As Bruce Wayne steps out of an upscale department store in Gotham City, arms laden with shopping bags, he collides with none other than Detective Renee Montoya, who's holding several bags of her own. The impact causes her bags to tumble to the ground, scattering small items across the pavement. Bruce, ever the gentleman, immediately kneels down to gather her things.
"I'm so sorry," he says, handing her bags back. Renee grabs them quickly, her face marked with a touch of irritation. "Thanks," she mutters, clearly looking for a quick exit from the encounter.
But before she can slip away, Bruce reaches out, gently stopping her. "Renee, wait a second," he says, his tone serious yet approachable. She turns back, brows raised. "What is it, Wayne?" she asks, guarded.
"I need a favor," he says with a faint smirk that almost seems self-deprecating.
Renee gives him a skeptical look. "From me? Bruce, what could you possibly want from me?" Her tone is wary, not particularly interested in whatever game Gotham's most famous bachelor might be playing. But Bruce's expression is surprisingly earnest.
"Just hear me out," he says, taking a deep breath. "I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me. Just for a little while."
Renee's eyes widen in shock, and then narrow in suspicion. "Excuse me?" she says, her voice laced with disbelief. "Of all people, you're asking me? The answer is no." She adjusts her grip on her bags and begins to walk away briskly, obviously done with this bizarre request.
But Bruce is quick, keeping pace beside her. "Renee, please. It's not what you think. This isn't some cheap publicity stunt."
She stops abruptly, whirling around to face him, her patience wearing thin. "Then what is it, Bruce? Because last I checked, I don't exactly scream 'arm candy' in your circles. Go hire an actress if you want to make headlines," she snaps. "Or better yet, stop playing games and handle your own business."
Bruce sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. It's clear this isn't easy for him. After a moment, he looks at her, his voice softer and more vulnerable than she's ever heard it. "Renee, it's… complicated. I can't go into details, but there's someone watching me—someone dangerous. They've been digging into my life, my connections, my routines. If I had a… girlfriend, even a fake one, it might throw them off. It might buy me some time to figure out who's after me."
Renee's expression shifts from frustration to surprise, and she studies his face carefully. She can tell he's being honest. His reasons aren't about fame or self-indulgence—there's genuine fear hidden beneath his calm demeanor.
"If you help me, I'll owe you. A big one," he adds, and Renee knows how rare it is for Bruce Wayne to offer that kind of promise. "And I'd only ask you, because I know you can handle yourself if things go south."
Renee sighs, crossing her arms and looking down, weighing her options. She doesn't particularly want to be dragged into the personal affairs of Gotham's wealthiest man, but she can also see how serious he is. Finally, after a tense pause, she nods. "Alright, Bruce. I'll do it. But don't think for a second that I'm doing this for you," she says. "Just remember: one favor, Wayne. And it better be worth it."
Bruce's face breaks into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Renee. You don't know how much this means to me."
With a reluctant sigh, she shakes her head, muttering under her breath, "I must be out of my mind…" But as they walk off together, the tension eases, and for the first time, she begins to see a side of Bruce Wayne that few others ever do.