There were moments when Roy forgot he was supposed to be a dangerous criminal.
Not just when he was painting. When he was painting he was lost in a moment where his past didn't matter. All that mattered was the canvas.
No, there were other more innocuous times. Moments where he would be walking down the street and would nod to a stranger that waved at him. Or would smile politely at the cashier at that coffee shop downtown. He would walk down the street and wonder why he had instinctually turned his face away from a security camera.
Small inconsequential things.
Moments of time that didn't matter in the long run.
It was strange to think there were still people in this town that didn't recognize him. Or any of them, really. People who would glance up and not see a criminal, just another person going about their day. Nothing to stare at, no reason to linger.
It became easy to forget yourself then. To forget that your face was seen by millions of people each day. Forget that anyone could be looking for you. Anyone could recognize you. It was so easy to forget to be vigilant.
Unless you found yourself surrounded by a group of self-righteous citizens trying to brain you with a baseball bat. And to think they had looked like perfectly ordinary people. Blazers, dress pants, a few were wearing jeans with polo shirts. Roy had barely given them a second glance as he and Shawna had headed for the old drop site. An old storage facility they hadn't used in months.
There shouldn't have been any reason to worry. No reason to suspect anyone had found this place. That anyone would even think to monitor it.
Hell, Roy was certain that Cold had only sent Roy out on this trip to get him out of the safe house and away from the painting he had been working on nonstop for the past few weeks.
Roy glanced over at Shawna, she had a death grip on his left arm. Their exits were completely blocked as far as he could tell. These citizens had been prepared, had planned this somehow.
Hartley's scanners followed all the chatter with their main antagonists, but didn't track personal communications between private citizens. Roy would have to bring up this oversight the next time he saw Hartley.
And there would be a next time, there was no way Roy and Shawna were going to die at the hands of a bunch of housewives and stock traders turned wannabe vigilantes.
Even if neither of them could use their powers at the moment.
Which was unfortunate.
Roy really wanted to make these people beat each other to death.
Both Roy and Shawna's powers relied heavily on sight. Shawna had to be able to see where she was teleporting. Roy didn't technically have to see his victim's eyes for his powers to work. But without his sight, he had no way of knowing if he was staring at someone's face or a street sign.
The daytime vigilantes had set up some sort of homemade mace bomb that was triggered when Shawna opened up the door of their drop site. Shawna had taken a direct hit. The mace going into both of her eyes. She was completely blinded, tears were streaming down her face. She had stopped coughing though, so Roy was going to take that as a positive.
Roy had managed to grab her and pull her away from the device. But he had still gotten a good dose of it in his eyes as well. He could only make out shapes of what he assumed were people near him.
He had tried to guide them away. Tried to remember exactly where the exits were, where the car was, where a place they could hide would be. He had run them straight into a dead end. A chain link fence blocked their path. If there were any holes in it, Roy couldn't find them in his current state.
And he had thought his vision had been bad before.
Cold had warned them to be careful. To be extra cautious. That there was something sinister lurking beneath Central City's shining exterior.
As if Roy wasn't acutely aware of this fact.
But it was more than just…what he had seen.
There was something spreading through the city. Some sort of paranoia.
Some new kind of fear.
Roy had seen the news reports, had watched each night as more and more people began to protest.
Protesting STAR Labs being turned into a prison.
Protesting the police not doing enough to protect the city.
Protesting the very existence of metahumans.
That was the one that galled Roy the most. The way the "good" people of Central City seemed so viciously against metas.
Saying they were unnatural. They should all be locked up.
Isolated.
Quarantined.
The more emboldened of them had even suggested extermination. Metas were against God's will and all that.
Which was rather dickish.
Metas had no control over what the particle accelerator did to them. They were completely blameless.
Ok, sure. So most metas chose to use their powers to break the law, or to settle old scores. And maybe Roy could have used his new found gifts for a more noble purpose. Could have followed in the footsteps of the Flash and used his powers to help people.
To save the people of Central City. To be a protector, to become a hero.
But that sounded exhausting.
Constantly running towards every problem. Being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night because some asshole fell asleep and left a candle burning and now an apartment complex was on fire. What was Roy supposed to do? Put the fire out with his eyes?
Was he supposed to step into the middle of a gunfight and try and calm everyone down? That was something he tried to avoid. He had no intention of getting shot or killed trying to help people who would protest his very existence.
Just because the Rogues weren't heroes, just because they used their powers for their own needs, didn't mean they deserved to get beaten to death in some back alley by a bunch of white collar assholes.
Speaking of said assholes.
The group had yet to attack. Yet to come at Roy and Shawna with anything resembling rage.
They weren't even spouting off any religious texts or annoyingly catchy chants. No "Death to Metas" or "God Hates Metas". Roy found that unprofessional. If you are going to kill two people for just being born, you should at least have the fanaticism to back it up. Not spend the vast majority of your time arguing like a bunch of drunken frat boys.
"It was your plan Roger…"
"Jesus, don't say my name."
"What does it matter if we are just going to kill them anyway?"
"They're criminals Roger, they deserve it. They don't deserve to have magic powers…"
Magic powers.
Roy really wished his eyes weren't burning right now. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
They were going to be killed by the dumbest people alive.
"God Roy, this is embarrassing. The others are never going to let us live this down. Killed by a bunch of PTA members on their lunch breaks."
Shawna still couldn't see, her eyes still watering, her hand still fiercely gripping Roy's arm. But she was still very much in this fight. Roy had noticed her bend down towards her boot when they had hit the chain link fence blocking their escape.
Roy smirked.
"I'm sure the…" Roy turned towards the still bickering people. "Do you guys have a name?"
"What?" The four men and three women, at least Roy assumed their genders, at the moment all he could see were fuzzy blobs, turned towards him. It was the leader, Roger, who had spoken. Roy again assumed. The once that sounded the most annoying was going to be Roger.
"A name. You know, like the Anti-Meta League or something."
"We don't have a name. We aren't…It's not…"
Shawna threw her hands up in the air.
"Oh come on. Seriously? We are going to be tortured and gutted by a bunch of nameless nobodies? They are going to revoke our membership to the Evil Villains League of Evil after this. No more sweet fruit baskets for us."
One of the amorphous blobs stepped forward.
"We aren't going to torture you. We…
"Are just going to kill us?"
"…we are going to turn you into the police. That is what we will do. Yes. That…that makes sense. Turn them over to the police."
"That wasn't the plan Alice."
"Really Roger? So you're going to man up for the first time in your life and actually go through with something you said?"
Damn.
Shawna was right. This was embarrassing.
Roy put his hands up in a defensive gesture.
"It sounds like you guys have some issues to work out. Why don't you handcuff and take us to the cops? No reason for anyone to die if they don't have to."
Roy wasn't sure if his words were getting through. He couldn't make out any facial expressions. The blobs were starting to almost become human shaped. Another few minutes and he might be able to see their eyes.
They waited a few moments, Roy could hear what sounded like angry whispering nearby. Finally the blobs moved towards them again.
"All right. Hands up."
Roy felt Shawna slip something into his back pocket. Two figures walked towards them. Shawna hesitantly let go of Roy's arm. He was certain he was going to have a bruise there tomorrow.
The figures came closer. One of them grabbed Roy's wrist. The man, or woman, who grabbed him was much taller than Roy. No doubt, they thought it wouldn't be any trouble to capture Shawna and Roy. They weren't the most physically imposing of the Rogues.
There were moments when Roy forgot he was a criminal.
This was not one of them.
Roy twisted his arm backwards, catching his potential captor off guard. Lisa had taught him this move. How to get the upper hand on an opponent who underestimated you. Who thought you were helpless. As he moved, he reached into his back pocket and pulled the knife that Shawna had placed there. Roy didn't know where Shawna had bought her combat boots that also had a hidden place to store weapons, but he would buy her another pair after this.
He'd have to ask her if they made them in men's sizes.
He moved quickly, pulling his assailant's arm behind his back and up at a painful angle. He could attest to the painful part. Lisa had made damn sure Roy knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of this move. So he would know exactly what direction he could pull and when a muscle would start to tear.
Roy used his other hand to put the knife to the man's throat.
"I think that's enough of that, don't you? Now, we are going to…"
Roy heard a noise to his left and turned, keeping his hostage in front of him like a shield.
"Let him go or I kill her!"
One of the male shaped humanoid forms had his arm around Shawna's throat. Squeezing off the female thief's air supply.
It looked like it was going to be a stand off.
Except…it didn't have to be.
While this group had managed to find one of the Rogues' old drop sites, it didn't seem like they were especially prepared. Or that they were willing to follow through on their threat to kill them. It was incredibly likely that this was the first time any of them had even been this close to a criminal before.
Always use your enemies' assumptions to your advantage. What they think of you, and what you really are, will be two different things. Always use that.
Roy was going to thank Lisa later for those lessons. Even if she had had him pinned to the ground with her knee in his back when she had said it.
"So? Kill her."
"Roy?"
Roy knew Shawna's history with men abandoning her when she needed them most. Knew how deeply that fear resonated within her. That the Rogues would abandon her one day as well. That she would be alone again. He just hoped she didn't buy into his deception. Hoped she would know to play along. Would know him better than that by now.
"I'm not going to risk my freedom or my life, for her. You kill her, I still kill your friend. Who I'm guessing, means more to you, than she does to me. You're little mace bombs are starting to wear off. So by all means, lets continue this little power play. Every moment you waste threatening someone who means nothing to me, the closer I get to having my full powers back. And and the second that I do, I am going to make you rip each other's throats out."
Roy hoped he had been convincing enough. Digger had told Roy to keep his voice monotone and level. Make it sound like it was just another day at the office. That threatening to torture and kill someone was completely commonplace for you.
Roy was starting to be able to make out facial expressions. He deliberately didn't look at Shawna's face, instead focusing on the man holding her throat.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several of the fuzzy human blobs run away. He hadn't even needed to use his powers, the cowards had just turned and ran. Their so-called leader, Roger was still there, and the man holding Shawna. So that made it three versus two now, which were much better odds. Roger was pulling something out of his pocket, a gun most likely.
Roy put the blade harder against his hostage's skin. He could see rivets of blood start to run down the man's neck.
The man holding Shawna suddenly pushed her to the ground. He turned and ran as quickly as he could down the alley. Roy wanted to check on Shawna, wanted to make sure she was alright. But he had to continue the charade. Make this Roger idiot think that Roy was a cold-blooded murderer.
"Let him go or I'll…"
Roy's vision began to focus. He could see the object in Roger's hand. It wasn't a gun.
It was a phone.
That piece of shit was going to call the cops on them. This Roger had gone through all this trouble to find an old drop site, to set up a mace bomb, to stake out the place and watch it carefully, to convince a group of people to kill. And he wasn't even going to go through with it?
Not that Roy wanted the man to have a gun, but it was the principle of the thing.
Roy still didn't have perfectly clear vision, but it was going to have to be good enough. He tried to focus on where he knew Roger's eyes were. He activated his powers, trying to hit Roger with a strong dose of fear.
Roger started screaming.
Jesus that was loud.
Roy released the man from his power. Trying to stop that ridiculous noise before every cop in the city came running. But Roger just continued to scream. An unholy sound that somehow seemed to be getting louder by the second.
Damn it.
That was going to attract a lot of unwanted attention.
He used the handle of his knife to knock his hostage out. He turned to take care of the still screaming Roger, but Shawna beat him to it.
She knocked the man out with one punch.
"Asshole!"
She proceeded to kick the man several times. She seemed to be very focused on getting her aggression out. Roy tried to see if there was anyone else around them, to see if any onlookers had called the cops.
"Shawna…"
She got in several more kicks to the man's groin, then turned abruptly towards Roy.
"We need to get out of here. Someone has to have called the cops by now."
She reached out a hand. She was still mostly blinded. She must have been able to find Roger solely from the man's screaming. Roy took her hand and guided her quickly towards the chain link fence. With his vision slowly returning he could now find the padlock that held the fence closed. He picked the lock and then guided them through, locking it back behind them.
He could hear police sirens in the distance. He couldn't drive and Shawna couldn't teleport them out of here. They needed to hide out until their vision returned.
Roy saw what looked like a movie theater a little bit away. He pulled his shades out of his jacket and put them on Shawna.
"Roy, what…"
"There is a movie theater, we can hide out in there until our vision is back. I have to assume your eyes are still red and tearing. We just need to…"
"Geez Roy, if you wanted to go on a date, all you had to do was ask."
Roy paused. He might not be able to read people on the best of days, but even without being able to see it clearly, he knew Shawna was smiling.
"Funny."
Shawna moved her hand so that their arms were linked together. Her side pressed directly against his.
"Come on baby, let's see a movie."
"Shawna…" Roy moved to untangle their arms, but Shawna tightened her grip.
"We have to sell it don't we? Don't want people to be suspicious."
She was definitely smiling, he could see it now that they were closer together. Roy rolled his eyes and sighed.
"There's an auto shop we could hide in a few blocks from here."
"Nope! Movie theater. The cops will check anywhere abandoned first, by the time they get to the theater our vision will be back. Or they will assume we have already left the area. Plus, I could really go for a huge tub of popcorn slathered in butter right now."
Roy resigned himself to the ridiculous closeness that Shawna was subjecting him to. He was glad it wasn't Lisa with him, she would have insisted on being much closer to sell the con. Probably would have forced him to make out with her in the lobby.
Roy walked up to the ticket counter, Shawna glued to his side.
"Two tickets for…"
Shit. He couldn't read the names of the movies or the times. He didn't have any idea about what movies were even popular now. He should have thought this through, should have at least asked Shawna what movies were playing.
"You don't have to stall baby. There is no backing out now. He really doesn't want to see the new Pixar movie. Which is why, I'm pretty sure he didn't even check the times before we left the house. Did you honey bear?"
He was simultaneously thankful for Shawna's intervention and annoyed at her use of endearing terms.
"I did not."
The girl at the counter barely looked up at them.
"There's a showing that just started five minutes ago, should still be on previews."
"We will take two of those."
Roy reached into his wallet and pulled out a bill that he hoped was a twenty. It could have been a hundred for all he knew. The girl handed him change and they headed inside.
Shawna got her large popcorn, some skittles, and a soda for them "to share".
She was enjoying this far too much.
Roy tried to scan the room when they entered the darkened theater. Tried to see if there was anyone else in there with them.
"I think we are alone…" Roy whispered.
"Romantic." She turned towards the empty room. "Anyone else in here? Cause me and my boyfriend are going to be making out or making fun of this piece of shit movie the entire time."
Silence greeted her proclamation.
"Subtle."
"Effective though. Come one, I really have wanted to see this one."
After half an hour of mostly just bright images and humanoid shapes on the screen, Roy was able to see clearly again.
"How is your vision?" He whispered. He didn't know why he whispered, they were alone. It was just what you were supposed to do in a movie theater.
"Everything's still a little fuzzy. But I can tell the difference between a human and a wall now, so that's a good step. We should be able to bail once the movie is over."
Roy nodded. He opened his mouth then hesitated.
Cold had said to wait until you were back at the safe house to discuss any issues. Never start a conversation that could lead to a fight when you were still in danger.
If Shawna hated Roy for what he had said earlier, he should wait and find out when they were safe. Still…
"About what I said earlier…"
"It's fine Roy."
Roy sighed. He wasn't any good at this sort of thing. But they weren't supposed to let things fester like they did last time.
"You know I didn't…"
"Roy, seriously, it's fine. I mean it. You said what you had to say. I didn't think for one second that you were going to leave me alone with those d-bags. Or that you would let them kill me just to save yourself."
"Oh. Good."
"We're Rogues Roy. And…and I think we all get what that means now. Right?"
"I think so."
"Good. So there's nothing to talk about. Now hush, I want to see how this movie ends."
Roy subjected himself to the agony of watching the entirety of a Pixar movie before Shawna said she was good to teleport. Roy suspected that her vision had returned earlier but that she had wanted to just watch the movie.
When his vision had returned, he had texted Cold to let him know what had happened. Although he had been reluctant to do so. Not because he was worried about what Cold would say, but because he hated it when people texted in a movie theater.
Shawna teleported them back to the safe house. Roy had headed to his room, intending to take a shower to remove the smell of mace from his hair. But then he had seen the painting.
He didn't know why it stopped him so suddenly. He knew it was there. He knew the second he stepped foot into the room, it would be exactly where he left it, exactly how he left it. It wasn't the image itself that surprised him. He wasn't startled by the scene he had spent the past few weeks painting.
But for some reason it stopped him cold.
He stared at it as if he had never seen it before.
Perhaps it was because today had been the first day he hadn't stared at it obsessively for hours on end. The first day where the thought of it hadn't crossed his mind while he was away. Where hours had passed without it haunting him, calling to him, begging him to finish it. To see the details he had missed, to change the things that were wrong.
He raised a hand to the painting, grazing over a brush stroke in the lower left hand corner.
Hm.
He couldn't remember when he did that.
How strange.
He could still see the flaws. The incongruities between what was in his memory, what lingered in his mind, and what was on the canvas. The things that needed to be corrected before he would be free of them.
But now, it was slightly distant.
The violence of it.
The viciousness.
The raw emotion was still all there and yet now…
He smiled slightly. The painting was almost done.
He was almost free of the sleepless nights. Almost free of the paranoia that had plagued him. Of the terror that had gripped him so tightly and refused to let go.
Soon, it would all be out on the canvas.
There was this girl in this bar in some piece of shit town in…Germany? Austria? Eh, something like that. Somewhere on the other side of the world. Digger couldn't remember exactly. Not like it mattered really, all the places started to run together after awhile. Kill a couple of people here, a few dozen or so there, what did the location matter?
Of course, neither did the people really. Just targets. Names in a file. First with the army, then with ARGUS. After awhile he stopped paying attention to the names or the reasons.
Didn't matter in the end.
Just went where he was told and did what he was told.
The simplicity of it all had always been the appeal. Not like he was the one who started some civil war, he was just a tool sent to make sure things went the right way.
He had been around long enough to see the people he had once been sent in to save, become the people he was sent to kill.
He could almost remember the face of that kid in Iraq. Some sixteen-year-old Digger had pulled out of some muddy river. Boy would have drowned if Digger hadn't saved him. He remembered how grateful the kid had been. Kept thanking him, kept promising that he wouldn't forget what Digger had done.
Which was true he supposed.
Kid had remembered him.
Three years later, when Digger had been sent back into deal with some insurgents, he had seen that kid again. Had barely recognized the boy, probably wouldn't have if the kid hadn't had that weird birthmark above his eye.
The kid had been with the insurgents this time. Just bad luck really. Opposite sides this time. Digger was sure the kid had thought of himself as some kind of freedom fighter. Looking to defend his home against outside invaders. Maybe the kid had been. Maybe the kid had been some kind of local hero. Digger didn't really remember who he was working for that time. Whose orders he had been under, which side he was supposed to be on.
Middle of a damn firefight and the kid had recognized Digger. Boy had the drop on him, all he had to do was pull the trigger. Then Digger would have died in some no name village halfway across the world. Probably would have still gotten a military funeral at that point.
But the kid had hesitated.
Digger hadn't.
He put a bullet between the boy's eyes.
Kid could have walked away, could still be out there fighting. Keeping his family safe and all that. Except he had decided to honor a promise made to a man he didn't know, for something that had happened years ago.
Digger wasn't one of those people that paid attention to the poetics of it all. Old members of his squad used to talk about the way people would look as they were dying. The look in their eyes. The surprise, the shock of it all when they realized it was their time to go.
Digger had just pulled the trigger and moved on to the next target.
Kid had just been another enemy. Another person who got wrapped up in the idea that if someone saved your life once, they would do it again.
Or that you owed them for it.
Digger didn't see it that way.
Someone saves your life, that's on them. That's their choice. Just as it's their choice to kill you if they have to. There was no connection. No bond that formed in life and death situations. If that was true then Digger would have a lot more people who owed him. A lot more favors he could cash in.
That was just the way the game worked. The people you needed at that moment, weren't always going to be the people you wanted around.
Alliances shift. Politicians come and go. Money changes hands and it's all over but the crying.
Sides never really mattered all that much in the end.
Which is why he hadn't understood why ARGUS had gotten so uppity about him making a little money selling information. The people he sold the information to had been their allies not too long ago. He was sure they would be their allies again in a couple of years. No use getting so bent out of shape about a couple of names here, a few battalion movement patterns there.
Most of the people he sold out were dead by now anyway. Not like there was a long life span for people in his line of work. Everyone knew what they were getting into.
You didn't join black op, you didn't become a criminal, because you thought highly of things like honesty.
Or loyalty.
What did any of it matter in the grand scheme of things?
What had made him think of all that?
Oh, right.
The girl.
She had been something special. He had wanted her the moment he saw her. Legs like you wouldn't believe. He and the boys had been blowing off steam, celebrating a job well done or mourning a fallen comrade, Digger couldn't quite recall. Either way, the liquor was flowing that night.
And there she was, the only pretty thing he had seen in a couple months.
He remembered walking up to her. Using his best lines. He had been persistent. Been as charming as he had ever been.
Nothing.
She shot him down at every turn.
They were supposed to leave in the morning, head back to base. He only had a limited window to change this girl's mind. Nothing he tried worked. Even tried getting her drunk, but the girl had a better tolerance than even he had.
Which had been a huge turn on.
The next morning, they found the Jeeps sabotaged. Wires cut, pieces of the engines removed. Would take at least two days to fix.
What a tragedy. Who would do such a thing?
He was able to take his time now. Buy her some pretty trinkets, some more alcohol. Never let up, that's the trick with a girl like that. He was pretty sure there were some girls who only said yes out of annoyance.
But that still counted a yes in Digger's book.
He finally got a yes out of her on the second day. She had been worth the effort. He might not remember her name, but he remembered every moment of that night.
Names and faces might come and go, but he never forgot a great pair of tits.
He had been lying in bed with her, and she had said something about wishing he didn't have to leave so soon. That she wanted him to stay in town for a little longer.
So they could have more fun.
Wasn't the first girl to ever say that to him after a night of drunken debauchery.
It was the first time the thought ever really crossed his mind. It was just a fraction of a moment, a few fleeting seconds of a sex sated mind. But it lingered there for a bit too long. Started to form up.
Started to be more than just a thought. Started to be an idea.
He could pay off the boys to leave him behind, or he could fake his own death. Wouldn't be to hard. He knew plenty of people who could make it look legit.
Just stop for a little while. Stop moving, stop killing. Stop fighting.
Just stop and breathe for a bit.
He had scoffed and stood up immediately.
What a ridiculous idea. What was he going to do? Work in a bar for the rest of his life, chatting with the locals about their problems? Get old and fat and talk about the good old days? How he had once been somebody people feared but was just a sad old man now?
He had put on his pants and walked out of the room, he didn't look back. Just left her there on the bed.
Never saw her or that town again. Never gave her another thought.
Which was why it was so odd for that memory to come to him now.
Wasn't like there were even any decent women around. Except Shawna, and she wouldn't even look at him most days. Didn't know what her problem was. He was a perfect gentleman most of the time. Not his fault she got so offended, couldn't take a compliment in the spirit it was intended.
This bar wasn't anything like the one he had met…Melanie? Something like that, definitely started with an M. Or a N. The owner here looked the other way when the Rogues dropped by. Which was all they really needed in a bar anyway. No cops and plenty of booze.
The Snarts, Rathaway, and Roy had stayed back at the safe house. So he, Mick, Mardon, and Shawna and gone out. Was a good thing too, the safe house had been getting a bit tight lately. Everybody all jacked up and nowhere to go. No one to take down til they got some things planned out. Digger didn't mind working for Cold, the man's plans were top notch. But he did miss being able to do whatever he wanted, to just be able to run into a fight and see where the cards fell.
Course after Shawna and Roy had managed to almost get themselves killed on a simple run, Digger was surprised Cold had let them go out at all. Their stalwart leader was starting to realize that keeping them all hidden wasn't going to work for much longer.
Even he couldn't plan for every inevitability.
Cold's orders for tonight had been simple. Go out. Get drunk. Don't burn down the city. Mick had given a nasty look at that last one, but he made a beeline for the car all the same.
Shawna was passed out on the bar. Girl needed to learn to handle her liquor better. Mick was sitting next to her, still drinking. Still keeping an eye on her. Digger wasn't fooled by the pyromaniac's act. Mick worried about the Rogues as much as Cold did.
Mardon was sitting in the booth with Digger. Man was still nursing his second beer. Which was a shame. Digger had been hoping for a show tonight. A little lightening to spice things up a bit. Roy had warned Digger that Mardon could get a bit mopey when he drank. Something about a dead little brother. You'd think the guy would be over it by now.
But that didn't look like what was happening here. Just seemed to be staring at his drink. Thinking too much on some nonsense Digger was certain. Which was boring as hell. Digger wanted a little excitement. Hell Roy had almost gotten to stab someone in the neck today and the artist didn't even like fighting all that much.
Was damn unfair is what it was.
Maybe he could convince Mick to set a small building on fire. Cold had only said not to burn down the whole city. Didn't say they couldn't start a little trouble. Anything would be good at this point. Digger had never been one for sitting still. Gotten his ass chewed out by several CO's for almost blowing his cover on a mission. Had actually blown it once when he was still with ARGUS. Waller had given him shit for that. One of those looks of hers like she was going to murder your parents for even bringing you into the world.
Jokes on her as both of his parents were already dead.
Always got the feeling she wanted to be rid of him. And that had been before she had the ability to kill him with the flick of a switch.
He had been a little surprised she didn't "accidentally" kill him the minute that bomb went in his neck.
Nah. Emotional decisions weren't really the Wall's thing. She'd never kill someone she could potentially use one day. As much as she hated him, she knew how useful his skills could be.
Speaking of, he was going to get rusty at this rate. Sure, he practiced at the safe house when he had to. Or when he got bored. But it wasn't the same. Needed the moving targets, the adrenaline pumping, bullets flying all around. That was the only time it mattered. Hitting a target a thousand times wouldn't do any good if you got tagged the moment you stepped out into the field.
Mardon was still staring at his beer. Digger sighed, figured he would try to engage the man in a little lively debate. Maybe see where the meta stood on the blonds vs brunettes side of the fence, but Mardon beat him to it.
"How long are you planning on staying in Central?"
Bastard didn't even really look up from his drink. Digger thought on it a second.
"Don't know mate. Figure I'll stay until things die down a bit. Then slip out, find me a nice place somewhere away from the Wall and all this nonsense."
Which was partly true. He would most likely head out when his contacts gave him the all clear. But he wasn't just going to lay low. Become one of those old bastards that slept with one eye open. Constantly waiting for some old sin to come collecting.
Digger Harkness had no plans to die some pathetic old man.
"What about you? Considering moving on to warmer climates? Though you could make anywhere warmer climates couldn't ya?"
Mardon just kept staring at his beer. Well that was rude. Mardon was the one that started the conversation after all. Digger thought the man was taking way too long to answer a simple question.
When was he going to leave Central? They all had to be thinking about it. When was Mardon going to get sick of it all and just…
"Wasn't planning on staying this long."
Digger could understand that. Circumstances being what they were, none of the Rogues had planned on staying in Central as long as they had. What with their sudden incarcerations, their healing injuries, and the heat still breathing down their necks. None of them had much of a choice at the moment. Stick together and stay out of prison. Waller wouldn't give Digger the chance to escape again. Put him back on that island. Maybe leave him there this time.
This was the longest he had stayed in any one place since he was a kid. The itch he felt to fight, to move on, to find another bar, another woman, another town wasn't as strong as it usually was by this point. He blamed it on all the surprises that Central City had to offer.
Gorillas that could read minds, people who could control the weather, a target so fast even he had trouble hitting it.
Place sure as hell wasn't boring.
Most of the time.
Still, he should reach out to his contacts. See where he stood. See how long it would be before he could hop a plane to some random corner of the world.
Should have done that sooner. But Cold's orders…
Huh. Guess he could have just gone against orders and done it anyway. Which is what he normally did when he didn't agree with what he was told. Or he didn't feel like listening to the person who gave the order.
But then, he had been recovering. A bullet to the side wasn't something to just shrug off. Hadn't been up to his normal physical condition.
That was it.
That was all it was.
His contacts were just as likely to turn him back over to ARGUS as they were to help him. Needed to make sure he was up to his full strength when he went to meet with them. Couldn't risk getting double-crossed.
Maybe he would take Lisa with him when he went. A little back up, a little extra protection, never hurt. That girl that was always itching for a fight. Which Digger wholeheartedly appreciated about her.
"Do you ever think about staying?"
Digger looked at Mardon. Not sure he had heard the man right.
"What? Here? And rob banks with you lot for the rest of my life? Sorry mate, but I don't usually plan my life that far in advance."
Mardon downed his beer in one drink.
"Me either."
Mardon abruptly stood up and walked over to the bar. He grabbed Shawna and slung her over his shoulder and headed for the door. Mick didn't even glance at the pair. Just continued to drink.
Digger sat at the booth alone, a frown slowly spreading across his face. What had that been about? Stay here? In the only city in the world with a superhero that could actually take them down?
What was Mardon playing at?
If they were smart, they would pack up and head to some other city. One without any super-speeding meddlers.
Any other city in the world and no one would be able to stand against them. The Rogues could carve out their own place, with their own rules.
Which…would also get boring after a bit. A fight is no fun if it's one sided. No point if there isn't a little danger. If your enemy isn't someone you don't know if you can beat.
The memory of that girl on the other side of the world floated into his mind again.
Staying just wasn't what he did.
Wasn't any point to it even. Everything changed.
What was spy work one day, was treason the next.
Allies or enemies, eventually the two sides would get switched. Eventually it all got mixed around. Everyone was just waiting for someone to come along with a better offer.
Digger stood up and headed for the door. Mick got off of his stool and followed him out. Digger took a deep breath of the cold air. He liked the cold weather, liked the feeling of snow on the horizon. He'd had enough of the sand and the heat.
He could feel Mick's presence behind his left shoulder. Could feel the warmth that radiated off the man. Like a bloody furnace that one.
He could tell which of the Rogues was behind him without having to think on it anymore. Everyone had a different smell, a different sound to their steps, a different presence.
It was strange how familiar it had all become to him.
Digger shook his head.
But there was no point in staying in one place.
He should really reach out to his contact soon. See if Waller was still keeping an eye out for him. See if he could make it out of the country without too much fuss. See where he stood in the world outside of Central City.
Before he stayed on too long.
Before things went the way they always did.