at least that's what Kara thought for the most part.)

"Yessir I believe he does I-I just need some time to get a hold of him and the information sir. Two days tops, and I swear that you'll have the article and proof on your desk Chief."

Snapper: (He took only a few seconds to think about it, knowing that if this young reporter were able to get the proof that this article would blow the lid off of yet another illegal CADMUS operation. Still, he didn't want anyone seeing him being soft, especially Kara Danvers who would never let him hear the end of it.)

"You have until tommorrow, that's it. If I don't have the article on my desk before the morning edition, I'd start updating my resume, cause I hear that Big Belly Burger is hiring. Am I clear Danvers?"

Kara: "Crystal sir." (She stated, knowing that this was the best that she was going to get from the Chief.

And just like that the conversation was done and Snapper left for his office, leaving Kara to her own devices. The reporter slowly let out a breath before leaning against her desk, thanking Rao that she still has a job, for another day at least. After dropping her head and letting out a slow sigh, the Girl of Steel lifted her head back up just in time to see Ms. Tessmacher walking towards her, carrying a clipboard and a un-opened package.

So, instead of dwelling on all the problems that she was currently piling up around her, she decided to push it all aside and flashed a brief smile at the secretary.

Ms. Tessmacher: "Geez...Isn't he Mr. Warm-and-Fuzzy. " (She said, glancing over at the "Bullpen" where Snapper was currently in the process of terrifying yet another CatCo reporter, most likely berating for having written such a crap of an article.)

"You okay Kar?"

Kara: "Oh yeah, I'm fine that was just-that was nothing, just Snapper being Snapper."

(She stated w/ a fake, I'm-alright-but-not-really, smile; a poor attempt at hiding how concerned that she actually was, at Croc and the possibility that tody could be her last day as a reporter at CatCo.)

Ms. Tessmacher: (Though she only knew Kara for a short time, she considered the intriped reporter a friend and as such she could see past Kara fake reassuring smile. She hated seeing Kara in this state, like the weight of the world was on her shoulder's andit was slowly crushing her.

Without a second thought, she placed her free hand on Kara's shoulder, gently squeezing her shoulder and gave her a reassuring look.)

"Don't worry Kara, everything will work itself out; it always does."

(She stated confidently with a sympathetic smile.)

Kara: (The CatCo reporter appreciated Tess's comment, and her constant friendship; it made her feel a bit better with her current circumstance. She gave a small smile to her friend.)

"I hope so Tess, I really do. Thanks for that."

Ms. Tessmacher: (Her smile grew bigger.)

"Anytime Kar, anytime."

(She stated gleefully. A moment later she remember the reason why she came over in the first place.)

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot."

(The young lady held out the yellow package.)

"Someone left a package for you."

Kara: (Not thinking much of it, she gratiously took the package, her eyes scanning the front of the package, then the back during which her brow knitted together as confusion settled across her face.)

"There's no return address, no postage stamp. Hmmm..."

While a bewildered Kara started to open the package, Ms. Tessmacher watched curiously as the reporter opened one end of the package. Normally, she would use her X-ray vision to see what was inside, but with Tess so close she chose not to risk it. With one end opened, she reached inside and pulled out a flip phone, but it was strange, more advanced in a way.

Kara: (Her bewildered look was quickly replaced with confusion as she looked over the mysterious phone.)

"What the...?"

(She mumbled to herself. Less than a second later she looked inside the package to see if there was anything else only to find nothing. Confused and curious, she turned back to Tess.)

"You didn't happen to see who dropped this off did you?"

Ms. Tessmacher: "Yeah, he was an old guy, maybe 50-ish. Oh and he had one of those collar things, like a priest."

Kara: (Now she more confused than ever, mainly due to the fact she didn't know any priests. This was becoming a bit unsettling.)

"A priest?"

Ms. Tessmacher: "I think so, he left a card with the package. Here."

(She held out a folded card, one which Kara quickly took.)

With the phone still in hand, she cautiously opened the note and found only a few words written inside:

"We need to talk. - B"

Kara: (She quickly realized what the inital B stood for, which casued her eyes to widen as panic streaked across her face.)

He - - - he knows that I'm - - - that I - - - who - - - how!?

(Fear, panic, all this flooded through her, making it near impossible for her to think, to speak to even move. As her breathing started to tremble and her heart pulsing so fast that she thought that her heart would explode out of her chest.)

(She tried her best to calm herself, to regain some form of composure, if only to hide how panicked she actually was in front of Tess.)

Ms. Tessmacher: "Kara, are you okay?" (She asked with a concerned tone.)

Kara: (She took a deep gulp before she diverted her eyes up from the note, to Tess, once again she flashed a fake reassuring-smile, as she tried to ease Tess.)

"Yeah-yeah Tess, I'm fine, I'm just-umm..."

(Her eyes darted back to the note, then the phone, and back to Tess to meet her concerning gaze.)

"This priest, he didn't happen to give is name, did he?"

Ms. Tessmacher: (She thought for a moment, then remembered the kind priest's name.)

"I think he said his name was Father Micheal. Is everything okay Kar?"

(She asked with overwhelming concern.)

Kara: (She gave a nod before stating in a gracious tone.)

"Yeah, it's fine Tess, really. Thank you for this."

(Tess gives a smile and a nod before heading back to her desk and the tasks that await her, leaving Kara by herself with her thoughts. Only one word came to mind and for Kara Danvers, it was the only thing she could think to say about her current predicament.)

"Crap..."

- - - - Alien Bar - An hour & half an hour later - - - -

Last night was brutal, not just for Kara, J'onn, James and the rest, but for M'gann as well, though to a slightly lesser degree; of course, being the only bartender working last night. Despite the bar being packed to the brim, she managed to keep things working smoothly and now it was a new day. M'gann walked out of the back room, a phone pressed against her ear talking with someone on the other end.

M'Gann: "Yeah, we'll be out in 5 minutes. Thanks again Paul. 'Kay, bye." (With that, she ended the call and put the phone back on the charger stand; after that she turned back towards the room itself and let out a small sigh when she saw the state of the room.)

"Great, just perfect."

(She mumbled to herself.)

Of course she wasn't really surprised at the state of the place, especially since it was so crowded, packed by both human and aliens alike. While she was serving drinks, M'gann got the feeling that everyone there was a bit frantic, afraid even. The Martian couldn't figure out why, not at first, but when she saw on the news that some monstrous creature had attacked L-Corp earlier last night; she quickly put two-and-two together.

With that in mind, she took care of everyone, keeping the bar open past regular hours and making sure those that left, made it home safe. Despite it being more than what one person could handle, she managed just fine and with a certain grace. And now, it was a new day, but there was still much left to be done. First things first, before she started cleaning up, she need to take care of the trench-coat wearing Bolovaxian, currently passed out, snoring and drooling on the one of the tables.

After taking a deep breathe, she walked over to the table and stood over the still snoring Bolovaxian; listening and watching as the nearly empty mug beside him shook everytime he snored.

M'Gann: (She leaned in close and gently placed her hand on the big aliens' back.)

"Hey big guy, time to wake up."

(The only response she got from him was a quick snort followed by some incoherant mumbling. Waiting a few seconds more and getting no response she took a different approach.)

With a quick movement, she smacked him upside the head, which caused the Bolovaxian to suddenly jerk awake. At first, he appeared confused, and tired obviously, as he slowly looked around the room. Eventually his blurred sight found its way to M'gann, who was standing there, one hand on her hip and the other on the back of the chair.

Bolovaxian: (He slowly rubbed his eyes both his eyes, hoping to clear-up his vision.)

"Oh hey M'gann...Closing time already?"

(He grunted as wiped the drool from his mouth and wiped it on his coat.)

M'Gann: (She gave a small smile as she answered.)

"Yep. Gotta close up."

(The fellow alien simply nodded, after that, he slowly staggered to his feet, during which he almost stumbled, but caught himself.)

"You good?"

Bolovaxian: (He grinned as he picked up the mug.)

"Always."

(He stated confidently before taking one last swig from his mug, finishing off the contents within and placing it back down on the table. Once finished, he turned back to M'Gann.))

"Add it to my tab will'ya?"

(He asked politely, before letting out a loud, rumbling belch; one loud enough that it made the bottle's behind the bar rattle a bit.)

M'Gann: (While the Bolovaxian seemed proud of said belch, M'gann had placed the back of her hand against her nose and mouth, trying her best not to gag at the stench.)

"Jeez.."

Bolovaxian: "Hehehe, sorry 'bout that. Must'ta been something I ate."

M'Gann: (After a few seconds she removed her hand and gave a small forgiving smile.)

"Must have been."

(She said jokingly, before subtly jerking her head towards the door.)

"C'mon, I called you a ride."

Together, the two slowly made their way across the room, with M'gann ushering the clearly buzzed Bolovaxian over towards the door. Once there, M'gann opened the door, the Bolovaxian quickly raised his arm up, shielding his eyes from the daylight splashing against him.

Bolovaxian: "WHAT THE FRACK!?...why the hell is it so damn bright out here!?"

(He grunted and groaned as the two stepped outside.)

M'Gann: (The look on the martian's face was almost priceless, staring at him quizzically.)

"It's...overcast, big guy."

Bolovaxian: "Yeah well...agree to disagree." (Shortly after his grumble, a grey-ish van pulled up; parking down at the end of the alley.)

M'Gann: "There's your ride big guy."

(Somehow, despite working nearly 18 hours straight and running on what little fumes she has, she managed to maintain a gentle, sincere tone.)

Bolovaxian: (He looked up at the van, staring at it briefly before scoffing.)

"These humans do love their teeny tiny metal machines don't they?"

(He says, looking over at M'Gann, flashing a sarcastic smile as the walked down the alley towards the van. While they walked, he took the time to show his gratitude.)

"Thanks M'gann. You're good people, did'ja know that?"

M'Gann: (A small smile creased her lips.)

"Aww shucks: you're going to make me blush big guy."

(She said in a soft, joking tone.)

Bolovaxian: (He chuckled a bit, but reassured her.)

"I'm being serious M'Gann. You. Are. Good people."

(It was subtle, but M'gann could hear a change in his tone, and in his posture as his once confident smile seemingly vanished and shortly after he stopped.)

Suddenly, M'gann noticed that he had stopped just a few steps behind her; in turn she stopped and walked over to him, which is when she noticed the look on his face. It was a look, somewhere between guilt and pure sadness. She had never seen this look on the Bolovaxian before, and it was a look that concerned her greatly. The look in his eyes showed more than just sadness, they showed tragedy, loss.

He was suddenly flooded with images, of those that he lost; his friends, his cadets. He remembered every face, every name, every horrific, twisted expression left on their dying faces. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and this snapped him from his thoughts back to reality.

Bolovaxian: (As he looked upon M'Gann, he could see the concern in her eyes. He gently clasped her shoulders and spoke in a somber tone.)

"Don't ever let that change. I-we could've used more people like you in the Corp."

(Not soon after, he stiffened up, and once again that proud facade once again showed itself.)

M'Gann: (She gave him a sympathetic look and smile.)

"I know big guy. Thanks."

(She stated softly as she placed her hands on his wrists; giving them a gentle tap. As he withdrew his hands from her shoulder's, he once again appeared to be trailing off.)

"You going to be okay?"

Bolovaxian: (He looked at her stoically, then flashed her a confident smile.)

"Don't worry 'bout this old Poozer. I still got fight in me."

(And with that, the two began walking towards the van once more, but after just a few steps, a low, continuous beeping sound came from his inner coat pocket.)

"Aww fer crying out loud."

(He grumbled, as he reached inside his pocket and retrieved a glowing, pulsating ring. With the ring in his hand, he placed it on his right, middle finger. Less than a second later, a voice came from the ring with an important message.)

?: "Chief, you are needed in sector 480-"

Bolovaxian: "Salaak I'm on vacation. VA. CA. TION. Pass it on to someone else."

(He grumbled.)

Salaak: "You know we are short-staffed and plus you are the closest one in the vicinity. Sarissa needs help with a planet-wide evacuation and the Guardians want you to respond."

Bolovaxian: (After a few seconds and one exasperated sigh, he grunted his response.)

"Tell her, I'm on my way."

Salaak: "The Guardians appre-"

Bolovaxian: (Before Salaak could give thanks, the Bolovaxian disconnected the line, not wanting to hear anymore.)

"Lousy bunch'a blue-skinned gnomes."

(He mumbled under his breath; annoyed that his vacation had to be cut short. Then, he remember the company that he was in I.E. M'Gann.)

"Well, guess duty calls."

M'Gann: (A small smile creeped across her face as she looked up at him.)

"You take care Big Guy. And try not to get into any trouble, okay?"

Bolovaxian: (Once more, he shot her a grin as he playfully retorted.)

"See, I knew you were soft on me."

M'Gann: "Get out of here.

(She said playfully between chuckles.)

The two share a quick hug before the larger of the two became engulfed in a blindingly bright, green light; enough that it caused M'Gann to have to look away and shield her eyes. A moment later when she looked back, the Bolovaxian was gone, but when she looked up, she saw a fading trail of emerald light streaking through the sky, into the clouds and out of sight.

M'Gann: (The smile stayed for a moment, long enough for her to make a comment.)

"Lanterns...every damn time."

(She mumbled jokingly.)

After that, she was left alone, well not entirely; she still had work to do, which she dreaded, given how exhausted she was. Once she dealt with the driver, thanking and paying him, she made her way back inside the bar. As soon as she was inside, she immediately went to work on cleaning up the place, starting with the tables. She walked over to the bar, grabbed a tray and dish rag and headed over to one of the dish-cluttered tables.

It was a menial, tedious task, but one that she was used to and she was making quick work of it that is until around the 5th table. It was here, while she was placing the dirty mugs and dishes in the tray, that she noticed something on the bar counter that she hadn't noticed before. Her brow furrowed as she stared curiously at the mysterious green dufflebag currently sitting on the counter.

M'Gann: (Curious and perhaps a bit confused, she placed the tray full of dishes and the bar rag on the table, before moving over towards the counter and the bag.)

"I don't remember seeing you here before...where did you come from?"

(She mumbled to herself.)

As she continued to stare at the mysterious dufflebag, her mind began to fill with questions. As her curiousity started to pique, she took a quick glance around to see if there was anyone else here, someone that she might've missed. Seeing no one in sight she turned back to the bag and slowly, cautiously reached for the zippers. With her grip tight she started to open it slowly, not wanting to disturb the contents inside, just in case it was something violatile.

Out of nowhere, she stopped when a single thought shot to the forefront of her mind: what if this is a trap? That thought stayed and caused her freeze in place, whether out of fear or what have you. She remembered the tragic incident that happened a few months back, an incident perpatrated by Cadmus, that claimed the lives of dozens of fellow aliens and nearly claimed Mon-El's own life.

Could this be another attempt by Cadmus? M'Gann didn't, couldn't know for certain, not really, but she had to ask herself, could she really take that chance. Now, consumed with a new resolve, she clenched her jaw and once again began to unzip the bag. She knew that it'd probably be best to call J'onn or Alex, but what if there was a timer, he just couldn't wait.

"M'Gann?"

M'Gann: (Startled by the sudden voice that came from nowhere, the martian quickly turned around, her fists clenched tightly, expecting to fight.)

"What the hell Bruce!?"

(She stated in a aggravated tone. Despite her tone, she was relieved to see a familiar face. After a quick second to collect herself, she took a long, deep breath before looking back at the familiar man.)

"Jeez...you scared the crap out of me."

(Her tone was alot less hostile.)

Bruce: "Sorry Megan; old habit of mine."

(He coyly replied as a small grin creeped across his face as he quickly walked into the room; keeping his back to M'Gann.)

Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even Alfred, part of him enjoyed sneaking up on people, startling them; it was one of the few highlights that he, as Bruce Wayne, could enjoy without suspicion. As M'gann started to settle down and get her heart rate back to a reasonable beat, Bruce, with his own dish tray in hand, he walked over to the table that M'Gann had started cleaning and began finishing it up. He kept his back to her as he worked, trying his best to keep M'Gann from seeing his bruise covered-face, to keep her from asking questions that he didn't want to answer.

Switching out his empty tray for her full one, he slowly made his way over to the counter, keeping his head down and pointed away from M'Gann.

M'Gann: (Her focus completely shifted from the bag to Bruce, who seemed awfully suspicious.)

"Bruce, what the hell are you doing here?"

Bruce: "Uhh well...last time I checked, this was my job."

(He said snarkily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.)

M'Gann: (She shook her head and shot him an annoyed looked.)

"FUN-ny, but not what I meant."

(As he walked back over to the table, she quickly followed.)

"I tried calling you last night, I left at least 8 messag-"

(Her words trailed off, then finally stopped when she saw his face. Her eyes widen, her mouth gaped as she stared at his bruise-covered face.)

"My God Bruce, what happened?

Before she even realized what she was doing, she had already gently clasped his face; slowly turning his head to the left, then the right to get a better look his wounds. She was, needless to say, shocked, but that didn't hinder her, not one bit as she all but forced him over back over to the counter. There, she quickly walked around the bar, grabbed a fresh, clean rag and placed some ice in the middle.

M'Gann: (With the ice-filled rag in hand, she made her way back around the bar and gently placed the rag over the his swollen left eye.)

"Here...easy now."

Bruce only winced a little when the rag touched his eye, the pain itself wasn't much of a bother, he expected it most days; for most, like him, it comes with the job. Still, his current state was complicating things, more specifically his cover. He knew M'Gann would have questions and sure enough, he was right.

M'Gann: "So...what happened?

(She asked soft, yet in a neutral tone.)

Bruce: "Oh this...Ehh, just an argument that got out of hand."

(He said nonchatlantly, flashing a small smile, using it to hide the pain he was feeling.)

Over the years he had become accustomed to pain, in fact he half-expected it everytime he put on the suit. To him, pain was much more than a nuisance, it was a reminder, that with every mistake comes knowledge whether it be good or bad.

M'Gann: "Must have been one hell of an argument."

Bruce: "You have no idea."

(He states as he takes in a deep breath.)

M'Gann: (After a few moments, she lets out a heavy sigh.)

"Yeah well, I hope it was worth it, because you look like you got the hell beat out of you."

Bruce: "Yeah well, you should see the other guy."

(He replied, removing the ice pack from his eye and placing it on the counter, at which point M'Gann once again took a gander at his wounds.)

M'Gann: "You should be at the hospital, getting checked out. At the very least you should get those stitches looked at."

(She stated in a very concerned, motherly tone.)

Bruce: "You forget, I'm from Gotham; this isn't my first dust-up. It's just a few cuts and bruises; not a big deal, really I'm fine."

(He stated in a confident, almost cocky-tone.)

Shortly after, Bruce reached behind the counter and grabbed two beers; after opening both he passed one to M'Gann and kept the other for himself. They gently clink the bottles before each took a swig, after they sat and talked for a bit. Bruce was coy about his injuries, constantly reassuring M'Gann that he was fine. During their chat, Bruce noticed how his fellow bartender kept nodding off every now and then. He recommended that she go home and get some rest, but she refused, stating that the bar still needed to be cleaned up.

Of course he had a remedy for that, he offered to stay and clean up while she caught some shut eye at home. This obviously didn't sit too well with her, seeing as he was recovering from his injuries, she couldn't very well leave him here to do all the work, despite his assurances to the contrary. Still, he was relentless, insisting that she was of no help to anyone when she was this tired. Eventually, after going back and forth and back again, he convinced her to go, against her better judgement, but first she had to know what was in the mysterious duffle bag.

Bruce smiled and replied that it was his and all that was in it was a few gym clothes that he hadn't washed in a few weeks. She was hesitant to believe him, so he opened it himself revealing not only a bunch of gym clothes shoved inside, but a horrendous stench along with it. With that mystery now solved, M'Gann finished off her beer and a quick goodbye, she left, heading home for some shut-eye. Bruce got up and walked around the bar, grabbing and half-filled trash bag and started tossing the dirty clothes inside.

After about a minute, all that was left inside the dufflebag was a folded up suit, gloves, cape and boots; resting to one side of the bag, was his cowl. He stared at the contents within for the longest time, before removing a batarang from said bag. After he shoved the bag under the counter and away from prying eyes, he grabbed a towel and walked to the employee bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door and over to the sink, where he folded up the towel and placed off to one side.

Less than a second later, he looked at his reflection in the mirror; despite his left eye being swollen, hindering his vision slightly, he took note of all his injuries. As he placed batarang on the towel, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt; grunting and groaning as he slowly removed it, placing it off to the side. After a quick once over, taking note of his injuries, he returned his gaze back to his reflection.

He stood there, staring into his own eyes for a moment, before his gaze drifted to his swollen eye. With his gaze fixed, he slowly raised the batarang up to his left eye. Using the razor-like edge, he cautiously began to cut under his eye and above it. Mere mili-seconds later, he tilted his head downward, letting the blood pour into the sink for several seconds. After almost a minute, the blood began to slow, only a few crimson drops hitting the porchelain sink. A moment later he lifted his once more and gazed upon his reflection once again; blood still dripping from his wounds, but his left eye was no longer swollen and with it he could see clearly.

That before this fight was done, that there would be much more blood spilled; either his, or someone else's.