Batman
Gotham City

"Tell me when he's close."

"I've got you, boss. The truck is coming your way fast. He'll be topping the hill in about 20 seconds." Kate's voice rang through his earpiece.

Batman shot his grappling gun toward the opposing building and secured it. Counting down, he took a running start to swing toward the speeding truck. It came into view just as he hit the apex of his arc. Releasing his grapple, he transitioned into a glide, aiming directly at the windshield. He could see the shock on the driver's face just before he torqued his body to crash his boots through the glass. At the same time, Robin fired the cable from the Batmobile at the bumper. The thick cable quickly tightened, bringing the speeding vehicle to a sudden stop...the Batmobile firmly secured to the ground with bracing spikes.

As the driver flew out of the destroyed windshield, Robin swooped in and braced his fall before he could become a smear on the pavement. He flipped him on his stomach and cuffed him before turning his attention back to the truck. Batman was pulling the passenger, kicking and begging for mercy, out from the floorboard of the back seat. He was quickly on his back, with a black boot pressing hard against his throat.

"You secured a shipment from Cairo to Gotham last week. What was it?"

"I don't know what you're talk..."

His words were cut off by a sharp pain in his leg and a scream. Robin's bo staff had come down in a flash. "It would be better and less painful to just tell the truth now."

"Four shipping crates, all lead-lined. What was in them?" Batman's voice was growing increasingly more menacing and the pressure from his boot was not getting any lighter.

"I'm telling you, you have the wrong guy."

"Show him."

Robin pulled out the surveillance photos and put them in front of the man's face.

"TALK."

"All I did was pick up the shipment, man, I don't even know what was in the crates."

Another sharp strike from the bo staff, this time to his abdomen.

"Please! I'm telling you, I don't know! My boss...he sent me to pick it up. That's all I know."

"The name."

"He'll kill me man, come on."

"THE NAME. NOW." Another blow to the ribs.

"Sal Maroni, goddamn it! I work for Sal Maroni! Please. Just stop." He was squealing from the pain.

Batman's boot left his throat. "Cuff him and take him and the driver to lockup. Tell Gordon what we found out. Kate, did you get that?"

"Yeah, I'm on it. Searching for Maroni's last known location."

Jumping into the Batmobile, the Dark Knight resumed his patrol. He knew Maroni would not be easy to pin down. He was notorious for vanishing when even the least amount of heat built up. They needed to move fast if they were going to find out what was in the crates.

"It's something they don't want me finding," Superman had said. "Why else would they use lead-lined crates?"

"I agree. And that means it's something dangerous."

The sun was starting to rise, so he steered the car toward Wayne Manor and the Batcave. He was tired and ready to rest. Kate and Tim could work on finding Maroni. He had matters to attend to at Wayne Tower. Something about these shipments made him more nervous than usual. Maroni was a mid-level gangster, at best; never one to dabble in the trade of hazardous material or arms. What would he be interested in from the Middle East? His answers would have to wait. Maroni was mid-level, but he was good at covering his tracks. It would take time to solve the mystery.

Zatanna
Harrah's
Las Vegas

"Thank you, everyone, you've been the best!" Zatanna took her final bows after her second encore.

Harrah's intimate showroom held around 500 people and had sold out every night. In fact, she was sold out for the entire run before she even arrived in town. The publicity surrounding her show was phenomenal. Time to give Tony a raise. Her manager had been working tirelessly to promote, and his efforts had paid off. She was glad she had pushed so hard to prepare. Nothing but the best would have justified all of his effort.

The only downside was that she had been so exhausted that she had barely left her room on her days off; except to visit the gym, of course. She wasn't going to lose the ground she had gained working at the Watchtower. The manager was kind enough to reserve two hours for her to have the whole gym to herself in the evenings. On second thought, kindness had little to do with it. He was trying to wear her down until she agreed to a night out with him.

"I don't mix business with pleasure, Mr. Davis, but I'm flattered," she had cooed in her sweetest voice. She needed to work with him and wanted to maintain good relations for future bookings, so she did her best not to offend him. He was relentless, though; asking every day, sometimes more than once.

"You have to let me take you for a drive across the desert, Zee, it's striking."

Strikingly empty.

"Sorry, but I really can't. You're very sweet for offering, though. I'll be sure to give you a call if I'm ever here on vacation."

She wouldn't be. She loved playing in Vegas and staying at the nicest hotels at no cost, but it wasn't exactly her idea of a great vacation spot. She preferred the kind of sand that bordered the ocean.

Once she left the gym in the evenings, she was usually content to order room service and soak in the giant tub, reading a book. Tonight was different. She had resolved to check out some of what Harrah's had to offer outside of its penthouse and stage. The bar seemed like the place to start. She also had that resolution to get laid to take care of.

"Desserd ot llik". Her costume was gone, hair pulled back loosely, with pants tight enough and shirt low enough to draw the exact kind of attention she was after. No time for subtlety.

If the elevator operator's reaction was an indication, she wouldn't have any trouble finding someone keep her company for the night...or the week.

"Headed out, Ms. Zatara?" The operator had asked once he stopped staring at her cleavage.

"Just to the bar. I was starting to feel like a hermit. Any great drinks to recommend?"

"I'm a whiskey sour man, myself, but if Carlos is working I hear he makes a hell of a strawberry margarita."

She smiled, "Thanks, I'll ask for Carlos. Have a good night."

Exiting the elevator, she weaved her way through the crowded casino floor and found an empty bar stool. Several people called out to her, congratulating her on a great show, while others just watched and whispered. The attention never bothered her; being on stage since she was was a child had made her blissfully immune to the staring.

She ordered a glass of wine to start, wanting to relax without being too far gone to make a good choice about who to spend her evening with. The stocked bar in her penthouse could cover the rest of the night.

The bartender pointed to a well-dressed middle-aged man across the bar as he handed her the glass. "I don't think you'll be paying for much tonight, Ms. Zatara," he smiled. Looking at his name tag...Carlos...she thanked him before nodding her head and raising her drink in a toast to the stranger. Not at all her type, but at least she was off to a quick start. Carlos the bartender wasn't too bad to look at, for that matter; his smile made her stomach tighten a little.

Way too long since you got laid.

As she continued to scan the crowd for potential targets, she heard a familiar voice that made her roll her eyes and swear under her breath.

"Well, if it isn't our beautiful penthouse tenant," John Davis's voice cut through the crowd. "And here I was beginning to think you didn't know how to relax."

She took a deep breath, put on her best I-totally-tolerate-you face, and turned to face the casino manager. Her heart jumped into her throat as soon as she pivoted and saw who he was with.

"Bruce Wayne, I'd like to introduce you to our latest sold-out star, Miss..."

"Zatanna Zatara," Bruce interrupted (a tipsy lilt to his slightly-too-loud voice), reaching his hand out to shake hers. "We've met a few times at events in Gotham. You probably don't remember. I believe you had a prince as an escort at the last one."

He hadn't been at the particular fundraiser he was referring to six months ago, but had clearly been digging into her social life. She willed her face back to its practiced mask. Bruce was in full playboy billionaire mode and she wasn't going to be outdone.

"That's right. The Prince of Brunei. That was...quite a lovely weekend." Her voice dripped with innuendo, trying to draw a reaction. (It also wasn't a lie...aside from the gala, they had spent most of that weekend in bed.)

Bruce smirked and moved to sit next to her at the bar. What the hell is he doing here? She really hadn't wanted to worry about Gotham or the League during her hiatus...and there were no coincidences with Bruce Wayne.

"I hear your show is the biggest draw in town. I'm sorry I was too late to get tickets."

Bullshit. You've never been to one of my shows.

"Oh, well I think the star of the show could probably pull a few strings," the sweetness in her voice was positively cloying. "How about Wednesday night? Front row, exclusive backstage pass, the works."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm afraid I have to return to Gotham Wednesday morning. But I'd love to buy you a drink or ten tonight. I have nothing but time this evening."

Cock-blocker. She looked back longingly toward Carlos, who was busy doing his job. Nice ass.

Manager Davis had picked up on the mood and realized his attempt to impress her by introducing her to Gotham's most famous billionaire had backfired spectacularly. "So, Mr. Wayne, I was going to show you our ballroom in case you ever wanted..."

Bruce held a hand up and cut him off without taking his eyes off of hers. "I think I'll stay here and catch up with Ms. Zatara, if it's all the same to you. I appreciate the tour of the bar...it's stunning." He continued to slur his words slightly as he leaned in and placed a hand on her forearm, fully invading her personal space. His fingers trailed up toward her shoulder, drawing slow circles. It felt like he was leaving a trail of fire on her skin and she didn't like the way her stomach did back flips at his touch. He was close enough that she could smell his aftershave again...and no hint of alcohol. The acting was strong with this one.

Two can play this game.

She licked her lips and smiled coyly as she reached her hand up and mock-straightened his perfectly straight tie before trailing her finger up the side of his neck to his ear. She traced its outer edge, let out a small sigh, and bit her lip. His eyes darkened and jaw flexed in a way that caused the heat between her legs to rise.

He swallowed hard before his low, raspy voice tried to break through her fog-filled brain. "Bartender? Another drink for the lady, please." His gaze held hers and she felt like they were playing a game of chicken. Who would break the act first? He was playing with her hair now, letting the back of his hand brush the exposed skin of her shoulder.

Her mind was vaguely aware that Davis was still rambling, trying to get Bruce's attention back, but for the life of her she couldn't understand a word he was actually saying. The pounding of her pulse had drowned out the room as she stared into blue eyes. She wanted to read his mind, desperate to know if he was as affected as her.

Mercifully, Davis had to excuse himself to see to casino business and Bruce finally turned his head to nod at him when he walked away. His hand left her hair and dropped back to the bar as he leaned back slightly; just far enough for her to regain some sort of higher brain functioning. He was still close enough that his scent lingered around her.

"Sorry for the surprise, but I needed this to seem accidental." His voice was so low that she could barely hear him. The faux slur was gone and he was staring forward now, as if their encounter was just starting and he hadn't been winding her up into a ball of raging hormones for the last five minutes. She attempted to regain her bearings.

"I'm confused, Bruce," she matched his tone, though her voice was less steady, "why are you in Vegas?"

"Working."

Of course he is. He always is.

"I'm tracking a shipment that was intercepted in the Middle East and brought to the US through Gotham Harbor. The man in charge of the operation was last seen in Vegas."

"And you need me to help find him." She wasn't asking. She knew what her uses were to Batman.

"If you can. I have Kate working on finding us a starting point. He probably already moved the shipment to his buyer, but this is the best lead we have."

"What's in the shipment?" Their faces had moved closer together again, not wanting the hundreds of ears surrounding them to pick up on what they were discussing.

"Nothing good." The concern on his face was evident.

She was about to ask how he knew his target was in Vegas when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth so close to her ear that his lips lightly brushed against it as he spoke. "We need to go somewhere private." The slur was returning, as was the heat between her legs. She turned her head to see Davis walking back in their direction.

"Maybe you could show me this penthouse I've heard so much about." He said this loud enough for the approaching Davis (and most of the bar) to hear. "I hear the bed takes up an entire wall." His hand was on her thigh now, moving upward slowly until he reached her hip.

Christ, he's going to ruin me.

"Not quite, but I'm ashamed to say I haven't had a chance to put it to proper use yet." She let the words roll off of her tongue in the most seductive voice she could muster. This wasn't really her game. Guys were usually tearing her clothes off with much less sexy banter than this.

"Well, I think I can help you fix that. Bartender, can you send the rest of that bottle of wine to Ms. Zatara's room? Plus two more. Put it on my tab." His eyes were threatening to set her on fire and she felt like she was going to scream if he didn't stop touching her...or maybe if he did.

"Mr. Davis, you have no idea how helpful you've been." His eyes never left hers. "I'll be sure to give you a call the next time I have a fundraiser in Vegas."

His hand was now on hers, fingers intertwining as he stood and pulled her to his side. "Shall we?" He brought the back of her hand up to graze his lips. Her legs were weak and she grabbed his other arm to steady herself. He smirked again, clearly knowing he had won this round.

She could hear Davis stammering as they walked away. At the very least, maybe this would be the end of his unwanted advances.

Bruce pulled her onto the waiting elevator and trapped her against the back wall with his body. His mouth returned to her ear. "I need to call the base." His voice was barely audible. She realized his wrist was buzzing, a clear sign that someone from the League was trying to reach him.

The elevator lurched to life and began the climb toward the penthouse.

Bruce
Harrah's, Las Vegas

Zatanna's eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. He wasn't sure how much she'd had to drink before he had gotten there, but her unsteady breathing made him think it was more than just the one glass. A strand of black hair fell across her eye and he instinctively reached up to brush it aside. Her breath caught and her lips parted slightly. Shit.

He realized he had taken the game a bit too far. Is it even a game anymore?

His breathing was starting to match her pace. The smell of her hair and perfume was distracting and he could feel the warmth coming from her body. He moved back slightly to clear his head before he gave into the temptation to pull her closer.

"Penthouse, Ms. Zatara. Have a nice evening." The operator held his arm out to allow them to exit. Bruce slipped him $100 and winked, keeping up appearances. He placed his hand on Zatanna's back as she opened the door. Once the door was closed behind them, he grabbed her arm – pulling her back against him – and lowered his mouth to her ear again. The scent of her hair returned to assault his senses.

"Secure?" He asked quietly.

She nodded. "I placed wards around as soon as I got here. Nothing gets in or out without me knowing."

"Good." He reached for the light switch. Turning it on, he took in his surroundings. "This is your hotel room?"

"You should see the rider on my contract. It would even make a billionaire blush." Her voice was still quiet, but she had walked to the other side of the room to put her purse down. He was relieved to have some distance so he could think straight again.

The penthouse was essentially a miniature mansion within a casino, from what he could tell. They had entered into a foyer with a spiral staircase. To the right, there was a fully-stocked bar and a small kitchen with marble counter tops. The living room was to the left, with a TV that would probably suit a small movie theater just fine and enough seating for a couple dozen people. She had books lying on every table top and the fireplace in the corner was crackling with an unnatural glow. Magic. Who needs a fireplace in the desert, anyway? He assumed the bedroom was up the stairs.

Remembering why he was there, he headed to the bar and sat down, pulling out his phone. The connection was instantaneous.

"What did you find?"

Batwoman's face appeared on the screen. "Maroni is still in Vegas. He likes to stay at Caesar's, so I would start there. Try the high roller tables. Sounds like a cliche', but he's a rich mob guy at a casino in Vegas, so don't overthink it. Did you find Zee?"

"I'm here with her now. Send a picture of Maroni to her phone, too. We'll canvass the casino tomorrow; be ready to arrange an extraction if we need it."

"Gotcha. Talk to you tomorrow. Tell Zee I said 'hi' and that we miss her."

He hung up the phone and turned to find Zatanna watching him from the doorway.

"Sounds like my relaxing day off just got canceled." She smiled as he stood and walked a few steps toward her.

"Sorry. Hopefully it will be a quick recon and I can get him back to the Watchtower for interrogation." She seemed to be studying his face. He took a quick glance around the room before taking another step toward her. "I think I upset Mr. Davis this evening."

She laughed lightly. "Good. He's been trying to bed me since I signed on the dotted line. You did me a favor."

"Not interested? Bet he makes good money running this place."

"Money doesn't impress me, Bruce, I have my own." She wasn't lying. From the research he had done, he estimated that she was raking in close to ten million a year from her shows and side projects. If the penthouse was any indication, she was doing even better this year. Plus the money her father had left her; Shadowcrest alone was worth a fortune.

"He's probably not used to rejection like that." He took another dangerous step in her direction.

"He'll live. Besides, it's his fault for introducing me to Gotham's most eligible bachelor." The sudden seductive tone in her voice made the hairs on his neck stand up.

Snap out of it, Bruce, this isn't some date you brought home from a fundraiser.

A knock on the door made them both jump. His body tensed and he motioned for her to get behind him, positioning himself in the doorway to protect her.

"Room service!"

He rolled his eyes as she laughed at his overreaction. The wine. Zatanna moved past him and opened the door to let the waiter in. Bruce slipped another $100 into his hand and thanked him as he left.

"They're going to start expecting me to tip like that." Her voice was filled with fake annoyance.

"You have money," he echoed her previous boast, making her smile.

He cast a glace around the room and walked toward the window as another problem came to his mind.

"I guess I can't really be seen leaving if we're going to keep up this ruse." His eyes were searching the rooftops for signs of trouble. Force of habit.

"Where are you staying?"

"Good question. I came here straight from the airport."

"Well, Bruce, I hear the bed in this place takes up an entire wall." It was her turn to mock his words, and her voice had taken on the dark, honey-sweet tone she had been using at the bar. It was having more of an effect on him than he wanted to admit, so he kept his back to her.

"Can you get me to that Hilton over there?" He pointed to a sign several blocks down.

"Of course."

"Bring me back tomorrow so we can be seen leaving together. 2 pm."

"2 pm? Sounds like I'm in for an exhausting night." He desperately needed her to stop using that tone, or he wouldn't want to leave at all.

Turning his head slightly, he raised an eyebrow. She sighed and held up her hand. "Ecurb to Notlih."

Zatanna
Harrah's
Bathtub

She willed her muscles to relax to no avail. The hot water was only making her skin feel even more on fire. It had taken all of her willpower not to jump on Bruce, rip his clothes off, and ride him until sunrise. She was losing her mind. It was Bruce. Grumpy Bruce Wayne, who never paid her any mind until recently. Zatanna wasn't blind. He was gorgeous, tall, and built from pure muscle thanks to his alter ego. His eyes were the deepest blue and his features were chiseled and perfect. He was also her leader. And 14 years her senior. And Dick's surrogate father. In no way was this something she should even be thinking about. But her body didn't care about what was right or wrong. Her body had been screaming for him to touch her. For him to take his tongue and run it over every inch of her burning skin.

Stop, damn it!

If he hadn't trapped her in her room with his ridiculous ruse, she would go back downstairs and find someone to fuck her until she came to her senses. She wondered when Carlos's shift ended. It was only 11 pm and she had all night to spend alone. Again. Her hand found its way between her legs. She needed release before she did something stupid like teleport to another city to find some guy to spend the night with. A low moan escaped her mouth as her fingers reached the swollen bundle of nerves that had been screaming at her for the last half hour. Not what she wanted, but it would have to do for now.

It was going to be a long night