Bruce ducked under a pipe swung toward his head, catching the back of it with the side of his forearm and redirecting it in passing as he turned in place. The pipe struck the wrist of a different criminal and forced the man to drop the knife he held. The bladed weapon skidded across the pavement and out of reach underneath a parked car. Pulling the pipe he still gripped, Bruce dragged its owner forward to collide with two of his associates. All three men went down in a tangle of arms and legs, temporarily giving Bruce only four opponents to confront.

One of the four rushed Bruce with a knife, slashing wildly back and forth. Bruce saw the man's weight shift before each swing, and it allowed him to anticipate every move, easily dodging the knife. His opponent lunged too far forward, and it gave Bruce the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Sidestepping the blade, Bruce seized the man's wrist to hold the criminal in place while he brought his knee up into the thug's midsection, knocking the wind out of the thug and doubling the criminal over. Pulling on the wrist he held, Bruce guided his gasping opponent face first into the side of a truck. The man collapsed and was out of the fight.

The three men still on their feet continued their assault, swinging metal pipes in an attempt to bludgeon Bruce into submission. After dodging a pipe swing, Bruce punched his attacker hard in the stomach before latching onto the pipe and pulling it straight out from the man only to shove it toward him again. The criminal had been so focused on catching his breath, his overall resistance to Bruce's maneuver was practically nothing, and the redirected pipe smashed into the man's face. The criminal staggered and fell backwards, blood pouring from his broken nose.

Bruce's injured enemy released his weakened hold on the pipe, and Bruce immediately raised it to block the downward strike of another criminal. The two pipes clanged together, and Bruce made the most of his opponent's arms and weapon being over his head by landing a solid kick with the heel of his shoe against the center of the thug's chest, knocking him backwards over the hood of a dark green truck.

Continuing to use the pipe, Bruce swung across to deflect a thrust toward his stomach by a different mugger. Metal rang again, and Bruce ignored the vibrations traveling up his arm from the pipe, concentrating instead on the precarious position of his opponent and how it could be used. Because of the deflected thrust, the threatening pipe had gone out wide on Bruce's right side, leaving the criminal with his arms outstretched and trying to compensate for the weapon's momentum and bring it back where he could attack again, but Bruce gave him no such opportunity.

Keeping his hands in the middle of the three foot length of pipe, Bruce dropped his foot back to support him as he spun around to his right. As the turn completed, he stabbed backwards along his side to strike his enemy in the ribs with the end of the pipe. Reversing his turn, Bruce brought the pipe back up in a resemblance of a baseball player and clotheslined his foe across the chest, dropping him hard to the pavement. Writhing on the ground, the man made no attempt to get up.

The three men he'd entangled at the first of the fight had managed to free themselves. One carried a knife, but the other two were armed with metal pipes. Bruce stepped back between two cars where his multiple opponents would have to come at him one at a time or be forced to go around.

A purple glow suddenly enveloped one of the pipe wielding criminals, lifting him off the ground, kicking and thrashing wildly as gravity lost its hold on him. From the corner of Bruce's eye, he managed to notice Zatanna standing with her hands outstretched toward the floating man. Both of her hands had an aura of violet energy rippling around them like a cloud. He'd never seen her use the power before, but Bruce had no time to think about it as he still had two muggers wanting to kill him.

The momentary distraction cost Bruce as he failed to entirely dodge the incoming knife. A burst of pain ripped through his side, but he forced it away and focused on the battle.  The injury caused him to drop his pipe and take a hasty step back to avoid being cut further.  When the next thrust came straight toward his heart, Bruce brought his left hand up, hitting the criminal's wrist with his own and pushing the blade off target. Following the defense with a right handed punch to the man's face, Bruce staggered him. Taking a firm hold of the thug by the back of the neck with his left hand, Bruce slammed the disoriented criminal face down on the hood of a nearby car.

Bruce appropriated the knife from the defeated man and threw it at the next thug rushing him with a pipe. The throw had been aimed perfectly so the weapon struck the man in the chest with the handle rather than the blade, but since the criminal hadn't known which end would reach him, he'd leaned sideways while trying to dodge. Before the man could steady himself, Bruce put his foot on the bumper of a car and jumped into the air, landing both feet against the mugger's chest and rocketing him backwards. The criminal landed hard with his back against a car windshield, shattering the glass partition in a spider web of fractures.

Zatanna lowered her hands, flicking her wrists slightly to dispel the magical energy surrounding them. When her powers shut off, the floating criminal dropped down, landing hard on a car hood before sliding off and onto the pavement of the parking lot. He made no move to get up again.

"Impressive," Bruce said to Zatanna, pressing a hand against his side where he'd been hit with the knife.

"I've never done that before," she breathed, apparently as surprised as Bruce about her display of power. Her eyes filled with concern when she looked toward him. "Bruce, are you alright?"

Wondering what she was so worried about, he glanced down toward his injury and noticed a growing amount of red staining his shirt. He hadn't realized the wound had been so bad. The world around him swam, and he leaned heavily against a car before collapsing to the parking lot.

"Bruce!" Zatanna screamed.

                                                                                              ***

Alfred heard the scream through the open window of his car as he drove past the theater. Cranking the wheel hard, he turned sharply into the alley leading toward the parking lot. Not seeing any sign of Bruce or Zatanna, Alfred quickly parked the car where it was and got out for a closer look.

At first, he couldn't find anything amid the mass of vehicles, but as he passed down the rows, he found several unconscious and beaten men sprawled on the pavement. Alfred located Bruce lying on his back with Zatanna kneeling over him. Her eyes were closed and a purple mist of energy hovered around her hands as she held them over Bruce. Alfred lengthened his stride and hurried to them, his worst fears becoming reality. For a second time, the Wayne family had depended on him, and he'd failed to be there.

"What happened?" Alfred questioned.

Zatanna didn't answer, keeping her eyes closed and whispering words Alfred couldn't understand.

Bruce's eyes flickered open, and Zatanna lowered her hands, dispersing the magic from around them as she looked toward her patient.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Sore," Bruce admitted. He tried to sit up and winced slightly. "I think I'll live. What did you do?"

"It's one of the few things my parents did teach me," Zatanna explained. "It's usually used for tending to small cuts, but I've never used it for an injury of this size before."

"I'm glad it worked," Bruce said. He looked over to Alfred. "Alfred, can you give me a hand up?"

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, reaching an arm around behind Bruce while putting the teenager's arm across his shoulders. Alfred helped Bruce back to his feet before leading him toward the car with Zatanna following closely beside them.

                                                                                                    ***

Early morning sunlight poked its golden fingers through the gaps of the window blinds, waking Bruce from sleep. He opened his eyes and found himself back in the apartment where he and Alfred were staying during their time in Metropolis. He was attired in a set of pale tan pajamas, and thick blankets covered him in a cocoon of warm softness. Even in the dim light, Bruce could easily see the modern furniture along with the plain and simple appearance of the room. It was functional, but it felt lifeless to Bruce, similar to the sterile environment found in a doctor's waiting room.

The door to the room opened, and Alfred entered carrying a silver serving tray with a teapot and two china cups on matching saucers of flawless white.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred said in greeting. "Tea?"

"Yes," Bruce accepted. "Thank you, Alfred."

The butler set down the tray on a small end table beside the bed before pouring two cups of the steaming tea. When Alfred handed one cup to Bruce, the cup wobbled slightly on its saucer.

"Something wrong?" Bruce questioned when he noticed the quiver in his butler's usually steady hands.

"Your incident has brought up a number of painful memories for me," Alfred admitted. "I wasn't there when your parents needed me, and I wasn't there for you yesterday."

"It's not your fault, Alfred," Bruce said softly while looking at the steaming surface of his tea. "It was my mistake. I lost concentration for a moment, and it nearly killed me. I need more training. I've learned enough here, and I can continue to practice elsewhere, but I need to be faster and stronger."

"I suppose we could find you more instructors," Alfred offered before taking a careful sip of his tea.

"Let's go straight to the source," Bruce decided. "The people in the Far East have known about martial sciences long before anyone in the West."

"I'll contact the airlines," Alfred said, going along with Bruce's decision. "Where do you wish to go?"

"Japan," Bruce answered instantly. "Get us two tickets to Japan."