The Manor was decorated with blue. Blue ribbons twirled around the roof with the words “WAYNE ANNUAL GALA” plastered on them in white. Blue ice figures were up against the wall and the lights were off.

“Alright Pete,” Dick said. “Let me show you around the manor.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll show him around the mansion.”

“Won’t you be busy?” Peter asked.

Bruce tapped Peter’s back. “Nonsense! Let me show you around, my treat. Dick here will greet the guests.”

‘Greeting the guests’ also meant looking out for Penguin’s goons. Bruce started talking about the mansion and its history (history being when Bruce was born until now) while Dick went out in the freezing cold, ‘greeting the guests.’

The manor was soon filled with a bunch of rich people but no sign of Penguin’s guys. From out of nowhere a police car appeared, completely out of place amidst the Lamborghinis and Ferraris of Gotham’s rich and pretentious. Barbara appeared from the front seat wearing a black dress with yellow highlights by her sides. Her hair was tied up in a red bun and her smile was made even more gorgeous from the red lipstick she put on it.

“Damn Barbara if it wasn’t for the police car, I wouldn’t know it was you,” Dick said. Commissioner Gordon opened up the window, wearing a stuffy black suit he clearly looked uncomfortable in. His tie was askew and his red hair looked like it was combed at the last minute.

“Hey kid,” Gordon said. “Stop flirting with my daughter and tell me where to park.”

Barbara gave Gordon the “Oh my god dad” stare. Dick laughed and showed him where to go.

“I’m surprised your dad’s not working,” Dick said to Barbara. “I thought he’d be up at GCPD by the Bat signal.”

Barbara shrugged. “I mean we all need a break and dad wouldn’t say no to a free drink.”

“I mean if I had to deal with Bruce’s antics for seven straight years, I’d need a drink too,” Dick said.

Barbara laughed. “Tell me about it but damn…”

She stared at Dick’s suit. “Blue and black suits you. Pun intended.”

Dick chuckled. “You think?”

“Yeah, maybe you should tell Bruce,” Barbara said. “Change the Robin suit from red and yellow to black and blue.”

“Yeah like he’d let that happen.”

“You never know.”

Dick and Barbara entered the mansion and started their stakeout. They decided to split up, Dick taking the stairs and Barbara searching through the guests.

“I almost forgot to ask,” Barbara said through her phone. “Where’s Peter?”

“The prodigal son is with Bruce,” Dick said, noticing Bruce and Peter amidst the crowd and Bruce introducing him to two of Gotham’s aristocrats. “Bruce is showing him off. He never showed me off like that when I was a kid.”

“Aww, you jealous,” Barbara said. Dick noticed Barbara walking amongst the crowd with her phone to her ear. Dick almost forgot how pretty she was until he saw her from afar. He felt his heart ache a little.

“Dick, are you alive?” Barbara said, snapping him out of his self-pitying. “Hellooo.”

“Yeah, yeah sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

Dick thought he saw someone that looked like Penguin amidst the crowd but it was just a fat person. “I have the right to be jealous Barbs. I’m supposed to be his son.”

“Aww, little Richard Grayson is jelly.”

Dick smiled. “Shut up.”

Suddenly Dick saw an all to familiar face. It was Skinner, one of Penguin’s top goons wearing a shirt this time around. He was standing in the corner, shaking nervously with a walkie-talkie in his hand.

“Yo Barbs,” Dick said. “Skinner is here.”

“What’s he up to?” Barbara asked.

“He’s in the corner by the Left wing,” Dick said. “He’s holding a walkie-talkie so Penguin must be here.”

“Got it,” Barbara said. “I’ll go message Bruce.”

Amidst the crowd of Gotham’s aristocrats, Bruce’s pager beeped in his pocket. Bruce pulled it out:

“The bird is in the nest.”

Bruce eyed Peter who walked up to him.

“Hey Mr. Wayne,” Peter asked. “Where did D… I mean Richard go?”

Bruce smiled. “I don’t know.” Though Peter could see his smile was a little tense. “Excuse me Pete, I got to go up stage.”

Peter’s spider-sense was buzzing wildly again. But he couldn’t see anything dangerous in his immediate site. He wanted to believe it was just his anxiety being amongst so many judgemental rich people but his spider-sense was never wrong.

Bruce suddenly walked to a stage that was setup in the middle of the hall. A stage with glowing blue curtains. He tapped against the mic.

“Excuse me,” Bruce said, returning to that charming smile of his. “Excuse me everybody.”

The entire crowd turned to face Bruce who grinned at them.

“Now I’m sure I know why most of you are here at the Wayne Family Annual Gala,” Bruce said. “And its most definitely not to donate.”

The crowd clapped at that statement. Bruce waited for them to quiet down before he continued.

“Yes, as we all know today, we’ll be carrying out a bid,” Bruce said. “And whoever bids the highest gets to go on a joyride with none other than me. Of course, the bids are going to charity but worry not people, your money is not going to waste. I heard I make good company especially when there’s a bottle of champagne in the mix.”

The crowd laughed.

“Without further ado,” Bruce said. “Let the bidding begin!”

The crowd cheered.

“One million,” a drunk girl blurted out.

Bruce smirked. “One million dollars. Going once…”

“One point five million,” said a classy old man.

“One point five million,” Bruce said. “I’m disappointed, that first bidder seemed like a treat.”

The bids started increasing. 2 million, 2.5 million. Peter wondered how people could blow that much money for nothing more than a ride with Bruce Wayne. Peter could use that money to pay an entire lifetime of rent. Peter wanted to believe it was because the money was going to charity but deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case.

And so, the bids skyrocketed.

10 million.

25 million.

50 million.

75 million.

Gunshot.

That snapped everybody’s attention away.

“How bout you return the money your family stole from me, eh Brucey Boy?” said a short man with a British accent that Peter felt was forced.

Bursting in out of nowhere was Oswald Cobblepot and a group of thugs carrying automatic weapons. Penguin held his umbrella up high, smoke trailing from the tip of the umbrella.

The crowd tried to flee but the Penguin’s thugs fired their weapons up in the air. The crowd let out a scream and huddled together, crying and whimpering.

Barbara took this as an opportunity to blend in amongst the crowds and crouch away. Her suit was in the Batcave and the Wayne Manor had many passageways that lead to it. Meanwhile her father was looking for her, scanning the crowds to make sure his little girl was safe.

Peter also took this as an opportunity to hide away, trying to look for a room he could change into his costume.

“Now will Mr. Wayne kindly hand himself over,” the Penguin said. “Or I will start killing people here one by one.”

Bruce walked in front of the crowd, hands raised in surrender. Smiling. “No need to blow things out of proportion Oswald.”

“Oh, Brucey boy you’re too naïve for your own good.” Oswald called one of the goons who hit Bruce across the nose with his gun. The crowd let out a gasp. Bruce collapsed on the ground, nose bleeding. Staring at Cobblepot with pure hatred in his eyes. What he’d give to beat the crap out of him right now. But he couldn’t, not in front of a crowd like this. Cobblepot pulled him by his hair, making him stare straight into his beady black eyes.

“Boy am I going to have fun with you,” Cobblepot said. “Boys, take him away.”

Penguin’s thugs dragged him. Bruce gave Cobblepot a look. A look very few people had given him. A look of defiance that the Penguin was very used to. But all it took was one gunshot or a word with one of his men and that look was wiped clean from their face like a bar of soap had washed over them.

Penguin ordered one of his men to knock him across the face for good measure. The crowd obviously let out another gasp, rich bastards were obviously not used to such violence. One of the men kicked him across the face for good measure but Bruce still had that look, despite his perfect hair being tousled and his face bruised. There was a coldness to them that made Penguin’s gut turn, twist in fear.

But his men would wipe that look right off his face, no problem. One of his men raised their guns to knock him across the face.

When a web ripped that gun straight off his hand causing it to dangle on the roof. The crowd looked upwards to see a man dressed in red and blue spandex who jumped down, standing in front of Penguin.

“Hey Penguin,” said Spider-man. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Spider-man paused, sizing him up. “Oh… oh wait.”

The Penguin growled. “Get him boys!”

Spider-man leapt into the air and the battle begun.