"Beyond getting out of restraints, you may need to escape the notice of your enemies after you get loose," Giovanni explained while standing behind Bruce in the backstage dressing room. The performance at the Bludhaven theater had ended ten minutes ago. "The ability to disguise yourself can let you slip past enemies undetected. Since you don't have magical abilities, you'll have to do things the old fashioned way."

Giovanni stepped over to his trunk for a moment and retrieved his makeup kit. Opening the flat box wrapped in black leather, he showed the contained items to Bruce.

"There are multiple ways to change your appearance," Giovanni continued. He pointed to a number of small bottles held inside the kit by bands of elastic. "These pigments can alter your skin tone, making it brighter or darker as needed. When applied to either your own hair or to a wig, they'll change the base color, darkening, lightening, or adding the color of age. See what you can do with it, and I'll check back with you in a few minutes."

Bruce pulled the first bottle out and unscrewed the white plastic cap. Squeezing a minute amount of the pigment out onto his fingertip, Bruce applied it to his face while examining the results in the mirror. When aware of how it spread and how much the color diluted, he put on more to create the desired effect. As he worked, Bruce changed his skin from the natural tan he'd developed during his training outdoors to a much darker shade more common to a Pacific Islander.

"Here, try this," Sindella offered as she noticed his efforts in passing and entered the dressing room to assist. She pulled a small makeup brush from the kit and swept it gently across his face. "If you blend like so, it will look more natural. You try."

The magician's wife handed him the brush, and Bruce took over, smoothing away the line between his natural skin tone and the places where he'd darkened it.

"That's right," Sindella told him. Standing behind him at the mirror, she watched him work, only offering the occasional word of advice to improve his efforts.

Bruce had barely finished his task when Giovanni walked back into the dressing room.

"How are we doing?" he asked.

"See for yourself," Sindella invited, taking a step back for her husband to look over Bruce's shoulder at the teenager's reflection in the mirror.

"Not bad," Giovanni accepted. "In fact, for a first attempt, it's actually pretty good."

Giovanni pulled out a rectangular, inch long sponge before tapping one of the bottles with his index finger.

"Try applying this color to your cheeks," Giovanni suggested. He pointed to a second bottle. "As soon as you're done, use this one on your cheekbones. The combined effect of darkening and highlighting key areas will make the appearance of your face decidedly different, almost redesigning it."

Carefully following the instructions, Bruce discovered the shadowing of his cheeks made them appear deeper and more sunken than usual, and the extra color he added to his cheekbones increased the optical illusion.

"Let's try something more," Sindella suggested. She reached into the trunk and removed a second makeup kit slightly larger than the first. Unzipping the secondary kit, she opened it on the dresser in front of Bruce to show him a set of prosthetics, everything from fake scars to larger noses and contact lenses of numerous shades.

"With your magical abilities, I'm surprised you have all this stuff with you," Bruce commented.

"We don't," Giovanni admitted, lifting the trunk lid for inspection. The box was empty. "We magically summon what we need before opening the lid. Most people don't notice, but we keep the trunk around for the sake of appearances. Speaking of appearances..."

Giovanni and his wife showed Bruce many different techniques as the hours slipped past unnoticed. Combined with the makeup and prosthetics, Bruce learned about mannerisms and how his very behavior could amplify his disguise. People tended to remember distinguishing traits of those they saw or were looking for. By amplifying characteristics, or hiding them, it would be possible to either be ignored or remembered incorrectly. Walking with a different gait, by use of a limp or stagger, could convince enemies he wasn't the man they were looking for. Additionally, such modified behaviors, especially if he altered them regularly, would confuse the testimony of eyewitnesses if they were to be questioned by his pursuers. Their conflicting descriptions would prevent an accurate picture of his true self from being discovered, allowing Bruce to sneak away unchallenged.

Although only the basics, the techniques he learned would combine with practice to make Bruce a true master of disguise, slipping out of dangerous situations with ease and possibly walking right past his enemies without them being the wiser.

                                                                                            ***

After four weeks in Bludhaven, the Zatara troupe headed to their next destination for performances in the city of Metropolis.

The dining car of the train was empty of all passengers but one when Bruce entered. The stars sparkled in the darkness of space visible through the skylights. The moon was partially obscured by drifting clouds, and its silvery light lit the surrounding clouds in ghostly paleness. Unlike the trains in Gotham, those servicing Metropolis lacked decorative embellishments, but they were more modern and better maintained. The tables were glossy black, reflecting the stars and moonlit clouds overhead, and the edges were framed in stainless steel. The bench seats of each booth were covered in black vinyl, easy to clean and cheap to replace should the need arise. Everything from the light fixtures to the carpet was simple, almost plain, and very low maintenance.

The only person in the dining car was Zatanna, Giovanni's teenage daughter. Bruce's contact with the girl had been very limited since he'd joined up with the family's travels; Zatanna seemed to be avoiding him most of the time. She currently sat at the polished counter where a server would take the food and drink orders of anyone seated on the row of black stools lined up in front of it. Attired in a short sleeved shirt and matching pants of black, Zatanna had her white sneakers perched atop the chrome rail of the circular footrest installed near the base of her stool.

As Bruce drew closer, he got a better view of what she was doing. Spread out on the black and mirrored surface of the counter were playing cards in the arrangement of a game of solitaire.

"What do you want, rich kid?" Zatanna asked without looking up. She had never used his actual name.

"Alright," Bruce said in a slightly exasperated tone of voice. "What is your problem with me?"

"You're here, aren't you?" Zatanna asked in return, her eyes never leaving the cards. Holding her hand above the deck, she whispered before twisting her wrist so her palm was now facing up. A glow of purple energy surrounded the deck before the top card flipped over without being touched. "What more do you want? Adoption? You want to take my place in the family?"

"I'm not trying to take your place or intrude on your family," Bruce told her.

"It's what you've done," Zatanna growled. "Ever since you joined up it's been Bruce this and Bruce that. They won't train me, but they'll train you!"

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized.

"What do you care? You're getting what you want!" Zatanna snapped. "I can do magic just as well as them, but they won't teach me. They're holding me back!"

Zatanna slammed her fist down on the counter, and a small shockwave of violet light exploded out from her hand, scattering the playing cards in all directions.

"Of course they're holding you back," Bruce confirmed.

"You knew?" Zatanna demanded, swiveling around to face him with fury in her blue eyes.

"It makes sense," Bruce calmly stated, trying to keep from getting into a fight. "From what Giovanni has told me about mages, both he and your mother are descendants of magical bloodlines. You, however, are a combination of two. Your powers could be greater than any other magician on this planet. They're holding you back because if you don't have control, you'll end up becoming a threat to yourself and others."

Bruce pointed to the scattered playing cards.

"You got angry, and look what happened," he continued. "Had you been at full strength, you could have derailed this train. The power wielded by magicians like your family is too great for any one person to have without some kind of safety valve to prevent misuse. Your parents have each other and their fellow magicians to keep them in line and stop them should they abuse their abilities, but you're different. With your powers being stronger than anyone else, you need to have more control and discipline than anyone else, for who could stop you if you went bad?"

Zatanna sat back on her stool, the frustration and anger draining away as she realized the truth in Bruce's words.

"I'd never thought about it that way before," she admitted in a whisper. Her blue eyes stared at the floor for a few moments before looking toward Bruce. "You seem to be well disciplined and controlled. Could you teach me?"

Bruce bowed formally at the waist. "I would be honored, my lady."