"Shouldn't you be a bit more upbeat, Master Wayne?" Alfred looked on as Bruce fastened a cufflink together. "I thought it was the top priority of Bruce Wayne to go to these types of events."

"Do you always feel a need to make things more difficult than they are?" Not amused, Bruce only glanced halfway up towards the elder man, still trying to get the damn thing in its slot.

"Oh I don't feel a need sir," He assured, silently keeping count of the time it took for his young master to successfully dress. "You make it plenty difficult for yourself."

"Have you found any leads on the O'Hara case?" Finally! Rolling his eyes at himself at how long it took, Bruce went to grab his suit jacket but found Alfred already holding it out for him.

"Three. However, they seem to have adequate alibis." Hefting the material onto Bruce' shoulders, Alfred backed away. "But I have found a few pseudonyms for your girlfriend."

"Which one?" Taking off towards the front door where the car would be waiting for him, Bruce adjusted his sleeve to fit him better.

"The only one that you seem even remotely interested in at the moment." Alfred told him. "It seems the others were tired of you not showing interest."

"Are any of them reliable?" This woman had been a pain since the moment she arrived on the scene. He couldn't decide exactly what her priorities were as she stole from various people, all wealthy and pains themselves, but she also had a tendency for the bejeweled items as well. Not to mention there were a couple deaths but he was uncertain as to what had caused them.

"None sir." Alfred followed to the very last moment. "I'm not sure any of them would catch your fancy as of late considering you have done nothing but sitting in that damn cave for the past nine months."

"Would you rather me be a philanderer again?" He questioned, not bothering to slow down as they almost arrived at the front door.

"I would rather you find something worth living for other than Batman." Alfred told him frankly. "We both loved and cared for Ms. Dawes but..."

"We'll talk about this later." Brushing him off, Bruce hurried down the steps of the manor and to the awaiting car.

"Of course." Alfred nodded, knowing that he would not be able to ease the man's pain but also aware of the fact that the path that Bruce Wayne was headed was a dark and ultimately lonely one. He had seen people go down this path before and for the boy that he had a hand in raising, Alfred would not stand by ideally and let it happen.

"Alfred." Bruce called to the man, before getting in the overly priced car. "Upload the names into the phone and some of the profiles that you have on these women."

"Would you like their phone numbers as well?" Perhaps he was making it too apparent that he did not want to drive home another woman as she droned on about how wonderful their night was and asking him if Bruce would call the next day.

"I can get those myself." The utter cockiness in his voice was enough to make Alfred blanch but when he saw the smile that meant Bruce was joking, he felt a bit more relaxed.

"Very good sir." Alfred agreed, going back into the large house as the engine roared to life and drove away, leaving Alfred once again, alone and having to tend to another task to the darker half of his young charge.

"Bruce!" Bruce turned his head, arriving in the club and saw his friend, Thomas Elliot coming to greet him through all the blaring music and ongoing lights. Plus all the bodies all around the high-end gentleman's club, which to Bruce always seemed like an oxymoron. Engulfing him in a hug, Bruce back away hoping that the smile on his face was just fake enough. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm surprised Ronnie is letting you do this." Bruce chuckled. "I thought she was going to place an embargo on the whole wedding if you threw one of these."

"No touching." Thomas shrugged. "That was the deal."

"Understandable." He nodded, taking in the place in general. There were women dancing, serving, and gracing men with their presences. The men sitting back and letting them do such things, not caring about their names, backgrounds or anything that would make them a person. It made him sick, this practice of letting people become nothing more than objects to be used and played with.

"We have a private room in the back." Thomas's voice broke him from his thoughts and they went into a room behind a closed door.

At once Bruce recognized colleagues and other upper ranking males within their social circle. They greeted him with a simple nod. Taking a seat next to Thomas, Bruce felt a drink go into his hand and looked around for who it could have been but the person was completely gone. His eyes narrowed, looking around the room. The beverage reeked of brandy.

Having already checked up on each of the identities of these women, he knew that none were caught in anything too scandalous, a couple minor hits here and there but nothing to cause him alarm but his stomach twisted at the idea of having to sit down and to even pretend to enjoy this was going to test his skills at acting. More importantly, he could use this time to check on the whereabouts of his latest adversary. Taking out his cell, Bruce began to play with the records Alfred had uploaded.

The lights went down and the rowdiness of the younger generation was heard as the music started to play and the curtains to the back part of the stage opened, revealing no one there. There was a slight confusion but then cheering began from the back of the room and before he could turn around, Bruce felt a hand on his chest and a hot breath on his ear and he immediately stilled and resisted the urge to fight.

"A little tense there." The voice struck him deep in his ear and was the thing that he heard completely above the music. "Don't worry I can fix that."

He briefly felt his top button coming undone and adapt hands begin to trace his collar and under his shirt. Bruce was not sure what to make of what was happening to him but when he went to protest the unknown woman jumped around him, his eyes couldn't help but follow her body as it swayed to the music.

She was in front of him now as were the rest of the girls but she was the one that was directly in his line of sight and as much as every lesson from Alfred, his father told him to look away, he couldn't. But he was not subjecting her to the usual male gaze, instead he took in her muscular form compared to the other females. The way she moved was precise and much more calculated as if she were playing a part. Like many of the women she was wearing a wig, too long for her face, which was also a bit strange. At this point was so mesmerized with her and had a desperate want to look into her eyes...

Suddenly getting up and placing the glass that had been handed to him down on the table next to the chair he had just occupied, he headed to the back of the room where their private bar was. No one really noticed his departure, only when he blocked their views did the men care, but he knew he needed to get out of that situation.

"Seltzer." The standard flirtatious, mild manner Bruce Wayne had suddenly disappeared, leaving the gruff man, ordering people about. He was caught off guard for some reason and he didn't like it. Pulling out a tip for the woman behind the bar, he noticed her glee and briefly smiled back before getting drawn back into the scene before him.

It wasn't just the sight before him; it was the woman, the one that had managed to unnerve him. The way that she moved, her eyes were still downward. But she did not need to look up to capture the attention of the men in the room. She was fully aware of the situation and that she had managed to obtain all of their sights. There was no point in denying her attitude was seen faithfully there. Again, he looked her over, she had yet to take off her small outfit but finally the corset blocking the view of her stomach came off and he saw the fit and toned way her muscles moved. She was trained at something but he didn't know what. Perhaps a gymnast or she may have been well trained in yoga. But something about her body informed him that she was not just what she pretended to be. Her frame was far too muscular compared to the rest of girls, who were slim but not much else.

The music slowed and many of the girls left the stage to go closer to the men. He saw that this mysterious woman he had been watching, walked off from the upper platform and her sights were set on him. It was then he was able to catch her eyes because she had finally let him, but in the dim lighting he saw that he couldn't tell their color. The caked on make-up also prevented him from seeing too much of an actual identity of the woman. But as she prowled over to him, Bruce had an overwhelming sense of knowing her, of knowing her body. Although, he was not the type at all to be caught with a woman of this nature, the thought intrigued him. How would he know this woman? Why did he care so much?

"Can I buy you a real drink?" It was the first thing she said to him, her tone, her voice so recognizable.

"Already have one." Tipping his glass, he tried to smirk and fall back into a playful set but there was something about this that felt surreal. It caused him to feel off his usual outside demeanor when it came to women as Bruce Wayne. In front of her he felt like a fake, a phony, like she had seen his true side and he could not give her the one he wanted to give her. He leaned on the bar to act casual.

"Only seltzer?" A brow lifted gracefully and she moved closer to him, leaving very little space to move. "I'm disappointed, Mr. Wayne."

"Can't please everyone." He shrugged.

"Had a rough one last night?" Her eyes were amused by something and they were strange. A brown color but not really brown. It looked as though she was wearing special contact lenses.

"You should have been there." In an attempt to keep up his image, Bruce decided that two could play at this game and changed his body position so that his was fully facing her and leaning in to be of similar height. The new position allowed him to get a better look in her eyes and saw that there were flecks of a different color behind the lenses but it wasn't enough to fully tell what they were in the lighting.

"Really?" The way she said it, he was unsure if she was actually interested or just playing with him. "Perhaps I was there Mr. Wayne."

"Perhaps you were." Trying to flirt back, Bruce added. "You should call me Bruce, by the way, Mr. Wayne sounds a bit too old."

"Bruce." The word lingered on her tongue and he felt a foreign thrill go through him. "That sounds a bit old in itself."

"A family name." He assured her and wasn't expecting the hand that had touched him earlier to appear on his chest again. Her body moved into his a bit more. "I thought you're not allowed to..."

"I can do all the touching I want." She was right under him.

"What's your name?" Bruce asked, intrigued by and yet also weary of this woman all at the same time.

"Whatever you want it to be." Her answer was smooth and practiced.

"They tell you to say that?"

"Maybe." Arching a brow, the woman was not afraid of him at all nor was she trying to flirt with him for the sake of his money as the others were. Instead, she focused on him, hoping for something else, of which he was not sure what it was yet. "They, if you mean the owners, want me to indulge in all your fantasies and your questions."

"Really?" Bruce strangely enough wanted to follow up on this idea. "Do you get to play out any of your particular… fantasies?"

"All the time."

"What are your fantasies?"

"I've always been a sucker for nicknames."

"Nicknames?" His brows narrowed. Needless to say, the answer took his off he guard. The rest of his body was completely still, he felt enraptured by this woman. He noted how her lips were just below his and he could almost taste them. "What is yours?"

"Don't you know," a smirk, "you can never give yourself a nickname."

"I take it you have already given me a nickname then." He questioned.

"Of course." The woman replied.

"I'm afraid to ask what it is." Giving a light chuckle, he tried to keep his cool as she moved to her lips upward, making him lean down further. The breath was hot on his ear and he suppressed a shiver going down his back. For all the control that he had gained throughout the years, he was struggling right now, utterly struggling.

"You know," She didn't answer him directly yet, "nicknames need to have meaning, a purpose. Some times they are shared by two people, sometimes people dislike their real names and forgo them to be something else, an extension of who they are."

"You're avoiding to tell me so I assume it's bad." Bruce couldn't help the unease that he was beginning to feel and the lack of control.

"You're not going to like it." He could feel her smile.

"I'll decide that."

"Alright." Then she said a name that he was not expecting. A nickname that was reserved for only one person and he barely let her get away with it. "Bats."

So this is a completely different story and unrelated to all of my other ones. I have no idea if people are still reading and reviewing but I sure as hell hope they are! Enjoy!

-EV