𝐀𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝐃𝐂 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙡𝙪𝙗 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙡𝙪𝙗

(Remember to Vote and Comment as it Does a Lot for Motivation Seeing That You're Reading)

I Would Like to Dedicate This Chapter to Kevin Conroy, the Date I Am Publishing This November 30th Would've Been his 69th Birthday

Ten Years Ago

The Iceberg Lounge was alive with energy, pulsing with bass-heavy music that seemed to thrum through the very bones of the crowded space. The air smelled of alcohol, expensive cologne, and the faint tang of electricity. The sprawling club was bathed in deep crimson light, bouncing off the towering steel structures that lined the massive hall, creating a surreal and almost otherworldly atmosphere. People packed the floor, their movements erratic yet synchronized, lost in the rhythm.

Y/N leaned against a railing overlooking the dance floor, a whiskey in hand, his expression a mix of distraction and forced cheer. It had been Waylon's idea to come out tonight. Waylon had insisted that Y/N needed to blow off some steam. "It's your round," Waylon said, leaning over Y/N as he grinned with a toothy smirk, his gravelly voice cutting through the music. Before his training, Y/N wasn't the bulky figure he was, here, he was more lean, few bits of fat here and there, pretty average build.

Y/N rolled his eyes, smirking back. "You're built like a truck, Waylon, but I swear, your wallet's lighter than my conscience."

Waylon laughed, clapping Y/N on the back hard enough to nearly spill his drink. "You keep talkin', and you'll end up drinking tap water all night."

With a dramatic sigh and mock surrender, Y/N pushed off the railing. "Fine, but next time, it's on you. Don't try and dodge it." He set off, weaving through the pulsating throng of bodies toward the bar.

Navigating the packed floor was no easy feat. He sidestepped a couple mid-spin and ducked under a man throwing his hands in the air like he was in a trance. But his progress was abruptly halted when he collided with someone, sending a splash of icy liquid flying.

"Are you kidding me?" a woman exclaimed, glaring at him as she looked down at her dress. Her dark hair fell in soft waves, framing a face that was both elegant and fierce. She wore a sleek rose-colored gown that clung to her figure in all the right ways now sporting a dark stain spreading across the fabric.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Y/N said quickly, raising his hands. "I didn't see you. Totally my bad."

One of her friends, an equally well-dressed blonde, stepped forward, her lips curling in disdain. "Do you even know who this is?" she demanded, her tone dripping with incredulity.

Y/N blinked, genuinely confused. "Uh...no?"

The woman in the rose dress shot her friend a look, silencing her before she turned back to Y/N. "It's fine. Really," she said, though the tightness in her voice suggested otherwise. "I'll just clean up at the bar."

Feeling the heat of her glare as she turned away, Y/N followed her toward the bar. He was already planning his apology before he reached her side. "Look, I really am sorry," he said, leaning against the counter beside her. "I can pay for your dry cleaning or something."

The woman sighed, dabbing her dress with a napkin. "It's fine," she repeated, though her frustration was still evident. "It's just...this dress—"

"Looks expensive," Y/N finished for her, grinning. "But for what it's worth, it looks great on you."

Her hands paused mid-dab as she looked up at him, surprised. It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Her features softened ever so slightly, and there was a flicker of something curious in her eyes. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"