Bruce Wayne(Batman) and Clark Kent(Superman)

Gotham. His city. His fortress of darkness, a place he knew inside and out – every crack in the asphalt, every shadow on the brickwork. Here, Bruce Wayne was the architect of order. He worked alone. It was efficient, predictable, and safe. For him, yes. For everyone else? No.

The arrival of the so-called "Justice League" was, to put it mildly, an annoying nuisance. A bunch of super-powered beings in costumes who decided that collective heroism was a good thing. They saw him as a kindred spirit, an ally. He saw them as a group of unpredictable variables, a threat that couldn't be ignored. Their interference in Gotham's affairs wasn't help – it was an invasion. Their clunky "teamwork" only got in the way of his precise methods.

Their naive belief in "good" and "selflessness" was a dangerous illusion. Bruce didn't believe in selflessness. He believed in cause and effect, in control and consequences. If this group ever went rogue, someone had to be ready to stop them. That "someone" would be him.

And it didn't take him long to establish that control. Backed by the resources of Wayne Enterprises, he uncovered the secret identities of every member of this league. The Flash, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman… Their secrets were neatly organized in files in the Batcomputer. And with the same ease, he kept his own identity hidden. To them, Batman was a ghost, a mystery. And he intentionally kept it that way.

But the biggest thorn in his side was him. Superman.

The shining symbol of hope from Metropolis. A being with the power of a god, preaching mercy. He showed up in Gotham with annoying regularity, always at the exact moments Batman was deep in his "work." With his intrusive help, his smile, and his belief that his strength could solve every problem.

Bruce didn't see a hero in him. He saw a walking cataclysm. The single biggest potential threat to the planet. One bad mood, one moment of weakness, one evil influence – and the world would be reduced to ashes. His "selflessness" was the most dangerous of all because it was the most naive.

And so, Superman became the main focus of his contingency plans. If they became a problem – and they definitely would – he would be ready. Samples of kryptonite were already stored in his vaults. Plans involving sleep gas and acoustic weapons targeting super-hearing had already been drafted.

It seemed their relationship was going through all the stages: it started with mutual distrust and criticism of each other's methods, then they were forced to work together, and Bruce reluctantly admitted his respect for him. Then the ice between them began to melt when Superman, being the more open one, started talking about himself.

And now, their relationship was at a stage of tense attraction for each other , especially after that incident where Bruce was badly injured. Superman stayed by his side all night, and even Alfred gently remarked that there was finally someone to take care of him.

All of this stressed Bruce out. It disturbed his usual personal peace and control. And now, for the second time, he smoothed down his perfectly styled hair before heading back out to his guests. Tonight, he was once again playing the role of Bruce Wayne, the carefree, rich playboy.

"…and that's when I realized the polo ponies had gotten into the champagne!" he finished a story, and the circle of socialites around him erupted in fake, tinkling laughter. He gave them his most charming, vapid smile, but his eyes were already scanning the room.

And then he saw him.

There, hovering near the extravagant buffet table, looking profoundly out of place, was Superman — Clark Kent, if it’s correctly.

He was wearing an obviously cheap, slightly ill-fitting suit, his hands clumsily holding a small notebook and a glass of water. He looked less like a guest and more like a lost guest who had wandered into a royal ball. What is he doing here? Bruce thought, his mind instantly shifting from playboy to strategist. A mission? Monitoring someone? Monitoring… me?

A new, more interesting game presented itself. Excusing himself from the bored socialites with a smooth "You'll have to excuse me…" he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and made his way across the room.

He made sure his approach was slightly unsteady, a perfect imitation of a man who'd had one too many. He "stumbled" just enough to bump into Clark's shoulder, making the water in his glass slosh.

"Whoa!" Bruce said, his voice sounding a bit too loud and slurred. He grabbed Clark's arm to "steady" himself, making sure to spill a little of his champagne on the floor. "Oh, sorry there!”

He looked up at Clark with a wide, charming smile. He made his eyes look a little sleepy and unfocused.

"Well, hello! Don't think I've seen you before," Bruce said, his words sounding a little slurred.