It was a gift she'd received about a year ago. A single comm, a direct line to an old friend- and since the day it'd been given to her, it'd never been used. She'd never been in so deep she needed to play her last card, call in her last hope. And apparently, neither had her friend, the one who'd given the gift. Until tonight.
She'd finished a nasty patrol in the rain and had been stripping off her wet Kevlar, looking forward to the comforts of her bed in her room. She'd heard the beeping and paused, wondering what it was, before tracing it to the drawer (containing undergarments) which she'd buried it under.
Rose was calling her.
"Rose? What's up?" she smiled slightly. It'd been too long since she'd seen Ravager. Even if her father was technically considered a murderer. Rose hadn't killed anyone, and she enjoyed to company of another girl who was her age. Especially one who knew combat like she did.
There was ragged breathing on the other end, then, like someone had been running. She frowned, feeling concern ripple within her. Why would Rose be running?
"I need you to come to the bridge across the Thames. 44 East. Don't call me by my name, and don't act like you know me. Ravager out."
And the line crackled back to static.
Scarlet frowned. Since when was Rose in London, anyways? But her friend had never steered her wrong before, and she calmly pulled her Kevlar and mask back on, disappearing out the window and into the blackness.
The rain was nothing like it normally was- the average misty droplets that so frequented England had been replaced by fat teardrops of water that poured from the sky. She ducked through alleys, skirted rooftops, and dodged behind rubbish bins until she reached the bridge. It was large, fancifully crafted from stone with wonderful arches supporting it, and long, as well as nearly deserted. Probably due to the impossibly early hour and bad weather.
She walked along the bridge, eyes scanning the darkness she'd grown up in, searching for Rose. Her friend probably wanted to do a hand-off, or pass on a critical tip of information. They'd always watched each other's backs.
But she didn't see her friend, and was halfway across the bridge when, out of nowhere, something slammed into her.
An instant later she was lying on the pavement, someone on top of her.
It didn't last long, however, instinct kicked in. She eblowed her assailant in the face and moved, planting both feet on their chest and kicking them off.
A moment later she'd jumped to her feet, drawing a blade from where she'd hidden it within her boot in the hopes to scare them off. And came face-to-face with her attacker. Rose.
She hesitated for a breif second, and in that second Ravager moved, sweeping her legs out from underneath her after kicking her blade from her hand.
She was unable to do anything for a moment but stare, waiting for Rose to laugh and help her up like she always did...
She received a steel-toed boot to the ribs, instead, and she heard a crack as the air left her lungs.
Ravager crouched before her prone form, now- through her one good eve, she could see one indiscernable emotion as her old friend reached for something- no doubt an instrument to help end her life.
That was why she moved.
In one swift motion she was on her feet, faster than Ravager could even track. A moment later the toew of her boot made contact with Ravager's chin, sending her flying a few feet before she landed, on her back, on thbe pavement.
One hand resting over her injured ribs, the other at her side, Scarlet glared aat her friend through the drizzling rain angrily.
"You done yet?" she demanded angrily.
Ravager got to her feet, white hair wet with the rain. She charged.
They rolled around on the pavement for ten minutes, struggling for dominance. Just as one of them would gain the upper habd, the other would pull a move that took away the advantage, and they'd be grappling yet again.
Ravager was limping by that time, curtosy to a good kick to the knee from Scarlet. Her one good eye was swollen from a right hook.
Scarlet's ribs throbbed, scrstches on her face bled. She glared at Ravager as they both stood there in the rain, seperated by a few feet, panting and sizing one another up. She didn't know what the hell Rose was doing or how she'd pissed her off, but whatever it was- it must've been huge.
After anothere five minutes of silent combat, scratching, and biting, they'd managed to stand on the stone railing that ran along the bridge. Water to their one side, concrete to the other.
They could've kept going for at least another half hour. They'd both been trained too well to quit. That one moment facing Ravager, however, allowed Scarlet to catch a glimpse of someone behind Rose.
He was standing on the bridge, afms crossed. Watchin the brawl with a critical eye. Deathstroke. Rose's father.
And the indiscernable emotion on Rose's face became clear in that momednt. It wasn't hatred or bitterness- it was sorrow.
At that moment everything clicked. Desathstroke had ordered this, ordered Rose to do SOMETHING- and Rose had to obey.
Before she could speak, Rose moved, shoving her off the bridge. Her greatest fear- falling. She didn't scream, however, didn't flail. She just closed her eyes and hit the water.
The first thing that registered was that the water was freezing. The second was how everything stung from the thirty foot drop. And the third was to grab her re-breather and stuff it into her mouth.
From there she went limp, surfacing in the dead man's float. It was clear Deathstroke had wanted her dead. If she looked like she'd died from the fall, or was at least unconcious and on her way to drowning, then so be it.
She stayed like that for five minutes to be sure they were gone, swimming to shore and dragging herself up onto the banks and lying there, shivering.
She managed, somehow, to drag herself back to the school. Stumb;ing intothe bathroom, she peeled off her soggy clothes and turned the shower to scalding, standing in the stream of water until her skin was red from the heat and she felt relatively warm.
By that point, so felt done. She gingerly dried her bruised body, gritting her teeth and wrapping her ribs with an ace bandage, falling onto her bed after pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. She felt like hell.
Something dug into her already sore body, and, exhaustedly, she dug it out from underneath herself, finding it was the comm Rose had given her.
She swore, throwing it against the wall.
Damn her- damn Rose, and Deathstroke. In the two years they'd been friends, she'd never betrayed her friend. Always stood up for her, tried to protect her from those who weren't a fan of the Ravager persona.
And now here she was, alone and pissed off. She sighed. She'd sleep. Ravager didn't deserve this much attention from her right now. But she found the yearning fire for revenge start to burn within her- much lesser than when her parents had been killed, but still, it was there.
She closed her eyes, managing to fall asleep. But she kept seeing flashes of Rose's face before she'd pushed her.
"Scarlet?" Rose's hushed voice spoke into her comm quietly. Scarlet hadn't picked up. She was growing frantic, honestly. She'd pushed her friend off the bridge to give her a chance, she hadn't thought she'd fall unconscious or possibly drown.
But worry blossomed in his chest with each passing moment of static. Why wasn't she answering?
"Scarlet. Please, listen to me. I fucked up, okay, I get it- I was supposed to kill someone. My dad wanted to see me kill. And I didn't want to, and so I figured I'd chose you and just make it look like it... Scarlet, please. Please just answer me."
Static was her only response. She sat there, listening to the crackling emitted through the speaker, mixed with her intermittent pleas for Scarlet to forgive her and to answer.
When dawn came, she gave up hope, not knowing Scarlet's comm was currently lying on the floor of her room, broken, from when she'd thrown it.
No answer in four hours had to mean that either her friend was dead or wanted nothing to do with her. She didn't blame her, honestly, she hadn't meant for the fight to go that far- Scarlet had blown out her knee it was wrapped, and she had numerous other scratches and bruises all over her body.
It'd been a good fight, better than anyone could've predicted. Advanced techniques, crazy-good combatants- she'd no doubt looked good in front of her father. But for the first time in her life she began to wonder- was her father's favor really worth it?
She supposed it didn't matter now. Even if she'd wanted to go back, to change, she couldn't. Because Scarlet, the only one who'd really ever had faith in her, was either dead by her hand or hating her.
She pulled her knees to her chest, hair falling to cover her face as she curled up. "I'm sorry, Scarlet." she whispered. Any hope she'd had was lost.