Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi walked into a bar.
It was the beginning of a joke; but it shouldn't have been. The bar was once indeed a bar but had since been repurposed. Its counter remained glossy and its till remained full, but on the wall behind it, instead of rainbow rows of liquor and vice, were mallets and hammers and tennis rackets and cricket bats and baseball bats and hammers and more, arranged in Tetris muddlement.
Behind the counter was a receptionist, chewing gum and picking at his nails. He blinked, and looked up with a smile.
"Welcome! I take it you're, uh...Nanami and Higuruma? Here for the 10am timeslot? You've been booked in, uh..." He checked his computer. Both eyebrows shot up. "Uhhh...wow. All day actually. Guess you've got some stress to work out, huh?"
Kento frowned, turning his blade in his hand and looking at the address on his phone screen. Then, he looked back up to the rugged, hand painted sign behind the receptionist's head. Kento's face fell. Hiromi huffed.
"You've taken us to the wrong place, Nanami."
"I have not."
"You ha--"
"We've been had, Higuruma."
Hiromi blinked, then looked up at the sign, too. His face fell. His lips pulled up in a mulish little sulk.
"Why can I smell two lots of perfume all over this, only one of which is my wife's?"
"Because I'm married, too."
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"We need to do something about this."
"We absolutely do. One of them is going to have a stroke."
"Jesus."
She and you hissed to each other from your spot in the storecupboard. Kento and Hiromi, your respective husbands, sat in the middle row of the staff meeting you had dodged. Hiromi fidgeted, and shifted, and ticked; his shoulders set in a rigid line. Nanami sat stock still, but his knuckles were white and you could hear his teeth grinding even from a distance.
You could feel the suppressed rage thudding off of them, in pulses and waves. The air stuck to your skin. You shook off your hands with an ugh!
"That's not healthy. Did you know, we've had sex three times this week and he hasn't--"
"Hasn't finished? Same. He's too--"
"Tense," you both finished, deflating with groans.
"Kento snapped a toothbrush because he ran out of mouthwash."
"Hiromi called the dryer a bitch because it ate his tie."
You sat together, pondering. The drone of the higher-ups continued outside your storecupboard, and you wondered if you were about to experience a massacre. After a minute, a lightbulb pinged in your mind.
"I've got an idea. Hear me out."
"Listening."
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Kento and Higuruma stood in a hall. It was an enormous hall; as white as a gallery and just as long.
Inside the hall, from wall to wall, junk and vases and televisions and bags of flour and tins of paint and pyramids of wine glasses and old desks and chairs and books and bowls and plates and rakes and lawnmowers and garden gnomes and discs and flowers and clocks and paintings had been stacked and splayed and dropped and displayed and pedestal'd and hung and slung until, all in all, the room really looked like the modern art exhibition that its creators appeared to have intended for it to be.
Over their old suits were new suits; all-in-ones of white, with masks and goggles dangling limply from their hands. Hiromi bristled.
"A rage room?"
"It would appear so."
"I-- I--" A scoff. Pacing. "This isn't for me-- this is for you, and your unhealthy coping mechanisms. I handle my anger absolutely fi--
"You lost a trial then murdered two men and countless others."
Higuruma froze. When he spoke, his voice was wounded and small. "...that was a very difficult week for me, Nanami, and I'm hurt that you'd weaponise it like that."
Kento sighed, removing his glasses and pocketing them. Rubbing his eyes, he sounded churlish. "I suppose I have been holding onto some...frustration."
"Speak for yourself."
A prickle of annoyance. Kento shot Hiromi a daggered look. Hiromi raised his chin. They stared each other down.
The room was silent. The staring match went on, and on, and on, until--
SMASH.
Kento's face fell slack. Hiromi had stuck his hand out, and pushed a vase to fall off its perch and shatter upon the floor. He hadn't even broken eye contact with Kento while doing it. Kento squirmed.
"What on earth are you doing?"
"Nothing. I'm not angry."
SMASH.
Kento bristled, lunging to save another vase. "Stop that!"
"No."
SMASH.
"Higuruma! Stop!"
"Make me."
A scuffle. Two pairs of dress shoes skittering on the floor. CLATTER-- SMASH.
Kento snarled, and picked up an old chair, and tossed it at Hiromi. Hiromi dodged it, huffing through his nose with a gleam in his eye. The chair hit a stack of pottery, and Kento buried his fingers in his hair, dismayed.
With a slowly growing grin, Hiromi picked up a plate. He tossed it into the air (to a gasp of horror from Kento), and caught it by its rim.
Kento breathed hard. He seemed to have grown to twice his usual size. He glared at Hiromi. Hiromi grinned, and made for the door.
"I'm going out for a mallet."
"Wait!"
Hiromi paused with his hand upon the handle. He looked back over his shoulder. Kento trembled with his back to Hiromi, his fists clenched into rocks, and flicks of hair falling free.
"Get me one, Higuruma."
"Sure."
"No-- wait-- two."
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She and you sat, curled on the sofa, with a shared blanket and a shared bottle and shared snacks and shared thrill. The TV's glow was all that lit the room.
"Can't believe they put a hidden camera in there for us."
"I paid extra."
"I can't wait."
Upon the screen, from multiple angles, were your husbands, and a white cluttered room. Kento's anger was palpable even on film. Hiromi's hand rested upon the door handle.
You tucked in close, and pressed your glass to your lips, and pressed play.
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"Again!"
Fwooosh-- SMASH.
"Harder!"
Pshewww-- SMASH.
"Jesus christ, Nanami, you're strong."
"Don't stop now, Higuruma!"
SMASH. SMASH. SMASH.
Music played, loud and heavy and hard. Kento and Hiromi had stripped off their protective suits, and eschewed their goggles and masks. Kento wielded a cricket bat. Hiromi wielded a stack of dinner plates. He flung another one to its grisly demise.
"I love frisbee."
Kento laughed, clasping a hand over his mouth and jaw and missing the plate entirely, for it to whoosh away somewhere over his shoulder. Hiromi laughed. Kento laughed harder. The plate smashed somewhere in the distance. They laughed harder, braced against the wall and down on their thighs.
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You and she laughed, too, cheering as Hiromi took a mallet to a television with a roar.
She stood, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm gonna wet myself-- pause it, pause it--"
"I'll rewind it!"
Minutes later, from her perch on the toilet, she heard raucous laughter.
"Pause it!" She squealed. "Pause i-- wait, what are they doing?"
"Playing keepy-uppy!"
"Oh."
"With a Fabergé egg!"
"Oh."
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Hiromi and Kento sat with their backs against the wall, and their mallets on their thighs, and their legs splayed out before them, in a scene of devastation. Kento's tie was wrapped around his fist. Hiromi's tie was tied around his head. He panted.
"I...I owe my wife an apology. More than one, perhaps. Whichever way she likes it." He paused. "On her back. On my lap. On her knees. On my knee--"
"Don't be crass, Higuruma." A giggle. Kento couldn't help but smile, wry and lopsided and finally relieved; almost relieved, at least. He sighed, swiping his hair back.
"So do I. With...with flowers. Wine. Dinner, maybe. And--"
You put the first years in a rage room. Simple enough. You're pretty sure you know how this is gonna go since you know how your friends work.
Deuce is free to let his anger out. That bad boy delinquent side that he's been trying to get rid of. He'll smash a few things, find some joy and relief in letting this other side of him take over, but you expect this from him after the egg incident. Besides, he's good at talking through his issues. This is basically just an excuse to exercise.
Epel is the same way. He has to try so hard to be perfect for Vil and squash down every part of himself that makes him him. Of course he's gonna have some pent up anger about all of that, but he's kind of done after a few swings, as usually just talking about his issues makes him feel better.
Sebek and Ortho are a little different. Sebek honestly doesn't break that much, as any anger he might have ends up being shouted from the top of his lungs. He doesn't feel the need to rip the room to shreds. Ortho's much more calculated in his destruction. He does not show whatever anger he may be feeling, but the item he focuses on will not exist by the time he's done.
Everything's relatively simple until you get to Ace and Jack.
You don't expect too much from Jack. He's the rock of the group. Steady, reliable, very "big brother" energy. But, and especially if he's in the room alone, will go apeshit. He's had his hopes crushed again and again by the people he idolized, and he's so sick and tired of being the strong one. He's done with being good. He's done with being reliable. For once, he wants to feel like he's allowed to actually feel. He's quiet in his destruction, never shouting, screaming, or even making a noise out of his mouth. But you can tell how much he needed this from the absolute state of chaos the room is in by the end.
Ace is even worse. He's the cheery one of the group, the one that's there to give encouragement when you can't, so you don't expect too much destruction. Oh boy you were so wrong. Ace doesn't even care if anyone is in the room with him when he starts screaming and thrashing. He's tired of being treated unfairly. He's tired of being judged for every single action just because he fucked up one time. He knows he sucks, but does everyone have to keep pointing it out? He's tired of his friends getting treated like shit and not being able to do anything about it. He's so sick of being helpless. At least he can do something here, even if that thing is just mindless destruction.
Alfred, sick of cleaning the stray broken vase, ruined painting, and copious messes in the kitchen, rents the Batfam a rage room.
Dick- does a respectable job at destroying the items in the room. Uses the baseball bat, the metal pipe, smashing glass cups and such. Feeling a bit alleviated.
Jason- Lazarus rage. The room is too far gone for the workers to even use it again. It’s a complete mess, and Jason walks out a bit calmer than he went in. What you would expect from him, honestly.
Bruce- same as Dick, a respectable wreckage left in the room. He didn’t even need the tools though, choosing to throw shit around.
Damian- Thought it was a bit childish at first but due to even Bruce participating, he might as well. From outside the room, at the beginning it starts with the sounds of slow hesitant crashes and shattering, but picks up pace and volume. Again, a decent performance.
Duke and Steph- argue about who can destroy each item the quickest. Duke goes first getting a decent time of around twenty minutes. Steph absolutely destroys that time, nine minutes. She walks out, ponytail falling out, breathing heavily.
Cass- no one notices her go in for her turn, but she comes out smiling, giving Bruce a big thumbs up. The room looks like how Jason left it.
By this time the employees are sick of resetting the room, and graciously just let them immediately move on by using one of the different ones. It was pretty slow today anyways, and the tall one with the white streak in his hair was scaring them a little.
Babs- has a lot more fun with it than the rest. She comes out smiling. A decent job of destroying all of the items, she used all the tools given to her. She had a bit too much fun with the glass cups, they had basically been turned to dust.
Tim- goes in last. They had originally set an order but that got thrown out the window when Bruce decided to join last minute. He goes in, closes the door, and they can hear muffled screaming and shouting from inside. Maybe CEO, vigilante, sleep deprivation, and neglected mental health after this long and no one addressing it was a bigger problem than they had thought.
When Tim comes out he’s uncharacteristically silent, he knows from Damian going in that it isn’t all that sound proof. The room is completely destroyed. Glasses, shattered. Old computers, basically unrecognizable. The singular wooden table, that was supposed to just hold the tools was even bashed in. The wooden bat was splintered in the corner.
The ghost yetis of the Far Frozen have their own special version of a rage room that they often call a “freeze room”, because as the name suggests, it’s built to especially handle emotional bursts of power from ghost yetis’ ice cores. Danny goes in there once, claiming that he just thinks it’d be fun to try out, but then he comes out nearly invisible, tired, and red eyed and goes straight to Frostbite for a hug.
