Inside Daniel's mansion, five women were staring at the phone. The call had ended far too abruptly. Considering Daniel's history, none of them believed it was a coincidence.
Elizabeth placed the phone down and looked around the table. "What are the chances he's currently with another woman?"
Diana answered immediately. "Very high."
"That's what I thought."
Tamara rested her chin on her hand. "Even if that's true, what exactly are we supposed to do about it?"
Her reasoning was practical — Daniel could be anywhere, and finding him wasn't easy when he had a habit of disappearing without warning.
Sylvia nodded. "We don't even know where he is."
The room went quiet. Then Evelyn smiled. The expression immediately caught everyone's attention — it was the smile of somebody who had already prepared for this exact situation.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "You did something."
"I anticipated this." Nobody looked surprised. "Of course you did," Diana muttered.
Evelyn crossed her arms. "A while ago I asked Jonathan to obtain a military-grade tracker capable of operating for weeks under almost any conditions. I placed it inside the trench coat Daniel wears most often."
The other four women looked at her, then at each other, then back at Evelyn.
"Oh."
All four said it at the same time. Evelyn had known Daniel longer than any of them — if anyone would prepare for him randomly disappearing while chasing women, it would be her.
"Jonathan!"
A loud thump echoed from the upper floor. Several seconds later another crash followed, then the unmistakable sound of somebody missing a step. The women looked toward the stairs collectively.
A moment later Jonathan appeared — or rather, stumbled out from the hallway, caught his foot on the final step, and fell forward. He hit the floor hard enough to make everyone wince. After several painful seconds he slowly raised his head.
Five women were staring at him with expressions of genuine sympathy.
"Hi, Evy." His gaze shifted. "Hi, sisters."
The pity somehow increased.
Evelyn sighed deeply. She genuinely wondered whether her brother would ever mature. At this point she was starting to lose hope.
"Jonathan, where is the tracking device you brought me?" Evelyn asked.
Jonathan immediately stiffened. "That..." His voice trailed off. The hesitation alone was enough to make everyone suspicious.
Five women stared at him. The more he tried to remember, the more his mind went blank.
"I don't remember."
Evelyn closed her eyes. A long sigh escaped her lips. Of course he didn't remember.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. "How do you forget where you put a military-grade tracker?"
Jonathan looked genuinely offended. "I forget lots of things." Nobody considered that a defense.
"Art. Ronnie."
Both men rushed out of the kitchen immediately. "Yes, madam?"
Evelyn pointed directly at Jonathan.
"Drag this drunkard away and make him remember where he put the tracker."
They nodded, grabbed him by both arms, and dragged him away before he could protest. The women could hear him complaining all the way down the hallway.
About half an hour later all three returned. Jonathan looked exhausted. Art looked annoyed. Ronnie looked proud — and was holding a small tracking device.
"We found it."
Evelyn took it immediately and activated the screen. The others gathered around as a blinking signal appeared on the map.
Elizabeth frowned. "Morocco?"
"What is he doing in Morocco?" Nobody knew.
Then the signal began moving. The women watched the blinking dot travel further inland. Further. And further.
Tamara leaned closer to the screen. "Is he seriously heading into the desert?"
Diana studied the map. "The Sahara."
The room fell silent. Everyone stared at the moving signal as the tracker continued pushing deeper into the desert.
***
Now they were airborne, sitting inside a twin-engine plane cutting through the desert sky with Bruce at the controls, no longer wearing the Batman costume.
"So whose plane is this?" Arthur asked from the co-pilot seat, genuinely surprised that the bat guy had managed to arrange both a plane and a pilot this fast.
"You really should watch the news," Daniel said from the back.
Arthur turned around. "What does watching the news have to do with my question?"
Daniel looked at him as though the answer was obvious. "Because the man sitting beside you is Bruce Wayne — one of the the richest men in America."
Arthur looked at Bruce, then back at Daniel. "Like millions or hundreds of millions?"
Daniel stared at him while Bruce remained focused on flying. The silence stretched long enough for Arthur to realize something was off.
"What?"
"Arthur, there are people with hundreds of millions who wish they had Bruce Wayne's money."
Arthur blinked. "So... billions?"
"Several."
Arthur slowly turned back toward Bruce and pointed at the dashboard. "So this is your plane?"
"Yes."
Arthur leaned back into his seat. "And you can just fly anywhere you want?"
"More or less."
"That's insane."
Meanwhile Daniel found himself thinking that Batman was proof that money itself was a superpower.
Most heroes got struck by lightning, experimented on themselves, inherited alien bloodlines, or received blessings from gods.
Bruce Wayne had simply looked at all of that and decided money would do the job instead.
There was an old joke Daniel remembered.
What's your superpower?
I'm rich.
That's not a superpower.
Are you rich?
The annoying thing was that the argument actually held up. Bruce funded satellites, advanced vehicles, experimental technology, hidden bases, and enough equipment to supply a small army.
If Superman represented what happened when a man was blessed by the universe, Batman represented what happened when a billionaire simply refused to accept his limitations.
Looking at it that way, Daniel wasn't entirely sure which was more terrifying.
*****
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