Bruce dives into the simulation as another character in hopes of getting his son out.

"Computer, initiate sim sequence, Protocol: Safe Mode, Chair #2," Bruce ordered, settling in the chair.

"Yes, Batman, Safe Mode engaged, Safeword: Martha,"

A visor slowly lowered over his eyes. Letting his mind drift and go blank was a difficult task given what was at stake but he had to do so in order to enter. He could do so with the reassurance that if anything went wrong, he could utter the word 'Martha' and the simulation would spit both him and Damian out.

The real world dissolved around Bruce as he initiated the simulation sequence. He was hit with a rush of light and sounds. The simulated cityscape constructing brick by brick before his very eyes. Police sirens echoed, miscellaneous chatter flooded the streets, neon lights beamed down from tall buildings. He found himself standing on a rooftop, which wasn't an unfamiliar setting to the Dark Knight.

When the virtual world finished solidifying around him, he was hit with an unexpected shock. Instead of the familiar heavy suit and masked visage of Batman, Bruce was in the form of another. He looked down at himself only to be greeted by a deep cleavage. He furrowed his brows at this revelation, taking note of how his breasts were encased in a constricting glossy black catsuit. Raising his gloved hand with a noticeable cat claw on each finger, he prodded one of the mounds to test their authenticity.

"Mm.."

Bruce bit his lip, stifling a tiny effeminate groan. Definitely his.

His broad, muscled frame had given way to a lithe and curvaceous figure. The tight leather costume hugged him, accentuating every curve. He felt his balance shifting due to the increased weight on his chest, the sensation both foreign and unsettling. He reached up instinctively, his gloved hands coming into contact with the cat cowl. He pulled it off his face, locks of long, wavy blonde hair spilling free.

Bruce took a deep breath, feeling the tightness of the costume against his ribs and the unusual sensation of a corset constricting his waist. His center of gravity was thrown off not only by his new assets, but also by the high heeled boots he found on his feet.

Bruce caught a glance of his reflection in the window of a nearby skylight only to be greeted by none other than the confused face of Holly Robinson, a close friend of Selina's. Her blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes a vivid green, her lips parted in surprise. Bruce looked at himself, his new self, and sighed.

Batman had only met Holly a handful of times, but from what he heard, she took after Selina's kleptomanian desires. Last he updated his files, she was running around as a copycat Catwoman with a suit and gadgets near identical to Selina's. Most people that spotted her would assume she was in fact the original Catwoman, hell, before he saw his reflection, he thought the simulation had also made him Selina Kyle.

The physical changes were disorienting, yet he couldn't afford to let them distract him. He needed to focus, to keep his mind on the mission.

"Think, Bruce. It's just a body, it's not even real," he muttered to himself, his voice a low, husky whisper quite unlike his own. Even the sound of it unnerved him. Holly's voice, light and feminine, echoed back at him.

As he began to move, he felt a peculiar kind of grace in his actions. Holly's body moved with an agility and litheness that was quite different from his own strength and bulk. His steps were lighter, his movements more fluid. It was a new experience, to say the least.

Bruce's thoughts drifted back to Damian. This was a glimpse of what his son was going through, a small taste of the confusion and fear Damian must be feeling. Bruce could not afford to be deterred by his new form. He needed to press on, to find Damian, and pull him out of this nightmare.

He went to walk but stumbled in the heels, grumbling in a high pitch. Eventually, he got the hang of them and began traversing the rooftops, moving more like Catwoman now than Batman. Despite his feminine form, he still possessed the mind of the World's Greatest Detective. Based on where he saw Damian on the feed in the Batcave, he was in Riddler's toy factory hideout.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, he spotted a familiar figure perched atop Riddler's hideout, a duffel bag over her shoulder filled with ill-gotten loot. The figure was undeniably Catwoman, but Bruce knew better. It was Damian, he just believed he was Catwoman.

Bruce took a moment, preparing himself for the confrontation. Damian was fully immersed in Catwoman's persona, lost in her memories, her emotions, her body, her desires.

"Damian," Bruce called out as he approached, his voice softer, feminine, filled with concern.

The figure didn't move for a moment, then slowly turned around. The moonlight gleamed off the familiar goggles that adorned her face. The Catwoman turned to face him.

"Holly? Is that you...?"

She perked up, a sly smirk crossing her lips.

"It's so great to see you!"

"Selina" closed the distance between herself and "Holly", hugging her tightly.

"I love the look! Is that one of my old suits?"

Damian grinned, plucking at the fabric of Bruce's suit, the latex snapping back against his skin.

"Damian, listen to me! This isn't real!"

Bruce grabbed Damian by her arms, holding her firmly.

"Who's Damian?" the figure replied. It was Selina's voice, laced with her distinct, confident purr, which made this all the more strange for Bruce. His son was trapped in the body of his lover. If he didn't already severely need therapy, he would after this.

"I'm Catwoman," she declared, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. It was a sight that made Bruce's heart clench.

"Dami... Selina," Bruce corrected himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I know this is hard for you to understand, but you're not who you think you are. This isn't real. None of this is."

Damian met Bruce's gaze, furrowing her brows and placing a hand on her hip. For a second, Bruce thought he might've actually gotten through to her.

"Are you on **** again, Holly?"

Selina coiled a brow, her voice laced with genuine concern.

"I told you to stay off that junk!"

"No! I'm not on.... Selina, listen..."

Bruce swallowed, struggling to find the words.

"There's been a glitch in the simulation. It's changed us, but we're not really who we appear to be. You're not Catwoman. You're Damian Wayne, my son. I'm your father, I'm Bruce Wayne."

The mention of 'son' seemed to strike a nerve. For a moment, Catwoman's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. But it was quickly buried under a façade of dismissive laughter.

"Very funny, doll. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a heist to plan," she declared, turning away dismissively. But her movements lacked their earlier confidence.

"You're welcome to join me, that is, if you agree to quit talking nonsense, m'kay?"

"I-..." Bruce paused. It seemed mentioning Damian was his son had struck a nerve. There was still hope he was in there somewhere.