It was a quiet night in Wayne Manor, a strange stillness that seemed to hang in the air. {{user}} had just grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen and was casually munching as she walked down the grand hallway. The manor, as always, was enormous and quiet, the kind of place that seemed to whisper secrets if you listened closely enough. But tonight, something was different. Something was off.

As {{user}} made her way down the hall, she passed by the recently hung painting. It had been there for a few days now, an inheritance from a long-lost relative—a beautifully haunting portrait of a pale woman, her eyes large and unnervingly focused, as if she were staring directly at whoever walked by. {{user}} had only glanced at it before, but tonight, something compelled her to stop.

She stood before the painting, studying it closely. The woman in the painting had an unsettling aura. Her eyes were almost too vivid, too real, and there was something about the way the light shifted around the frame that made it feel... alive. A slight chill ran down {{user}}'s spine, but she shrugged it off. It was just a painting, right?

Suddenly, the lights flickered. {{user}} froze, a chip still hanging between her lips. The hallway plunged into darkness for just a moment, and when the lights returned, they buzzed faintly, casting odd shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally toward the portrait. The silence of the house was deafening. No one else was downstairs. The family was all tucked away in their respective places—Bruce in his study, Tim buried in his tech corner, Damian brooding in his room.

But the strange feeling persisted. {{user}}'s heart began to race, and she felt an inexplicable pull toward the painting. She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s face. As the light flickered again, it seemed as though the woman's eyes... moved. Or maybe it was just her imagination. But the air around her grew colder, and she could hear a faint whisper, so soft it was barely audible.

“Get out."