The Batcave hummed the sound of tech. Screens flickered with surveillance footage from across Gotham, while the distant chittering of bats echoed from the cavern's depths.
Batman stood at his central computer console, reviewing crime scene data when a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Evening, mate. Lovely little hole in the ground you've got here."
Batman didn't turn. "Constantine. How did you get in here?"
John Constantine stepped out of the shadows, his trench coat rumpled as always, cigarette dangling from his lips despite the cave's sophisticated air filtration system. He took a long drag before answering.
"Magic door. Don't worry, I closed it behind me." He gestured vaguely with his cigarette. "Not exactly League business, but I figured you'd want to know."
Batman finally turned, cowl-covered eyes narrowing. "Know what?"
"You haven't noticed?" Constantine moved closer, flicking ash onto the immaculate floor. "The universe seems... brighter lately. Sun's got more kick to it. Stars are sharper. Even the bloody moon's got more luster."
"Get to the point."
"That is the point," Constantine insisted, his accent thickening with frustration.
"Something's changing the cosmic balance. Even Gotham feels different. Still a bloody cesspit - no offense - but lighter somehow. Like someone's taken a bit of weight off the world."
Batman was silent for a moment, processing. "I've noticed atmospheric changes. Nothing conclusive."
"Course you have," Constantine muttered. "Probably thought it was some weather machine or climate change."
"What are you suggesting?"
Constantine shrugged. "Don't know yet. That's why I'm here. Something big enough to affect the literal light of creation isn't usually good news. Figured you might have noticed something... unusual."
Batman turned back to his computer, pulling up meteorological data. "Nothing that would explain what you're describing. Solar radiation levels are within normal parameters, though..."
He paused, studying a chart. "There has been a 0.3% increase in ambient light levels across Gotham over the past two weeks."
"See? Not just me going mental then." Constantine peered at the screen. "So what's new in the neighborhood? Any cosmic entities moved in recently? Only way I see this cursed city changing."
"No." Batman's response was clipped. After a moment, he added, "Though we do have a new arrival who's drawn my attention."
"Oh?" Constantine perked up. "Do tell."
Batman pulled up a different file. "Lex Luthor's son has moved to Gotham. Enrolled at Gotham University."
"Didn't know Baldy had a kid."
"Few do. He's been in a coma for nineteen years. Recently awoke and has now taken up residence in the Bristol district."
Constantine whistled. "Convenient timing, that."
"Perhaps." Batman's tone revealed nothing. "I'm keeping an eye on him. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a charity gala next weekend. I've extended an invitation."
"Playing the friendly billionaire neighbor?" Constantine smirked. "Classic Bruce Wayne move."
"It's an opportunity to observe him in a controlled environment."
Constantine was quiet for a moment, his face uncharacteristically thoughtful. Then, seemingly from nowhere: "I should come."
Batman turned, surprise briefly visible in the exposed portion of his face. "You want to attend a high-society charity gala?"
"Got a feeling," Constantine tapped his temple. "Call it magical intuition. If there's something cosmic going on, and this Luthor boy's timing is as suspicious as it sounds, might be worth having someone there who can sense the mystical side of things."
Batman looked pointedly at Constantine's disheveled appearance - the perpetually loosened tie, the stained trench coat, the five o'clock shadow that seemed permanent.
"I have nothing against your assistance, John, but you'll need... adjustments."
Constantine glanced down at himself, then back at Batman with a wry smile. "What, this won't cut it with Gotham's elite? Fine. I clean up better than you'd think. Just get me on the guest list."
Batman nodded once. "I'll have Alfred arrange everything."
"Brilliant," Constantine said, already turning to leave. "Oh, and Bruce? Whatever this is - be careful. When the universe starts shining brighter, it usually means something's getting ready to cast a very big shadow."
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The security officer carefully examined the elegant invitation, handling it with gloved hands.
He checked for chemical residues, examined the paper under ultraviolet light, and even subjected it to a portable spectrometer analysis before finally declaring it safe.
Only then did Cassandra take it from him, her own gloved hands making one final inspection before presenting it to Samael.
The cream-colored card was embossed with the Wayne Enterprises logo, the elegant script inviting Samael Luthor to attend the annual Wayne Foundation Charity Gala, benefiting Gotham's underprivileged youth.
"Bruce Wayne," Samael mused, a slight smile playing on his lips as he examined the invitation. "How... civically minded of him to welcome the new neighbor."
'Security concern?' Cassandra signed, her expression professional but her eyes questioning.
"Undoubtedly," Samael replied, setting the invitation on the table. "Though not in the way you're thinking. This is reconnaissance disguised as hospitality." His smile widened. "Exactly what I would do."
'Decline?' she signed.
"Absolutely not," Samael said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm bored, Cassandra. Gotham University doesn't start for another two weeks, and I've explored as much of this city as I care to without a specific purpose."
He tapped the invitation with one finger. "This could be entertaining."
'High risk. Many variables.'
"That's what makes it interesting." He studied her for a moment. "Besides, don't you want to see how the other half lives? The Wayne family practically built this city."
Cassandra's expression remained neutral, but Samael could see the calculation in her eyes as she weighed security concerns against his obvious desire to attend.
'Need preparations,' she finally signed. 'Security protocols. Escape routes.'
"Of course," he agreed smoothly. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
'New clothes too,' she added. 'Nothing suitable for gala.'
Samael laughed, a sound that always seemed to contain more than mere amusement. "Shopping again? If I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed dressing me up."
The faintest color touched Cassandra's cheeks before she turned away, already reaching for her phone to make the necessary arrangements.
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The week leading up to the gala was a flurry of preparations.
Security teams mapped every inch of Wayne Manor's grounds, identifying entry and exit points, potential vulnerabilities, and evacuation routes.
Cassandra personally oversaw the selection of security personnel who would accompany them, choosing only those she had personally vetted.
Meanwhile, Samael found himself fitted for a new tuxedo at Gotham's most exclusive tailor. The elderly gentleman who took his measurements worked with practiced precision, his hands steady despite the presence of two armed guards watching his every move.
"A classic cut, I think," the tailor murmured, making notes. "With your build, sir, we want to emphasize the shoulders. Black, of course, with perhaps a subtle pattern in the waistcoat."
Samael observed himself in the mirror, amused by the ritual of it all. In his previous life, he'd never cared much for fashion.
Now, he found himself appreciating the craftsmanship, the attention to detail, the way the fabric draped across his form.
Another new experience to savor.
Cassandra stood nearby, her eyes constantly scanning for threats while occasionally offering her opinion with subtle gestures.
She had already selected her own attire - a simple black dress that would allow freedom of movement while still meeting the gala's formal requirements.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" the tailor asked, carefully removing the measuring tape.
Samael considered for a moment. "Yes. I'll need something for my companion as well." He gestured toward Cassandra. "Something more... suitable than what she's chosen."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't protest.
"Of course, sir," the tailor said smoothly, turning his attention to Cassandra. "If the young lady would permit me to take her measurements?"
Cassandra looked to Samael, who merely smiled. With a barely perceptible sigh, she stepped forward.
"Nothing that restricts movement," Samael instructed. "Something modest, hiding a enough skin, while still allowing her the ability to fight if necessary."
The tailor blinked but recovered quickly. "I understand, sir. I believe I have something that would be perfect - elegant yet practical."
As the tailor worked, Samael watched Cassandra's discomfort with amusement. She was clearly unused to being the center of attention, to being treated as anything other than a weapon or a shield.
"Consider it part of the cover," he said quietly. "A bodyguard in combat boots would draw attention."
She gave him a look that clearly said she knew exactly what he was doing - especially she noted the possessive aspect to his demand, a more modest appearance he wanted, something that made her feel internally warm inside as she submitted to the fitting.
When they left the shop, Samael couldn't help but notice the slight change in her posture - a new awareness of herself not as a protector, but as someone who might, for one evening, be seen as something more.
The night of the gala arrived with perfect autumn weather - cool but not cold, the sky clear and star-filled.
Their convoy of vehicles approached Wayne Manor with precision timing, the lead and tail cars filled with security personnel while Samael and Cassandra rode in the center vehicle.
Cassandra sat beside him, transformed.
The dress the tailor had created was a masterpiece of engineering as much as fashion - deep burgundy silk that complemented her complexion, cut to allow full range of motion while still appearing elegant.
Her short hair had been styled simply, emphasizing her delicate features.
Samael found himself watching her more than the approaching manor. "You clean up nicely," he commented, his tone light but his eyes intense.
She glanced at him, then signed quickly: 'Focus on mission.'
"Is that what this is?" he asked, amused. "A mission?"
'Always,' she signed, but there was something in her expression - a softness that belied her professional demeanor.
The convoy pulled up to the manor's entrance, where valets waited to assist guests. Security personnel exited first, establishing a perimeter before Samael's door was opened.
He stepped out, adjusting his cuffs as he took in the grandeur of Wayne Manor. Gothic architecture loomed against the night sky, windows glowing with warm light.
A red carpet led up the steps to the main entrance, where guests in formal attire made their way inside.
Cassandra emerged after him, her movements fluid and graceful despite the unaccustomed heels.
She positioned herself slightly behind and to his left - close enough to protect, far enough to maintain the appearance of a date rather than a bodyguard.
As they approached the entrance, Samael felt a curious sensation - a tingling awareness that something significant awaited him inside. Not danger, precisely, but... opportunity.
At the door, a distinguished older gentleman with a British accent checked their invitation. "Mr. Luthor," he said with a perfect blend of formality and warmth. "Welcome to Wayne Manor. Master Bruce is looking forward to meeting you."
"Thank you," Samael replied with practiced charm. "I've been looking forward to it myself."
They stepped into the grand foyer, where crystal chandeliers cast brilliant light over the assembled Gotham elite.
Waiters circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres, while a string quartet played unobtrusively in the corner.
And there, moving through the crowd with practiced ease, was Bruce Wayne himself - tall, handsome, the very picture of old-money sophistication in his perfectly tailored tuxedo.
He caught sight of Samael and made his way over, his smile broad and welcoming.
"Mr. Luthor," he said, extending his hand. "Bruce Wayne. I'm so glad you could make it. Welcome to Gotham."
As Samael took the offered hand, he couldn't help but smile at the irony. If only Batman knew what had just entered his home.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
Also yeah, Lightbringer, so his presence in the universe makes all the stars and the like brighter, its his connection to the essence of light.
So yeah, do tell me how you found the chapter, and what you think will happen,
I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)