Author's note: Second chapter, yo. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Damn you, DC.
Now in nightfall, the untouched snow along the sides of her makeshift trail sparkled under the moonlight instead of under the gray sun of the Alaskan day. Rose's skinny-jeaned legs were soaked from trudging in miles of snow and her thin but toned arms were weary and shaking from the negative temperature. Her exhausted gaze was fixed upon a small building a few fox-lengths away, which had been her dark and blurry north star about an hour ago.
Finally. Not nothing. It had better be real and not another drug-induced mirage, she thought irritably.
The Eagle's Nest was a pub always occupied by Alaskan locals looking for a drink and escape from the cold. Some people slouched on the barstools while others sat in pods around rotting wood tables.
"Hey, ever hear whatchya get when ya cross a skunk an' a rattlesnake?" A burly, bearded man asked his other redneck buddies as he slammed his mug of beer onto the table and wiped his liquor-filled facial hair with the back of his hand.
"Nah, what?" one of the guys at the table asked indifferently, taking a swig of his own drink.
And then a chilly wind buffeted through the place, followed by a few stray blobs of snow. The clump of moisture-laden combat boots on a wooded floor were enough to silence the interior of the pub as a leather-clad figure approached the bar.
"Beer and a shot, please," said the one-eyed girl with a grunt. "And something to eat. Anything."
The woman behind the bar didn't ask any questions, didn't check her age, just complied. The liquor slid down her throat in one gulp and Rose's grip on the shot glass tightened as the alcohol burned its way through her senses.
"'Scuse me, little missy," a gruff voice behind her sounded from behind her left shoulder. She tensed slightly. He'd come up on her blind side. "You best move on. This place don't abide t' no tourists."
Rose calmly sipped her beer, her face expressionless. "No, see, I've got no food, no ride, and no fucking idea where I am. That means I'm staying. And if you've got a problem with that, you can-"
Her pertinent threat was interrupted by a sharp hit to her collarbone. Rose withheld a small groan and clenched her jaw. Damn pregog still isn't kicking in, she thought bitterly. Otherwise this guy would've lost a hand.
"Now GET!" yelled the bearded redneck, his arm sweeping towards the door.
No one made Rose Wilson do anything she didn't want to do. She smoothly slid off her barstool, a now-empty glass mug in her hand and eye blazing with hellfire.
Her leg snapped up to kick one man in the gut while an arm smacked her chilled glass beer mug against another's jaw. A mixture of splintered teeth and glass joined the spewing crimson on the filthy floor.
It felt good. Letting loose, no worries about the whole non-lethal rule the Titans always kept under their belts. It the spot more than any grub would have. It was as if it were awakening the parts of her that she'd strained to stay hidden behind next-to-harmless maneuvers for endless weeks. But there were times to worry about that kind of mindset, and now wasn't one of them.
With a growl, the Ravager's elbow slammed into a bloodied mouth, and her leg twisted behind her to deliver a hard roundhouse kick to another's chest with the satisfying crack of fractured ribs.
Like it or not, it was a part of her. The brutality. The lust of savagery. It was in her blood. It coursed through her veins alongside the epinephrine.
She was a part of a violent family with a violent history.
Unconscious bodies, not corpses, decorated the dusty wood floor and the platinum-haired, leather-bound girl stood in the middle of them.
"That it, or does some other stranger wanna try to make me do something I don't feel like?"
She turned to the gaping bartender. "Listen, all I'm asking for is a place to stay and-"
A low uneasiness made itself present in her gut, and Rose suddenly clutched her abdomen. "And..." Her stomach churned.
"UGHKKK!" The teen's head snapped back as bright ruby liquid spurted from her lips. A sudden urge to fall into unconsciousness made her collapse to her knees. At the corner of her eye, Rose saw a dark figure running towards her, but her fluttering lid was already becoming laden, like chain mail.
Her suddenly-heavy head hit the floor with a thud, her eye finally closed, and her mouth was covered in sticky red as a halo of gore circled her snowy hair.
A small figure crouched in pale spring grass, pulling at pieces of white hair in thought as she watched her father pace back and forth in front of her. Adjacent to them both, the trunk of a van stood open, letting in the warm breeze. Knives, guns, and other various weaponry could be seen lining the interior of the vehicle, a sight that grotesquely contrasted the beauty and serenity of the setting.
"You're a special girl, Rose. Always have been." The sleeves of Slade Wilson's checkered shirt were pulled halfway up his bulging arms and the young girl watched him, her eyes wide, as his calloused hands fingered a needle.
"But this here..." the Terminator tapped the glass vial with his fingertip. "This will make you something greater. You'll have my strength. My speed. And more."
"I don't know...I don't know if it's something that I want," the girl replied uncertainly, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as her fingers twiddled with silvery strands. "Can I sleep on it, or-?"
"No, no, Rose, you misunderstood me." A bulky shadow loomed over her. "This isn't an offer."
The needle moved closer. And closer. Instead of clinching tight, her eyes widened in fear. "No!" she yelled. "Get that shit out of me!"
The Ravager grabbed the offending arm, realizing too late that the wrist was covered in a tough white material. Without thinking, she bent the arm back in a painful angle, and someone cried out. The needle flew out of the hand and clattered to the linoleum floor.
Rose hurriedly reached up to touch her left eye socket. Fingers brushed against tough fabric. Her vision cleared as soon as her thoughts did. And as soon as her thoughts did, the anti-hero sprung out of her hospital cot, scooped up the needle, and shoved it under the doctor's throat.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded. "What do you...uhnngg..." A throbbing pain shot through her skull as one hand removed the syringe from hers and another pushed her gently back down onto the white, chemical-smelling sheets.
"That's it. Lie back down. I was only drawing a blood sample." Rose watched through groggy eyes as he placed a bandage on her inner arm. "You're safe."
Then her enhanced brain clicked. The snow. The bar. Those rednecks. She'd blacked out...Blood. Lots of it.
No sign of any of that now. All she could differentiate between her double vision was that she was in a small cellar-like room with a bit of low-tech medical equipment and an eyeglassed man staring at her worriedly.
"Where am I?" Her ragged speech escaped her lips weaker than she wanted it to.
"You're in Angelsport. Northwest territories."
Rose's eye squeezed shut as another wave of nausea washed over her. "I...I was in a fight."
"Way I heard it, it's more like you knocked the living stink out of a bunch of tough-as-nails fellas," was the reply, a tone of awe in his voice. "But I guess it comes with the territory when you're some sorta superhero."
Her eye snapped open in surprise, but the doctor continued, "Found your uniform when I went through your things to find an ID or any idea of what's ailing you."
"Ailing?" inquired the anti-hero, sitting up in her cot despite her joint's protests and raising an eyebrow. For as long as she could remember, Rose had never gotten sick in her life. Even finding a hospital when she was injured had been unnecessary due to her quick-healing metahuman genes.
"To put it simply, young lady..." The white-coated man took a step back and adjusted his glasses. "If you don't lay off the epinephrine, you'll be dead."
Pulmonary edema. That's what the doctor said happened to her after the fight. Her heart had decided to stop pumping fluid out of her lungs. She'd been told this is a bad thing.
The washing machine next to her dinged brightly, so Rose pulled out the now-soft and unmarred black tank top and shoved it over her head. The fabric tickled her scarred torso as it slid down over her toned stomach to rest at her hips. She draped her silver locks down her back and her sore arms groaned like the unused mechanisms they were at the movement.
Movement behind her made her ears perk up, and she whirled swiftly, hand inching towards the knife in her belt. Her eye scanned the basement, but nothing showed itself. She frowned and shook it off, blaming her post-ER jumpiness.
Sliding her arms into leather sleeves and throwing her duffel over her back, Rose headed towards the staircase that was supposed to lead her out of the basement.
Migraines. Tremors. Blurred vision. Oxygen deprivation. Each step equalled a supposed symptom. Her feet felt like they were made of lead.
Eventually, they lead her towards a light brighter than the dim of the one that had hung above her cot. Rose found herself standing next to the bar back at the Eagles Nest.
"Feeling better?"
The voice resounded from a man with salt-and-pepper hair, a scruffy brush of a beard and a startlingly bloodred scarf. Maybe it was her fevered brain or lack of proper testosterone within her vicinity, but she found his rough-around-the-edges look to be a bit attractive.
"Why's there a back-door hospital in the basement of a bar?"
"I asked first, didn't I?"
He smirked slightly and she noticed his voice rung with a European accent, not at all what she would expect from a person sitting at a bar previously filled with rednecks. Stubborn as always, she countered with, "British?" as she strode past him, plopping her duffle onto a barstool.
"Welsh," was his quick reply. "Name's Will."
"Will," she repeated, walking behind the bar and pouring herself a vodka without asking. "I'm told I have you to thank for the kind doc down there."
"That you do..." He leaned forward towards her over the bar. "...Rose." She stiffened for a moment. "Or would you rather I call you Ravager?" Her grip on the shot glass tightened until her knuckles became as white as her arched eyebrows.
Will folded his arms neatly on top of the counter, his smirk still quite present. Well. That was one surefire way to lose a girl's interest and respect. "I'm curious, Rose. What brings you to this little tip of the iceberg? Teen Titans business?"
Arrogant bastard. She took a swig of liquor, refusing to satisfy him with a response.
"Or maybe a little freelance for Daddy?"
The glass should have slammed down onto the countertop at that, or even better, into his snarky Eurotrash face. But instead, it landed lightly on the wooden surface as Rose fixed the man with a cool gaze, using an enormous amount of willpower to prevent herself from right-hooking that little smirk right off his face. "Don't act like you know me," she scoffed. "It grates on my nerves."
"Know what grates on my nerves?" he replied with a curled lip. "When little girls come into my town stirring up all kinds of trouble."
"Your town?"
"That's right. I got a stake in every business here in Angelsport. Some I own outright, like the Eagle's Nest here." He stood, rapping his knuckles on the counter, claiming his ownership. "I'm also the one the townsfolk come to when justice needs tending to."
"Uh-huh. Well, as tempted as I am to stick around and watch you play King of the Iceberg, I never intended to be here to begin with, so..." She grabbed her duffel, made an about-face, and prepared to exit this dingy town once and for all.
"Rose...wait, hold on." A swish of red and blonde blocked her escape. She frowned. "Look, I was harsh. I'm sorry." She frowned some more. He uncomfortably scratched his neck. Entitled asshole. He so did not deserve to look guilty right now. And Rose almost had to glance away as she absolutely refused to think about how his pouting expression made him look like a lost puppy.
"Hey, I know this landscape isn't exactly motorbike optimal. You learned that the hard way. I've got a shipment headed towards Vancouver tomorrow and a cabin already heated up for you." Will spread his hands. "I know we're not exactly becoming fast friends, but there's being a prat and then there's letting someone freeze to death, right?" A small sigh escaped her lips. Unfortunately, he was right. Even with her enhanced adaptive abilities, Rose knew she wouldn't last for much longer on her own in this particular climate.
"Throw in a working hot tub and you've got a deal."