Alice sat naked on the hotel bed, her eyes following Jervis' every move. He meticulously removed his bzer, draping it carefully over the chair.

  His gaze fell upon her slender, not yet fully developed body, a familiar eager smile pying on his lips. This was the smile that had graced countless magazine covers and charmed the fashion elite. But here, now, it was just for her.

  She tilted her head, a pyful smirk tugging at her lips. "You always this careful with your clothes, Jervis?"

  He chuckled, loosening his tie with a fluid motion. "A person must always do their best. In the fashion industry, image is everything, my dear."

  She leaned back, one hand supporting her blonde head, her knee bent to give him an unobstructed view of her hairless pussy. "You're not what I expected," she said, her voice ced with surprise.

  He sat beside her, his hand beginning a slow, tantalizing journey from her colrbone, down her ft chest, to her stomach. "And what did you expect, my dear?" he asked, his voice a pyful challenge.

  She giggled a childish sound that contrasted with the intimacy of the moment. "Less boring and more fun, I guess. I mean, what does a girl have to do to get your attention? I thought you'd never notice me."

  He leaned in, his breath warm on her ear. "I have to be careful, Alice. The world doesn't understand our love. My business Hatters sails dreams, and I have to keep up appearances. But here, now, it's just you and me."

  She took his hand, guiding it down between her slender thighs. She was already wet and eager. "Touch me, Jervis," she pouted. Prettily.

  Ultimate Bruce Wayne stepped into the elevator of the Gotham Grand, a sleek, mirrored panel lift that moved with a low hum. It was te, and the lobby had been quiet.

  A man was already inside, dressed in a dark coat, standing near the back. Bruce nodded politely as the doors closed.

  "Nice night out," the man said casually, not looking over.

  "Surprisingly clear," Bruce replied. "For Gotham."

  The man gave a small chuckle. "Guess we’ll take what we can get."

  Bruce pressed eight. The man pressed six. The numbers glowed softly as they ascended.

  Alice's fingers tightened in Jervis' shaggy red hair, her legs wrapping around his lower back, pulling him closer. His tongue was magic, dancing over her clit, bringing her to heights she hadn't felt in months.

  "It's been too long," she thought, her breath coming in short gasps. "Too long since I've felt this good." Her body arched, pressing into his mouth, seeking more, always more.

  "Men like him are hard to find," she mused, her mind foggy with pleasure. "Men who have the combination I'm looking for - a desire for young girls and the other attributes to make it worth our time."

  She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing, her grip on his hair tightening. "Don't stop," she gasped. "Please, don't stop."

  He didn't. He continued his delicious assault on her pussy, his tongue, his lips, and his artistic fingers working together to bring her pleasure.

  There was a short pause between floors. The hum of the elevator filled the silence.

  "Here on business?" the man asked.

  "Something like that," Bruce said, offering a slight smile. "You?"

  "Just passing through."

  The elevator stopped at six. The man stepped out, gncing back briefly. "Have a good night."

  "You too," Bruce said as the doors closed. He watched the number climb to eight.

  Alice's head bobbed up and down, her mouth filled with Jervis' cock. She could feel him getting close, his body tensing, his breath coming in short gasps. "You're so good at this, Alice," he panted, his hands fisting the sheets.

  Hearing his praise, she felt a surge of desire. She sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue stroking the underside of his penis, wanting to bring him to release. "That's it, my sweet," he groaned, his hips bucking slightly. "Just like that."

  With a final strong suction, he came, his warm seed filling her mouth. She swallowed every drop, a sense of pride and satisfaction in her skills washing over her. As she leaned back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she heard a loud knock echo through the room.

  Jervis' eyes widened in panic. "Who's that?" he whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

  She heard the knock again, followed by an angry voice. "Alice? I know that is you in there, girl?" Her father's voice was gruff, angry. "Open the fucking door."

  Ultimate Bruce Wayne slid the keycard into the lock, his hand trembling slightly as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. The mechanism clicked with a soft beep, and he pushed open the door to reveal an opulent suite—marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, Egyptian cotton sheets.

  He closed the door behind him and leaned against the rich mahogany panel, letting out a sigh of relief. His multiversal travels had worn him down. *All I need is an hour of rest in this Gotham,* he thought, his eyes drifting to the king-sized bed with its pristine white linens. *Then I'll continue on my journey.*

  The exhaustion made his vision blur at the edges. Ever since he'd developed the Elevation technology coursing through his bloodstream, his body had transformed. Sleep was different now. He only required one hour every twenty-four hours. *This would have been quite useful when I used to be Batman,* he mused, a sardonic smile touching his lips.

  Bruce moved toward the bed.

  Alice turned the handle and opened the hotel room door. Her father was about to knock again fist raised.

  Without a word, he stepped inside. His eyes immediately locked onto Jervis Tetch, who stood near the bed looking stunned.

  "How dare you," Basil growled.

  He lunged across the room, grabbed the shorter man by the bathrobe, and smmed him against the wall with a force that shook the mp on the nightstand.

  "You’re in here with my 11-year-old daughter?" The angry man hissed. "You pervert."

  "P-please—sir—it’s not what you think!" Jervis stammered, eyes wide with fear.

  Basil turned slightly toward Alice, his voice low and dangerous. "Her hair’s a mess. I know exactly what you were up to."

  He sniffed the air, face tightening with disgust. "I can smell what you were doing."

  Jervis shook his head rapidly, voice shaking. "No—no, I swear—I didn’t touch her! Please! I won’t do it again!"

  Basil shoved his arm harder into Jervis’s throat. "Of course you will. People like you don’t stop."

  "I—I didn’t"

  "Shut up."

  Alice stepped forward. "Dad, please—don’t hurt him! He’s not a bad person!"

  Her father didn’t look at her. "People like him are scum."

  Jervis gasped. "Let me go—I-I’ll make it worth your while."

  Basil leaned in close, voice ice-cold. "Make it worth my while?"

  He pulled back his arm slowly. Jervis colpsed to the floor, coughing.

  "How?"

  The hotel suite was quiet, lit by the soft amber glow of city lights bleeding in through the gss. Alice sat barefoot on the armchair, legs folded under her silk robe, a gss of wine banced perfectly in her small hand. The room was expensive, posh, just the way she liked it.

  Across from her, Basil Karlo reclined in a leather chair, half-melted but composed, drinking from a tall gss that his hand molded around perfectly.

  "Fifteen years," Alice said, swirling the wine gently, her eyes fixed on him. "That's how long we've been pulling this off."

  Basil nodded, the motion slow and fluid. "Hard to believe. You still look like you haven't aged a day since we met."

  "I haven't," she replied with a faint smile. "Not in over two hundred years."

  She took a sip, then leaned back, robe slipping slightly from one bare shoulder. "Morgaine le Fay did this to me. Met her when I was eleven. Said I was 'perfect' to be her son's pymate. Mordred. Spoiled little monster. Pyed with dolls, had tea parties and wizard games. Did it for decades."

  Cyface raised an eyebrow. "And then?"

  "Then I got bored." Alice tilted her head, her eyes briefly showing her age. "Ran off. Took what I learned. A little magic. Manipution. Started figuring out how to survive in a world that sees a child and expects easy pickings."

  She smirked. "Turned out conning people was easier than spellwork."

  Basil chuckled, taking another drink. "You're good at it. Scary good."

  "So are you, Basil. It's why we work." She looked at him sincerely. "Out of everyone I've worked with, you're the only one who gets it. The performance. The game."

  There was a pause before she added, "And we've made a killing."

  "Especially our test little mb," he said. "Tetch."

  Alice's smile widened. "Jervis Tetch. God, what a beautiful mark. Obsessed with *Alice's Adventures in Wondernd*."

  She took another sip, savoring it. "Didn't take much. A tilt of the head, a quote here, a look there… he was convinced. Thought he'd *found* her. The real Alice and it didn't hurt that he was good between the sheets !"

  "He wasn't entirely wrong," Basil said.

  Alice gave a small ugh. "No, he wasn't. I met Lewis Carroll back in 1862. He was scribbling in a café, talking to himself. I was casing the pce. He looked like an easy target—nervous, quiet. I pnned to rob him."

  Her gaze drifted to the skyline. "Didn't realize until a century ter that he wrote *Alice's Adventures in Wondernd*. I read it, and everything clicked. The way I spoke. The things I said. The way I looked."

  "You inspired the whole damn thing," Basil said.

  "And now we own him," Alice said quietly.

  "Guilt and shame are simpler than magic," Alice continued. "No bargains with demons, no losing your soul if you say the wrong word. Just leverage and lots of money."

  They clinked gsses, the crystal making a light chime.

  Basil raised his gss again. "To Lewis Carroll and his book."

  "No," Alice said, her eyes gleaming. "To business."