A razor-sharp projectile rested in her soft grip as she gazed over the scene. There was a crash nearby, and, forgetting what was in her hand, tightened her fist, preparing to throw. The object sliced her palm, drawing copper-red blood. “Dammit,” she growled quietly, cradling her now dripping hand.
She glanced up suddenly in fear, realizing her mistake. Too late. Gasping, she dropped the object and scrambled towards the door, her moyo pounding as loud as a drum. Her feet slapped against the cold, hard tiles, and her hair whipped against her thin shoulders. “Just a few zaidi feet,” she muttered. “Almost...” She reached the door and stretched for the handle. But the unforgiving hands fell onto her sides just before she touched the metal.
She screamed. “Let me go, wewe bastard!” her voice screeched as she was pulled away from the door. Kicking as hard as she could, feeling his arms wrap, upangaji pamoja tightly around her wait. “I’m not going to! wewe can’t make me!”
“Just--calm--down!” He alisema as harshly as possible without alarming her.
“Never!” she yelled. She opened her eyes to find her brother standing in front of her, arms out, ready to receive. “Oh god, not wewe too!”
He stood before her in a black and white tux, his hair slick with globs of gel. He gave her a nervous grin. “It isn’t that bad, and only one night. It’ll be fine--” He cut off as one of her legs hit the targets and both he and the older man staggered backwards, dropping her in the process. She fell to her feet and backed up to the wall, the man looking at her angrily.
“Kyra Marian Grayson!” The girl hissed.
“I’m not wearing it!”
“Why the hell not?” her brother asked.
“Number 1: it’s a dress. Number 2: it’s frilly, it’s long, it’s girly. Number 3: It’s a DRESS.”
The boy grimaced and turned to the adult. “Bruce?”
The man had pulled out a long, sleek electric blue dress with longer ruffly sleeves. “At least try it on, Kyra.” Bruce had nearly reduced to pleading. Kyra sighed, used her powers to heal her hand, and took the dress with her to the bathroom.
15 dakika later, Bruce and Dick were waiting in the family room near the fireplace and the grandfather clock that led to secrets of another type of life. When the hinges of the door creaked, both heads snapped up towards the hall. When Kyra walked in, the males were surprised. Neither had ever seen her as beautiful as she was now. The dress hugged her thin body perfectly, and the glasses that usually rested on her nose were gone. The hair that was mostly either down au in a simple ponytail was now in an elaborate updo that fully revealed her pale complexion. She hadn’t fully caked her face with makeup-- she’d only used a small amount of brown eyeshadow and a touch of fuchsia lip gloss.
And she was pissed off to all hell.
“Happy now?” she growled. “‘Cuz I’m not.”
“Well, all wewe have to do now is sit down and wait for--”
“You seriously think I’m going to go in this? No!” Out from behind her back came throwing knives and batarangs. “I’m not wearing it!”
“Then you’re not going!” Bruce insisted.
A grin slowly spread across her face. “Suit yourself.”
She threw multiple objects at them and ran back into the hallway. Dick followed close behind, dodging the various explosions and bila mpangilio silver blades. “Kyra!” he exclaimed, and tackled her amid the smokey confusion. She punched him and they tumbled into the entrence hall.
When the smoke cleared, Kyra was a mess in a somewhat perfect way. Her hair had curled in the updo and now it rested on her bare shoulders. Bare, because she’d ripped the sleeves completely off. Now she let loose a mad shriek and began to run towards Dick. He ran to her, and at the last sekunde he jump-kicked. She ducked under and grasped his leg, and flipped him down. He grabbed her arm and swung her around, slamming her against a mirror. “It’s just one night!”
She pushed him back a little and placed her feet on he wall, running up and behind him. “I’m not wearing this!” She let him go and grabbed hold of the bottom of the dress. He bit his lip. “Dude,” he said, his blue eyes wide, “don’t do it!”
Kyra did it. A ripping noise practically shouted Kyra’s rebellion. The long blue river of fabric fluttered to the marble as the dress suddenly became much shorter. She burst into a cackle, and Dick put his head in his hands, muttering quietly. Bruce walked in now. “Really, wewe had to do that? Just to prove us wrong?” She grinned, blowing a curl of hair out of her eyes.
She gasped and turned. There stood brown-haired Nathan Stone, in a black suit and silver tie. “Nathan!”
“We’re still going to the school prom, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, as friends, right?”
“Yeah, Artemis is waiting outside.” Nathan moved aside to let Dick through. A couple of sekunde later, there was a loud “Hey, Arty!” A laugh pursued, and a groan, and Kyra chuckled along with Nathan. They trailed off, ending up simply smiling awkwardly. Nathan began to walk out the door, but turned back to give Kyra a small but significant comment.
“Love your dress.”
He walked out, leaving the girl blushing and grinning from ear to ear.