"Gulp, gulp, gulp~~~"
Damian Batwoman lounged on a soft sofa, pouring a bottle of liquor worth several thousand US Dollars down his throat and letting out a thoroughly satisfied sigh. He casually snapped a photo and posted it to his social media homepage.
His online handle was simple and blunt, with a dark edge to it. It was mainly meant to market his persona, so it was called "I Am Batwoman," complete with the platform's verified influencer badge after it.
Watching the photo he had just posted get furiously liked by his fans, he nodded in satisfaction. Neither alcohol nor drugs had clouded his mind; after all, the training he had received in the League of Assassins as a child had not been for nothing.
Play was play, but his business sense far surpassed that of his dead old man. For example, his social media homepage was packed with Wayne Enterprises product ads. Even if only one out of every hundred followers who saw them decided to buy a new phone, he still made a profit.
But just then, for some reason, a chill suddenly ran down his spine. The sensation was both familiar and unfamiliar, and it made him perform a Carp Jump off the sofa at once, looking around in every direction.
Yet the Batcave was a mess after the party. Other than the pounding music still playing, there was nothing there.
"Alex, is that you? Are you back, darling?"
He called out the name of Luthor's daughter. She had said she was going home to get her toiletries, then would move in with him tomorrow.
But nobody answered. Only his own voice echoed back, making it clear there was no one else in the Batcave. That strange sensation had vanished as well, as though it had only