Washington, 6:30 a.m., temporary superhero gathering site.
This was one of Batman's safehouses scattered around the world. Officially, it was the headquarters of a luxury resort company that sold yachts and provided maritime route services. The superheroes had been operating here for some time, as had Batman.
No Bat-safehouse was some dark, cramped, dilapidated basement. Batman had plenty of ways to obtain the proper permits and build his bases openly.
Naturally, a resort company that arranged routes and provided services for the wealthy would build its headquarters large and luxurious. There was a private resort hotel here, closed to the public and accepting appointments only. It consisted of an activity building and a conference building. On the surface, it protected the privacy of wealthy visitors who came for consultations, but in truth, it merely concealed the superheroes' activities.
When Superman emerged from his room, he was not even wearing his uniform. Several strands of his always neatly slicked-back hair hung over his forehead, while several more stuck up at the back. Superman did not even bother using his powers to smooth them down.
He instinctively reached into the kangaroo pocket at the front of his hoodie, pulled out his black-rimmed glasses, and started to put them on before remembering that he was in a superhero base, not his reporter's apartment in Metropolis.
He sighed softly, ran a hand through his hair, put the glasses back in his pocket, and headed for the washroom. Then he came face-to-face with Wonder Woman, whose black hair was equally disheveled.
"God, this is the ten-thousandth time I've sworn this year that we shouldn't have drunk so much last night." Wonder Woman took a deep breath and tapped her temple with the heel of her hand. "Letting myself get drunk really is a terrible habit.