"If you can do this, it'll be Oscar-worthy," Clyde Van drawled, leaning back in his chair, throwing his feet up onto the desk as he dragged on his cigarette.

"As long as it gets me graduated, I don't care," Zoe Butler replied, her lips pressed tightly together.

"It's unusual, I'll give you that. Nobody else has ever done a Masters' project quite like that before. What will you do if you don't get him on film?"

"I've got a backup plan."

"I bet you do."

"So do I get the wise Department Chairman's blessing or what?" she demanded.

"Sure. It's your thesis."

"Then sign the form so I can go back to work."

Van leaned forward and, cigarette dangling from his mouth, scribbled his flourishing signature across the bottom of her Masters' Thesis Permission form.

"Go get 'em, tiger," he chuckled. "Or should I say, go get 'em, batty."

"Spare me," she snapped, rolling her eyes and snatching the form away from him. She grabbed her stuff and turned to leave the chairman's office.

"Butler!"

She turned around, glaring at him.

"You honestly, seriously think you're gonna get the Batman to agree to let you film a documentary about him?"

"I got you to sign my form, didn't I? Stranger things have happened."

Van shook his head and grinned. "Poor bastard. I feel sorry for him already."

Zoe pulled her bike up to the run-down office building on the outskirts of Gotham downtown. She snapped the clasp on her helmet and walked her bike into the lobby and onto the elevator. When it opened onto the offices of Brandstar Productions, she dragged it over with her to her desk and propped it against the brick wall behind her.

Joe Ramirez popped his head around his cubicle wall and grinned at her.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said. "You're heading back out."

"Out where?" she asked suspiciously. When Joe smiled, it usually meant bad things.

"Tonya got pulled by another client, so you're now the lucky girl who's going to do the Wayne Foundation profile video of Bruce Wayne."

"No, seriously? You're going to put me through that?" Zoe's tone was clearly unhappy. "I am so not a corporate girl. I mean, look at me!" She gestured down to her skinny jeans and Chucks.

Joe gave her an appraising look, obviously taking in the frazzled, unkempt dirty blonde hair, the heavy eye make-up around her grey-blue eyes, the Ramones vintage t-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt, and the heavy Navajo ring she wore on her forefinger.

"Yeeeah," he admitted. "You're about as corporate as vomit. Do you ever brush your hair?"

"Yes! I mean, I meant to this morning, I was just running late."

"Okay. Well at least we're supposed to be creative types, so we'll just make that your excuse. Now, you better get on down there. You're supposed to meet with them at 1pm."

"What equipment do I need?"

"Take the Panasonic Pro-AG and the Canon Digital Rebel. You're going to need both video and stills for this project."

"Wow! You mean, I get to play with the expensive toys?" Zoe nearly salivated at the thought of getting her hands on the really advanced equipment that the company usually saved for the very high end productions.

"Wayne Foundation asked for the best. I left you the project info on your desk. You've done this stuff before. Branding the man behind the charity. Soft and fuzzy stuff. You know the routine."

"You mean I gotta film what's-his-face?"

"Bruce Wayne? Yeah. Hey, at least he's good-looking." Joe smirked.

"He's old," she retorted, wrinkling her nose.

"31 is old to a 24 year-old? Dude, I'm seriously out of touch."

"Duh!"

"Well, just go and do the job. Take a cab. I don't want our equipment bouncing around on the back of a bike. Plus, it's just an invitation for you to get mugged."

A strange, speculative light flashed in Zoe's eyes, and she bit back a smile.

"All right," she said, dragging her mind back to the task at hand. "I'm off to film frat boy."

"Try to be polite? Please?"

"Oh, come on. I'm one of those 'creative types.'" She giggled and grabbed her bag and strode off to gather the equipment.

"God help Bruce Wayne," Joe muttered and shook his head.

Yours in Mischief,

Kate September