Working in Wayne Enterprises' R&D department as a young intern is the opportunity of a lifetime. It's undeniably a position revered and envied by your peers, and it could very well set you up for the rest of your career and life.

Mr. Wayne is not only friendly but also ensures that everyone is well-compensated and never misses a lunch break. He even covers transportation costs for those who commute from a distance. Mr. Wayne is a great boss—fair but kind. Despite Bruce not being old, sometimes it feels like he's acting almost like a father figure. Maybe it's in the way he checks in on you, making sure you take enough breaks, and how he occasionally gets takeout from that trendy downtown restaurant—the one that doesn't even officially offer takeout—for your department. You've been developing a mentor-mentee dynamic, of sorts.

There's just this one small problem.

"Don't worry," Bruce says with a polite smile, sitting opposite you with his legs crossed. He seems stiffer than usual, his body somewhat tense, while his face remains a placid and calm slate. "I didn't call you to my office for a scolding. You've been working hard."

Then, his eyes narrow, and his gaze seems a little too sharp, a little too calculating for a supposed self-absorbed and charismatic playboy.

"I don't mean to overstep, but I couldn't help but notice your," Bruce gestures to his neckline, "bruises. This isn't the first time you've come in with injuries. Pardon me if I'm off-course... But are there problems at home?"

His index finger slowly taps against the edge of his desk, and his eyes don't move an inch. Bruce is certain that someone is hurting you, and there's no way he'll let this go.

What he doesn't know is that while you are getting hurt by someone, it’s the criminals you fight at night as one of the city's vigilantes. Secret identities just got way more complicated.