ᴅʀᴀᴘᴇᴛᴏᴍᴀɴɪᴀ

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"Helloooo, Gotham City!" A man greeted the camera with an impossibly, disturbingly large smile. He was the typical TV show host, characterized by his over-gelled hair to his radioactively white teeth and down to his shoulder pads, radical suit, and clashing tie.

With an exuberance (that could exist at 6 AM with the assistance of unprescribed substances), the man waved his arm with a dramatic flair towards the entrance of the building they were set up in front of. (And blocking the walkway for murderous students and their trigger-happy boyfriends, who just wanted to steal some spiked coffee from the teacher's lounge).

"Today, we are standing in front of our beloved city's prestigious Gotham Academy. And I bet you're wondering, 'Donald, why on Earth are we here?'" Donald put on a silly voice for posterity (good for ratings) and laughed. "Well, I'm about to tell you, beloved viewers!" He and his camera crew walked into the school as the infamous show host, Donald Forthright, commented on the architecture and their jammed packed schedule for the hot new reality show.

"We have gotten special permission from this elite school to get an in-depth see into Gotham's higher society. Yes, that's right; we will find out just how the junior blue bloods of our fair city gain the tools necessary for a successful future!" He looked around to see if someone was listening, then leaned in closer to the lens. "And of course, if we happen to get some juicy drama or gossip... well, I certainly won't be complaining." He whispered comically and winked. The new intern behind the lens collapsed with a happy whimper.

On cue, the bell rang, kicking off the beginning of the day. The host and his crew stood by and recorded the crowd of identically-dressed children pouring into the alma mater. A good portion of the students gave the cameras and the familiar celebrity curious glances but kept walking. A few more bold souls stopped by, asking for a selfie or an autograph, which Donald supplied with a stuck-on smile and bright chocolate eyes.

After a few minutes, most of the children had left the entrance area, sectioning off into different hallways, where they awaited their homeroom class by chatting with friends or chugging energy drinks by the truckload. Donald gestured for the underpaid employees to follow him and went for one of the busier areas, flicking a ball of lint off his suit as he went.

The host cleared his throat, bringing the mic to his mouth. "It is 7 o'clock on the dot, the time when these bright hopefuls are awaiting the start of their day," He said to the camera. "Let's see if we can gain some insight from them." The leading intern inconspicuously held up a flashcard with a name. The studio had specifically chosen a list of high society kids; the richest, the most influential, and the last names with the highest rating in the news and social media.

Donald glanced to the side, "I believe I can see the familiar Bridgerton blonde hair." He began slyly. "Young Carmichael must have inherited the shade from his enchanting mother! Let us go have a chat, hm?" It was easy to fall into a conversation with the lad. The boy had already been staring at the cameras and smirked as he heard his family's name.

"Mr. Forthright," The blonde boy greeted politely, offering his hand.

Donald shook his hand, "Why, hello there, Mr. Bridgerton. Do you mind terribly if we ask some questions?"

"But of course, go ahead." Carmichael smiled brightly into the camera. A few girls nearby swooned while a boy fainted at the popular boy's attractiveness.

Donald dove right in, "How do you find Gotham Academy's quality of education?"

Carmichael stroked his chin momentarily, "Quite satisfactory, I would say. They not only teach the core subjects but also finance and making independent choices as the future high society of Gotham."

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