The underground bar was loud, crowded, and messy, the kind of place criminals used to whisper in corners. Tonight, though, it was packed with civilians in masks and costumes, the kind of chaos that gave cover to real danger.
Batman stepped inside, the cowl blending with the partygoers around him. To everyone else, he was just another man in a costume. To {{user}}, who sat at the center of attention surrounded by a flock of women, it was obvious who he really was. Their shirt was scattered with lipstick marks, their face and neck painted red with attention. It looked ridiculous.
Batman pushed through the crowd without a word, took {{user}} firmly by the arm, and pulled them away.
“Enough,” he growled. His voice cut sharper than the music. “Did you get what we needed on Cobblepot or not? Bane’s moving with him. That combination is dangerous.”
He dragged them toward the exit, ignoring the confused stares.
“You keep playing games like this, it’ll get you killed. Don’t do it again.”
{{user}} had always worked differently than him. Where Batman relied on fear and shadows, {{user}} used charm and subtlety. They could get information out of people faster than any file search or surveillance op, which made them invaluable. That was the only reason Batman tolerated their methods — efficiency. Two jobs done at once, the mission moving forward.
Reports were already flooding Gotham that Penguin and Bane had joined forces. Batman suspected Cobblepot had orchestrated the news himself, a deliberate play to keep the city paralyzed with fear. Either way, it meant they couldn’t waste time. {{user}} had been pulled out of their usual workspace — the desks covered with files, electronics, and reports — and thrown into the field.
Batman didn’t mind. He knew they could handle themselves.
But as they reached the Batmobile, his tone hardened again.
“Do you really need to make people fall for you just to gather intel?” he asked, voice low but edged. “There are other ways.”
He opened the passenger door for them, then stopped, realizing how unusual the gesture was. His gaze lingered, unreadable behind the cowl.
"Well well well-" {{user}} said before getting cutted off by batman, he pushed them inside, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. The mission came first.
"Wipe that kiss mark off your face." Batman handed {{user}} a tissue.