"One of the things I was taught first was to control my natural instincts," Bruce explained, sitting down on the floor in a cross-legged position. Zatanna mimicked his actions, taking a seat in the middle of the train car.

"When disasters are coming, do you know why the government doesn't announce it to the public?" Bruce asked.

"People would panic," Zatanna answered.

"Exactly," Bruce confirmed. "Instinctual responses are automatic, and unless you train to control them, they will always have command in dangerous situations."

"What does this have to do with discipline?" Zatanna inquired.

"Controlling automatic responses will give you more control in general," Bruce explained. "Consider a hypothetical situation of a bomb going off near you in a crowded location. Everyone starts screaming and running every which way in blind panic. You might instinctively form a shield around yourself, perhaps teleporting away. However, if you were to have control, you would maintain your thought process and be able to do more, creating a shield around the blast zone to limit its range and damage. By staying focused, you could also help the wounded, perhaps saving many lives."

"I see," Zatanna said.

"Instincts far too often take the reins and prevent rational thought in people," Bruce went on. "Taking back control from instinct will give you a better grip on all your responses."

"What do I need to do?" she questioned.

"We'll start with one of the lessons taught to me," Bruce informed her. "We'll sit here without moving or speaking for as long as possible."

"That's it?" Zatanna asked.

"Fighting off boredom and the need to move after being in one place for a long time can aid survival if you're trying to avoid being noticed by enemies hunting you," Bruce informed her. "It was part of my self-defense regimen, but I think it would help you as it requires considerable mental focus to maintain. If you fall asleep, it doesn't count."

Zatanna tried and failed to hide a small smile.

"Begin when you're ready," Bruce instructed, taking several slow and deliberate breaths.

Zatanna copied his breathing technique as she prepared herself for a long wait.

                                                                                         ***

The nighttime hours passed by, and the star filled sky of black gradually faded away, replaced by a pearl gray at the horizon. The sky continually lightened in color until it became a familiar blue just prior to the rising of the sun. Bruce called an end to the session before it was time for anyone to enter the car looking for their morning meal.

"Let's not take up the floor while people are coming in to get breakfast," he suggested, shifting position into a crouch. He waited a moment for the blood to return to his legs before pushing off the carpet and returning to a standing position.

"I think I'm stuck," Zatanna said. "My legs fell asleep an hour ago."

Bruce offered her a hand and pulled her off the floor. Her unsteady legs temporarily refused to support her, and she stumbled off balance into Bruce. Even when she ran into him, Bruce managed to stay standing, his muscular arms going around her for support.

"You alright?" Bruce asked, and the two of them laughed together.

"Fine," she told him while favoring him with a dazzling smile. "Did I pass the test?"

"Flying colors," he confirmed. Bruce held onto her for a few moments more until the feeling in her numb legs had returned enough to support her.

"Perhaps we'll have more time to practice between shows," Zatanna suggested.

"Sounds good," Bruce agreed.

Zatanna headed for the exit, leaning occasionally on the tables of the dining car in passing.

"Mistress Zatanna seems to have developed a friendlier attitude toward you, Master Bruce," Alfred commented.

Having heard the door open, Bruce had known someone was behind him, keeping him from being startled when Alfred spoke.

"I'm just glad she doesn't hate me anymore," Bruce replied.

                                                                                                   ***

The magic show ended, and the crowd, after a lengthy amount of applause, slowly exited the theater. The magician family withdrew to their dressing room, and Bruce followed from where he'd watched the show backstage.

"Zatanna," Bruce said. "Since today is your parents' anniversary, why don't we catch a movie and let them be alone?"

"How did you know about our anniversary?" Sindella asked.

Bruce shrugged innocently as if he didn't have a clue.

"There's a newly released film I've been considering watching," Zatanna mentioned. "It's called 'The Survivor Program', and it starts in an hour."

"While we wait, let's take a tour of Metropolis," Bruce suggested.

"Alright," Zatanna agreed.

"You kids be safe," Giovanni instructed. "Stay together as much as possible."

"Don't worry," Bruce replied. "Alfred can drive us."

Satisfied the teenagers would be protected from possible dangers, Giovanni and Sindella accepted the offer of some time alone.

                                                                                            ***

Alfred waited in the car parked outside the theater. Although only a rental, the luxury vehicle served his purposes. He currently had a book open against the steering wheel, quietly reading while waiting for Bruce and Zatanna to finish their movie. The film lasted over two hours; Alfred could've done something other than sitting beside the curb, but memories of another day filled his thoughts, compelling him to stay put. Years ago, he was supposed to have picked up the Wayne family when they left the Monarch Theater, but he'd been delayed. Thomas and Martha Wayne had been gunned down in an alley because he hadn't been there on time. Alfred had never forgiven himself for the incident, and he occasionally wondered if he should ever tell Bruce the full details of what had happened that night.

A gentle knock sounded against the driver's side window. Alfred looked up to see a police officer standing outside the car. Placing a bookmark inside, he closed the volume with a soft thump and rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, Officer?" Alfred questioned politely.

"This is a no parking zone," the policeman informed Alfred. "You'll need to pull around to the parking lot in back."

"The parking lot is full," Alfred said, having checked it earlier.

"You can circle the block if you want," the officer suggested. "But, you can't stay here."

"I understand," Alfred accepted. The officer was simply doing his job. It didn't matter what reasons Alfred might have for being there; the law said he had to move, and the cop, being sworn to uphold the law, had no choice but to order Alfred away.

"You have a good day, sir," the policeman said as Alfred keyed the ignition and brought the car to life.

The cop returned to his vehicle as Alfred pulled out into the crowded street. The flow of traffic was congested, and Alfred's earlier thoughts about not being around for Bruce as he'd failed to be for his parents intensified into growing concern. He turned the corner, trying his best to return to the theater in time.

                                                                                                ***

Bruce and Zatanna emerged from the movie theater with the other patrons, but they were unable to find Alfred.

"I wonder where Alfred went," Bruce pondered.

"Perhaps, he found a place in the parking lot," Zatanna suggested.

"Let's go look," Bruce encouraged.

The two of them headed around the theater and down a narrow alley toward the parking lot behind the building. The sun had gone down while the movie had been playing, leaving the pathway dark and cluttered with shadows. The illumination provided by the street lights was marginal, barely doing the job of keeping the darkness at bay. Bruce and Zatanna checked the parking lot thoroughly, but they found no sign of Alfred and his shiny black rental car.

"Hey man," said a tough looking fellow as he emerged from behind one of the parked cars. "Can you spare a dollar or two?"

"How about everything you got?" asked another thug as he approached from the opposing direction.

A van door slid back, and six more criminals joined up with their associates to surround Bruce and Zatanna. Knives and pipes were brandished as weapons, but only the leader, the first man who'd approached, held a gun. Bruce saw the weapon, his mind dredging up the painful memories of years past. He heard the gunshots, saw the loose pearls from his mother's broken necklace scatter across the ground as the thief tried to steal it. The gun pointed toward Bruce in slow motion. For an instant, he was a helpless child again watching his parents die.

The frustration at being unable to save his parents or confront the killer formed into a steel resolve, and Bruce's training took charge, reacting instantly with well-honed responses. His hand shot out with the speed of a striking rattlesnake, seizing the gun along the slide and curling his fingers behind the hammer to prevent the weapon from firing. A violent twist drew a scream of agony from the criminal as his finger, trapped by the trigger guard, was broken. Bruce followed up with a solid kick to the inside of the man's right knee, painfully buckling the joint and dropping the man to the pavement.

Still holding the gun, Bruce removed it from his opponent's hand before turning to face the remaining enemies. He released the clip from the gun, letting it clatter to the ground. Pulling back the slide, he ejected the chambered round before pulling the slide off completely. Throwing the slide out to his left, Bruce tossed the remaining part of the gun to his right. He challenged the muggers. "Who's next?"

With screams of rage because he had dared oppose them, the remaining seven thugs rushed Bruce from all sides, determined to make him pay.