"We will arrive shortly," Alfred said to Bruce, who was pulling the dark costume off his torso in the backseat. "And thanks to the convenient speed of the batmobile, we shall arrive on time."

"We could have gotten there early if I wrapped up that fight faster," Bruce said. He slipped on a light blue dress shirt and black tie. "I got my butt kicked."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, sir," Alfred reassured him. "Although this scoundrel has eluded you multiple times, this is only your second week as the Batman." Bruce frowned.

"But she was smaller than me," Bruce complained, almost to himself. He slid his arms and legs into the black suit, then quickly tied his dress shoes.

"Your opponent this evening was a 'she', sir?" Alfred asked him, surprised, and held in a smile. Bruce looked up and froze.

"Well… she was good! And let's be civil here, she has a name; Catwoman," he said as an excuse. "She was just as quick as me, but thankfully I got her tied up and left her for the police. Good thing, too; she was a sly one." He wiped the last remnants of deep red lipstick off his mouth.

Alfred stepped out of the limousine to open the back door. The moment Bruce's foot stepped onto that carpet…

"Want to dance, Brucie?"

"Baby, buy me a drink with all that money!"

Bruce stepped out of the limousine fully, giving Alfred a pat on his shoulder in thanks. Alfred smiled, then leaned closer to his ear to whisper, "Good luck, sir." Bruce gave him a confident wink and Alfred drove away.

Bruce turned to the large building before him, illuminated from neon lights, the windows vibrating from loud music. With a charming smile, he walked down the carpet, waving at all the paparazzi and people on the sides.

"Isn't he so cute?!"

"I love you, Wayne!"

Giving a toothy grin to all he passed, Bruce entered the building. He wasn't surprised to see a massive banner that read, "Welcome, Bruce Wayne!". He also wasn't surprised to see the colorful lights that danced around the room and to hear blasting rap music at a charity event. As soon as the hosts read Bruce's name on the guest list, all formalness was forgotten; impressing the young, wealthy bachelor was the top priority.

"Brucie, come here!" a voice said behind him. Always with a smile, Bruce turned around to see a beautiful woman… she looked familiar but he couldn't remember her name… She handed him a drink and he took it, gulping it down like it was sugar. "I missed you yesterday after you had to leave! I thought our date was going so well…" She slid her arms up his shoulders and pulled herself closer to him with a smirk. "Why don't we finish what we started? Take me back to your mansion?"

Keyword: mansion. Not "house". She's just after my money, like all the women.

"I'm sorry… Miss," Bruce said, taking her arms off him with his free hand. "I had a wonderful time but..." Okay, Bruce, which excuse this time? You use your company as an excuse too much… Yet again, she's ridiculous. "...But Wayne Industries needs me," Bruce finished with a grin. "I need to refocus myself on my business." The woman crossed her arms and frowned as Bruce waved good-bye, disappearing to the bar where he wouldn't be bothered as much.

"Ahh, the notorious Bruce Wayne," the aged, charming bartender sang as he approached Bruce with a warm smile.

"Hey, Sam," Bruce said with a smile. Sam began to prepare a few shots for Bruce, gracefully pouring the alcoholic beverage into five small glasses. "How have you been?"
"Not bad, Bruce, not too bad," Sam replied cheerfully. "In a few days I'll be getting just a great promotion from a wonderful man. Getting my own bar from him! He's the richest guy in Gotham and all the ladies love 'em. You mighta heard of his name before… it's uh…" Sam trailed off with a sneaky smile. Bruce laughed, taking his seat on a stool.

"Alright, that's enough, Sam," Bruce laughed, swigging two shots down. "You're flattering me." Sam smiled, casually refilling Bruce's glasses. When Sam refilled it, Bruce took it into his hand immediately, practically inhaling it. After a long time of conversation and a dozen more shots later…

"Ok, Bruce," Sam said, placing the beverage down. He looked the bachelor in the eye. "That's enough alcohol for tonight. It's in my best interest to keep your head clear during these kinda things." Bruce gave a wicked smile, bowing his head down, his back trembling in laughter. He looked up, dazed.

"Pfft," he spat. "What are you talking about? I'm totally fine, Sammy." Sam frowned.

"You see, that's it right there," Sam said. "You always talk so fancy and you only call me 'Sammy' when ya drunk, Bruce. I'm capping the limit of drinks. You aint allowed any more tonight."

"Aww, Sammy!" Bruce whined with a drowsy smile. "You're- you're insane, ha, ha! I'm fine, you're fine, we're all okay-"

"Brucie!" another woman called. He turned to see who it was… yeah, he didn't remember her.

"Hey, hands off, he's mine," someone else growled.

"Excuse me, but we went out twice; I think I have some priority here."

"You went out a second time? Nobody's gotten a second date with him!"

Soon a whole group of swooning women approached Bruce. He looked at them in a bright and very drunk smile, then returned his gaze to Sam.

"Sam, look!" Bruce said like an amused little boy. He leaned closer to his old friend to whisper, "I think they like me! Should I go dance?"

"Bruce, no," Sam demanded. "I won't allow you to make any mistakes tonight." Obviously not in his right mind, Bruce suddenly became furious, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, you know," he began in a stutter, "just stop bothering me, okay? I didn't- you know what's it like and… I know what-"

"Bruce," Sam interrupted in a soft, yet warning tone.

"You can't tell me what to do, Dad!" Bruce ended his compelling argument with his index finger fiercely pointing at Sam. Sam's eyes softened.

"Boy, I'm not your dad," Sam said in a quiet tone. Bruce began to laugh hysterically.

"Then who is? Where's my dad?" Bruce cackled. Sam's heart became heavy as he felt for this young man; this lost, confused, lonely young man.

Suddenly Bruce stood up, wobbling on his legs. A group of laughing, drunk women took Bruce by his arms, dragging him onto the dance floor.

"Bye, Dad!" Bruce cried happily as the women led him away. Sam dropped his head, saying a quick prayer for the drunk boy. He looked back up at the dance floor to see Bruce already jumping in the air like a maniac, shouting drunk words into the air. In the next moment, Sam wasn't surprised to see Bruce gone from the dance floor. Feeling like it was a routine, he turned to his right to see Bruce frolicking away with three other women onto the stage beside the musical performers, kissing them all in a rotation along the way.

Sam let out a sigh, breaking his gaze from the stage back onto his work. A customer walked up to the bar and Sam looked up.

"Hey, Sam!" he said. "What're you looking at?"

"Ah, nothing," Sam replied, covering up his concern with a smile.

"Nah, I know what," the man said. He leaned forward. "It's Mr. Bruce Wayne, aint it? That dumb, rich boy. I don't understand how he can drink, party, dance all night, then wake up the next morning to his flourishing company."

"He'll be alright. He's just young."

"I don't think so. There's the young kids that go around and party and get their life back together. But this guy? Pfft, he'll lose his company and then some soon. I mean, it's Bruce Wayne. Playboy, bachelor, hopeless little fella. You can't argue with that, Sam."

"I really can't."