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Bruce regained consciousness gradually. He didn't open his eyes and was careful to remain motionless as he forced his foggy brain to focus enough to assess the situation.
The first thing he was aware of was the pain. He could barely remember a time when physical pain wasn't a constant he had to deal with, but it was that fact what helped him determinate it was nothing too serious. A mild concussion, a few broken bones, and some other minor injuries. But that was the least of his problems right now.
The muscles of his arms were pulled taut, supporting his weight as metal shackles bit into the skin of his wrists while his feet dangle a few inches above the ground. He didn't know how long he had been in that position, but his fingers were already numb from the lack of circulation.
Bruce couldn't remember exactly what happened, nor did he know where he was. It wasn't hard to guess the former, but the later was a different matter even after his vision cleared. He only knew he wasn't in the Watchtower or the Fortress.
The room was large and empty, with a thick layer of dust covering most the floor and barely lit. It could be an abandoned warehouse or bodega anywhere in the world.
Only his cowl and belt were gone, he noted detachedly. It felt like a lifetime ago when protecting his identity had been one of his biggest concerns. Now, thanks to the man he considered his best friend not too long ago it didn't matter anymore. Everybody knew the man behind the mask.
Bruce didn't bother trying to escape. Not yet. Superman may not be in the room, but he was close, he had to be, and any attempt to escape would get him nowhere. So he waited, and while he did, he closed his eyes and started to meditate. That should also help him deal with the nausea and the pain.
Superman entered the room exactly thirty-minutes later, red cape billowing softly behind him and feet hovering over the dusty floor.
Bruce forced himself not to react, keeping his eyes on the alien's face as he watched his lips twitch into a grotesque smile. There was not a single trace of Clark Kent in that hard expression.
"This has gone long enough, don't you think," Superman said after a moment, voice cold and detached.
He remained silent.
"I think it's time we put an end to this tantrum of yours."
Bruce clenched his jaw. "This fight will end as soon as you and the rest of your friends stop this madness and step down so the people can be free again."
Superman's arms were crossed across his chest, his expression blank. "They were your friends too, Bruce."
"They were until they become dictators and murderers."
Superman's face hardened a fraction, his word when he spoke mechanic. Rehearsed. "We're doing what needs to be done. We're making the world a better place. A world where little boys don't have to lose their parents at the hands of criminals."
Bruce could do nothing but glare at him for a moment, not trusting himself to speak. It shouldn't surprise him the Kryptonian was willing to use that against him. Nothing he did should surprise him anymore.
"And to do that you turned into criminals; killing and capturing anyone who dares to raise their voice against you. Even people you considered your friends."
"They wouldn't be fighting me if they were truly my friends," He said coldly.
"You're insane. You're punishing people for not thinking like you. People fighting to get their freedom back." He fixed him with a look. "What would Lois think if she-"
The left side of his face was burning less than a second later, the kryptonite stimulant the only thing preventing any new broken bones after Superman's backhand. He spat a mouthful of blood before painfully turning his head to look up at the Kryptonian.
"Shut. Up." Superman snarled mere inches from his face. "You don't get to speak her name."
"Does the truth hurt?"
Bruce fully expected another blow- was prepared for it even, but it didn't come. Instead, he witnessed Superman's ugly struggle for control, which ended only when he flew to the other end of the room and punched wall after wall until they were just debris at his feet.
"I'm doing this for them!" He snarled, flying back to where he was hanging. "I'm giving them the peace they have searched for centuries!"
"That argument stopped having any value when you killed the first innocent person."
"They were trying to stop me from saving this world," Superman said lowly. "They weren't innocent."
Bruce sucked in a breath, closing his eyes slowly.
He had known for a long time now that Superman wasn't the man he once knew, but it still hurt. It hurt because even if they overthrow Superman and his regimen, the man he had loved would never come back. Clark Kent was gone, and he took with him any humanity the Kryptonian ever had.
"If you truly care about people being killed you should surrender. If you stop fighting me they will stop as well, I know they will, and when they do, we will be able to enjoy this new better world together."
Bruce regarded him for a moment. "If you want me to stop, you're going to have to kill me. That's the only way I will ever stop fighting."
There was a flicker of something in Superman's eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared before he slid a hand up Bruce's throat applying only a light pressure. "That can be arranged."
"You should know even my death wouldn't be enough to stop the resistance," Bruce told him, expression calm and collected. "They will never stop fighting you."
Superman's wrapped his hand a little more firmly around his throat, eyes fixed on him. The Kryptonian brought his free hand to Bruce's face, stroking his cheek with such tenderness that it felt as if the limb belonged to someone else.
"I loved you," Superman whispered, his warm breath caressing Bruce's skin and lips almost touching. "I loved you and you betrayed me."
Bruce closed his eyes, enjoying the contact even against his better judgment. When was the last time he felt Clark's gentle touch? It wasn't Clark, not really, but he could pretend just for a moment.
"I loved you too," He rasped, swallowing hard. "But you became one of the monsters we should have been chasing."
Superman's grip on his throat tightened before the last words left his mouth, his dark eyes meeting Bruce's wide ones as his air supply was cut, and he struggled uselessly against the iron grip.
The last thing Bruce saw before everything went dark was the glint of unshed tears pooling in familiar azure eyes.