"I have never regretted anything more in my entire life, and I once hacked my parents' protected photo collection by accident." Mac griped as she teetered on her shoes. The heels of her boots weren't difficult at all, but evidently some idiot thought it was a brilliant idea to put grass all around the most well-traveled frat house in the entire god-damn state. Her only solace was that Veronica wasn't faring much better.
The blonde had chosen a much chunkier, much higher heel for the event, and consequently appeared to be literally walking on stilts the entire way. Even with the four inches, V barely came up to her date's shoulder.
Logan stood between the two girls, with each on an arm, practically preening like a peacock. Smug bastard. The costume certainly wasn't helping, but Mac had to hand it to him, he wore it well. Not even the bright purple pants, pumpkin-colored vest, and genuinely ridiculous, floppy green bowtie could distract from the whole ensemble's impeccable tailoring, or its wearer's wolfish grin. The whole sight made Mac wonder why no one had ever nicknamed him "The Joker" before this night.
Obviously, Veronica was forced into a frilly, clearly fantasy-provoking Harley Quinn costume that actually fit the girl's body perfectly. Her personality was another story. She looked great, even without the face paint and quote "not taser-y enough" mallet, but she simply could not manage to keep the character's trademark eerie smile on her face, especially since she had to keep adjusting her fishnets.
Mac was, for sure, miserable, but also pretty grateful that she had gotten the more comfortable costume of the two. Apparently Dick and Logan had planned them before the school year had even started; Mac would have put a pretty penny on the boys just trying to reenact a favorite childhood game of theirs, even if they had both scoffed when she said so. Or maybe especially because of that.
Secretly, Mac had been a little excited when Dick had revealed the plan, though she did her best to look put-upon. She was pretty sure Dick saw right through it anyway. Poison Ivy had always been a favorite of hers – she had wanted to be a botanist as a kid until a freak dandelion-blowing incident turned into massive hives and an ER trip in the fourth grade. And so here she stood, or rather wobbled, on the steps of the biggest Pi Sig bash this side of Sex Quest wearing a forest green, spandex bodysuit. It was essentially a one-piece bathing suit with ridiculous molded bra cups built in and leaves sprouting from vines all over her body, but with lighter green tights, thigh-high leather boots, and the requisite temporary red hair dye, Mac was pretty damn proud of her costume. And she kind of couldn't wait to see her date.
"Hey bro!" Logan's deep voice cut through the crowd as he waved to Dick. Speak of the devil.
Fuck.
He looked perfect.
Mac and Veronica had been pretty skeptical when he proudly revealed that he was going as Deadshot. "He and Poison Ivy were never technically a thing," He had explained, looking more impish and adorable than possibly ever in his infectious excitement, "But I mean, come on. They were totally the hottest. They had to have fucked."
It wasn't a terribly eloquent explanation, but Mac wasn't about to rain on his parade. Even Veronica seemed unusually disinclined to burst his bubble.
The costume was straight from the comic books; it looked like they had used Dick for the original model, for Christ's sake. Mac swore that the outlines of abs and pecs on his torso were actually molded to his body. The red suit highlighted his hard-earned physique, the faux-silver caging making him appear even more imposing, but Mac didn't find him intimidating at all. Instead, she was magnetized. He had forgone the trademark mask, blessedly, because it would have been a god damn crime to cover up the stubble he'd been letting grow just for this particular occasion. It was doing things to her, comic-book tropey type things that made her concerned about how thin her outfit was. His iconic surfer hair was slicked back in a tantalizing way, with just the front flipping over to obscure his red eyepatch.
Mac had never been so thrilled to have been pressured into a costume in her life.
Not that it happened that frequently.
Even her profoundly uncomfortable costume couldn't keep Veronica from noticing Mac's practically slack-jawed reaction to Dick's appearance. She had to hand it to him; if he kept his mouth shut, even she couldn't resist the heat coming off him. Unfortunately for V, Dick also noticed this and responded in kind with a lecherous, overt appraisal.
"Damn, Ronnie. You know, there were some particularly memorable moments between Deadshot and Harley, if you know what I mean." Cue painful-looking eyebrow wag.
Veronica didn't have time to wretch, though, or even to register Logan's arm tightening around her. She was too busy watching Dick – obnoxious, aptly-named, rough, tragedy-softened Dick – fall head over heels for her best friend. She could literally see it happening. His sneer melted into a caring, private smile; his eyes widened and darkened all at once; his body oriented toward Mac like a needle on a compass. One glance at Logan confirmed that he too was melting into a puddle right there on the Pi Sig lawn.
Fuck.
"Mac...I…You…Um…" Now that seemed much more like Dick.
Mac blushed, which somehow brought out the green in her eyes and the red tint in her hair even more than the green bodysuit. Damn it. Logan squeezed Veronica even tighter, confirming her suspicion that they were going to have to get behind this…whatever it is.
"You look perfect." He finally managed.
"Thanks, Dick. I think we're a perfect match."
Mac chose her words carefully, and it paid off. She could have sworn there actual stars in his eye(s).
"A perfect group, if I do say so myself." Logan smoothly interjected. "Let's do this! Suicide Squad in the house!"
Mac reached out and squeezed Dick's hand when Logan shouted "suicide", hoping they were close enough for him to understand the gesture. He half-smiled sweetly in return, letting her know that he appreciated it – and was prepared for it to happen again. Unsurprisingly, Cass had loved Halloween. Turns out that when you wear a mask all the time, legitimizing it is a relief.
Honestly, Dick was just too struck by Mac to ruminate on his brother at the moment. It was going to be a long night, but somehow he knew that it would still be too short.
The party was full to the brim with boozy college kids, costumes running the gambit between winking back to childhood and staring too far into adulthood. In either case, people were wasted on those orangey, saccharine jack-o-lantern shots that Mac had refused each time a pledge proffered one.
She had drifted from Veronica and Logan almost immediately; they caught up with Wallace and Piz who somehow agreed to go as Power Rangers. At least she assumed they agreed on it. Maybe Piz had just picked them up and bribed Fennel.
Dick had hung on a little longer, but being a Pi Sig social chair had its downsides, and being wrenched from her company by two girls in candy striper costumes appeared to be one of them. Mac had attempted to chat with another girl for a bit; she was perfectly nice but looked very uncomfortable, so when her brother came to signal their departure, the petite blonde in the predictable Tinkerbell costume had practically flown right out the door, no pixie dust required.
Mac meandered outside, braving the grass again in her boots for a chance at some air that didn't smell of fresh polyester and vodka. She wandered over to the miraculously well-kept hedges dividing Pi Sig from the neighboring sorority house, inspecting a late bloom on the bush before she became aware of someone near her.
She turned around, face already a calm mask of indifference.
"Hey there, babe." A bulky guy in an expensive looking pirate get-up sidled up to her. He was wobbling a bit, but the very mild scent of alcohol on his breath made Mac think that he wasn't as drunk as he was pretending to be. Which somehow made her more uneasy than less so.
"I am not your babe." She replied evenly, watching as his eyes turned a little more steely. She was suddenly hyper-aware of the waxy wall of leaves brushing her back, the din of music and chatter between her and the house, the distance between them and the other party-goers. Mac's body became flooded with adrenaline, and the memories of Grad Night and her training since then flooded in with it.
Wait for it, Mackenzie. Don't be rash.
The guy moved a step closer, looking her up and down. He smelled more like expensive cologne than booze, and when he stepped into her light, Mac remembered him as a brother here. That meant that Dick knew him, and he knew Dick.
"Mmm, I saw you hanging around with Casablancas earlier."
Fuck.
He spat the words at her like an accusation, cold and hard, like she was his.
She was not. She wasn't anyone's. Not anymore.
"Are you fucking that dimwit? I mean he's a pretty boy, alright, but a sweet little piece like you could do much better."
"Step away from me, please." Mac made her voice match his, giving him every opportunity to step back, as she rapidly searched over his head for Dick, Veronica, Logan, Wallace, or hell even Piz.
His gray eyes got even colder, and his muscled arms came to rest on either side of her body, penning her in.
"I'm not going anywhere, babe. I'm going to show you how much better you can do that that fucking Casablancas trash." She forced the bile back down her throat, forced her mind not to panic, forced herself to ask one more time, perversely hoping that he gave her a reason to prove herself, realizing how demented that was.
"Step back. Now."
As his arm muscles tensed and his brows knit together in a snarl, she moved, letting her trained body work on instinct.
She brought her right arm up and across both of his arms, which remained on either side of her neck, while grabbing his right hand with hers. Turning further into him, she yanked on his captive wrist while striking him in the jaw twice with her right elbow. He staggered back, cursing at her, but she was off the hedge.
Some blessed part of her mind tallied that people were starting to notice his screams, some were fetching other brothers from the house, but she didn't need them anymore. It was an exhilarating, liberating, finally kind of feeling.
The dickhead staggered back and to her left as she elbowed him, giving her the space to wedge her right leg behind his right knee. Switching grips so that she had a fulcrum at his elbow, she throttled him with her right hand and pulled with her left, effectively tripping him over her sweeping leg as she shoved him to his back on the ground.
Finally, she moved her right leg to his chest, knee on solar plexus, toe on groin, as she kept her grip on his neck. There was a decent crowd now, but she knew that one of her friends would be pulling her off if they had arrived on the scene yet.
"What is your name?" She ground out through her teeth, pride surging through her veins.
He spat at her in response, so she bounced her leg, pegging him right in the groin with the toe of her boot. He yelped and wriggled beneath her, trying to protect himself.
"Again, what is your name? Or next time, I use these super high heels of mine."
She tried not to revel in the terror in his eyes as he whimpered, "Chase. Chase D'Angelo."
"Thank you. Now Chase, clearly you picked the wrong person to fuck with tonight, but the best part is that you have no idea how wrong. You remember that campus rape case last year? I helped solve it? And remember that nasty computer virus three months ago that shut down the online edition of the points ledger for Sex Quest? Me. And remember how I know your name now? The things I could do with that!"
The crowd was eerily silent, so she leant down menacingly close to this fucker's face.
"So Chase, if I ever see you within one hundred yards of me again, or if I ever catch even a whisper of you bothering another girl, hell, even talking to another girl, I'll burn your whole pathetic little world down. Do you understand me?"
The fear and embarrassment in his eyes were answer enough for her. The second she felt him stop struggling beneath her, she knew she had won, and released him.
She stood, feet apart arms crossed head high, feeling very much like a comic book hero after all, as he shuffled from the ground.
Suddenly, she found herself meeting Dick's awestruck eyes across the crowd, locking on her as his costume demanded. She met his gaze steadily, that odd sense of pride and agency rushing through her again. She even managed a confident, comfortable little smile.