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The Drakes were high-society people. They only mingled with the best of Gotham’s upper-class. Sometimes, this meant everyone at a gala. Sometimes, it didn’t.
It was at one of those galas where everyone who was upper-class was invited, regardless of whether they were ‘high-society’ or not. It was at one of these galas that a young, 6-year-old Tim Drake met a young, 5-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
This wasn’t Tim’s first gala, but it was his first in almost 8 months. His parents were archaeologists who owned Drake Industries, and they traveled frequently.
This was Marinette’s first gala, her parents finally deeming her old enough to join. Her parents were the owners of Gotham’s biggest bakery, and they were always busy with managing it.
The 5-year-old was hiding near the desserts, the ones her family provided, and looked out among the guests. She felt out of place, since this was her first gala. All of the other young kids already knew the others, and were congregated in a room not too far from the ballroom where the main party was.
The 6-year-old was with his parents, his mother’s hand death-gripping his shoulders, most likely leaving a mark even through his suit. He felt out of place, since he didn’t go to very many galas. His parents were always out of the country, and only brought him to some of the galas they went to.
From across the ballroom, the two kids’ eyes met.
Tim wriggled his way out of his mother’s grip, making some excuse about how he was going to go socialize, and began to walk towards the dessert table.
Marinette watched him come towards her, her eyes glued to his. They couldn’t break eye contact. They just couldn’t .
There was a connection between them, something unexplainable. It was like a pull, telling the kids to go and talk to each other. And they obeyed.
“Hi,” Tim breathed once he reached her, “My name’s Tim.” It was like he had forgotten all of the proper manners his parents had taught him. If they saw him now, he would surely get a scolding.
It didn’t matter, though. He felt like he could be himself with the girl. But why?
“Hi,” Marinette said shyly, “My name’s Marinette.” She felt at ease with him, like she didn’t need to pretend to be comfortable and outgoing when she wasn’t. But why?
They had just met, yet they felt an inexplicable bond between them already.
“You wanna go out on the balcony?” Tim asked, before immediately reprimanding himself in his head. No, why would she? We just met, and I broke so many of Mother and Father’s rules. She must think I’m a terrible person .
“Okay!” Marinette replied, surprising Tim. But he quickly got over it and beckoned her forward.
“Come on, this party’s kind of boring anyways.”
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It had been 3 years since the day Tim and Marinette met, and they were best friends. Marinette spent most of her time at Tim’s house since her parents were always busy, as long as his parents weren’t home. They wouldn’t approve of Tim being friends with a baker’s daughter. But neither Tim nor Marinette cared about the (minimal) class difference between them.
It was just another day where Tim and Marinette were watching the news, looking for any mention of Batman and Robin, Gotham’s vigilantes. The two were obsessed with them, and frequently went out at night to look for them. Tim would take pictures and Marinette would sketch them, often creating new costumes. Robin looked like a traffic light, after all, and those scaly underwear were nowhere close to appropriate for jumping around buildings. What maniac designed it?
The TV displayed new footage of the two vigilantes, and one of the main features was Robin doing a quadruple-backflip off a building. The kids’ heads snapped toward each other and their eyes met.
“Oh my god!” Marinette exclaimed. “This proves who they are!”
“I know!” Tim replied excitedly. “Batman and Robin are Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson!”
Tim had told Marinette the story of the day he went to Haly’s Circus many times, always focusing on his meeting with a young Dick Grayson and his promise to do a quadruple-backflip for him rather. She knew the story almost as well as he did, and so they both recognized the Flying Grayson’s signature move immediately.
They didn’t know it now, but this moment sealed their fates forever.
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“Robin! On your left!” Nightingale yelled through the comms, and Robin dodged a hit he hadn’t seen. Two-Face was stockpiling weapons in a warehouse, and Nightingale and Robin were sent to take care of it. There were a lot of goons, though, which led them to this.
Nightingale kicked a goon in his crotch before punching a guy who tried to sneak up on her in the nose. The fight had been going on for a while, but it was finally ending.
“Two-Face had a lot of goons guarding what was supposed to be a weapon stockpile,” Robin mentioned as he elbowed a guy in the solar plexus.
“I know, seems pretty suspicious. Here, let me check it out,” Nightingale made her way to the crates in the back of the warehouse.
Inside were some ray guns that she didn’t recognize, and she called for Robin to look at them and see if he recognized them.
Robin carefully took one out, inspecting what looked to be the trigger. None of the parts were recognizable, though Gotham did have a lot of alien tech for a city that frowned upon magic and metas.
“Let’s take these back to B, maybe he’ll know what they are,” Nightingale suggested, and Robin agreed. The Batcave had extensive files on everything.
They turned around and started walking out of the warehouse when Robin stepped on a goon’s hand, causing him to trip. Time slowed as he and Nightingale watched the ray gun fall out of his hand and land on the floor.
A red and black stream of light shot out of it and hit Nightingale. The vigilantes had no time to react.
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Tim Drake woke up one morning and felt like he was missing something. But what could it be? He had gotten some sleep for the first time in a week and finished all of his case files. Oh well, it was probably just him not having coffee yet, he reasoned with himself. Yet even after downing two cups, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of something being...off.
It bothered him all day, and he couldn’t figure it out. A few times he came close, but the last piece eluded him no matter what he did.
Batman, Robin, and Nightin-
Nightwing . Nightwing was the only other Bat, there was no one else. Especially not another Bat in Gotham. It was just Tim and Bruce there.
Right now, it was just Tim, alone in his empty house, with no one for company. No parents and no friends. That was how it had been for his entire life. Nothing was different today.
So why couldn’t he shake that feeling?