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The grand chandeliers of the Wayne Manor ballroom gleamed with a thousand lights, casting a warm, golden glow over the well-dressed guests.
The air had the scent of expensive perfumes and the chatter of the elite, all vying for attention in their finest attire. It was a night of opulence, a celebration of the city's prosperity, and everyone knew it was a place to see and be seen.
Mary was just another face in the crowd, a plus one to a charity gala she hadn't even wanted to attend, with the rougues attacks and all, its a wayne gala ofc there will be an attack.
The evening had been predictably dull until the interruption.
"What on earth?" exclaimed the lady next to her, her diamond necklace jingling as she craned her neck to see what the commotion was about.
The music screeched to a halt, the sound of a gas canister clattering to the ground echoing through the once-festive room. Mary watched in disbelief as a young man, who looked to be around the same age as the yongest wayne, was suddenly enveloped by a cloud of thick, green gas.
Panic began to set in around her, the boy's eyes widened with horror, his pupils dilating as he stumbled backward.
Mary's heart raced as the boy started been backing up, eyes wild with fear, looking for a way out.
Before anyone could react, he spotted a group of people that seemed to be his family. She could see the recognition flicker in his eyes, and for a brief moment, she thought he might find some comfort there.
But instead, he let out a feral growl, his eyes shifting from fear to rage. He lunged at the man she assumed was his brother, twin maybe?, his movements surprisingly swift and precise for someone who had just inhaled a cloud of toxic gas.
The crowd gasped in shock as the two young men, who could have been mirror images of each other, began to grapple.
"What the hell is going on here?" someone murmured in the crowd, but no one had an answer. The scene was too bizarre, too surreal to make sense of.
The brother one who had been attacked, didn't seem surprised or even particularly alarmed. Instead, he had a wild, gleeful grin plastered across his face, as if he had been waiting for this moment all night.
He shouted over the gasps of the horrified onlookers, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "FINALLY, something FUN!!" He rolled up his sleeves, ready to dive into the fray.
Mary couldn't believe what she was seeing. The boy was a blur of rage and desperation, his teeth bared and hands curled into claws. Meanwhile, his twin?, was positively beaming, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
It was then that she noticed the man she'd assumed is their father, he had been standing calmly at the edge of the chaos, watching the scene unfold with a resigned expression.
He looks resigned as if he figured this would happen
His eyes flicked to the source of the gas—the Scarecrow, who was cackling maniacally—and she watched as a vein bulged in his forehead.
With a swiftness that belied his age, he strode over to the villain and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off his feet.
He just gives him this most tired and done look imaginable “this is your fault you know.”
The Scarecrow's cackles turned to a gurgle as he was lifted off the ground by the neck, his twisted grin faltering. His eyes bulged and his hat tipped as the man spoke with a deadly calm.
The room had gone eerily quiet except for the sound of gasps and murmurs. The twins were now fully engaged in a battle.
The assumed father figure tightened his grip on the Scarecrow's collar, lifting the villain off the ground with surprising strength.
With a swift jerk of his hand, he knocked the Scarecrow unconscious. The villain's body went limp, and his head lolled to the side, his manic laughter cut off abruptly.
The man let him drop to the floor with a thud, not bothering to check if he was still breathing.
Mary couldn't believe it.
The room had gone still, all eyes on the man who had just single-handedly subdued the Scarecrow.
For a moment, it was as if time had stopped. The once bustling ballroom was now a tableau of shock and disbelief, every guest frozen in place. The only sound was the faint rustle of fabric as people held their breaths, their gazes glued to the scene unfolding before them.
And then, as if on cue, everyone's attention snapped back to the twins.
The man looked from the unconscious Scarecrow to the two boys still tangled together, his expression a mix of exasperation and affectionate resignation. "Dante, little badger, can you at least move away from the bystanders?" he called out.
The non gas-affected twin paused for a moment, glancing over at the bystanders who were now murmuring and backing away, their eyes wide with shock. He nodded, still grinning, and started to drag his feral counterpart away from the crowd.
"Come on, Little Brat, let's not ruin the party for everyone," he said, tugging gently on the squirming teen.
The twin, now fully under the influence of the gas, hissed at him, his eyes never leaving his face. It was clear that even in this state, he knew exactly who he was targeting.
Mary watched, horrified, as the young teen's fingers curled into claws, aiming for his brother's eyes with a ferocity that was utterly terrifying.
But the brother was unfazed. He just gave a laugh that was eerie in its own right, almost as if he was enjoying this macabre dance.
The bystanders gasped, some taking out their phones to record, others too shocked to even move.
The sober twin, managed to get a good grip on the other's arms, trying to lead them away from the crowd.
The gas-affected twin, continued to fight back with all the strength the fear had given him, his teeth bared and eyes still locked on his brother's.
But then, a crimson blur streaked across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife.
Red Robin had arrived.
Mary felt a surge of relief wash over her as she recognized the costumed hero. She had never been so happy to see him in her life.
Red Robin hovered in the air for a brief moment, assessing the situation .
Their father, his sleeves rolled up and expression resigned, looks at Red Robin "You better have the antidote", after red Robin nods, the man starts approaching the twins.
He looked so tired, as if this was a dance they had performed a hundred times before. The guests took a collective step back, giving him a wide berth as he approached the snarling, gas-induced teen.
"Daniel, stop," he said firmly, as he stod near the twins, his voice carrying over the cacophony of gasps and whispers. "Let go of your brother."
Daniel's only response was to sink his teeth deeper into the fabric of his brother's shirt, now damp with drool and sweat. His brother winced but didn't flinch.
"Goddammit, Danny," he murmured, "you really know how to ruin a good suit."
Their father rolled his eyes and sighed, "You're one to talk," he said. "Here, give him to me."
The man's arms wrapped around Danny's, pinning them to his side, and he began to murmur something in a language Mary didn't understand. The gas-affected teen's struggles lessened, his breathing becoming more even as he focused on the words being whispered to him.
Mary watched, transfixed, as the scene unfolded before her. The man who had been so calm and collected just moments ago was now holding his son like a caged animal, speaking to him in cold tones that seemed to have a magical effect.
His grip on his child tightened as the gas-affected teen's teeth sunk deeper into the flesh of his forearm. Despite the pain, he remained unflappable, his eyes never leaving the thrashing young man's face. "This is actually quite tame for him," he said to the hovering Red Robin, who looked both concerned and confused.
The hero's gaze darted from the struggling teen to the unperturbed man. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.
"Oh, quite," the father assured him, his voice as calm as a summer's breeze. "Normally he's clawing, kicking, and screaming like a banshee. This is honestly a nice break."
Mary's horror grew as she watched Danny's eyes glaze over, his teeth sinking deeper into his father's arms.
The man's voice was sharp as he barked out an order to Red Robin, "The antidote."
Without a word, Red Robin pulled out a small syringe from his utility belt, the liquid within shimmering with a faint blue light. He handed it over with a look that was equal parts concern and confusion.
The father took it without looking away from his child, his gaze never wavering. He flipped off the cap with his thumb and jabbed the needle into thr boy's's neck with a swift, precise movement.
The change was almost immediate. Danny's body went slack in his arms, the snarls and growls morphing into whimpers.
Mary watched as Danny's pupils returned to their normal size, the feral glint in his eyes fading away. His breathing slowed and evened out, the panic retreating from his features.
Mary will never go to a wayne gala again.