It was a blissful feeling when the sweet release of death welcomed you with open arms. It was even more liberating when you could choose how it ended. For Deserey, the decision was easy.
Life's tole had become too much. It was as though there were heavyweights tied around her arms and legs, forcing her to crumble to her knees in agony. Things that should have been easy, fun even, had become tedious work. Getting up for her job was a constant struggle; she just couldn't find the motivation to get out of bed. Talking to her ex-husband, or even hugging her kids sucked all the energy out of her.
Everything she did, every movement she made was just exhausting. Life, living had become exhausting.
She'd been this way for years, and she had lost so many good friends because of it. It wasn't really that they were bad friends or that they didn't care. In fact, they were amazing. They had always been there for her, always comforted her, always talked her out of doing something she'd regret. But even good friends got tired.
That's the way it always went. People grew tired of dealing with her and her baggage...and then they left. Her friends. Her family. Her husband. Everyone...
Deserey was over it all. The pain, the constant numbness throughout her whole body. People leaving. So, she had decided to take her own life.
She'd tried to do it once before, but each time someone had stopped her and sent her to a mental hospital. (But the hospitals never helped. The shrinks did nothing.) This time, though, she was sure that nothing would stop her. She would finally be free.
Deserey tossed the makeshift noose she'd made from her scarves over the ceiling fan before tying one end to the bed to hold it steady.
She climbed onto the step stool she'd placed at the center of the room and placed the noose around her neck.
Taking a deep breath, she moved one of her feet to the edge of the stool.
"You don't want to do that."
Deserey yelped, startled. She slipped off the stool, and the scarves shifted up her neck, squeezing her throat and making it hard to breathe. She gasped for air, as her lungs screamed, begging her for oxygen. Her vision blurred, and her mind swirled like a whirlpool.
Vaguely, she registered someone wrapping their hands around her waist, attempting to hold her up. She heard a sharp snip! noise and she fell to the floor.
Dark spots danced in front of her eyes, flickering like the lights in the city. The room was doing three-sixties. A figure stood in front of her, worried blue eyes staring into her weary brown ones. It was a skinny man with blonde hair.
"Sorry, Miss Dunet," he muttered. "But I need your help, and unfortunately, I can't get that if you're dead..." He took something from his pocket, but before Desrey could see what it was a white light flashed in her face. She fell unconscious.
The night was dark, the only light illuminating the rooftop being the stars in the sky above. Laying flat on their backs were nine men and women, each of them unconscious.
After a moment or two, they began to stir simultaneously. They each groaned in turn. Deserey felt a pounding in her head like a million tiny people were banging on her skull. She sat up, clutching her head, and stared around the rooftop at all the others. She didn't know any of them personally. What the hell had just happened? How did she end up here with so many strangers?
"Agh," groaned one man. He was a muscular man with a buzz cut and a mean snarl. Deserey thought he looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before. He wore a grey shirt, red suspenders to hold up his pants, and a burned up jacket. "What a headache."
Deserey sighed, as the daunting realization finally hit her. She wasn't dead. The British guy in her apartment had been real. "Fuck," she grumbled, glaring at her hand. "I'm still alive..."
"What?" Next to her was a nerdy man with dark hair and dazzling eyes. He didn't say anything, but she got the feeling he was one of those annoying optimist types. Probably one of those people who said things like, "You have so much to live for, why would you want to kill yourself?" This man had most likely never experienced an ounce of self-doubt in his life; he would never be able to understand why she wanted to take her own life. So, she figured it would be best if she didn't tell him anything. He was wearing a bulky red and blue super suit. Deserey snorted at the site.
"Nothing," she grumbled at the brown eyed man. "And isn't a little early for Halloween costumes?"
"Huh?" he frowned. "Oh! This isn't a Halloween costume. It's the Atom Suit. I'm kind of a superhero."
Deserey nodded slowly, pushing her dark girls away from her face. "Sure," she said. "Why the hell not?"
"Stein?" yet another man frowned. (Seriously, how many guys were there?) He looked familiar as well, with his expression was cold, calculating, like he thought he could outsmart everyone on that roof in a matter of seconds. This man, like the man in the suspenders, also had a buzz cut. But while Suspender Guy's cut added to his aggressive exterior, Ice Man's made him look smooth, calm. (And maybe just a little dangerous.) He wore a blue parka and a pair of jeans. "What the hell are you doing here?"
A sassy response drew her attention to an old man. (Deserey guessed he must have been Stein.) He was by far the oldest man on that roof. His hair was a series of grey and white. He wore a red shirt, jacket, khakis, and black glasses. The look reminded Deserey of one of her college professors. (Before she'd dropped out that is.) "I'm as ignorant as you are for once, Mr. Snart," he said.
Deserey gasped. The name had struck a distant memory in her mind, and she realized why Ice Man and Suspender Guy looked so familiar. She had seen them on the news multiple times, usually fighting that stupid speedster guy. The Blur or some crap. They were thieves, hardcore criminals, hell-bent on robbing Central City blind - Captain Cold and Heat Wave, aka Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.
"What the hell am I doing on a roof with a bunch of criminals?" Deserey yelled at no one in particular.
"Better question. Where are we?" one of the other women asked. She was a gorgeous blonde woman with enough moxy to rule the world. She was wearing a thick fur coat, black pants, and leather boots.
Another man shrugged. He was the youngest out of everyone on the roof; he wore a grey shirt and green jacket along with jeans and sneakers. His body was ripped with muscles. Deserey guessed he must have worked out a lot. Either that or he was a really sporty guy. "Why don't you ask the dude who knocked us out and kidnapped us? British dude with a flashy thing? Ring any bells?"
"Actually yeah," Deserey said. "He stopped me from -" She stopped abruptly, thinking it may not be the best idea to tell them she'd been about to kill herself before she'd been kidnapped. "From doing something stupid."
Next to Sporty Dude were more dorks in costumes - a man and a woman. The man had short sandy hair, and the woman had long curly, brown hair. They wore matching leather suits, and they were holding matching helmets in the shape of hawk heads.
"Who was that?" the woman asked.
Despite the dumb attire, Deserey couldn't help but compare herself to the other women. Blondie had an air about her, radiating a confidence that Deserey could never have. She appeared as though nothing could get to her. She was invincible.
Deserey was just the opposite. She'd cry, even at the smallest insults. One implication that she couldn't do something, and she'd give up. Her emotions were a constant roller coaster, and she consistently worried about what other people thought of her.
Hawk Girl didn't seem as confident as Blondie, but she still seemed tough. She was undoubtedly the kind of person who knew what she wanted and went for it.
Even their looks were far better than hers. Blondie's skin was several shades lighter than hers, a breathtaking, pale glow. Her blue eyes sparkled with intensity. The light from the stars made her hair look extra shiny.
Deserey's skin was dark, like the mud on the ground. She didn't glow. Her eyes didn't shine. And her frame wasn't a thing as Blondies.
Hawk Girl's skin was lighter, still. Her eyes were dark brown, like Desetey's but somehow they still showed brighter. She was the skinniest of them all, and she managed to make even that moronic costume look glamorous.
Deserey looked down at her own clothes, realizing just how plain she was in comparison. She was wearing an ugly, oversized sweatshirt and baggy running pants. (She'd been planning to be dead by now. Dressing up didn't seem like a thing that would be important, but now she sort of wished she'd put on something prettier.)
Hawk Girl's curls were more defined than Deserey's. Hers was like a princess, twisting elegantly in beautiful patterns, leaving room for her bangs to be straightened. Deserey's hair was less curly and more frizzy. Often it was a chaotic, untamable mess.
A man walked out from the shadows, revealing himself to everyone on the roof and bringing Deserey out of her lustful daydream. He had blonde hair and a scruffy beard; he wore a long brown trench coat. The man spoke with a British accent. She'd only seen him for second before, but Deserey knew this was the man who had stopped her from killing herself. She couldn't forget those eyes. "The name's Rip Hunter," he said. "I'm from east London."
Deserey raised an eyebrow at him. Rip Hunter? What sort of name was that? It must have been some sort of nickname, she guessed.
Rip paused for a moment, considering another thought. "Oh," he said as if he'd almost forgotten. "And the future."
"Nice to meet you, Rip," Mick snarled. He reached for his belt, where his heat gun should have been.
"Uh, while you were incapacitated, I may have tampered with your weapons," Rip informed him.
"Good," Deserey muttered. "I'm in no mood for murderous psychopaths." She wanted to go out her own way; she didn't need to get caught up in the crossfire of some criminal.
Apparently, Heat Wave didn't agree, because he made a growling noise and send a glare her way. Deserey did her best not to shrink away, but the guy was known for being pretty dangerous and unpredictable. If she wanted to avoid getting brutally murdered, then getting on his bad side may not have been the best idea.
"I've assembled you all," Rip continued, ignoring Deserey and Mick, "because I need your help." He began walking across the rooftop, passing in front of each of the men and women in turn. "The future of the world is in peril because of a man by the name of Vandal Savage."
Rip stopped walking when he had reached the other side of the roof. He stood with his back to the men and women, possibly to look as dramatic as he possibly could.
Hawk Girl frowned at her male counterpart.
"That can't be," Mr. Hawk said. "We destroyed him."
"Yeah," Hawk Girl nodded in agreement. "The Green Arrow and Flash helped us do it."
"Who?" Deserey asked. She felt kind of stupid asking the question. Everyone else seemed to have at least a vague idea of who she was talking about, but Deserey was at a complete loss.
Rip glanced at her for a brief moment. "A vigilante and metahuman hero." He turned back around to face the two hawk people, a knowing look upon his face. "And therein lay the problem," he said. "Unless you or Mr. Hall deliver the death blow, Savage can be restored from but a single cell."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mick asked.
"Vandal is immortal," the hawk man, Mr. Hall apparently, explained. "Kendra and I reincarnate." He gestured at the woman in the Hawk costume.
Blondie nodded slowly in understanding. "Yeah," she said, "I've done that."
"Is everyone on this roof batshit crazy?" Deserey muttered.
Mick grunted. He was getting very impatient. "What the hell does this Randal guy get to do with us?" he snapped.
"Vandal," Rip corrected. He walked back to where he stood at the beginning of their little meeting. "In the future, he will employ the evil he's perfected over his long life, and the power he has amassed throughout history, to finally...conquer the world."
Deserey stared at him, unblinking. The story seemed a little far-fetched. How could one person single-handedly take over the world? And immortality? Even with all the metahuman freaks running around it was hard to believe.
"I've been tasked with assembling an elite team to stop him," Rip told them.
"How?" Blondie asked.
Rip moved his arm across the skyline dramatically, emphasizing his point and making it seem much more appealing than it actually was all in one go. "To travel through time. To capture Savage, before he grows into the monster he becomes."
Deserey couldn't stop herself from laughing at his words. Everyone turned to her, frowning. Most of them looked kind of annoyed, but she didn't really care. "Time travel?" she asked. "Really?"
"Yes," Rip said. He seemed a little offended by her reaction. "That's what I said."
"...Right," she nodded. "And you said you were tasked to form a team? By who?"
"We're called the Time Masters," Rip said. "We watch over the timeline and see that nothing disrupts it."
"Ah, so you're a rip of Doctor Who," Deserey said, getting a smirk from Snart. "So why'd you pick us?" She gestured around at everyone on the roof. "This doesn't exactly look like the most functional team - a team with a pair of good for nothing criminals, just by the way."
"Watch it, Sandy," Mick hissed.
"Sandy?" she frowned. Blondie gestured at the bag hanging over Deserey's shoulder. There were a few specs of sand pouring out, as the bag was tilted sideways. Deserey fixed it so that it was upright and shrugged the arsonists comment off.
"Whatever," she said.
"She has a point," Leonard said. "Hero ain't exactly on the resume. So, I think you've got the wrong guy, Rip."
Mick nodded in agreement. The two started to walk away from the others, no doubt to find a way off this damn roof.
"And I'm no better," Deserey said. "I'm nobody. I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain. I'm just a normal person trying to...escape."
Rip sighed, and - in a desperate attempt to make the two men stay and to convince everyone else - he said, "I know it's difficult for you to fathom." And this got the crooks to stop in their tracks and the others to look at him curiously. So, he continued. "But where - when," he corrected, "I'm from, the year twenty-one, sixty-six, you - and everyone on this roof - aren't just considered heroes..."
Rip paused for a moment, letting the drama and anticipation build up inside the men and women, especially Atom, as he had the largest hero complex of all. "You're Legends," Rip told them finally.
Deserey knitted her brows together, taking in the British man's words. She glanced at the others on the roof. "Well, I'm not feeling very legendary. You guys feeling legendary?"
Atom shrugged. "I could get behind that," he said.
Stein hesitated. "Well, I hate to nitpick, but don't legends have to be dead?"
Sporty Dude snorted bitterly. "Yeah, see that's a deal breaker for me. So, I'll pass."
"But even if we're not legends we'd still be dead," Blondie pointed out. "It's a hundred-something year in the future."
"Then, why should we give a damn?" Heat Wave growled.
"Because," Rip said, "if you don't this is what's in store for your world hundred-fifty years from now."
He took a small remote from his jacket pocket and raised it into the air, before pressing a button. In an instant, the once clear sky lit up with a gruesome scene. The fire erupted from buildings, seemingly out of nowhere. The ground was in ruins, rubble and decay spreading out for miles. Dead bodies littered the scene, blood seeping out of their mouths and ears. Through all the chaos and destruction, Deserey still somehow managed to recognize the city. It was her home - Central City.
Rip took the image down a second after putting it up, but it still lingered in Disney's mind. She shoved her hands in her pockets, hoping no one noticed how badly they were trembling. She'd never seen anything like that before.
The others had deep frowns embedded on their faces, but they didn't seem nearly as affected by the scene as she was, like they were used to seeing destruction and violence. Deserey wondered what exactly caused a person to 'get used to it.' How many times would you have to experience it, before you simply didn't care all that much anymore? Or did they care more than Deserey thought? Maybe they were just better at hiding their feelings.
Rip turned to the group again, a serious expression on his face. "I could have chosen anyone, from any time. But I chose you nine, because each of you, as individuals, are destined for greatness." He paused again, eyeing each of them in turn. "I sure hope you won't let me - or the world - down."
The group exchanged a few looks with one another, each silently questioning whether or not they should help this so-called time, traveler. Rip walked over to Stein, passing him a piece of paper.
"If your answer is yes," he told everyone. "Meet me at this address in thirty-six hours."
I'm sorry. I really shouldn't start new things until I finished other things...but there's a lot of these pics floating around and I wanted to try one of my own because of of...well why not?
Here's a small chapter to test the water. What'd you think? How was Deserey? Do you like her? Hate her?
I really hope I'm portraying depression and suicidal thoughts alright. They're hard to write even when you've experienced it for yourself. But I wanted her to grow from this point, find something to live for with the Legends you know?
Anyway...
I'd like to thank sparkle123tt for helping me name this one, come up with her powers, codename, for making this lovely cover and this lovely super suit! (see pictures on Watty)
I really do love them so much. Thank you. You've been so much help, listening to me ramble on about the Legend Kids, helping me figure out my plots, making random things for me. You're really an amazing friend.
I hope y'all enjoyed this enough to keep reading the next time I update it. If not I ask that you do one of these three things, pretty please.
1. Give constructive feedback. I'm cool with y'all disliking my stuff, but hate is very annoying. I don't like dealing with it.
2. Stop reading. Why stick with something you hate? *shrug*
3. Create and account if you don't have one already, write a book, and send me the link in a PM. I will read it to see how it is done.
Til next time, take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Peace out! (That's from Sanders Sides for anyone who doesn't know.)