You straighten your spine and meet Mxyzptlk's eyes with Amazonian steel. The tray drops from your hands, crystal exploding across the floor in a shower of impossible colors.
"No."
The single word cuts through the cacophony like a blade. The audience falls silent. Even the creature made of screaming mouths goes quiet.
Mxyzptlk's grin doesn't fade, but something shifts in his expression—a spark of genuine interest mixed with theatrical outrage. "No? NO?" He zooms down until he's hovering at eye level, his purple tuxedo rippling with dimensions that hurt to look at. "Did our little bunny just refuse to play?"
"I am Diana of Themyscira," you say, each word deliberate. "I have faced gods and monsters. I will not debase myself for your amusement."
The imp claps his hands together with a sound like reality tearing. "Oh, WONDERFUL! I was hoping you'd say something like that. See, here's the thing about consequences, Princess—they're SO much more fun when they hit someone you care about!"
He snaps his fingers.
Across the room, you hear a familiar voice cry out—Barbara. The other bunny-suited waitress who'd been working the opposite side of the audience stumbles, her tray clattering to the floor. Her body jerks as reality rewrites itself around her.
Her red hair lightens to bubblegum pink, cascading in loose waves instead of her practical ponytail. Her bunny costume shifts, becoming even more revealing—the leotard cutting higher on her hips, the fishnets sparkling with glitter. But it's her face that makes your heart sink. The sharp intelligence in her eyes, the careful analysis, the determination—all of it draining away like water through a sieve.
"Oh. Em. Gee!" Barbara—Babs—giggles, touching her hair with sudden fascination. "Like, when did my hair get this color? It's totally adorbs!" She notices you staring and waves enthusiastically, breasts bouncing in the tight costume. "Hiii Diana! Isn't this place, like, super fun? All these cute monsters and stuff!"
Mxyzptlk floats in a lazy circle, admiring his handiwork. "There we go! Much better attitude. And you, Diana—" He turns back to you with mock disappointment. "You just cost your friend her brilliant mind. Every thought, every memory—still there! But filtered through the intellectual capacity of someone who thinks Gotham is 'that place with all the, like, buildings and stuff?' The more you resist, the worse it gets for people around you."
Babs giggles again, attempting to pick up her fallen tray and nearly tripping over her own feet. "Oopsie! These heels are, like, SO tricky!"
On stage, Bruce watches the transformation with barely contained horror, his feminine features twisted in fury.