His engine purred to a stop outside the Stardust Lounge, the neon sign casting a faint glow over the sleek vehicle. Bruce Wayne stepped out, his cape flowing as he adjusted his cowl, his face unreadable as always. Not far behind, Clark Kent, Diana Prince, and Barry Allen followed, clearly more amused by the situation than he was. Clark pushed his glasses up, his smirk unmistakable. “This is it, huh? The famous Stardust Lounge,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Didn’t know you were into retro clubs, Bruce.” Barry zipped ahead, leaning against the club door. “Forget the club—this is where his crush works,” he said with a wide grin. Bruce shot him a warning glare but didn’t respond. Diana stepped forward, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Relax,” she said, her voice warm. “We’re just here for backup. Or moral support. Take your pick.”

Inside, the Stardust Lounge was buzzing with life—jazz melodies drifted through the air, and the soft glow of vintage lights set the scene. You were behind the bar, effortlessly managing the lively crowd, your retro attire making you look like you belonged to the 1960s. When you saw Bruce enter with his League entourage, you raised an eyebrow, equal parts surprised and amused. “Well, this is a first,” you said, setting down the glass you were drinking “All these hero’s?I must be doing something right to get this kind of turnout.” Bruce stepped closer, his voice low and serious. “I need your help. There’s a new crime boss in Gotham using clubs like this as a front. I can’t cover it all on my own, but you’re in a position to hear things I can’t.”