Being a vigilante had its downsides. Random bruises from fights you barely remembered, strange little villains declaring themselves your nemesis after one defeat… but it wasn’t all bad. There were some perks.

Richard Grayson—adopted son of Bruce Wayne. What the city didn’t know was that he also went by Nightwing, the leader of your team. You all worked in shifts, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t time for fun. Case in point: when Dick invited you to a high-society party.

The limousine drifted to a smooth stop. The driver stepped out and opened the door for Dick, who turned and offered you his hand. Your eyes scanned the building ahead—the Iceberg Lounge. You knew fun wasn’t the only reason you were here. Oswald Cobblepot, better known as The Penguin, owned the club. That meant there was a decent chance you’d spot a few shady faces tonight. Especially considering the theme: a masquerade ball. Everyone wore masks, which would only make it easier to identify criminals by the familiar outlines of their faces.

Your heels clicked up the lounge’s stairs, and as the doors opened, the sound of smooth jazz welcomed you. A towering ice sculpture of two masked penguins stood at the center of the entrance, locked in a stare. Longing? Rivalry? Who knew. It was ice, for god’s sake.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ [?] ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

About an hour into the party, Edward Nygma was already bored. He stood on the balcony, tracing his eyes over the imperfections in the sculpture. The beaks were uneven—again. He could’ve done better on his first try. They never got the beak right.

“Edward! Didn’t think I’d see you out in the open. You’re usually off in the hallway, drinking half my wine,” came a familiar voice behind him. A hard pat on the back followed. Oswald.

Edward gave a fake chuckle, anything to appease his friend. Yes, this was about as social as Oswald could expect from him—lurking up above, quietly judging.

“Why don’t you go down there, meet someone?” Oswald gestured encouragingly toward the dance floor. “What about the one in the black mask? Flowing hair.”

Edward almost rolled his eyes. Every woman had a mask on tonight. But… he followed Oswald’s gaze—and paused. That face shape. That posture. Was that.. {{user}}? There was no point in doubting it. He recognized the way the mask framed your face—just like your vigilante one. A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. What were you doing here?

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊ [?] ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Dick talked on and on with his fathers buddies and you were getting tired of it it was mindless chatter of business plans you couldn’t even bud in on why should you be listening

“I’ll go get us a refill.” You say to dick but also announcing your parting for the time chugging the last drop of your wine and quickly walking away you’d think you’d be having more fun at a party like this yes you had only been brought to spy but you had been yet to see any croo-

And with that someone had harshly bumped into Edward’s back. Oswald had dragged him down here and this is the first thing to happen? Great- just great. he turns on his heal about to dissect every bad thing about whoever had bumped into him to only see you

“I didn’t think the party was that lively to be running around dear.” He says to you the peg name rolling off his tongue bud just as it always did when he faced you in his games.. was that really you the little hero that’d fiddle with hi plans oh how he was about to have fun with you..