He remembered the day he became Batman, the hero, the legend, the symbol of justice, a beacon of hope for those too weak or too scared to stand up to the criminals of Gotham.

He slumped down into a chair, clutching his chest. He looked defeated. He felt defeated.

Bruce glanced at the bust of his father's head.

"Father..." He gasped. "What do I do? What can I do to help this city?" He slammed his fist down on the side of the chair.

"What do I do?!"

The glass window beside him broke, smashed through by a bat. The window, shattered, let in the orange light of the afternoon. The bat fluttered in place before landing on the bust of his Bruce's father.

"Yes. I will, father. I promise.

Bruce woke up, the pain from his numerous cuts and wounds gone. He looked around. Where was he? All he could see was... black. There was no color anywhere. Was this hell? Bruce got up and tried to walk, but he couldn't get anywhere. Where could he go, anyways?

A light, one that he didn't notice before, suddenly became clear to him. He walk toward it. It got brighter.

Brighter.

BRIGHTER.

The world around him changed, brightness flooded his vision. He was in... a forest?! What the hell was going on?

He lifted his hand up to his brow and hit himself in the head. Bruce looked at his hand. It... it wasn't a hand.

It was a hoof.

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