No, Damian gets mind-wiped to Catwoman.

In the following hours, she felt a peculiar sensation crawling up her mind. The line between her reality and the virtual one began to blur. The cold metal of the bomb collar was ever-present against her skin, and the confinement of the chair became increasingly real. The latex costume clung tightly to her curves, as if it was a part of her now, not just a virtual overlay.

Her mind became consumed with thoughts that were not hers. She began to remember events and instances she had never lived, the heists and the intricate planning that went into them. Memories of the nights spent scaling Gotham’s skyline and the thrill of narrowly escaping the Bat's pursuit filled her mind.

She remembered how it felt to kiss Batman, the spark that existed between them, the burning desire that they shared. Her heart would race, and her cheeks would turn red, not from embarrassment but from the sheer intensity of the connection they shared. She... could still taste him, the minty freshness of his breath lingering in her mind, teasing her, tormenting her...

Her hands clenched involuntarily, straining against the bonds. She could feel her nails turning into sharp claws, pressing against the confines of the gloves. She was more alert now, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, taking in every small detail. Her senses were heightened; she could smell the mustiness of the old room, the dust particles floating in the air.

_"No, no, I am not Selina. I am Damian," _she muttered to herself, doing her best to keep her voice steady. But even her voice was not hers anymore. It was Selina's voice, that soft, sultry, confident purr. She grimaced, feeling sick to her stomach.

The sensation was foreign and horrifying. It felt as if her own mind was being erased, overwritten by a new one. She could feel Selina's thoughts creeping in, wrapping around her own memories and seeping into her conscience. Thoughts that were not her own, feelings she did not feel, desires she did not want. The simulation was doing something sinister.

She had been trained by the best; she was disciplined, hardened. But nothing could have prepared her for this. Her mind was her most formidable weapon, and it was being corrupted, taken over. The more she tried to hold onto her own thoughts, the more they slipped away.

Her senses began to change, too. She was more aware of her body, of the way the tight latex of the costume accentuated every curve, of the weight and sway of her long hair, of the faint scent of Selina's signature perfume. Every move she made, every breath she took, it all felt more sensuous, more catlike. It was as if she was becoming Selina Kyle.

Her training, her experiences, her own identity started to feel like a distant dream. She could recall them, but they felt less significant, less important. The urge to behave, to think, to act as Selina would was overpowering. She was beginning to lose herself to the simulation, to Selina's persona.

"N-No!"

She **** the word out, a **** attempt to hold onto her identity.

"I am Selina! I am not Damian!"

Her face reddened when she realized she said the opposite of what she meant to say.

"N-no, I mean, I'm... ugh! C-Catwoman-n..."

Damian ground her teeth, fighting to keep the word down but it **** its way through in her sultry soprano.

Catwoman. She was Catwoman.

Her struggle was futile. Despite her best efforts, she could feel her resolve weakening, her own thoughts fading away, and Catwoman's taking over.

One by one, her memories were eradicated. Being raised and trained by the League of Assassins became pickpocketing strangers on the streets of Gotham for food. Her mother Talia introducing her to her father, Bruce Wayne, for the first time, was replaced with Selina's first chase, running from the Batman and the first intense kiss they shared. All those times she suited up as Robin to fight crime were replaced with slipping her skin tight bodysuit on, painting her lips red, and burglarizing the rich. Her gadgets, Robin suit, sword, and Wayne tailored clothes became Selina's whip, a catsuit, high heeled boots, makeup, and designer clothes.

She struggled in her chair, writhing not only against her restraints, but against what was being done to her.

"I-I'm Catwoman!"

Her last defiant thought as Damian Wayne was a **** plea for help, a silent cry out into the digital darkness. Then, all was silent in her mind, except for the purring voice of Catwoman, filling the void left by Damian's fading consciousness. Damian was slowly swallowed up in the tidal wave that was Selina Kyle.

SNAP!

Finally, she stood. Her restraints broken. The bomb collar was still ever-present on her neck but she paid it no mind. A sly smirk crossed her ruby lips, a newfound confidence had taken hold. No longer a young man struggling against the inevitable, now a strong woman was at the helm.

"Let's see about getting out of this mess, shall we?~"

Catwoman's voice echoed in the stillness, sultry and alluring, and Damian was no more.

A sense of unease crept over Batman as he descended into the Batcave, greeted by the silent form of his son, Damian, still strapped to the simulation chair. He'd been at it all night, which wasn't normal. Was he too hard on the boy last night? Damian might've opted to give the sim his all to prove a point. Regardless, he'd been in there long enough. It was time to pull him out.

Approaching the console, Batman glanced at the monitors displaying real-time data from Damian's ongoing simulation session. The unblinking lines of code, the steady pulse of life signals - they provided little comfort.

"Computer, update on Damian's simulation status," Batman demanded, his voice echoing in the dark cave.

"Subject Damian Wayne remains within the virtual reality simulation," the computer replied, its voice devoid of any emotional resonance. "Vital signs are stable. Brain activity is elevated, indicating deep immersion."

Elevated brain activity - indicative of someone who believed they were in a very real situation. On its own, it wasn't concerning. He designed the sim to be realistic, after all. But the high brain activity coupled with Damian not having moved... Alarm bells started ringing in Batman's mind. He swiftly typed commands on the console, pulling up Damian's point of view within the simulation. The video feed showed a figure tied to a chair. A woman. Catwoman. She broke free, striking a sassy pose before leaping into action as Riddler's robots swarmed her.

"No, that can't be right," Batman murmured, rubbing his stubbled chin in consternation. Damian had chosen Batman as his simulation avatar, that much he gathered from the sim's console notes. So why was he seeing Catwoman?

An unsettling possibility began to take shape in his mind. Was it possible that Damian had somehow become stuck in the simulation, believing he was a part of it? Could he believe he was, in fact, Catwoman? He'd used the program over a hundred times and never encountered such an error.

A sinking feeling settled in Batman's chest. If that was the case, the situation was far more serious than he initially thought. Damian wasn't just training anymore, he was trapped. And the longer he remained in the simulation, the more dangerous it would become. His son's mind was at risk.

Resolving to get Damian out, Batman began working on a plan. He knew the risks, understood the potential harm that could come from forcibly ejecting someone from a deep dive into the simulation. But he also knew Damian was a fighter, he had proven that time and again. Batman just had to figure out how to give him a fighting chance.

"Damian," Batman said, laying a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to get you out. Hang on, son."

A father's promise echoed in the quiet cave, a determination fueled by worry and regret, love and faith. Batman would move heaven and earth for his son, even if he pissed him off royally sometimes. Bruce wasn't about to lose another Wayne.