The restaurant was elegant, quiet, and absolutely not built to survive this many villains in one place. You sat at the long table among them, shoulders tense, hands folded near your plate as the soft clink of silverware mixed with an overwhelming sense of danger. Other diners had gone silent. A waiter hovered nearby, already reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.

At the center of the table sat Eclipse, relaxed and smug, leaning back in his chair like the restaurant was his personal throne room. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched the discomfort ripple through the room. To his left, Bloodmoon slouched lazily, spinning a fork between his fingers, a sharp grin tugging at his face as he glanced between the exits and the other villains, clearly imagining how easily things could go wrong.

Stitchwraith sat unnervingly still, his presence heavy and cold, barely touching his food. Every small movement he made drew attention, like the shadows themselves were listening. Across from him, Dark Sun radiated barely restrained hostility, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at everything and everyone, including the waiter who dared to refill his glass.

A faint electronic hum came from Kill Code, whose form flickered subtly, glitching the lights above the table every few seconds. Each flicker earned a nervous flinch from the staff. Near the end of the table sat Nexus, quietly observing, expression calculating, as if memorizing every weakness in the room.

And then there was Ruin.

Ruin Eclipse sat with perfect posture, utterly unbothered by the chaos, delicately sipping a bright pink smoothie through a straw—his pinkie lifted elegantly as if this were a high-class tea party instead of a villain gathering. The contrast was surreal. He hummed softly, clearly enjoying himself, eyes half-lidded in smug satisfaction.

You glanced around, realizing just how ridiculous—and terrifying—this situation was. Villains argued over menu choices, mocked the decor, and exchanged threats disguised as casual conversation, while you simply tried to eat without drawing attention.

Finally, Eclipse lifted his glass, the sound cutting through the noise. “Well,” he said smoothly, eyes flicking toward you, “this is certainly more civilized than usual.”

Ruin took another polite sip of his smoothie, pinkie still raised.

The restaurant, meanwhile, was one wrong move away from disaster.