From a dark and disregarded corner of the bar, an uneasy woman with a firm study on the Raven tucked bits of yellow hair behind a densely silver-studded ear. Her pale amber eyes tracked the Titan like fixing on a single bee in a swarm, challenged by the chaotic dance of shine and shadow beneath the strobe lights.
It was hard to tell exactly what it was she felt about tonight's target—something between dread and longing, perhaps. Unearthly lineage aside, the Raven's beauty was as unusual as her legend, and the woman could not check her enchantment of the young demon in the black bodycon dress and heels, meandering through a crowded nightclub as if she might actually belong in such a place. Contrasted by the dark of her flowing mane and sharply painted makeup, her alabaster skin was a gleaming canvas for the colorful lights, her exotic eyes coy and careful of her surroundings. If all of the sorceress's tales of Trigon were to be believed, it seemed strange to witness the girl move so discreetly among mere mortals, knowing what tremendous power hid in plain sight before them.
Just a girl, she'd think as her fingers kept checking for the small vial that hung from a chain between her breasts. The smooth glass was ice against her skin from the prepared toxin, its mystical properties keeping it at such a temperature to ensure the Titan's vulnerable state just moments after it's ingested.
That was her assignment in tonight's mission: slip a teenager a mega roofie under cover of a crowded nightclub. No biggie. Beyond the fact that it was only her second time in the field since joining her brother's unit, this dangerously underthought plan that was thrown together last minute without Blood's approval filled her with an urgent need to succeed in taking the Raven. If not for her employer's praise, then for Hans. As his stubborn and stoic face came to her mind, the woman's focus narrowed on the target, less like a prize to be won and more as her only hope in finding out what happened to him. Just a girl.
But it wasn't just the girl anymore. This scheme of theirs was initially devised under the impression that only two superpowered Titans were in attendance this evening, but now that the Cyborg and Changeling were thrown into the mix, the woman anticipated Mac's signal to abort the mission. Yet, her lieutenant remained still, lying in wait for when the girl would surrender to the toxin's effects. He knew as well as she that the Raven was their best chance at navigating the dark interdimensional skies where that conniving witch fled with their captain as her prisoner.
Momentarily checking on Emmett's post, from which he continued to pout beneath his ridiculous fake beard, the woman couldn't help but smirk at his offense of the girl's glaring immunity to his charms. Having herself once been a victim of his tone-deaf pursuits, the woman was almost relieved for the Raven when her friend showed up to save her. That, and she worried Emmett's tenacity would blow his cover and make approaching the girl even more difficult.
But then, as they each witnessed from their respective corners of the nightclub, the Raven's noticeable attachment to her fellow Titan further complicated their task since the likelihood of getting her alone seemed to drop significantly.
At this, the woman looked again to Mac for his signal, yet he remained unaffected. When finally she caught his eye, he simply ran his middle finger twice across his brow and once down his nose. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't seem like more than an itch being scratched, but she understood it as his order to stay on course with minor improvisation. And so, the woman tucked her hair behind both ears to communicate her understanding. Minor improvisation.
In the time it took for the Changeling to reappear from that hallway with their target in tow, whose black lipstick was now gone from her bashful lips, the woman's thoughts spun around how to corner both Titans. She could wait for them to stop at the bar and somehow maneuver her way to get close enough to the Raven's drink, perhaps arrange for Emmett to make a scene and distract them long enough to slip the vial over the glass without notice. But how could she be sure to poison the right drink? What's the worst that could happen if she were to roofie the wrong Titan? Just a girl. Just a fully charged and slightly drunk demonic metahuman looking to take out the person responsible for leveling her boyfriend in the middle of a nightclub.
Suddenly, the faded ink drawing of Trigon the Terrible from the old Azarathian writings surfaced behind the woman's wavering eyes as her pulse deepened. A dangerously underthought plan.
The two Titans were now on the move, and when it became apparent they were headed back toward the mezzanine to join their friends, adrenaline rushed through her. This could be her last chance.
Quickly, the woman emptied the vial into her vodka soda and made way to interrupt their route to the stairwell leading to the booth. As she drew closer, her pulse drumming loudly between her ears, she caught sight of the strobe lights flashing from Emmett's lenses as he also approached the Titans. Her feet almost faltered at this, but the woman reminded herself that she was the one that held the toxins, and Emmett must have a plan to assist her. The woman glanced over to Mac to assure his ready vigilance, but instead, she saw him staring above at the mezzanine with his hand covering his own neck–the signal to abort. At the end of her lieutenant's line of vision were two glaring emerald eyes that were fixed firmly on her, and that was when the woman misstepped just in time to spill the drink over the target.
In the slow-moving seconds that followed, the woman recalled hearing her voice shaking with panic, but it was warped and distorted in her own ears as she met the Raven's eyes. They were the most remarkable irises she'd ever seen up close, like a star-filled sky waking from a lilac dusk that might follow a late summer thunderstorm. Yet, as the woman's hands met the silky alabaster skin that she'd admired from afar all night, the Raven's eyes bled into a deep mulberry that left the blood cold in her veins. Just a girl.