[indent][indent]Jinx, clad in his superhero attire, stepped into the grand hall of the superheroes gala. The dim lights shimmered on the polished marble floor as elegantly dressed figures mingled beneath the ornate chandeliers. His black jumpsuit, adorned with pink geometrical lines, clung tightly to his form, accentuating the tension that danced beneath his skin. Heart pounding, he watched as the crowd parted, revealing the mesmerizing figure of Lady Gaga. A wave of crimson rushed to his cheeks, as though the intensity of her presence had ignited an inferno within him. His eyes lingered on her, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling within their depths. In that fleeting moment, amidst the opulence and grandeur, Jinx felt both insignificant and overwhelmingly alive.

Unrecognized and invisible amidst the swirling currents of heroes and heroines, he stood in the shadows of the grand hall. A cynical smile played upon his lips as Wonder Girl's laughter rang through the air, mingling with the infectious mirth of Kid Flash and Nightwing. They were the popular ones, the cherished sidekicks to the celebrated champions. With studied nonchalance, he observed their antics from a distance, a subtle facade of indifference masking the sting of exclusion. Once a villain, now an outcast, he bore the mark of Madame Rouge's tainted legacy, forever banished to the periphery of this revered realm.

Amidst the uncomfortable milieu, the golden boys, Superman's twin sons, materialized within the hall's threshold, their radiant presence a stark contrast to his own shadowed existence. Yet, as fate would have it, the universe conspired to add another layer of unease to his already burdened shoulders. Approaching him with the grace of a vulture descending upon its prey, Liliane Carlton, the relentless Vanity Fair reporter who had once penned an exposé on his transformation from villain to hero, intercepted his solitude. The mere mention of her name conjured bitter memories, a reminder of the aftermath that awaited those who dared to embrace redemption. Though a fraction of him reveled in the fleeting acknowledgment within the pages of a fashion magazine, the price of trust among his fellow heroes grew steeper.

[b]"So, what is someone like you doing here?"[/b] she asked, her voice dripping with both curiosity and a tinge of malice. [b]"Why isn't your mother, Madame Rouge, on the guest list?"[/b] A bitter smile danced upon his lips as he met her gaze, the weight of his past intermingling with the shadows that cloaked his present. [color=a1728c][b]"She's not my mother,"[/b][/color] he retorted, his words laced with a dryness that concealed a multitude of wounds. [color=a1728c][b]"And unlike you, I no longer find pleasure in weaving misery into others' lives. My name is on Santa's 'good boy' list now."[/b][/color]


[b]"Aren't you a treat?"[/b] she said, a mocking laughter escaping her lips. He shot back a retort, his tone laced with a cynical edge, [color=a1728c][b]"Yes, and you are a pain in my ass."[/b][/color] Snatching the champagne glass from her grasp, he downed its contents before abruptly departing. [color=a1728c][b]"Bye, I have some catching up to do with my friends."[/b][/color] As he approached the gathering of teen heroes, Superboy offering a helping hand to Nightwing, he couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment. Perhaps something had slipped away during that encounter with the viper. With a confident stride, he greeted them, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, certain that his name had yet to grace their ears. [color=a1728c][b]"What's up, nerds?"[/b][/color] he quipped.

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