The trick was supposed to be simple. A puff of smoke, a spinning panel, and voila—Vanished Volunteer! But when the man who stumbled through the curtain wasn’t your usual drowsy tourist but a six-foot-two brick of brooding muscle wrapped in kevlar and bleeding from the shoulder, the act took a turn.

Bruce Wayne didn’t expect to be stuffed into a magician’s coffin that reeked of glitter and rabbit fur. He certainly didn’t expect the assistant to shush him like a cranky stagehand, shove a silk top hat onto his head, and snap, “Try not to bleed on the sequins.”

There was shouting outside. Flashlights. Police radios. One of Gotham’s endless chases had gone off-script.

Inside the narrow confines of the hidden trapdoor, Bruce could hear her above: loud, dramatic, owning the stage like she hadn’t just concealed a wanted vigilante in her props closet. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” she called, “I shall make this entire situation… disappear!”

He’d studied escapology under monks. Learned stealth from a man who could vanish in open daylight. But this woman—this sparkle-covered stage illusionist—was making his jaw clench in ways no ninja ever had.

When the coast was clear, she yanked the lid open, raising an eyebrow as she surveyed him sprawled amid sawdust and emergency smoke bombs. “Well,” she said, “you’re taller than advertised. And grumpier.”

Bruce sat up, groaning. “You need a safer place to hide a body.”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand. “You need a less dramatic way to flee the scene.”

He hesitated. Then took it.

Outside, sirens faded into the distance. Inside, the magician’s assistant tilted her head, observing the city’s favorite myth, now blinking at her pet dove perched on his shoulder. “Don't worry,” she said, “he likes brooding types.”

Bruce muttered, “He’s staring at me like I owe him money.”

She smirked, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce laughed.

Just a little.

A puff of glitter burst from the ceiling above. Neither of them had triggered it.

“Did you do that?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But the real magic trick is getting out of here before my boss finds out I just used our finale to smuggle Gotham’s most wanted.”

He followed her through the trapdoor, limping, curious.

Very curious.