The room slipped away as Bruce's eyes settled upon the screen. He drank in every detail, every motion, every tiny movement. He hadn't had much time to study Lex Luthor, certainly not on a recording. This was helpful for regarding facial cues, various idiosyncrasies in expression, things that people wouldn't necessarily be interested in. But, Bruce was. A good portion of his life had been devoted to a fight he had no intention of winning. It was simply a fight that he knew he had to engage in. It was right. People who knew him; Clark, Diana, they came to understand that his life was often rooted in training, martial arts, inventing... but sometimes they tended to forget how much of his 'training' was people watching. Psychology. Movement. There was so much tell in movement.
It was the shrouded figure that Batman settled on then. He felt his eyes narrow beneath the mask as he watched the feminine shifts and focused for only a split second on the cylinder itself. His body temperature rose the longer he watched, anger replaced the blood in his veins and as he drew in a slow breath, giving a small chant of calm to steel himself he pressed his index and middle finger against the base of the machine and rose to stand. "Not just any assassin." He slipped past Clark and moved to a small station where he could run various diagnostics. But if about 10 different types of vision from a Kryptonian didn't help, Bruce was sceptical if he would come to a conclusion. Of course, attached to the vision of a man was human error (alien error, technically, but it was just as probable). "It's her," Bruce finished.
"I'm sorry," Kara chimed in, glancing between the three men in the area, "'Her'?" She repeated, a brow arching. Batman was silent, not one for elaborating, Kara noted, so, she set her sights to Dick who seemed to be a better translator than what her own mind could follow of him. The Batman was cold and that chill brought a type of intimidation she wasn't sure she liked. If someone had told her he had the same powers as half of the Justice League, Kara would find that believable. What was difficult to believe was that this man was just that. A man. It seemed very nearly impossible.
"Let's say," Kara continued without an answer, "that we can figure out what all of this is." Her gaze moved from Dick to Clark and her shoulder shrugged, "what do we do? We can't just walk up to Luthor and expect he'll admit it. I mean, he has shady deals all over and the cops can't touch him. I don't know if punching him in the back of the head will really go over so well..."