"No. I don't think so."
Diana's voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath the softness — the kind of tone that warned of sharpened steel behind the velvet. Her eyes, cool and intelligent, locked onto Bruce Wayne's with the quiet certainty of someone who already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from his own lips.
"I have a question," she continued, each word deliberate, unwavering. "Something that's been bothering me. I want you to answer it."
---
Bruce raised a brow, masking his curiosity with that effortless charm he'd spent a lifetime perfecting. "Is that so?" he drawled lightly.
Only an idiot would fail to notice that she hadn't "accidentally" wandered into the gallery at this exact time. Every movement, every glance, had been calculated. She was here for him.
And Bruce Wayne — for all his playboy pretense — was no fool.
"Well," he said, letting a faint smirk curve his lips, "I've always had a weakness for helping beautiful women solve their mysteries. Let's see if I can live up to my reputation today."
His voice was teasing, casual — but behind the facade, his mind was already racing, evaluating, preparing for whatever this really was.
---
"Mr. Wayne," the gallery's curator murmured, sensing the tension tightening in the air, "I'll… leave you two to your conversation."
The man bowed slightly and made a quick retreat, clearly eager to be anywhere else.
And then, they were alone.
The polite veneer dropped from Diana's face like a curtain. Her tone grew cold, her words suddenly razor-sharp.
"Why," she asked quietly, "are you investigating things you shouldn't be?"
---
Bruce blinked, feigning confusion so well that it might have fooled anyone else. But his pulse quickened ever so slightly.
"And… what things would those be?" he replied smoothly.
"Don't play dumb with me, Bruce Wayne," she snapped. "Why are you investigating Themyscira— and Wonder Woman?"
---
There it was — the real reason she'd come.
Bruce's heart gave a small, almost imperceptible jolt. His files on Themyscira had been buried under a labyrinth of digital shadows. There was no possible way anyone should've known he was digging into that.
Unless… she was directly connected.
Which meant she wasn't ordinary. Not by a long shot.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Bruce said evenly, his voice steady, his expression unreadable. He'd been in enough interrogations to know how to mask the truth.
---
"Oh, I think you do," Diana said softly — almost amused.
Then, with a smooth, practiced motion, she lifted her hand.
A golden rope unfurled, gleaming faintly under the gallery's dim lights.
Bruce blinked. "A rope?"
That was new.
For a split second, he thought — absurdly — that she was joking.
"Don't tell me," he said with a lazy grin, "you carry that around for… games?"
---
"That's right," Diana said evenly. Before he could react, she flicked her wrist — and the rope shot forward with impossible precision, wrapping around his torso and pinning his arms in a glowing embrace.
"Wait—what—hey!" Bruce struggled instinctively, startled more by the suddenness than the strength of it. The more he pulled, the tighter it constricted, glowing brighter with each futile motion.
"It's useless," Diana said coolly, her tone almost clinical. "Once you're bound by the Lasso of Truth, no one can break free."
---
Bruce went still, staring down at the golden coils now humming with faint energy.
After a beat, he sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching into a wry smile. "I see," he muttered dryly. "You're clearly not an ordinary woman."
"I'm not here to talk about me," Diana said, arms crossed. "I'm here to talk about you."
Her eyes narrowed like a hawk's.
"Tell me, Bruce Wayne — why are you investigating Themyscira? Why are you investigating Wonder Woman?"
---
And then, before he could stop himself — before his brain even processed it — he spoke:
"Because Homelander forced me to."
Bruce froze. His pupils constricted.
What the hell—?
The realization struck immediately. The rope. Of course.
"Impressive," he said under his breath, forcing calm back into his voice. He glanced down at the golden lasso glowing against his chest. "Gotham PD would pay a fortune for something like this."
---
But Diana wasn't interested in his commentary. Her eyes flickered at the name.
"Homelander?" she repeated. "Who is that?"
"No one knows," Bruce said honestly — the words tumbling from him against his will. "He has powers. Impossible ones. He can shoot lasers from his eyes. His body's like steel."
Diana's brows drew together. A shadow crossed her face.
Could it be…?
A member of the Crime Syndicate?
That secretive organization had been creating beings that mimicked gods — enhanced warriors meant to challenge the world's strongest heroes. Could this Homelander be one of them?
---
Elsewhere — in a Gotham apartment
Alex sat on the couch beside Catwoman, watching the flickering live news feed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"So… Wonder Woman came to Gotham, huh?" he murmured.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
So his hunch had been right all along — the fragment he'd retrieved had come from her shield. That explained her sudden arrival. Diana wasn't just a warrior; she was sharp, methodical, and fiercely protective of her secrets.
If Bruce Wayne's digging had reached her doorstep, she'd obviously come to trace the source.
And if she was here now…
then she'd be coming for him next.
"So be it," Alex said, rising from the couch, his voice low but calm. "Might as well meet her face-to-face."
---
Back in the gallery, Diana's patience was thinning.
"Where is Homelander?" she demanded. "How do I find him?"
Her voice carried a quiet power — the kind of authority born not from arrogance, but from certainty. She'd spent months chasing the Crime Syndicate's trail, dismantling it piece by piece. Now, finally, she was close to the truth.
"He's in Gotham," Bruce said truthfully. "But no one knows where. Everything about him is a mystery."
---
And then, from behind them, a new voice — calm, steady, and far too close — broke the silence.
"You're looking for me, Diana?"
Both froze instantly.
Diana spun around — and there he was.
Alex.
He stood just a few feet away, hands casually at his sides, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. She hadn't heard him approach. Not a footstep. Not a whisper of movement.
Her heartbeat skipped once, hard.
"You must be… Homelander," she said, her tone low, measured.
Bruce's expression darkened. "Homelander."
Alex smiled faintly, unbothered by the tension that now filled the room like static.
"Tell me," Diana said, her voice steady but cold, "why are you investigating Themyscira?
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