Disclaimer: All rights are given to DC Comics, Greig Weisman and Brandon Vietti.
Gotham City
For Justice, though she's painted blind, is to the weaker side inclin'd. ~Samuel Butler, Hudibras
A young woman walked across the street, dead in the night. The woman, eighteen at the most, had a determined look plastered on her pale face. A light flickered by when she walked past it and she smirked evilly. He was going to get it. She thought. The girl sneered at the thought. Why would somebody kill a young girl? She did nothing. She pulled her black long sleeve shirt up back on her shoulders as she continued the trudge through the quiet city. She lived here almost all her life and she knew the crime well, so she darted her eyes, knowing something was out there waiting for her. A sound of an alley cat alerted her, and the hairs on her neck stood up on end. She shivered, scanning the entire street, looking for a specific street name.
Not because she was the only one out there that she looked odd, but based on how she dressed. Normal people had red hair and freckles, and most had dark brown eyes, that were normal. But, however, her red hair wasn't real. It was a wig to conceal her actual look of dark brown hair. Whichever the cause for her concealment meant no worry, the worry lie in the swords she carried in a red harness around her hips. Or maybe it was the red stained biker gloves on her hands, who knew, they could be real blood from her victims. Considering how many people she killed, she ought to get a medal; cleaning up the streets of Gotham, which was one more up than Batman. She looked towards the street sign, and she quickly took a spot in the shadows. There, on the second story of a hotel, one single light shone. That was where the next dead man lie. He wasn't dead yet though, and that part got her excited. She scaled the building to the top, knowing very well she couldn't just waltz through the back door.
The hotel was old, so of course there were no bars on the window and it could actually open, so she slid in easily. The room was empty, but she could hear the shower. She closed the sliding window and quietly made a move to the bathroom door. She hesitated, and instead hid underneath the counter on the outside. When he came out, she would do the deed, stuff his body in the closet, and then leave. Maybe she would lazily place a batarang on the side in the ending.
But master wouldn't be pleased. That isn't our game. She thought. Slade aka Deathstroke would punish her when she got back if she did leave a batarang lying around. Everyone knew, however, if she did it, it would be fake. The Batman wasn't good enough to kill anyone. The shower head went off, and she silently moved her hand towards her sword. From her pocket, she also took out the picture of the little girl he murdered. The man came out, towel wrapped around his midsection, humming a tune. That is when she moved. She made a daring leap and tackled the man, who managed to keep the towel on. He yelled in surprise.
"Who do you think you are?" He yelled in a raspy and high, panicked voice. He moved his hand from the top of the towel, and saw that it was just Whiplash, another one of Deathstroke's lackeys. The man noticed the girl's beauty instantly. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?" He said suggestively, putting his hand up to her face, forgetting about the assault. Whiplash almost choked on spit, but then realized that her powers somehow saved her once again in this instance.
"February ninth, two days ago, you killed Rachael Hayes outside the park with her mother," Whiplash growled, throwing the picture of Rachael in front of the man. The little girl was maybe ten, and she had her dark brown hair in two pigtails, and she was wearing a blue tank top and pink shorts, she was smiling in the picture, even though she couldn't even twitch right now. Whiplash stood up, and took her sword out of her harness. She pointed the tip at the man, and she turned to get the next picture out of her pocket.
Rachael was now in a body bag, with her sobbing parents next to it, grasping on the gurney as the paramedics pulled their little girl away from them forever. "And you know the worst part of it was? She was killed before she could say goodbye to her life, so now I am going to steal the same thing away from you." The man under her whimpered, putting his hands up to shield himself, and he begged for his life. Whiplash didn't even feel sorry for the man. She started pushing her heel into his rib cage, and his back arched forward in pain, and as he did so, the sharp blade stabbed him in the throat, and blood started gushing everywhere, even on Whiplash. She took a step back, admiring her handy work. The man made a gurgling noise, and finally, choked out enough to die. She kicked his side lightly, not causing any more damage.
"Got any tissues so I clean up the mess you made on my sword?" She asked with a sweet voice. The man said nothing, hell; his voice box was ripped out from his throat so even if he were alive, he couldn't speak. She smirked as she went into the bathroom, and pulled out a roll of paper towels from under the sink. She unwrapped some and cleaned her dripping sword, finally putting it in her harness once more. She put the discarded tissue in the trash, and left the restroom. As she passed by the nearly decapitated head, she knew the parents received real justice, anything better than Batman could do.
She slid back into the window, but not before turning back to the gory scene in front of her. She took out a spare knife from her harness, and placed the before picture of Rachael on it. As she slid down to the ground floor, she spun off the window edge and threw it at the dead monster. It landed dead center in his forehead, and more crimson spilled out. She left, the only trace of her being the lifeless body of a murderer. Hannah, she told herself, you did good work tonight. Justice was served.
Gotham City
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four people is suffering from a mental illness. Look at your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you. ~Rita Mae Brown
A teenage boy nudged forward reluctantly upon hearing the angry outburst of his uncle in another room. It was no secret that the boy's obsessive uncle could be disastrous at random, especially when something sparked his interest. The sixteen year old boy entered the same room as his uncle and watched as the older man read the newspaper. The taller man craned his neck up to see his nephew.
"Brandon!" He called out, his tone angry. Brandon tensed up, his uncle scowling as he made his way over. "Did you see this?" The man tilted the paper in Brandon's direction. Brandon read the page over his uncle's shoulder, the article's title being a riddle that the two had placed at their last crime scene. "People are idiots! Trying to decipher my riddle incorrectly." The Riddler glared down at the paper again.
"It's not much of a riddle as it is an incorrect fallacy," Brandon said, hoping that his uncle would not get mad at his interjection. When Edward smirked at him, he continued. "'What's wrong with this statement' isn't a statement, it's a question." Brandon continued, knowing that this was what his uncle wanted to hear.
"Correct!" Edward cheered, standing up and slamming the newspaper on the table he was near. "I out bested the town once more, will they never realize my genius?" the older man asked happily. Brandon brought his hand up to the string of his hoodie, playing with it out of nervousness. He knew his uncle was on the edge of another episode.
"Uncle Eddie, can I ask you a question?" Brandon asked in a shaky voice. "When was the last time you took your medication?" His uncle's previously joy filled face changed to that of anger. Brandon knew that his egotistical uncle was not at fault for his crime filled life and he hoped that if he kept the man's mental illness at par that the duo would not be criminals much longer.
"My boy, I am perfectly sane. I do not need to take medication my Neanderthal psychiatrist prescribed me!" The Riddler argued. He took hold of his question mark cane, wrapping an arm around Brandon's smaller frame. "Now let's go educate the world." Brandon sighed, knowing that his uncle would have more of a chance getting caught if he wasn't there to help him.
Central City
Who says you needed to buy a guitar? ~Jack White, It Might Get Loud
"Out on the rooftop, reindeer pause, out jumps good ole Santa Claus!" Echo sang merrily, looking down into an alley. Not too long ago, Phoebe had become the official sidekick to Black Canary. She was ecstatic about the idea! Of course, she had to do all of the vocal tests, so when she got her collar on, it wouldn't shatter her voice box into a million pieces. She had been warned, of course, to take it off after patrol and after being with Black Canary, as to not damage herself or others. But this was a good night, a night when the sixteen year old was out on her own for the first time.
However, it seemed as if Canary set this up, after being outside for over two hours and not even a car alarm go off. Phoebe, for only a minute, contemplated that she was going deaf. She leaned her slender frame against a little roof house on the top of a building. Phoebe pondered for a moment, before coming to the conclusion Canary set this up, knowing perfectly well that all her criminals were locked away in prison.
Phoebe brushed her long dirty blonde hair with her fingers, and did another sweep of the alley and street. Gracefully, she practically flew to the next rooftop, singing about Santa Claus. She was too old for Santa, she knew, but it didn't change that the song fit the moment, and everyone did often say that she acted childish.
Maybe I can start something, and then hurry to fix it and act like I saved the day. Echo thought. She shivered. Today was too cold to wear her costume. Her black bustier and high-waisted shorts provided no warmth, and neither did her black combat boots and her black fingerless gloves. The only splash of color was her choker; navy blue. Her mask though, concealed her green eyes.
A scream brought her out of her thoughts, and came like a fan to blow away the cold. She glanced down into the dead streets and saw a man cornering a woman. The woman looks scared. Phoebe thought and she cracked a small smile at her stroke of luck. Enough smirking, save her! She scolded at herself. The sixteen year old jumped down onto the guy, and pushed him away from the girl with her feet. She used his shoulders as a back spring, and flipped in between the two. She smiled once more.
"Can I join the party?" She teased. The man charged at her and she screeched, using her powered choker. The sound mimicked her mentor's, but wasn't as strong or powerful. It did, however, get the assaulter to hold his head. He was still blindly running to her though, head down. As he got close, she jumped with a knee kick and cracked his nose. He lay unconscious, with a broken nose, on the concrete street. Echo took out some handcuffs from her back pocket, and put the man in them, before tying him to the end of a garbage can. The woman just stood there, shocked, holding her ears.
"Who the hell are you?" She barked ungratefully. Echo turned to look at her, glaring at the woman's anger towards her savior.
"And I thought I might be cold tonight." She sneered. The woman, a chunky curly red head, still had her hands over her ears. Phoebe sighed and climbed on top of the trash can to get back on the roofs, wanting to be as invisible as possible. When she got to the roof, she began singing once more, stalking off in the night.
Bludhaven
Man is not truly one, but two. ~Robert Louis Stevenson
Avon was running through his favorite trail in the park, and he quickly finished another mile. The boy panted, and his hand slithered towards his book bag, which was hanging off of his back. He took out some water and drank it, putting the rest back, before the bag was slipped on once again. Avon looked towards the clear sky, and took another deep breath in. You can do it Avon, if you do it you can be on the free running sport at school. That way you won't hurt anybody at football again.
"Come on Avon, how do you expect to make the team at a rate like this?" His friend, Mandy, asked, who was a few steps ahead of Avon. He gave her a small smile, and he stood to his full height. They were off again, and in no time he was running alongside Mandy once more. His friend was great, and in some ways Avon felt as if she was his sister. Avon felt the breeze go through his thick black air and he almost wanted to pause to admire it. Today was a perfect day to be outside, and he almost forgot that he was in Bludhaven, the only city with a worse crime rate than Gotham. He stretched his long legs to the full extent, and continued.
"Mandy, we are almost at the end of the trail; don't you need to practice for your spelling bee coming up soon?" Avon asked her, wheezing in and gasping for breath. He was going to keep running, of course, but he didn't want his friend suffering it with him. Mandy smirked, and punched him in the shoulder lightly.
"Trying to get rid of me?" She laughed. "But I see your point, see you Monday?"
"Of course," and at the end of the trail, she got off, and Avon watched her go. He smiled when he was all alone, and he continued the path. He felt, no, he knew, that Nova was coming soon, too soon, and he didn't want anybody in the crossfire. Nova was Avon's worst nightmare, and he had no control of his counterpart what so ever. Sometimes, he didn't even know what happened when Nova took over.
Nova had always been a nagging voice in the back of his head, demanding him to do things he normally wouldn't. Like being a murderous villain. He thought bitterly. Most people with split personalities could take medication, but this was more of a unique situation. He didn't have a split personality, he had an actual demon possessing his body. Stop running, mortal.Avon clutched his head. Right now, he didn't want Alec, aka Nova, talking to him.
Avon took out his iPod and headphones. Maybe he could drown out Alec with some music. So, Avon started his favorite song, and he ran blindly, humming along to the tune. Half of that time though was spent bumping into objects and him apologizing to whomever he knocked over. Avon passed by the park, and he smelled the faint aroma of beef from a grill. He gagged.
Hmm. Beef. I wonder who died. Avon ran faster, so that Nova couldn't take over his body and find out. That happened way too many times to count.
Aren't you afraid? Aren't you afraid of what you are capable of doing? Your mother is. Avon stopped, and closed his dark brown eyes, he knew they were turning red. It was one of the only indicators that Nova was going to be in control. Avon fought back, and he started to feel more like himself, and less like him. Avon ran to the restrooms, and locked himself in. He slowly walked to the mirrors, and he clutched the sink in pain. He moaned, and looked at his eyes in the mirror. They were red. Avon was no longer there, and in his place, stood Nova.
"Peek-a-boo." And then the evil laugh rang out, and Nova ripped open the door, knocking it from its hinges. It caused enough commotion for the park occupants to look at him. Avon would have slapped himself. Nova forced him to run towards the beefy smell, but Avon shut his eyes. STOP! Avon took control back. He wheezed, panting harshly.
Avon ignored the stares as he went back on the trail. He knew he needed to leave the park. He ran onto the street, the only thought of home playing in his mind. He needed to get away from the public as soon as possible, before he ended up hurting someone he didn't want to hurt.
Avon ran four blocks home, before he opened the front door and fled in. His mother wasn't home, and he could almost whoop for joy. His mother didn't have to sit here and watch his son slowly loose his mind. He closed the door, locked it, and made a bee line for his room, going to the very end of the house. Once there, he sat on his bed, and took deep breaths. He proceeded to calm down.
"Calm down, calm down, calm down. Everything is going to be alright if you relax." Avon repeated to himself. He went over to his little radio on his shelf and turned it on. He already knew that classical music was in it from his previous episode. Avon once more lay down.
Happy Harbor
Not everything that steps out of line, and thus 'abnormal', must necessarily be 'inferior'. ~Hans Asperger
A little girl sat in the corner of the playground perimeter, nobody coming up to her. She was considered the weird girl, nobody wanting to play with her. She couldn't wait until she could get back to the cave, knowing that her fellow team mates loved the girl. She knew that when she was with them, they made her feel as if she mattered. She smiled at the thought, and it only increased her craving to go home. She stared up at the sky as a bird flew by, and she suddenly wished she could fly too.
Black Canary had brought her there; Black Canary couldn't help her with her problem. Black Canary couldn't help with her autism, just like how her parents couldn't either.
So, her parents put her in the foster care system. Life was okay there, no abusive like others, and one day Dinah had come by, and she fell in love with her. It was okay for a while, until more symptoms came out. Poor Dinah couldn't even touch her child without Siobhan flinching and jumping. So, Dinah let her stay in the mountain with the new team, and she went to Happy Harbor elementary school.
A soccer ball rolled towards her, and she looked up faintly. The small girl sat still, knowing that her classmates would run up and take it away.
A boy ran and stood, maybe ten feet away from her, and yelled, "Siobhan! Kick the ball over!" Siobhan stood up, pushed her brown glasses further up her nose, and smoothed her beige knee length skirt. She walked to the ball, bent down and grabbed it, and slowly but surely made her way to the boy. The boy, by now, was upset.
"Here's your ball," Siobhan made it look like she was giving him the ball, but as soon as he bent forward, she dropped the ball at his feet. She rushed back to her place as the boy glared angrily at her. Siobhan didn't know if she should say sorry or not.
The bell rang, and she marched to her next class. A boy in the hallway laughed at her.
"Going to your grandmother's house today?" He laughed, and some kids burst out laughing. Siobhan looked down at her clothes. Going to her grandmother's house? What does that mean? She was wearing what she always wore, her brown short sleeved blouse, beige cardigan with the first two buttons popped open, her brown leggings and cream colored converse with brown laces, and of course, her beige skirt. She deemed herself normal looking. Grandmother's house? People are so weird.
Somewhere in Infinity Island
In order to be an immaculate member of a flock of sheep, one must above all be a sheep oneself. ~Albert Einstein
They all stood in a file line, and Ra's Al Ghul walked down it. He stopped sometimes, fixing uniforms and commanding someone to stand up straighter. He came right in front of Brett, who had his mask on.
Any second now, Brett would have to leap and tackle his master. He was taught not to touch the Great One, but this was his final test before he became an official member of the League of Shadows. His breathing didn't change at all, and he was deemed as a regular guard. When his master had turned, Brett stood out of line, and tackled his master to the floor. Brett took out a pocket knife, and held it to the Great One's neck, who tried to push him off by pressing on a pressure point. Instead Brett put all his weight on the older man's hands.
"Good job, my boy, you have passed," Ra's Al Ghul said in tinted English. Brett nodded, and stood up slowly, sticking a hand down to help the man up. Ra's Al Ghul ignored his help, and stood up on his own, pushing his hand aside. Brett didn't sigh; he didn't even roll his eyes. The nineteen year old showed no emotion.
The others were still standing in the line, not talking, not moving, and not breathing. Brett was used to it though, and walked past one back towards his quarters. Even when Brett passed by him, the guard didn't look his way, didn't move his head. Brett opened the door to his quarters, and the light of a candle flickered in the small room.
There was a lone candle, sitting on the edge of his beaten down cot. Brett closed the door behind him, and filed in, and then he blew the candle out. He lay down on his stomach, and looked up at the ceiling. When laying on it, he could fall off based on how his frame is bigger. Brett closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in. He wouldn't show it, he was trained not too, but he was extremely happy. Not many others could endure the test long enough to survive, but he did. He was happy, but with a frown drawn out on his face.
For the longest period of time, the boy was up, but just when he started to drift off to sleep, a knock rang out into the jail cell of the room. He made no move for the door, but the door opened none the less. The great Ra's Al Ghul stood there in the door entry, and Brett jumped out of the bed. He steadied himself, so he didn't look like a complete and utter fool in front of the man that taught him everything he knew. Brett bowed.
"Great one," He welcomed in a monotone voice. Ra's Al Ghul nodded, and it seemed he was in great thought. "What are you thinking?" Brett asked, knowing that it was about him.
"I have an offer for you, and it would help us all if you do it before becoming a Shadow League member." Ra's Al Ghul started, looking at Brett, wondering if he should continue or not. Brett nodded curtly, and Ra's gave a faint smile. "You need to join a team for me, show the others what I teach you. Show them your identity; let them know they can trust you. If they can trust you, they can trust me, and that can work to the League of Shadows benefit." Brett, frowning now, knew he didn't want to join a club of baby kids. He knew he would show them off there, and he wanted to be a step up, not down. He knew he deserved it. But when master asks you to do something, he is telling you, you have to say yes.
Instead, he asked, "Do I know anyone there?" Ra's Al Ghul shook his head.
"Unlikely, my boy, every pupil is meeting there for the first time. If you wish, I may bring you the files on them?" Ra's Al Ghul offered, showing his hand to the door. Brett, obviously not sleeping tonight, agreed, and together they both walked to the study room.
Brett walked in, and saw a neat stack of files already on the table. He turned to thank the Great One, but he was absent. He had left Brett all alone. Brett picked up the top file, and used his arms to pull him up on the sturdy table. He sat, his legs swaying down. He opened the file, and he was disappointed there was no picture. How am I supposed to know who is who without a picture? I guess by their mentors, who they might bring with them. Brett paused. But I know Ra's Al Ghul won't be there with me, how do I know others won't be like me? I just don't know. Ra's Al Ghul never told him when he was meeting the others, and Brett had a faint idea that it was going to be tomorrow. Brett stood back up, grabbed all the files, and made his way to his room once more.
"I am going to study them, see what they are like. There is no use to belittle them," Brett narrated as he slid in his room once more. He took out a lighter from his pocket, and he lit the candle once more. He sat in bed, pulling the covers up, and he took the file at hand. He frizzled through his dark brown hair and continued reading the only information he had on the new team. The oldest was even younger than him, but it was a girl. I really am going to be on the baby team.
Somewhere in Tibet
Life's battles don't always go to the stronger or faster man. But sooner or later the man, who wins, is the man who thinks he can. ~Vince Lombardi
A young girl, maybe fifteen, walked the streets of Tibet. She knew where she was going, and she came out early to be alone when doing it. She held a gym bag in her right hand, and in the other a bottle of water. She came marching down the dirt street, the sound of a car rolling past. She wasn't scared, if the police tried to bring her home, she would just get back out later when they weren't patrolling. She easily walked across the town towards an old little gym.
The building was shut down a long time ago, but the equipment was never removed from the gym. Leilani decided, not too long ago, that this was her favorite spot in the entire city. She looked both ways of the street, making sure no one was there, and then she walked in quickly.
Leilani didn't even bother to go into the back rooms to get changed; she deemed it possible to do it out here. She put on a stained white tank top, and black basketball shorts with red shoes, and threw the clothes she came with aside. She strode up to a punching bag, and wistfully gave it a sharp uppercut.
"Now that is what I am talking about, Leilani!" She cheered to herself, smiling brightly. The dark olive toned girl gave the bag another punch, and the bag swayed around. It took a lot in her to hit it.
She wasn't a very tall person, maybe a little over five foot three, and she had to have a running start when she wanted to kick the bag. She didn't mind though, and she thought that was even more fun. Her long black hair was trailing behind her, getting tangled. Leilani didn't want to stop to brush it, so she quickly tied it with the rubber band that hung around her wrist. She continued forcefully.
Ten minutes later she was still at it, and she hadn't even broken a sweat yet. She smirked, and pushed the bag aside to get to her bottled water. She uncapped the beverage, and drank it greedily.
She was training for the biggest accomplishment to her, killing her mother. It seemed evil, but she didn't care. Her mother was evil, and very abusive. She was glad that one of her old trainers, Ra's Al Ghul, sent her an invitation to join a team of children just like her. It was going to get her out, and she didn't have to wait until she was eighteen to do it. She was excited, and she knew later that day she was going to meet her new teammates.
Leilani stood up once more, and gave a brutal knee to the bottom of the punching bag. Her knee cracked, but it didn't hurt, it was just a bone popping at the force. Leilani couldn't wait for later. She was given an address where her Zeta-Tube was located.
"Should I cover my scar?" She thought aloud, bringing one of her hands to her face. She covered her scar, which was over her left eye. The children around her neighborhood always made fun of her for it, but she never really minded. No, it's a battle scar; it will only help me in my case. They will fear me. And then again, she didn't really care what others thought of her. People come, people go, what is the point of crying over it all. There is none. You have to show them no emotion, you have to take charge!
She punched the punching bag again. Maybe I should do a run after this. Though the girl kept exercising, anybody who had eyes and a working brain could tell she didn't need it. She was small, thin, and full of muscles. She could probably gain another ten pounds and still be underweight. She laughed. But I still don't care what they think of me. I'm not going to even say hi to them, and I bet this team will be dead before next Friday. After the first mission, the Light and the League of Shadows would stop us from another one.
Leilani couldn't help but be a little pessimistic about the idea. It seems as though the evil in the world wanted a baby injustice league, just like the heroes had a little justice league. But then again, the baby justice league went okay. Nothing bad happened. They even formed a new one. She kicked the bag and then sat down on a bright blue mat. It was dusty in the room, and black, the windows were bordered up a long time ago. Leilani checked the time on her watch. Better run home and take a shower. I don't want to smell during the meet.
Leilani went to the corner she threw her clothes in, and picked them up, stuffing them in her book bag. She picked up her water and tossed it with the unfolded clothes too. She walked out of the building and squinted at the new sunlight pouring on her face. She sneered at the light and walked off. The evil are really vampires.
Mount Justice
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. ~Albert Camus
Alayna sat on the green couch in the living room of Mount Justice, reading a comic. She flew through the pages rather quickly, and she was starting to get annoyed by it. This was her last comic she didn't already read, and she wanted to take it slow, but the comic was so good, she couldn't contain herself.
Her curly black hair was tied up, a few strands falling down and circling her babyish face. The seventeen year old checked the time on her light up Batman watch and sighed. She started the comic five minutes ago, but was already almost done with it. She sighed. Maybe I ought to go and raid the comic book store again.
She looked around her feet, which had every comic book she owned stacked. Eight stacks were filled, all of them the height of her knee. Alayna had more than two hundred and fifty comics and she read every last one of them. The oldest one she owned was from nineteen seventy four, and she valued that Dash comic the most. Alayna continued reading, and soon she dropped the comic book, after sealing it back up of course, to the other stacks. Now she had eight stacks, all of them up to her knees but one, which had an extra comic book piled on it. With her brown eyes she scanned the room. The others should be getting out of school soon, and she was downright bored here alone.
The Zeta-Tube flared to life, and Alayna glanced in its direction. Two people came out and she smiled. PEOPLE! THE WORLD! Sometimes Alayna felt like the biggest nerd in the world.
"Hi Tomi!" She greeted the red head happily. Tomi came out, and took off his shades.
"What's up?" He asked, and he stepped aside to make room for AJ, who waltz in cheerily.
"HOLY COMIC BOOKS BATMAN!" AJ yelled out in surprise, pointing to the giant collection. "Do you have one for every day out of the year? This is like most girls with shoes!" AJ exclaimed, tossing her book bag to the side so she could round around the corner easier. Alayna smiled.
"Yes, and please for the love of the great baby Jesus, don't touch them!" Alayna exclaimed, slapping away AJ's hand, which was reaching out towards the comic books. Alayna picked up as many stacks she could, and she walked to her room to put them in a safer place. She had to make three trips before they were all tucked safely away, her having dropped many of them on the way.
Alayna came back out to the living room, and her teammates were watching television, Tomi hoarding the remote in his hands. Alayna took a seat by him.
"Guys, I'm going to be back, I want to start on dinner," AJ said happily, and the auburn haired girl strutted off, leaving Alayna and Tomi alone. Tomi was flipping through the channels, and Alayna stopped him.
"Here, keep the channel here." Alayna said in a zombie like voice. Swimming was on, and Alayna smiled. "Perfect. Right before the race started too. Thanks Tomi," Alayna said with a smile. She leaned back into the couch and Tomi groaned, before switching the channel quickly to football. "HEY!" Alayna shouted, turning to glare at the only boy on the team. He imitated Alayna's relaxed composer with an evil smirk on his face. Alayna crossed her arms and sulked.
Whatever, swimming is more fun to do than watch anyways. Alayna stood up and walked out to the kitchen. She opened the door, and saw AJ there, sitting in a chair by the table, cutting vegetables. Alayna smiled.
"Hey AJ, need a hand? Tomi is watching football, so you know-" Alayna started, kicking open a seat and sitting down in it. She took half of the vegetables from AJ, and grabbed the knife out of a drawer. She was just about to cut down when AJ stopped her. AJ grabbed her hand before she could cut, and gave her older friend a look.
"There is a reason somebody invented cutting boards, go get one," AJ stated, releasing Alayna's hand. Alayna rolled her brown eyes and got up, going to get the smallest cutting board she could find. She brought the utensil down on the table, and showed her friend in fake annoyance. AJ giggled.
"I hate you."
Alayna grabbed another celery stick from the stack. She chopped it in halves and then halves again.
"We are making celery bunnies!" AJ said happily, wiping her hands on her apron the team got her for her birthday. She smiled and took hold of more celery bunches.
"Celery bunnies? Oh no…. WE KILLED BUNNIES TO EAT THEM!?" Alayna joked, covering her head with her hands.
"Strike one, go wash your hands. Never ever never, fix your hair or touch your face in the kitchen!" AJ said in a boss like tone. AJ walked to the sink and brought back hand soap. She passed it to her friend, who put some on with a slight growl.
Somewhere in Asia
Man often becomes what he believes himself to be. If I keep on saying to myself that I cannot do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end by really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely require the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning. ~Mahatma Gandhi
A blur of black, silver and navy blue flickered by in the dead of the night. And if anybody actually stood to watch and pay attention, they would realize it wasn't their shadow. They would realize it was a watcher, a follower. The figure never stopped long enough for anybody to figure out what she looked like. She was moving way too fast for that, and she covered herself and her mistakes. The only thing you could really spot, was her hair. The hair was dark brown, with specks of red, and the tips were blonde. The color was all natural. Her hair was pulled in a long and beautiful French braid, and the ends of the hair twisted upward.
The figure stopped for a moment, but just that moment. She craned her neck to the side. She was trying to listen to something, but silence greeted her back. The figure was wearing a black jacket with the Wonder Woman bird on its back. The jacket was opened up to reveal a navy shirt rolled up, the sleeves on jacket rolled up with the tips. She wore black tights, and knee length black leather boots.
The girl thought about nothing in particular, her thoughts traveling from one thing to another. The girl moved like a gazelle across the grasslands, fast and steady, hard to see. Her mentor had sent her on a lone mission, one that she couldn't tell her teammates about. She sighed, feeling the loneliness crawling up on her back like a bug. She wished she could have taken one of her teammates.
This is a lone mission. Lone missions are for lone people. Maybe if I survey this fast enough, I could be back to the mountain. I wonder what Siobhan is doing right now. Elaine ran her fingers through her hair.
Donna had told her that a new group of villains were teaming up and that she needed to watch them, to study them. She had to pray that the new team were just as dumb as infants. She didn't want to deal with any geniuses who were trying to hack the pentagon. Nobody on the team could hack; they all had to use one of Batman's password cards to get in and out of different places.
Do not let there be hackers. Do not let there be hackers. Do NOT let there be hackers. She repeated in her mind over and over.
In Russia
Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing government and business. ~Tom Robbins
In the middle of a snow storm, Rosalyn Jade traveled with her mentor. He was excited about something, and had dragged her from her home in Central City to show her the importance of teamwork. Rosalyn didn't need to be on a team, and she didn't even want to be on a team.
I just hope that our headquarters aren't this cold. Why Russia? Why not some place warm like Florida or California? She thought bitterly. If she knew she was headed out to Russia, the heat burning girl might have worn something warmer, like maybe a jacket. Rosalyn stared up at the sky, and now truly understood why Russian girls were so pale. No sun.
Well, Rosalyn wasn't Russian, she wasn't even pale. The ebony girl shivered. She flicked her wrist, and heat burned again. She groaned and finally her mentor stopped, and she copied his movement. Her child like mentor turned around, before entering in a Zeta-Tube, a stupid smile plastered on his face.
"Make sure you play nice with all the other kids," He warned, but his voice made it sound like he wanted her to get in a fight with one of them and kill them. Or that was Rosalyn, overreacting and reversing his thoughts and making them different than what he really wanted. Maybe he did want her to play nice! Or maybe he knew she would reverse it and kill all of them.
My mentor is so weird! She thought. Now I am thinking in Riddles! It was normal for her to speak in riddles, but not think in them. It was her mind, she didn't want to be confused in it.
Then, Klarion punched in a short number and walked in, the same with Rosalyn. Light surrounded around her, and her head felt fuzzy. She held her head, making sure she didn't fall on her face. The light faded, and she opened her eyes. The room was dark and made of steel, and light barely was on. There were fold up chairs along the hallway, and the door was left untouched.
In the chairs were teens, sitting in silence. They stared at each other, other than one who was staring at a wall. The light flashed again, and Klarion was gone, the voice indicating it.
"Hi," She said, almost in a mean sort of voice. It held attitude, and anybody could tell she meant business, whether it was good or bad. She tossed aside her book bag, which held all her supplies. Klarion told her she was going to live there with the others. She wanted to be prepared. Rosalyn sat in a seat, and stared at the Zeta-Tube, waiting for someone to come.
"You know, you are the last one. No one else is coming," A voice said, and it came out in a quiet, monotone fashion. It came from the boy who was staring at the wall, but he didn't even look at her. The wall was still his attention.
"Thanks for letting me know," Rosalyn said, rolling her eyes. She could already tell she wasn't going to like him or anybody else in this Godforsaken place. She leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. She was already bored. "OH MY FREAKIN' GOD! ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SIT HERE AND STARE AT EACH OTHER FOR THE NEXT TWENTY FOUR HOURS!?" She yelled with a groan, standing up and tossing her chair to the side.
"Calm down, you just got here." Rosalyn turned with a glare, and her eyes focused on the eldest girl in the room. She was probably eighteen, and she had an equal intense glare, maybe even harsher. Scratch that, it was harsher. Rosalyn looked down, and picked up her tossed over chair and propped it back up. She sat in it and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You don't have to be scared of her, she just doesn't want any attitude. She waited here the longest. She's just cranky," A girl with a high voice said happily, and Rosalyn turned to the group once more. The eldest girl frowned at the other one. "Don't make your emotions so clear. They are just pouring out," The girl with the high voice said towards the eldest girl. She stuck her hand out in a pleasant and happy tone, and Rosalyn shook it, with a confused look on her face.
"Rosalyn."
"Mia." The girl stated. And she tried to shake hands with everybody, but barely anybody returned the favor. Besides Rosalyn, the only other people to shake her hand were other girls.
"Leilani," the dark skinned girl said.
"Hannah," The eldest said, and Rosalyn had to guess if she was lying or not about it. Rosalyn decided to trust her.
"Boys, do we not get the pleasure of knowing your name?" Mia asked, in a way that could be considered polite. When silence greeted her back, Mia egged on the conversation, repeating her question.
"Can you just shut the hell up? You are so annoying!" A tall boy, the eldest of the entire group said in anger. Mia stopped talking and bent her head down.
"You didn't have to say that. Please stop could have been enough. She would understand," The boy from before stated, finally looking at something that wasn't the wall, and he folded his arms over his chest. The boy was pale with dark brown hair, and green eyes.
"Thanks for standing up for me-?" She paused to let in his name, but the boy only nodded in acknowledgement. The boy that snapped at Mia sighed, before turning to face the girls.
"Brett, I'm Brett." He smiled and shook her hand. It was forced, his smile was fake, and his shake was hesitant. He didn't want to be here anymore than Rosalyn. Rosalyn smirked and looked away.
Unknown Location
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.~ Friedrich Nietzsche
"Are you sure you can do it?" A deep voice said in the dark room.
"Yes. Without hesitation." A female voice responded.
"Good, your mission, kill him." The man shoved a picture of a president of a African country into the only light in the room; which was in the table in the middle of the room, separating the man and teen. The girl, with nimble fingers outreached her hand for it and picked it up.
"Noted." She said, folding it and putting it in her back pocket.
"What was your name again, my dear?" The man said, in a respectable tone.
"I don't remember, call me Luna."
"Of course, Luna."