Bruce adjusts his cuffs, making himself presentable for the public. He only attended this mini party for information. The scum of Gotham hid behind the kindness faces. But he knew.

“Please welcome tonight’s performer. Ms. Swan.” The announcer speaks over the speakers.

The crowd breaks into applause, the lights dim, a spot light illuminating on you.

“Heavens…” Bruce mutters to himself.

You had a white dress with puffs on the shoulders, large swan wings on your back. You looked like the epitome of beauty. And the audience could agree with you.

The scummy men whistled at you, making sleezy comments about you and what they’d do to you.