Hey, everybody. Sorry that I haven't posted in a year. Things have been...unstable, this year. For one, as always, school starting back up has a way to keep me from updating, and video games are just as distracting as they usually are. But what really kept me, and what had been holding me back for a long time now, was losing my best friend.
It wasn't anything like a car accident or something. I only wish it was that.
*sad chuckle*
It would be much simpler if she had.
No, my friend didn't die or anything like that. But in a way, she did to me.
For the past six years now, my family had taken in my best friend after her family fell apart. For a while, it was great. We were happy. We were content. Heck, we were even family, something that I had longed for ever since I met her.
But, for some reason, this past year or so she changed on us. She kept picking fights with my mom, and when my mom wouldn't take the bait, she would say all sorts of nasty things about her to me behind her back.
Now, I love my mom. The only reason I've even wanted to pursue writing is because of my mom. And to see my best friend, one I had regarded as a sister, talking about her this way broke my heart.
I tried to stay out of it, I really did. But I couldn't avoid it. Either I would see my friend in the class we had together or I would see my mom at the house or in the car.
I talked to my psychologist about this, and she suggested that I sit away from her in my class, a thing which I don't normally do.
So I did.
And then, when my best friend confronted me about it, I told her why I was sitting away from her and why I didn't like what she was doing.
And do you know what she said.
"So that's how it's gotta be."
Those words, those six little words, were all it took to break my heart into a million little pieces. She yelled at me some more, ( and be aware, this was in class BTW), most of which I don't even remember anymore, and I could not even react except just to take it.
We parted ways after that. I was so scared of her that I didn't even go to my next class. I just went home.
Now, be aware that I still considered her my friend despite this. I have Asperger's. I know what it was like to blow up at someone. All I wanted from her was an apology and a promise to not do that again.
Well, she came to the house, and tried to force her way in. Mom, God love her, held the door, and asked why she was here. I was watching a movie on my Iphone so I didn't really hear what they were talking about. My mom later told me that she blamed me for the blowup at her, and that I had said those mean things to her.
That was the moment that opened my eyes, and where I truly severed my ties with her.
This was in February.
I'm still trying to recover from the fallout, but I think I am getting better. My muse has started to slowly return, and I've become more relaxed and open without her around. In a way, I'm kinda glad she's out of my life. It doesn't make the hurt any better, but it does help me breathe.
Right now, all of you who are watching and for those who have left a comment, thank you for sticking with me for all this time. I know it's been rough. Believe me, I hate when my favorite stories don't update either. But thank you all for sticking around.
In return, you guys get a two-fer-one. I know, surprising, right?
Anyway, let's move to a happier ( or, for me, a less painful ) story.
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The squeak of a sharpie scraped against the rough paper of the photograph, scratching out the photo of a scowling man as Floyd Lawton looked on with a pleased grin, tacking it up with a dozen of other, similarly crossed-out photos on a bulletin board. With a pleased sigh, he looked over to his other board, a slight feeling of disappointment rolling over him as he looked at the blank, cardboard box.
The mercenary sighed, disappointed. While he enjoyed his latest kills, they had ended far too early for his liking. And although he appreciated the money that rolled in after each bullet hit their mark, it was quickly becoming tedious. He had hoped that these last ones would be a bit of a challenge, a test of his skill as a legendary marksman. But instead, he merely got a humdrum of easy kills and even more easy to evade policemen.
That does it! The man thought, absentmindedly fiddling with his wrist guns' cartridges, emptying the shells and replacing them with new bullets. I need to get out of Keystone city. This place is becoming a little too familiar for me. I need to go back to where it's actually challenging.
He looked over to another photo, this time of a little girl, her smile wide as she wrapped two small arms around his neck, laughing as he smiled at the camera, her wide, light-blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
He smiled, then picked up the picture frame, hugging it tightly to his chest. "I'll come home soon, Zoe," Deadshot whispered, pressing a small kiss to the head of the girl, cradling it lovingly in his arms. "I promise."
The ringing of his telephone interrupted his musings, however, causing him to gently place the frame down onto his desk and reach over to the corded phone beside the frame. "Hello?"
"Hello, Lawton," the voice replied, its tone stoic and professional.
Deadshot's eyes narrowed in confusion. There were only few people who knew his true name: his daughter, her mother, his former comrades in the Secret Six, and the Suicide Squad; none of whom even sounded remotely like this stranger. "Who is this?" he inquired, suspicion leaking into his tone. While he was known for being a gun-for-hire, after the birth of his daughter, he had become more cautious about which jobs he took.
"Oh, no one important. Just a client that is willing to give you a lot of cash in exchange for taking out a hit on one of his enemies."
"How much cash are you talking?" Floyd asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. While he was willing to take the job with or without the money, he wasn't about to turn it down, either. And while he would be more suspicious about the caller, he wasn't about to turn down a potential job offer, especially in his line of work.
"Quarter-million at the drop site, and another quarter million once the jobs are complete," the voice replied, its tone neutral.
Deadshot's raised his eyebrows, mulling it over in his head. Half a million dollars was nothing to sneeze at, and he supposed that he could do a couple more hits before it was time to return to Star City. "And who is it you want me to kill?"
He listened as the man behind the phone rattled off a few names, his other hand grasping onto a notebook and pen beside his desk, writing down the names of the targets.
After he had taken down all the names and confirmed the drop point, he hung up, a sly grin spreading across his face as he hauled his bag-load of rifles and guns onto his back, sliding in the picture frame into a corner pocket.
He took the note in his hand, scanning down the names as he took note of his first target.
He smirked, staring out towards the horizon of the city.
Gotham City, here he comes.
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Becky glanced around, letting out a sigh as she found herself back in the foggy forest of her dreams once again.
Gee, I haven't seen this place in a while, she thought sarcastically, a small smile on her face.
In truth, every time she closed her eyes for the past few days, she was right back here, wandering alone among the densely-packed pine trees, the crunching of the pine needles the only sound in this empty and forsaken land.
"I know you're here," she called out into the darkness, tapping her foot against the damp, dewy ground. "You might as well come out now, and save me the trouble of trying to track you down."
There was no answer, just the silence that permeated the forest like a tightly clenched fist.
Becky scowled, continuing onward into the darkness. "Come on. Why exactly am I here? What purpose does this serve? I know I must be here for a reason. Dreams don't just repeat over and over again without some underlying cause."
Again, there was only silence.
Becky let out an exasperated sigh, before glaring out at the darkness and turning around, only to trip and fall onto the hard, concrete floor.
Wait, concrete? She thought, pushing herself back onto her feet, glancing around as the forest gave way to the concrete jungle of Gotham city, namely the underground subway tunnel she had used to flee from Scarecrow.
She looked down at what she had tripped over, and nearly threw up as she found she had tripped over the severed arm of a homeless man, his expired body stashed in a corner, just barely visible through the darkness.
From what she could see of the forearm, it was cleanly sliced, severing completely through the flesh and bone, leaving no hesitation marks or sawed edges.
"What on earth—?" She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, as the shrill sound of an alarm blared through the tunnel, causing the world to fade to black.
The shrill sound of the smoke alarm and the scent of something burning was the first thing to register in Becky's brain as she jolted out of her bed, shakily stumbling into the kitchen. Smoke filled the room, the greyish cloud obscuring her vision as she coughed into the sleeve of her nightshirt.
"What's going on?" she rasped, letting out another cough as she covered her mouth with her arm, waving away the smoke with the other. She could barely see the tall silhouette of her partner through the smoke. "Jonathan? Are you okay?"
She was answered by the hiss of the fire extinguisher as Crane aimed the hose at the pan, smothering the growing flame as he let out a hacking cough, his tall form becoming more distinct as he approached her. "I'm fine, Becky. Just had a little accident," he huffed, letting out a hacking cough as he waved his hand back and forth, trying to dissipate the smoke.
"What happened?" she cried, her hands feeling out in front of her for the fan switch, letting out a gasp as she flicked it on, causing the ancient blades of the old fan to come to life, starting to dissipate the growing smoke in the room.
"Well, I was trying to make some pancakes and sausages, and one thing lead to another and suddenly the whole kitchen is on fire," he explained, letting out another hacking cough as he stumbled into the living room, with Becky following close behind him.
"Okay, but why were you cooking breakfast in the first place? I usually handle the cooking, remember?" she retorted, a small, teasing smirk on her face as she looked at his harried expression.
"I know. I know," he replied, as he panted for breath, his hands on his knees as he gasped for fresh air. "I just wanted to do the cooking for a change."
Becky eyed him quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "This doesn't happen to be because of my birthday, does it?" she inquired, her smirk slowly growing into a smile at his nervous expression.
"N-No!" he stammered quickly, avoiding her eyes.
She just stared at him, her smile widening as he started to sweat.
His stoic expression wobbled as she continued to stare, his eyes darting this way and that, before he let out a loud sigh. "…Yes," he murmured, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Becky laughed, lightly punching his arm in an affectionate manner. "Aw, ya big goof! Thank you," she exclaimed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "But next time, let me handle the cooking. You can handle the baking."
He chuckled, a blush flaring across his cheeks and ears like wildfire. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied. "So, since the kitchen is going to be under maintenance for today, how about we try breakfast down at that little café, Downtown?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Alright, Jon, what's really going on?" she asked. While she was enjoying the attention she was receiving, it perplexed her that he seemed to be trying so hard to impress her. She suddenly noticed the carnations and card lying on the counter, thankfully far enough away from the Bunsen burners serving as a stove that it wasn't singed by the flames. "I mean, the flowers, the card, the offer of breakfast at Downtown. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were trying to ask me out on a date."
Crane blinked owlishly, before giving her a nervous smile.
Becky's eyes widened, hardly believing her ears. "What? Seriously?"
He nodded, "Ye-Ah!" he was interrupted as she launched herself at him, knocking the breath out of the straw man as she excitedly squealed. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Oh, I thought you'd never ask!"
He was too shocked to respond, except for a weak "…me neither," as she released him, her shoulders shaking with anticipation as she excitedly paced back and forth, momentarily forgetting that Crane was still in the room. "Oh, what should I do? I've never been asked out on a date before. Should I dress up? Should I just go casual? What should I do?!"
She stopped as she came face to face with Jonathan, blushing as she realized that she was voicing her thoughts out loud. "Um…" she started, letting out a gulp as she noticed Crane's bewildered expression. Realizing how awkward this was getting, she slowly started to back out of the room. "I-I'll just go…get dressed real quick. W-wouldn't want to be late, now, would we?" With a nervous chuckle, she departed, slamming the door to her room.
Crane just blinked. "What just happened?" he asked himself, wondering where that sudden outburst had come from.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he grinned as he crossed out Convince Becky to a breakfast date out in his bright red sharpie, before folding up the paper into his pocket.
Hopefully, with any luck, the rest of the day would go smoother.
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"Okay, a little to the left."
Ivy shifted the banner, balancing herself on the ladder as she leaned forward, tacks in one hand and a hammer in the other.
"Now, a little more to the right," Harley replied, sitting in the chair inside out as she observed her friend adjusting the banner. Or she would be if she wasn't looking in the other direction at the moment
"Harley, that is just going to put it back to the same position as before," Ivy scolded.
"Oh," Harley replied, her eyes finally trailing back to her friend and the party prop. "Then it's perfect then."
Ivy let out a tired sigh. "That's all I wanted to know, Harl," she muttered, sending a glare towards her friend. She loved her; she really did. But she really wished that she could make up her mind.
Hopping down from the ladder, she trotted over towards Harley, who was just finishing crossing off decorations on the list. "Alright, what's next?"
"Hmm," Harley murmured, squinting her eyes to make out Crane's chicken-scratch handwriting. "I think that word is either cake or a sketch of a horse. What do you think?"
"It's probably cake, Harley," Ivy replied, letting out a little snort as she spotted the word. She was right; it did look like a horse. You really should work on your penmanship, Crane, she thought, watching with amusement as Harley started to draw around the word to make it look like a horse.
"And done," Harley proclaimed, putting in the final dot for an eye.
"Not bad. But let's focus on getting the cake for now, and draw colorful animals later," Ivy suggested, trying to get her friend back on track.
"Okay," Harley said sweetly, following the plant woman towards the exit. "Oh, maybe we can get cupcakes with sprinkles on them, too. Oh, and maybe a few with chocolate icing, and…" she went on and on, her words flying at a mile per minute as she merrily skipped towards the door.
"Okay," Ivy agreed tiredly, following after her hyperactive friend. Hopefully, for Becky's sake, Crane was having better luck.
