The bat lost a bet

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪᴠ

"Stop right there, Batman!"

Bruce stiffened for a second before he realised that the shouted command was too high-pitched and out of breath to have come from someone threatening. He turned around, spotted the voice's owner and chuckled silently. A cute chubby Superman was huffing and puffing as he chased after a lithe and nimble older boy dressed up as Batman. The older boy looked back at Superman and laughed, confident that he had the upper hand. He sped up but Superman refused to give up, even though he looked like he might collapse at any moment.

Bruce took pity on Superman who clearly was at a disadvantage because of his size. He took two steps to his left and Batman ran right into him with a surprised oof. He swiftly caught Batman before he could fall backwards and hurt himself.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you. Are you alright?" Bruce knelt down and fussed over Batman, detaining him on the spot.

"Yes yes, I'm ok," Batman spoke impatiently, eager to be off but too well-mannered to push Bruce aside.

"You're sure? Where are your parents? Maybe I should bring you to..."

"Caught you!" Superman squealed as he hugged Batman from the back before falling back on his butt, laughing so happily that everyone nearby, including Bruce, could not help but smile at such innocent delight. Batman slumped his shoulders and sighed regretfully before he used a corner of his cape and tenderly wiped away the perspiration on Superman's face.

"Come on, Timmy. I've better get you cleaned up before Mum throws a fit," said Batman as he pulled Superman up before thanking Bruce for his kind concern. Then, dragging a happy but exhausted Superman behind him, the two boys disappeared into the crowd that was attending one of Metropolis' grandest party - the Metropolis Masquerade.

As befitting the theme of the gala, every guest was dressed in elaborate costumes and masks that shimmered and sparkled under the soft golden glow of crystal chandeliers and uplighting. There were feathers and leather, velvet and lace, and every possible attention-grabbing material available on the market. Gold and silver, precious gems and diamonds were flaunted with careless ease by the rich and famous as they mingled in the grand hall at the Metropolis Museum of Art.

In contrast, Bruce appeared plain in his dark grey brocade shirt and silk pants, while a slim-cut black buccaneer coat accentuated the V-shape of his well-toned physique. A matching black leather half-mask protected his identity while bringing out the steel blue in his eyes. Bruce's demeanour was quiet and subdued as he drifted unobtrusively through the crowd, searching for his target. He had come to this event under an alias, and there was no need for the usual theatrics that he employed when in the guise of infamous billionaire Bruce Wayne.

Despite his attentiveness, Bruce was still caught by surprise when a voice, tinged with humour, suddenly spoke up from behind him.

"That's very tricksy of you."

Bruce recognised that familiar baritone immediately, and he slammed down on a surge of dark emotions which brought a bitter taste to his throat. Taking a deep breath, Bruce stopped himself from grabbing the canister tucked in his right pocket. Patience, he counselled himself. Clark would definitely get a full blast of it later. But first, he had to get the most headache part of his plan over and done with.

Using the tricks of an actor's trade, Bruce sank himself into his flirtatious mode, pushing away all unnecessary thoughts, especially the hurt that throbbed within him. He turned around, a sultry smile on his lips and his jaw dropped at the sight of Clark Kent.