In DC/Young Justice with the Omnitrix/Ultimatrix and a Chat Group

"Smile, Samael. You look like you're at a funeral, not a charity gala."

Bruce Wayne's voice carries just the right blend of casual amusement and gentle chiding - perfectly calibrated for the ears of nearby socialites who turn our way with curious glances.

His hand rests lightly on my shoulder, a practiced gesture of avuncular affection that photographs well for the society pages.

I force my features into what I hope passes for a pleasant expression. "Sorry, Mr. Wayne. Still adjusting to these events."

"Bruce, remember? Mr. Wayne makes me sound ancient." He laughs too loudly, drawing more attention. "And loosen up that tie - you're sixteen, not sixty!"

I know the theory behind Bruce's playboy persona - Batman is dark and serious, so Bruce Wayne must be light and frivolous.

The stark contrast creates a psychological barrier that prevents people from making the connection.

Simple in concept, but damn hard to watch up close. It's like seeing a completely different person wearing Bruce's face.

Three days ago, I was dodging bullets during my first mission with Young Justice. Tonight,

I'm navigating Gotham's elite social scene at the annual Wayne Foundation Summer Gala. Both require strategic thinking, but at least on missions, I don't have to smile constantly.

"There's someone you should meet," Bruce says, steering me toward an elegant woman in her forties. "Veronica! You look ravishing as always."

Veronica Vreeland - socialite, philanthropist, and longtime friend of Bruce Wayne - turns with a practiced smile. "Bruce, darling. And this must be your new ward I've heard so much about."

"Samael Morningstar," Bruce introduces me with a casual wave of his champagne glass. "Brilliant kid. Some kind of science prodigy. Honestly, most of what he talks about goes right over my head."

I extend my hand formally. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Vreeland."

"So serious!" she laughs, accepting my handshake. "Bruce, you've found yourself quite the little gentleman. A refreshing change from your usual... companions."

Bruce chuckles. "He's already correcting my scientific knowledge at board meetings. The R&D department loves him."

"I merely offered some observations on quantum field applications," I say, sticking to our cover story. "Nothing revolutionary."

"See what I mean?" Bruce gestures expansively. "Sixteen going on forty! I'm trying to teach him that life isn't all equations and laboratories."

Veronica studies me with new interest. "Those unusual eyes are quite striking against your features, dear. Quite handsome, in an exotic way. Genetic condition?"

"Yes," I confirm simply. I'm getting really tired of this question. "A rare form of albinism that affects pigmentation."

"Fascinating," she murmurs, clearly filing this information away for future gossip sessions. "Well, I must say, Bruce, it's quite admirable of you to take in a young genius.

Planning to groom him for Wayne Enterprises?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Bruce laughs. "Right now I'm just trying to get him to enjoy normal teenage activities.

Did you know I had to practically force him to attend tonight? He wanted to stay home with his science journals!"

That part's actually true. I did suggest that my time would be better spent reviewing mission data or continuing my GSI research.

Bruce countered with what he called "Lesson One in Civilian Identity Maintenance."

As we move through the crowd, Bruce leans close, his voice dropping to a volume only I can hear. "You understand the principle, but your execution needs work. You're too stiff. Loosen your posture. You look like you're expecting an attack."

"Knowing it and doing it are different things," I mutter. "I'll try harder."

"See that you do," he replies, his smile never faltering for the benefit of onlookers. "Public appearances build your civilian cover.

The more people who 'know' Samael Morningstar as Bruce Wayne's socially awkward ward, the less likely anyone is to connect you to other activities."

We reach Commissioner Gordon, who stands with his daughter Barbara near the refreshment table. I feel a surge of relief at seeing a familiar face - Barbara has been friendly at school, though always careful to maintain appropriate boundaries.

"Jim!" Bruce exclaims, clapping the commissioner on the shoulder with just slightly too much force. "Glad you could make it. And Barbara - lovely as always."

"Mr. Wayne," Gordon acknowledges with the patient tolerance of someone accustomed to Bruce's public persona. "Samael, good to see you again."

"Commissioner," I nod, then turn to Barbara. "Hello, Barbara."

"Hi, Samael," she replies with a friendly smile. "Enjoying the party?"

"It's... educational," I say carefully.

Bruce laughs too loudly. "That's his diplomatic way of saying he'd rather be anywhere else! Can you believe I had to confiscate his scientific journals to get him here?"

Gordon chuckles. "Reminds me of Barbara with her books. Had to establish a 'no reading at the dinner table' rule years ago."

"Dad," Barbara protests with convincing embarrassment.

"Speaking of which," Bruce continues, "Barbara, why don't you introduce Samael to some of the younger crowd? There must be someone here under thirty besides you two."

"Sure," Barbara agrees easily. "I think I saw some Gotham Academy students by the terrace."

As Barbara leads me away, I hear Bruce shift the conversation to police department funding - a topic that will inevitably lead to a Wayne Foundation donation, all part of the carefully choreographed dance of Bruce Wayne's public life.

"You look like you're enduring torture," Barbara comments quietly as we make our way across the ballroom.

"That obvious?"

She smiles sympathetically. "Only to someone who's watched her dad suffer through these events for years. These galas take practice."

"Bruce makes it look effortless," I observe.

"Years of experience," she replies. "And a natural talent for... playing to an audience."

I appreciate her careful phrasing. Unlike me, Barbara isn't supposed to know Bruce's secret - Bruce as well doesn't know that she knows.

At least not yet. Not till she becomes Batgirl I believe - I don't really remember that part of Bat lore well.

"Any advice?" I ask.

"Find something genuine to focus on," she suggests. "My dad hates these functions too, but he uses them to make real connections that help his work. The artifice is just the wrapping paper."

It's good advice. "Thanks. I'll try that."

As we approach the terrace doors, I notice a group of teenage girls watching our approach with undisguised interest.

Several of them I recognize from Gotham Academy - daughters of the city's elite families who travel in social circles far removed from my usual academic environment at school.

"Oh no," Barbara mutters under her breath. "The vultures have spotted fresh meat."

"Excuse me?"

"The Gotham Academy social committee," she explains quickly. "They've been buzzing about Bruce Wayne's mysterious new ward since the announcement hit the society pages. Brace yourself."

Before I can fully process her warning, we're surrounded by a cluster of designer dresses and expensive perfume.

"Barbara! You've been holding out on us," says a tall blonde whose name I vaguely recall as Madison.

Her attention immediately shifts to me, her eyes widening appreciatively. "You must be Samael. We've been dying to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," I respond automatically, falling back on formal politeness.

This elicits a chorus of giggles from the group. "So proper," another girl comments, this one with dark hair and calculating eyes. "And those eyes! They're absolutely mesmerizing up close."

"Genetic condition," I explain briefly. God, I'm sick of explaining this.

"It's stunning," she purrs, stepping closer than social norms would typically dictate and placing her hand on my forearm. "I'm Clarissa Vandermeer. My father runs Gotham National Bank."

"Samael Morningstar," I reply, though she clearly already knows this.

"You know," Madison interjects, somehow maneuvering to my other side and adjusting my tie with unwarranted familiarity,

"the white hair and red eyes give you this otherworldly look. Very distinctive. Combined with those cheekbones and jawline... you could be modeling instead of doing science."

I feel a flush of discomfort at the physical contact and unabashed attention.

I hadn't realized the Ultimatrix had made me that attractive - an unexpected side effect that's proving really annoying right now.

"So tell us," a redhead asks, sliding into the conversation and somehow managing to brush against my shoulder in the process, "what's it like living with Bruce Wayne? Is he really as charming at home as he is in public?"

"Mr. Wayne is... dedicated to his work," I say carefully, taking a subtle step back only to find myself hemmed in by the circle of interested girls. "The public persona is quite different from his private one."

This prompts another round of giggles and exchanged glances. "How mysterious," Clarissa comments, her hand now trailing down my arm. "Just like his ward."

Barbara watches with growing concern from just outside the perimeter, clearly recognizing that the situation has moved beyond normal social interaction.

"Are you attending the Hamilton's yacht party next weekend?" asks the redhead, whose name I still haven't caught. "It's the social event of the summer for our age group."

"I haven't received an invitation," I reply, looking for an escape route. Seriously, how did I get boxed in so easily?

"Consider this your invitation," she says with a smile that's unmistakably flirtatious, slipping a card into my jacket pocket and letting her fingers linger longer than necessary.

"I'm sure they just didn't know how to reach you yet."

I feel another hand at the small of my back and realize with growing discomfort that this isn't just social curiosity - it's a calculated assessment of my potential value as a romantic prospect, combined with genuine physical attraction.

These girls, raised in Gotham's elite circles, have been trained since childhood to identify advantageous connections.

As Bruce Wayne's ward with my apparently appealing physical attributes, I represent a significant prize in their social ecosystem.

It's not that I'm not interested in girls - I'm a normal guy in that regard - but these calculated advances based on social status and appearance rather than genuine connection hold no appeal.

My plans go way beyond Gotham's social scene, and a partner who views me primarily as a status symbol would only complicate things.

"Ladies," Barbara interjects, smoothly inserting herself into the circle with determined precision,

"I hate to interrupt, but Bruce asked me to make sure Samael meets the Wayne Foundation board members before they leave. Educational obligations and all that."

"Of course," Madison says with a practiced smile that doesn't reach her eyes, her hand still resting on my arm. "We wouldn't want to monopolize him."

"Though we'd certainly like to," Clarissa adds with a meaningful look that leaves little to interpretation.

"Barbara," the redhead says with sudden interest, "are you keeping Samael all to yourself? I didn't realize you two were... close."

The implication is clear, and Barbara handles it with impressive composure. "Samael and I attend Gotham Academy together. I'm simply fulfilling Bruce's request as a family friend."

"How conscientious of you," Madison comments with a knowing smile. "Well, Samael, when you're free from your... obligations, we'd love to continue our conversation. Perhaps somewhere more private."

"I'll keep that in mind," I reply neutrally, extracting myself from their circle with as much politeness as I can muster.

"Looking forward to seeing you at the yacht party," the redhead adds, trailing her fingers across my shoulder as I step away. "Wear something that shows off those shoulders."

As Barbara leads me away, I exhale slowly. "Thanks for the save."

"Don't thank me yet," she replies with a grimace. "You've just been identified as prime social real estate combined with unexpected eye candy. This is only the beginning."

"I wasn't prepared for that particular aspect of being Bruce Wayne's ward," I admit.

Barbara laughs softly. "No one ever is. Bruce's reputation creates certain... expectations. The daughters of Gotham's elite see you as both a challenge and an opportunity.

New blood in a very exclusive pool. And apparently, they find your unique appearance quite attractive."

"Great," I mutter. "Another complication."

"Look at it this way," she suggests pragmatically. "It's perfect cover.

No one looking at Samael Morningstar, awkward object of society girls' attention, would connect him to anything remotely heroic, like your thing against Joker."

She has a point, though it's small consolation. "How do I navigate this without being rude or encouraging them?"

"Polite disinterest is your best strategy," Barbara advises. "Be cordial but consistently unavailable.

Eventually, they'll move on to more receptive targets. Though I should warn you - they now think I might be interested in you, so be prepared for some rumors at school."

"I'll add it to my growing list of civilian identity management techniques," I say dryly. "Sorry about the misunderstanding."

"Don't worry about it," she says with a dismissive wave. "It's not the first time I've been the subject of Gotham Academy gossip, and it won't be the last.

Besides, it might actually help keep them and boys too interested in me at bay for a while."

Barbara leads me to a group of older board members who, thankfully, are more interested in my scientific knowledge than my social potential.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of introductions and carefully measured small talk, with Barbara occasionally rescuing me when the society girls circle back with increasingly transparent attempts to monopolize my attention.

Around eleven, Alfred appears at my side with impeccable timing. "Master Samael, Mr.

Wayne suggested I check if you might be ready to return home. Given your academic commitments tomorrow."

This is the prearranged extraction plan - Bruce will stay late, maintaining his reputation for outlasting most partygoers, while Alfred takes me back to the manor at a more reasonable hour.

"Yes, thank you, Alfred," I reply with genuine relief. "I should probably go."

I make my polite goodbyes to Barbara and the board members, then find Bruce to formally take my leave - all part of the public performance.

"Heading out already?" Bruce asks loudly enough for nearby guests to hear. "The night's just getting started!"

"School tomorrow," I remind him. "AP Physics test."

"Right, right," he waves dismissively. "All that academic stuff. Well, don't wait up - I might hit Carmine's after this wraps up. New pianist I've been meaning to hear."

This, I know, is code. Batman will be patrolling tonight after the gala concludes, focusing on the East End where intelligence suggests a drug shipment is expected.

"Goodnight, Mr. Wayne," I say formally.

"Bruce!" he corrects with exaggerated exasperation. "We've been over this, kid. Mr. Wayne was my father."

I nod and follow Alfred to the waiting car, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to ease as we leave the glittering ballroom behind.

"A challenging evening, Master Samael?" Alfred inquires once we're safely inside the vehicle.

"More challenging than I expected," I admit. "I was prepared for the social performance aspect, but not for becoming a target of Gotham's debutantes."

Alfred's eyes crinkle slightly in the rearview mirror. "Ah, yes. An unfortunate side effect of your association with Master Bruce. His reputation does tend to create certain expectations regarding those in his household."

"Barbara suggested 'polite disinterest' as a strategy," I say.

"Miss Gordon offers sound advice," Alfred acknowledges. "Though I might add that developing a reputation for single-minded dedication to your scientific pursuits would also serve as an effective deterrent."

I consider this as we drive through Gotham's evening traffic. "So lean into the serious, science-focused part of my personality rather than trying to completely change it?"

"Precisely," Alfred confirms. "Master Bruce's approach of complete opposition between his identities is effective for him but not necessarily the optimal strategy for everyone.

A more sustainable approach might be to amplify certain genuine aspects of yourself while downplaying others."

It's good advice that aligns with my own understanding of Bruce's philosophy. His method is extreme by necessity - Batman requires Bruce Wayne to be his perfect foil.

But my situation is different, and perhaps a more nuanced approach would be more effective and less exhausting long-term.

When we arrive at the manor, I expect to head straight to my room, but Alfred surprises me.

"If you're not too tired, Master Samael, there's something in the kitchen you might find appealing."

Curious, I follow him to the kitchen, where I discover a plate of freshly made chili fries waiting on the counter.

"I thought a small indulgence might be warranted after enduring your first Wayne Foundation gala," Alfred explains with dignified amusement.

"Alfred, you're a saint," I say with genuine gratitude.

"Hardly, sir. Merely experienced in the particular strains of the Wayne household's public obligations." He gestures to the plate.

"Enjoy your... culinary preference. I've taken the liberty of using actual beef chili rather than the canned variety. One must maintain certain standards, after all."

The upgraded chili fries are, predictably, amazing. As I eat, I think about the evening's lessons.

Bruce's approach to maintaining a secret identity is effective but comes at a significant personal cost.

The constant performance, the deliberate cultivation of a persona so at odds with his true self - it creates an impenetrable shield around Batman, but at what price?

I'm still thinking about this when Bruce returns shortly after two in the morning. He finds me in the Batcave, reviewing data from recent patrol reports on one of the secondary monitors.

"You're still up," he observes, removing the cowl as he approaches.

"Thinking about tonight," I explain. "More complicated than I expected."

He nods understanding. "I noticed you attracted some attention from Gotham's younger social set."

"An unexpected complication," I acknowledge. "Though it does reinforce the civilian cover."

"It does," Bruce agrees, removing his gauntlets. "How do you plan to handle it?"

"Polite disinterest combined with a reputation for being obsessively focused on my research," I reply.

"Basically, amplifying certain aspects of my actual personality rather than fabricating an entirely new one."

Bruce studies me for a moment. "A reasonable approach. Different from mine, but potentially effective for your situation."

"Your method works for you because of the extreme contrast required between Batman and Bruce Wayne," I observe. "My circumstances might allow for more nuance."

"True," he acknowledges. "The principle remains the same - create sufficient distance between identities to prevent connection - but the execution can vary based on individual circumstances."

It's a pragmatic assessment that acknowledges alternative approaches while maintaining the core philosophy. This flexibility, I suspect, is something Bruce doesn't often display to others.

"There's another Wayne Foundation event next month," Bruce continues. "Smaller, more focused on the scientific grants program.

That might be a better environment for you to develop your public persona."

I nod, appreciating the consideration. "That would align better with the direction I'm considering."

"In the meantime," he adds with the ghost of a smile, "you might want to develop a strategy for school tomorrow. Word travels fast in Gotham's social circles."

"Great," I mutter. "I'll prepare accordingly."

Finally, after a little while later I head upstairs to finally get some sleep.

I really am not looking forward to tomorrow...

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

Do tell me how you found it?

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)