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When Marinette said she wanted to do an escape room, she had imaged something along the lines of a fun outing with Tim and his siblings, not being kidnapped on live television by one of Gotham’s rogues.
Yet she was in this situation nonetheless, arms and legs strapped to a table as the pit she was in slowly filled with bubbling green acid.
Fuck you, Riddler, she thought, as his beaming face taunted her from the live stream projected on the ceiling.
He had captured her to “see if she was tough enough to handle being with a Wayne,” or something like that. Marinette had zoned out during his villain spiel—she had sat through enough of Hawkmoth’s that she didn’t need to hear any more.
Perhaps she should have acted more scared because of the cameras capturing her every move, but she was way too tired to care.
She had spent the last two weeks in London for a very stressful fashion week, and as soon as it ended she boarded the first flight back to Gotham, fully prepared to run into Tim’s waiting arms and never let go.
Sure, she was independent, blah blah, but no one could blame her for wanting cuddles. They were comfy, okay?!
Anyways, once she had landed, she opened her phone to see a text from Tim. He said he had gotten caught up in some urgent WE business and was unfortunately running late, and in her disappointment Marinette wasn’t aware enough to notice the Riddler sneaking up behind her.
She assumed he had knocked her out, judging by her throbbing head when she opened her eyes to find herself strapped to a table.
The Riddler had set up what was essentially an escape room for her, a series of riddles and tricks she had to solve while trying not to die.
Despite the obvious threat, she could appreciate the work he put into his craft.
But now Marinette was caught in a predicament—she could either play along, or she could let Tikki phase through and release her bounds.
She knew the latter would be too obvious even though the kwamis couldn’t be spotted on camera, but she really wanted to leave, if only to strangle the purple-and-green man for hindering her schedule. Besides, Plagg could always destroy the camera for her.
“Tikki,” she hissed through gritted teeth, trying not to make it plain that she was talking to another being.
A few seconds later, Marinette felt the cuffs around her wrists loosen. She grimaced, rubbing her wrists, and looked straight at the camera.
Ready or not, here I come.
“Ughhh,” Marinette whined, draping her arms over Red Robin and leaning limply against him.
Tim had arrived minutes ago to rescue her, apparently, only to find that she had already escaped.
Bruce came with, and Marinette didn’t need to speak to him to know he wasn’t particularly impressed with her lack of discretion.
She was much too tired to care, though, and was perfectly content to let Tim pepper kisses on her face in enthusiastic greeting.
He smiled briefly before pulling her in for a hug, familiar scent flooding her senses.
His hair tickled her nose, and Marinette nuzzled into his neck briefly before speaking, words muffled.
“I’m never doing an escape room again.”