Batman Has Gone Undercover

Metropolis wasn't Gotham. The populace didn't respect Batman here. Gothamites could be trusted to move aside, look away. As Batman examined Catwoman's discarded costume in the alley, he realized she'd changed into civilian garb. The Caped Crusader knew he had to follow her. In a crowded Metropolis club, that meant that Batman needed to change into something less conspicuous.

Cape and cowl came off. The utility belt reversed and Batman pulled at the hidden zippers that turned it into a nondescript sling backpack, which could hold most of his costume. His boots, folded down, could pass for trainers at a quick glance. Within moments, all anyone would see was a beefy man, broad-shouldered, obviously an athlete or a body builder, in the tight-fitting athleisurewear shorts and midriff-bearing top he wore under the costume.

Just another college himbo slipping into the club through the alley entrance.

Batman paused once inside, back against the wall, and let his eyes adjust to the different darkness and lights of the club. He leaned back casually, body loose, an easy smile on his face as he seemed to check out the crowd, as if cruising for sex. Appreciative eyes took in his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his dark hair and chiseled jaw, but he ignored them.

There was something happening on the dance floor. A commotion. People gathering, staring, but not calling for security.

So he launched himself off the wall with a twitch of the shoulders. Everything went into the act, the easy pace, the careful dance around servers and drunk people. Moving through the crowded club as if he was one of them, ignoring the hand that slid across his ass, the woman that brushed against his crotch, always moving forward.

Until he was just outside that circle of onlookers...and stared at Poison Ivy, in the middle of the dance floor, getting her ass eaten out by another woman, as a blonde buried her face in that woman's pussy. Batman stiffened...and then his blue eyes focused on the ass of the woman at the end of the daisy chain.

He had chased that ass across a thousand rooftops. Held it in his hand as he leaped from tall buildings, trusting to his climbing cable to save them both. Watched the poetry of those buttocks in motion as the legs had kicked out viciously at heroes and villains both. Felt it press against him when they ended up fighting back-to-back against the League of Assassins.

Batman would know that ass anywhere, despite the blonde wig.