Damian's Sister

The Opportunity

~ The Opportunity ~

"Running a little late, Samantha, but I should be there in fifteen minutes," Bruce told his date, weaving through Gotham traffic in a small but luxurious car.

"I'm not a woman who likes being kept waiting, Bruce. But I'll make an exception for you."

"Well, then, I'll do everything in my power to make sure your patience is-" he trailed off, watching a car speed just to leap in front of him. Something wasn't right. "Hang on a minute, Sam."

"Is something wrong?"

Three more cars surrounded him.

"I'm not sure."

He tried swerving, even lightly tapping the other cars in warning.

"Bruce?" she asked, worried.

"I'll call you back." He hung up, focusing on out maneuvering the cars chasing him.

The car beside him revealed two people in owl masks. The cars on either side took turns ramming into him. When he had enough, he hit the brakes. The car behind him slowed in response, creating a gap. Before the other cars closed back in, he slipped out.

Before he made it far, he was slammed against the highway cement railing. He hit the brakes again, going to the car's other side.

It didn't work. Another car trapped him on his exposing side, and they both slammed into him. He hit the brakes again, and the cars ended up slamming into each other, with one spinning out of control.

Bruce accelerated, trying to escape. But when he hit a traffic delay, he spun the car around, facing the three remaining cars head on. He swerved passed the first two but collided with the third. The crash sent his smaller vehicle in the air.

He didn't have time to recover from the accident before the masked figures were yanking him out of his car. Two men dragged him to two other masked figures.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"An opportunity." A needle jammed into his neck, and darkness took over. "And one you should be extremely grateful for."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Bruce didn't know how long he was out. When he came to, he was in a large room. Looking up, he saw rows of expressionless owl masks, each hiding it's owners features.

"Welcome, Mr. Wayne," the masked man in the white suit and black hood greeted. He was obviously the leader, his perch separated from the others.

"Not exactly a warm welcome."

"If we'd wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here now." Yes, because that was so comforting. Bruce forced himself to resist rolling his eyes.

Instead, he settled for: "Who are you?"

"The Grandmaster of the Court of Owls."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "I would say the Court of Owls is merely a legend."

"A legend we are, but one rooted in fact. There was a time when the Court of Owls stood behind every wall, in every shadow. We whispered and Gotham trembled. Not a leaf fell without our permission: a golden age."

"But all golden ages end."

"A faction rose against us that even our talons couldn't stop. We were forced to retreat, but we never surrendered. And now-"

"You're back. Why?"

"Because we care, Mr. Wayne. Just as our fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers cared. We are, and always have been, the sons and daughters of Gotham's wealthiest. We know far better than the rabble what's best for our city."