While Fortune Lover was definitely my favorite thing I'd ever rolled, Terrifying Presence was coming in a close second.
I slowly raised my hand.
I could practically see the life drain from the four henchmen as I moved. Halfway up, I stopped, and all four of them let out quiet sighs of relief.
Then I started raising it again, and they started sweating.
I had to hold back a chuckle. Four hardened mob killers looked like they were about to shit their pants because I was casually waving my hand around.
The synergy between the room and Terrifying Presence truly was a match made in heaven. I could only wonder what kind of horrible monster I looked like from their perspective.
"Urgh…"
Carmine Falcone groaned as he struggled up from the floor.
I had to give it to the guy, at least. Carmine was shivering like a leaf as he looked at me, but that didn't stop the furious glare on his face.
"You think you can get away with this?" he ground out. "This whole party of yours will go up in flames with a word from me! There are powers in this city you can't even fathom, you fucking—"
I whipped a small plastic bag out of my inventory and tossed it straight at his face.
As luck would have it, my throw perfectly unraveled the tiny knot holding the bag shut, dumping its contents directly across his face.
Carmine screamed as he got a literal faceful of dog shit.
"My turn now?" I asked, ignoring the mob boss retching as he stumbled back and desperately tried to wipe his face clean. "Here's my offer. You and your buddies turn yourselves in, hand over everyone on my list, and I promise not to spend the next few years utterly fucking ruining and embarrassing every last one of you. Sound fair?"
I turned toward the four henchmen and gave them a big smile.
"Pretty generous, right?"
That earned me nothing but stunned silence. Their eyes darted between me and their boss as sweat rolled down their faces.
Carmine finally managed to wipe the remaining dookie off his face before staring at me without flinching.
Truly fearless.
Well, aside from the fact that his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.
"It was just a prank, bro." I smiled. "Come on, we're cool, right?"
"KILL HIM!" Carmine screamed.
He popped a pill into his mouth. His body immediately began swelling, muscles bulging until they ripped straight through his suit.
Following his lead, the four henchmen popped their pills as well.
[Feat Achieved! Shit-Talker]
[+1 Bronze Gacha Ticket]
I snorted and stood my ground as they came barreling toward me.
[Rolling Bronze Gacha Ticket]
[Novice Savoir Faire]
|Common Skill|
You know how to move with some relative grace and finesse. You are light on your feet, know how to dance, and know where to place your feet so you don't trip or fall. Even if you do fall, you can do so with some semblance of grace.
Oh, nice. Guess I was going with Plan D, then.
"DIE!"
Carmine roared as he and his four henchmen leapt at me.
"No!" I grinned as I pulled out the remote and pressed a button.
Trapdoors snapped open beneath us, and all six of us dropped through the floor. Around us, the tower came alive with the whirring and clanking of machinery as various mechanisms began activating.
Plan D is a go.
—
Bruce would openly admit that watching someone else worry about Jean Valjean was rather amusing. Clark's powers meant he rarely had much reason to be afraid when facing most villains. More often than not, his strength meant he was more worried for his opponents than himself.
But being strong didn't necessarily protect someone from the sheer unpredictability of Jean Valjean's luck.
Clark had already seen that firsthand, so watching him fret over the upcoming interview was more than a little entertaining. Still, as amusing as it was, Bruce hadn't arranged this simply to get back at his friend.
By introducing "Clark Kent" as a friend of "Bruce Wayne," there was a chance Jean Valjean's luck would extend to Clark in some way.
Whether it actually did or not would be an important piece of information. Bruce had long since given up on the largely fruitless task of determining exactly what gave Jean Valjean his powers, but learning how to deal with them was still near the top of his list.
Especially since the man didn't seem to be leaving Gotham anytime soon, considering he had somehow managed to purchase a skyscraper and arm it to the brim with advanced technology.
Finding that out was… concerning, to say the least. At this point, Jean Valjean's luck continually finding new ways to vex his instincts as Batman seemed to be the norm now.
Still, Bruce couldn't help but feel rather grateful for that luck tonight.
Rather fortunately, few people had deigned to approach him during the party. It was almost as if there were some invisible barrier around him keeping everyone away, and it had made the evening surprisingly enjoyable.
Getting the chance to simply sit, drink, and talk with one of his sons was something Bruce hadn't realized how much he missed until now.
Jason narrowed his eyes at him from across the bar. "Are you actually in a good mood?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"Wow." Jason leaned back in his chair. "Jean really can perform miracles."
"I have good moods."
"Yeah, like once every thousand years."
Jason snorted into his drink.
Bruce chose not to respond, instead taking another slow sip from his glass.
The new Health Negroni Jean had recommended was both delicious and, more importantly, effective. Lingering aches from old breaks and injuries he'd long since learned to ignore had quietly faded over the course of the evening.
After so many years as Batman, the pain had simply become background noise. Feeling genuinely good again was almost strange.
"A good drink does wonders," Bruce remarked.
"On that… we fucking agree." Jason chuckled as he raised his glass.
Bruce tapped his own against it before finishing the last of his drink.
"I should find Clark."
"Before Jean makes him piss his pants too?"
"Preferably after."
Jason snorted.
Bruce set the empty glass down and stepped away from the bar, only to make it a few paces before someone smoothly intercepted his path.
"Mr.Wayne."
He stopped as a rather beautiful blonde woman in a white dress strode over to him. He vaguely recognized her from a handful of social events.
Samantha Vanaver approached with a pleasant smile, one hand wrapped loosely around a champagne flute.
"Ms. Vanaver." Bruce gave her a polite nod. "Enjoying yourself?"
"More than I expected." Her gaze wandered across the extravagant floor before settling back on him, lingering just a little longer than necessary. "Though I suspect the company has something to do with that."
"Quite the eclectic crowd. It does know how to make an impression."
"I meant the more specific company."
There was something faintly amused in her smile as she stepped a little closer.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since someone had tried flirting with him quite this openly.
"I admit, I'm surprised to see you here," Samantha continued. "I would have thought this sort of organization was beneath Bruce Wayne."
Bruce gave a noncommittal hum. "I've been told I'm full of surprises."
"So I've heard." Her smile widened slightly. "I'd love to continue this conversation somewhere a little more private."
Bruce opened his mouth to reply, then stopped.
Across the room, several men in suits had shifted almost simultaneously.
His eyes narrowed as one of them pulled something small from his pocket.
A pill.
Within seconds, several more people scattered throughout the room were raising identical pills toward their mouths.
Bruce quickly recognized the telltale signs of Venom as muscles bulged beneath suits and bodies tensed to charge.
Instinctively, he shifted to act, but before he could move, a strange whirring sound spread throughout the party. The notes were warped and stilted, almost like music being played through a broken speaker.
His eyes immediately snapped toward one of the nearby tables.
A small device had been hidden underneath it, quietly producing the noise.
Mad Hatter?
He needed to get Clark away–
"Everybody!" Jean Valjean's voice suddenly boomed throughout the entire party.
Bruce looked up.
Jean was standing atop a floating platform as it rapidly descended through the massive central atrium, passing floor after floor with his arms spread wide.
"It's time to DANCE!"
A burst of colored smoke exploded around him.
At the same moment, the strange noise from the hidden devices abruptly changed. Music began blaring throughout the tower as Jean brought a microphone to his mouth and started dancing atop the platform.
"THRILLER"
Bruce's attention snapped back toward the men who had taken the Venom.
Their bodies had already swollen with muscle, but instead of attacking, every last one of them now wore the same vacant, glassy expression.
Then they started dancing.
Dozens of Venom-enhanced men lurched and twisted across the floor in exaggerated, almost zombie-like movements, completely ignoring whatever attack they had been preparing moments earlier.
The surrounding guests stared for all of two seconds before erupting into cheers, apparently assuming the entire thing was part of the show.
…What else had he expected?
Bruce sighed as he watched the absurd spectacle unfold in front of him.
Tonight was going to be a headache; Bruce could feel it in his bones.
A glass slipped from someone's hand and shattered against the floor.
Bruce turned to find Samantha staring at the scene in complete shock.
Had she realized there was more to the performance?
He felt a small amount of sympathy for the socialite.
"About that private chat?" Bruce asked. "I believe some of the lower lobbies have quite a nice art collection."
Samantha took a moment to respond, still staring as the party only grew rowdier around them.
"…Yes." She slowly nodded. "I think that might be best."
"ANNNNNND I can't just dance alone, can I!?" Jean Valjean's voice suddenly boomed across the atrium. "Let's get the guests of honor up here to joinnnn the fun!"
Another floating platform swept toward them, a tiny angel trailing cheerfully behind it.
Before Bruce could react, an invisible force caught hold of him and lifted him from the floor. Samantha Vanaver rose alongside him, the two of them floating toward the approaching platform.
…Apparently his luck wasn't done with him yet. Damn.
Bruce glanced toward Samantha as they drifted over. The woman had gone noticeably pale.
"It's just a dance," Bruce offered, attempting to reassure the obviously rattled woman.
"…Yes. Yes, of course." Samantha managed to put on a thin smile. "Just a completely innocent dance—"
"AAHHHHH!"
Don Falcone strapped to another floating platform spun through the air like a disco ball, spraying multicolored light across the atrium.
Bruce just stared.
Could his life be normal… just for one night?
***
Sorry for late! Bit sick rn.
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.