Oh hey… long time no see… How've you been?
I'm sorry for the update two years late, but better late than never I suppose? I don't know, man, I'm trying. As always, more triggering sections will be marked with an asterisk (*), and if there is anything important in that section that you should know, it'll be somewhere else in the chapter.
Enjoy!
Lake Michigan; Warehouse District
September 12, 2017
20:13
The Indian man paced quietly behind the other, his footsteps matching the prints that Logan was trailing in front of him expertly. He rubbed at his neck awkwardly then, his mind torn between maintaining their professional relationship or reaching out to make sure that the other was alright.
Why would he tell me anything though? I haven't always been the kindest to him. And he supposed that that much was true, thinking back to each moment he had snapped at the medic for involving himself in Raja's personal affairs, even though looking back at it now, Logan was perhaps just doing what Raja was currently contemplating returning.
It didn't help that Logan stood in front of him, taking the majority of the wind's damage as he led the two forward, in nothing but a long sleeve shirt, his jacket abandoned kilometers behind the duo. Raja understood the sentiment behind it the second that Logan had shaken from anxiety at the notion of reeking like cheap vodka. Still, it didn't mean that Raja had to enjoy watching the other pretend not to shiver from the elements cascading down them.
Raja shivered himself then and silently cursed at the girls and their impulsivity. He couldn't quite pinpoint why he was suddenly feeling as frustrated as he was, but he assumed that it was perhaps due to the fact that his face was stinging from the bite of the frigid air and that he might be dealing with a severe situation.
He couldn't pray enough that the entirety of his team was alive and well, with a strong emphasis on the alive part, he continued to monologue. No matter what he was coming into now, he knew that once he returned to the base that there would still be a recovering McKenzie and a soon to hopefully be a recovering medic.
Raja looked back over at said man, the feeling of sympathy strong. The Indian man went through the mental catalog of how to display care towards another– simple touches, a listening ear, a promise to be there, and all of them felt wrong. He knew he should try, after all, Logan always tried so hard for a Team that was seldom grateful for the attempts.
Raja nearly toppled over the smaller man suddenly.
Instead of faltering in his stance however, the Russian turned to look up at him, a finger against his lips to indicate the need for silence. With a nod, Raja then turned his attention to where Logan had pointed, both of their gazes landing on the top of the warehouse roof. It didn't take super hearing or an enhanced vision to take notice of the figure standing at the rooftop's edge, peering down occasionally to look at the tops of snow-covered Pines; however, it did take an extra thirty seconds to identify the object leaning against the shortened wall—a rifle, and a Sniper rifle at that.
Raja looked back at Logan for guidance then, an unspoken conversation occuring between their eyes and overall facial expressions. The two were still far away enough from the building to avoid immediate detection from the sound of crunching snow beneath their feet, but it still didn't assuage Raja's trepidation as Logan seemingly continued his stride.
Raja stood stark momentarily and allowed for the inked birds that routinely clung to his neck to stretch their hypothetical wings to provide him with potential intel. The duo hesitated their stride to watch the avians sore overhead.
Victoria slid into the room quickly then, hoping against all odds that the men on the other side would convince themselves that they hadn't actually heard the archer's retreating steps. She pressed her back against the door for a moment, before bounding down the dark hallway to the next upcoming opening.
The archer expertly positioned her next shortened arrow into her travel crossbow as she moved. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she cursed, her eyes dancing across the narrow space in the attempts of finding what she would consider a 'good enough' hiding place.
It was subpar, perhaps even a level below 'good enough', but the archer figured she didn't have the means or the time to be picky with her concealment. With a deep breath, the girl wormed her way in between a stack of wooden crates and lazily tossed plywood pallets. Fuck! Her mind repeated, especially as she was forced to abandon her weapon behind her.
The teenager barely had time for her feet to settle in place before the door behind her cracked open, the faintest of lights flooding down the hall as if chasing after her. Victoria closed her eyes tightly and bit her lips shut.
A flashlight beam swept across the room far too slowly for Victoria's liking then, and she hoped it was just her paranoia convincing herself that the light lasted on her back a moment longer than anything else nearby. She didn't dare to even breathe.
"Fucking rats," an accented voice accused, "Nasty pieces of shit."
And that was that as the man returned back out to the main room, the storage area discarded as nothing short of a biohazard. Biohazard or not though, Victoria continued to be a statue stuck in place at a museum, the fear that any small sound would have the man raiding the room once again. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest, especially as she began to continue her journey onward.
I am both relieved and worried that Yessenia was able to make it through the warehouse without being detected, Victoria narrated, her grip on her crossbow tighter than it had been in weeks. God, you better be okay.
Dani continued to shiver despite the subtle warmth beginning to slowly radiate from her chest, internal reprimands reiterating in her head to punish her for displaying any ounce of weakness. She hadn't been retired from Savage's care long enough to begin going soft now.
But I am going soft, complacent, Dani argued with herself, an ounce of disgust filling her veins. The ex-assassin was always stuck between the period of having been one of the most notorious criminals in history and being a mediocre–the word hero was not one she would use to describe herself normally, but for lack of a better descriptor, hero.
She hated herself, especially in moments of confusion like this, where she was unsure of her identity. Right now, the only thing she was sure of was that she was cold and her fingers were interlocked with Alyn's so that they were both rendered invisible to the average person.
Dani grit her teeth. Whether or not she should utilize her training with Savage was beyond her mandated therapy, but she opted for the former to give herself confidence, however faux. It took perhaps too much strength for her not to rip her hand out of Alyn's grip then.
The older girl, two steps ahead, led the duo to where they saw Victoria rush towards. Dani hadn't a clue as to how the other girl was able to clear an area so quickly, especially since they had all entered the building together. If nothing else, the ex-assassin assumed that she had been underestimating the archer since the moment she had met her. Dani knew she had a nasty habit of doing that.
Aside from the villain/hero complex, Dani additionally suffered from both a god complex and less-than-ideal self esteem issue. She had always assumed she was better, smarter, quicker, and far deadlier than those she would make contact with in her usual realm of work, so to be shown otherwise appealed to the negative voice in the back of her head.
Alyn squeezed Dani's fingers tight.
* Mount Justice
September 12, 2017
19:42
McKenzie took a deep, harboring breath in as she waited for her kettle to boil, the promise of tea after a panic-induced hallucination lifting her spirits. Nervously, she picked at the skin by her nailbeds, angrily puckering her fingers in the process.
"It's Chamomile, do you want a cup?" McKenzie's offer to the resident psychologist was quiet, her voice finally level. Slowly, her eyes glided away from their fixed position on her hands to Sam.
He sat politely at the kitchen island, his own eyes staring back at the demigod from over his glasses. Sam stretched his lips into a polite smile. "That would be nice, thank you, McKenzie."
If it were under alternative circumstances, the young serpent would reflect back on this moment later as being pivotal to her recovery; after all, she was moving about the kitchen expertly, able to recall where her teabags were and the proper steps to make herself the herbal remedy. She assumed that that was probably why the older man had not gotten up and taken over from her, wanting to instead observe her recollection.
I wish I still struggled to remember my name, McKenzie complained, willing the images of her deceased friends away from the forefront of her mind. I wish I didn't bitch at the others now, I can see why they didn't remind me of… that event immediately.
She shook her head then. Her teammates, her friends, her family, needed her to recover. Not just from the trauma that the simulation had accrued in her psyche, but also the physical ailments she knew still needed time to heal. Her degree of concussion had been apparently bad enough that it had caused such memory loss, that she did not want to know the long-lasting consequences of it.
"McKenzie," the doctor interrupted her internal motivational speech. "Your water."
"Oh," the girl exclaimed, before shutting off the burner. I definitely need more time to recover if the kettle's whistle going off by my ear didn't catch my attention.
Oh… what if that were a gun? McKenzie took in another deep breath as she pulled two mugs out from the cupboard, her favorite one nestled in her right hand. Or a sword, getting ready to impale–it was soft pink with a cartoon worm, the text above him quoting 'I'd still love you'. It was a gift from the resident necromancer, the boy presenting it to her after a heated discussion on the topic that had been brought up late one night.
It was perhaps silly, but McKenzie loved the implications of it and regarded it highly as a prized possession. This was especially true as she had begun pouring the steaming water into Sam's own, seemingly lame, navy mug. It was fitting, in a way, that McKenzie had immediately thought that those two mugs represented their individual outward personalities to the Team. McKenzie, full of love and care, and Sam, closed off and corporate-like.
"Sugar?" McKenzie was going through the steps expertly, not once indicating that she was struggling with the task. She was trying so hard to be proud of herself. Because I can't be proud of anything else I have done recently.
"No, thank you for asking."
When the girl had turned on her heels to present Sam with his mug, it took more energy than she would care to admit to swallow the bile threatening to climb up her throat. Her gaze met a phantom Noah, a plunged sword resting amongst his internal organs, his ribs warped around the steel. McKenzie grit her teeth, before resting the mug atop the countertop with a shake.
"I think I am going to lay down until they get back," McKenzie informed the ginger-haired man, ignoring the corpse sitting next to him.
Lake Michigan; Warehouse District
September 12, 2017
20:17
Oliver watched as the snow dissipated under Angel's footing, his boots being the only footwear to not result in the tundra cracking beneath his weight. It was a marvel to watch as the powdered material turned to water instantly upon making contact with Angel's body, before slowly icing over moments later.
It was a shock, at first, to follow within the boy's prints, especially as he marched steadily through the woodland without fault, only for the technician's foot to immediately slide and stumble out beneath him. It was nothing short of fascinating, and Oliver would be lying if he said that watching Angel wasn't distracting him from the current mission.
Oliver turned back slightly to watch Noah then, a small gleam of scientific curiosity once again gracing his features as he watched the smaller boy move: his feet were silent, the bottoms of them enveloped in an almost shadowed appearance. It made sense, in a way, to watch as the boy's body argued with the more mortal realm, the shadows trying to engulf the necromancer in even the most subtle of ways.
It all contrasted to Oliver's own feet and eyes. The two younger teens walked without worry, looking up for intruders in the trees and skyline, whereas the technician thought about what he always did—bombs, trip mines, IEDs, and explosives in any capacity and form. Perhaps, he figured, that's why he always paid attention the most to the ground.
"Stop looking at the clock," Floyd Lawton's order was firm, hard. "Eyes stay down."
Oliver attempted to soothe the shake of his hands, the pliers in his grip suddenly too heavy to hold. He couldn't stop his eyes from filtering up to the clock above him then, a countdown of two minutes weighing even more heavily on him.
A shot rang out loudly by Oliver's ear then, forcing the ten year old to cower under himself. "I said eyes down!" The command held a threat, and Oliver knew he would not hear the end of it later on on how his actions coerced his father to waste a bullet on the concrete by his side. "Do not make me remind you again."
Oliver knew not to whimper out in fear, least he wanted the explosive in front of him to be the less haunting weapon he would encounter tonight.
"Yes, sir," Oliver responded, "Do not be afraid of the bomb—"
"—for either you complete your task as the duties were assigned or it is no longer an issue for you and your person," the two of them completed the mantra together, a satisfied expression crossing over the assassin's features as he stared down at his son with pride.
The technician's fingers mellowed out from their previous instability by the end of his words, before cutting a yellow wire without hesitation.
"Hey, look," Noah directed their attention to the right suddenly, his gaze hardened on a small utility shack hidden behind heavy greenery.
The small building's door was rotted with mold, the once white paint chipped heavily and caving inwards. Noah took a deep breath in, before placing a hand on the doorknob.
"The bathroom at the Cave is bigger than this… this closet, or whatever, what are you trying to accomplish by going in?" Angel spoke for the first time since their departure from the jet, his attempts of still trying to reign control of the situation evident. His hands were on his hips, his shoulders squared in an effort to make himself appear larger.
Noah turned the doorknob slowly before issuing a reply, "You know why Batman is one of the most successful heroes not just in the League, but in the entirety of the multiverse?" He raised his eyebrow inquisitively, before using the brute force from his shoulder to open the stuck door. With a grunt, the door finally moved on its rusted hinges, before revealing stairs leading deeper into the earth.
The necromancer cheekily smirked at the Mexican teen, "He's a detective."
Yessenia was grateful for many things. For instance: unlimited soda refills at restaurants, the snooze button on alarm clocks, and above all else, and especially at the moment, her superpowers. The Amazonian princess was quick in flight the moment she heard Killer Frost put her men on patrol, and she could not help the small grin that spread across her features as she watched a set of armed guards walk on top of her shadow below.
Carefully, Yessenia found refuge on top of an abandoned catwalk, her feet silent as they landed on the metal crating. If she had been any of her other teammates, the girl knew that her movements would be audible to the room's occupants. And, as much as Yessenia was disappointed in herself tonight, she was prideful of that, at the very least.
I bet Dani is also quiet though, Yessenia internally sneered at the ex-assassin, jealousy once again making itself known. Before the Team had been opened up to the remaining eight newcomers, Yessenia had known that she was the powerhouse of the group, she was the best of them. And now? Now my friends no longer look at me first when shit hits the fan.
Yessenia's foot remained balanced even as it stepped midair, her weight not shifting as the catwalk became scarce and under repair. It took nine additional steps forward before the superpowered teen realized that she was no longer walking on a plain, her steps obsolete and otherwise comical.
The girl increased her gravity slowly then, her mass retreating back towards ground level.
"I take it you haven't found Amazon Girl yet," Alyn's voice was sudden in Yessenia's ears, and the teen had to fight the urge to flinch in response.
Distantly, Victoria sighed, and the Amazonian could hear the girl's hair rubbing against her ears as she shook her head. "Not yet. I'm starting to think she got captured and that's why Frost's henchmen are now out searching."
The admittance was hard on Yessenia's ego. She wanted Victoria to have more faith in her, she needed her best friend to have more faith. The girl grit her teeth and kept marching forward, her hand just about making contact with a doorknob in front of her as she did so. Yessenia found it difficult not to feel offended.
"Great. Now we have to add rescue recon to an already impromptu mission," Dani deadpanned, her voice closer than the previous two.
"Shut up!" Yessenia hissed back into the open air, instantly clapping a hand over her mouth in regret.
IDIOT! IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT! Yessenia's panic was rash as she bound forward into a new room.
The witch hummed.
Well, I can tell that some of the boys have started to arrive, Charlotte stretched her arms out in front of her, the muscles in her back and upper arms extending as she prepared herself. But it also seems that Killer Frost sent out more men.
She cracked some of the knuckles on her right hand then.
Internally, the witch almost chastised herself. If only she had more time to acclimate herself better with the entirety of the Team, she would be able to tell the identity of the boys approaching. She could feel one, flanking around the woodlands to the other side of the building she was currently on the roof of, and then the two that were with Noah in the distance.
"Alright then," Charlotte cracked the knuckles on her left hand. She assumed that the one that was below her was attempting to evade one of Killer Frost's men, the feelings associated being…
She threw up her mental walls to prevent her own senses from being infected.
The girl normally held no issues in allowing small streams of emotion to trickle in her body, but sometimes, and with some people, the stream was more like a dam breaking, flooding. And although Charlotte oftentimes preferred to hold down her emotional barriers on missions for an advantage, there was nothing advantageous about that.
The Tessen was flung dangerously out towards the shadow approaching her suddenly then, her body reacting off of instinct. Mental block or not, she had prepared herself for the henchman to make his appearance known.
Normally, with her expertise, the Tessen would lodge itself in a less-than-lethal position on the body; however, the shadow that had joined her on the rooftop twisted his shoulder to evade capture. Instead, Charlotte's weapon found a new home in the concrete behind, the blade sitting in the wall lamely.
She gained her bearings quickly and ducked out of the way of a pocket knife soaring towards her head. Almost as if they were twin trainees, the duo equipped themselves with the others' weapons, and the witch had to suppress her smirk—the Tessen was balanced in a way that matched her and only her.
She flipped the knife in her grip then, before crossing the distance to her attacker in an attempt to plunge his own weapon into his abdomen. Her eyes went wide in shock though as he utilized one of the slits in her war fan to counteract her, ripping the knife out of her grip and back into his.
It was quick then, as she was thrown onto her back, the knife at her jugular. This was what she excelled at though, years of training on the floor making her comfortable with the more vulnerable of positions. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and twisted, maneuvering his body under hers as she dug her knee into his lower ribs.
He huffed in pain but otherwise did not respond to the change of power dynamics. Instead, he used this new position to his advantage to kick his leg up into her face, pushing her nose into the concrete roof to armbar her.
She could feel him readjusting to placate his weapon back onto her person, and in a last-ditch, seldom dirty play, she dislocated his thumb and pushed the knife into his forearm.
There was a hiss of pain then and only a hiss. There was blood now splayed across her jacket, but his eyes remained determined. She would lie if she said that the lack of reaction didn't worry her.
Almost as if he was unbothered by the newfound pain she had inflicted on him, he continued to readjust his armbar, before redirecting the entirety of his weight to instead—
Charlotte blanched, feeling the stress of her ulnar collateral ligament by her elbow producing the warning signals that he was about to rupture it. She stopped struggling in an attempt to relax her elbow even minutely, hoping that he wasn't trained in the same way she was and wasn't about to send her into an early retirement from an injury that would never heal.
The witch flexed her fingers quickly then, tapping at his arm lightly in order to draw the magick out from the tips. She spoke as clearly as she could then, her voice high in command, "Release me."
She hated to use this type of spell on someone. It typically leads to them being dazed for hours, and Gods I hope he doesn't throw up on me. But as she outweighed the pros and cons of it, she realized she much rather would prefer for her attacker to be sick than for her to lose the ability to bend her arm for any length of time.
The grip that he had on her body slowly eased in tension, and the witch softly sighed in relief, mentally preparing herself to hold two bodies on the rooftop with her instead of the previous lone one. Charlotte's repose did not last.
"Release me!" The witch once again hexed, a soft purple emitting from her hands as she did so.
She had yet to meet a human that was immune to mind-control magick, but here he was, bloody, bitterly cool to the touch, and once again wrapped tight on her arm.
Noah pushed past the cobwebs in front of him, dust struggling to settle with the squad's nonstop movements. The dingy tunnel that they had found themselves traversing through was dimly lit and the only source of light was sporadically placed lightbulbs that hung from the, in Angel's personal opinion, questionable ceiling. Creepily, the further the group traveled, the darker the tunnel became as the boys' shadows continuously grew.
"Why is this tunnel even here?" Angel finally questioned, his eyes squinted in an attempt to familiarize himself with his dark surroundings, "It makes no sense to have a hidden exit from a warehouse district in the middle of nowhere."
Before Noah could provide a hypothesis, the thoughts ranging from building code necessities to unground tunnel systems for illegal activities such as the one they were investigating, Oliver answered, "Tunnels like these were created between the Second World War and the Cold War, kind of acting like a supposed safe spot in the event of nuclear fallout. If you look closely, the walls are lined with lead as an extra preventative measure against radiation poisoning."
Angel and Noah slowed their pace to stare at the older male momentarily. He had continued on ahead, unaware of the two watching as he strode through the hallway confidently.
The bat suppressed his impressed expression. The knowledge had seemed so effortless to Oliver, almost as if reciting it came easier to him than breathing did–he had simply known the answer instead of having to deduce one from surrounding evidence. And the more that Noah had absorbed the environment's surroundings, the more obvious the answer had become.
"Should we be concerned?" Angel asked as he quickened his pace to catch up with the technician. "Do we think that it's on purpose, the location, that is?"
"Not likely, I'd honestly be surprised if Frost or her henchmen knew this tunnel was here," Noah replied, pushing aside yet another spiderweb. "And I've looked at her dissertations and class schedules, nuclear war is far out of her scope."
"And Death's?" Oliver finally looked over his shoulder.
The diviner paused to think, "Psychologically speaking?"
"Sure."
"Negative," Noah made out the features of a trap door ahead, light flooding through slivered cracks in the wood. "The Team has only encountered him before once, and, off any sort of record, I am not convinced he is who he says he is. Studying conversations and word choice patterns, he seems to be portraying a caricature more than anything else in order to establish dominance or a sense of authority."
"Damn, move over Dr. Foster, we have Dr. Ghost King in the house," Angel teased, poking the other boy in the side with his finger.
Noah scoffed with an equally playful eye-roll, "When you spend the majority of your hero career with Arkham Asylum patients off any sort of medication, you pick up a thing or two."
Their voices depleted in volume the closer they got to the double doors, Noah's hand reaching into his jacket to uncover an emergency Batarang. Extracting it from its safety mechanism, the fifteen-year-old slid the sharpened edge through the slit of the barriers. In perhaps the shortest three seconds of any of their lives, Noah flicked his wrist and unlocked the door from the opposing side.
"Coast is clear," Oliver informed the two, before pushing one of the doors open to reveal a basement setting.
Alyn was grateful for the reprieve of her powers, the sigh leaving her mouth with ease. She understood the necessity of using them in moments such as these, but she would be lying to herself if she said using them whilst injured wasn't depleting her of all of her energy.
And the energy I can't afford to keep losing, the lawyer-to-be reminded herself, applying two of her uninjured fingers to the pulse point on her neck expertly. Because at this point, no amount of coffee in the world can fix this.
"Are you okay?" Tori asked, interrupting the Turkish woman from her monologue.
Another alleviation of her anxiety was when Dani and Alyn had finally managed to catch up to the archer, the latter of the three having to take extra precautions, such as timely pauses in movement, in order to avoid detection in comparison to the two that were able to simply walk through the open space without thought.
With a soft smile, Alyn wordlessly nodded. The younger girl had enough to worry about without the mother creating additional stressors for her. And, if Alyn was good at nothing else, she knew she was good at mitigating stress and making herself, and in turn, her problems, seem microscopic paralleled to the conflicts others were experiencing.
Her hand ached, her head pounded, and I should have taken my medication two hours ago if I wanted to still be on schedule for my recovery. Alyn said nothing but her smile was loud, and neither girl in front of her argued.
Dani stilled in front of them suddenly then, the soft contact her boots were making with the concrete under her instantly nonexistent.
The three barely had time to register the onslaught of an attack, the abrupt shouts of a man startling Alyn the most in comparison to her more experienced teammates. Instinctually she rendered herself invisible, whereas Dani provided cover through the use of an azure shield. The bullets that followed ricocheted, the three girls counting off the henchmen from a position of safety.
"Seven men, four guns, two semis, I have two o'clock," Victoria was the first to make a decision.
"Twelve," Dani claimed, her eyes hardening on the men in her immediate line of vision, her pupils glowing more vividly by the second.
"Go," Alyn finalized before she dashed towards the only unclaimed group.
The two men in front of Alyn had their attention directed toward the ex-assassin, and it took minimal effort for the woman to knock them unconscious as she collided their heads together with a singular clap.
Simultaneously, the Italian had kicked down on the knee of one of her own shooters, before instantly pushing the barrel of his gun into his nose. The blood that cascaded down his face had distracted his partner long enough for Victoria to land a blow to his temple with her fist, both of them collapsing onto one another.
By the time Alyn had the opportunity to render herself tangible once again, Dani's three were incapacitated, a singular attack from her powers having forced them violently against an opposing wall.
"Archer," Dani beckoned Victoria cooly, tossing her one of the communicators she had collected from her opponent's hip, "Hack."
Charlotte nearly jumped in invocation at the sight of Raja's head suddenly peering over the edge of the rooftop, a muffled shout emitting from her lungs desperately.
His eyes immediately snapped towards hers then, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Once his attention was properly garnered, however, he was quick to leap over the ladder and towards the duo, his arms already moving to run interference. And although Charlotte had quickly found repose at his appearance, she soon grew concerned as she witnessed his face contort into panic with each step taken.
The witch paled, Raja's expression doing nothing to assuage her anxiety; instead, the fear that her attacker was holding her disconnected limb grew, instantly icing her veins.
"Logan!"
Charlotte rapidly blinked at Raja's call, her neck craning to scrutinize the face of her attacker. He looked just as confused as she felt.
"She's one of us! That's–"
"Fuck," Logan was quick with removing himself from Charlotte, his hands quickly being thrown up into the air as evidence of him disengaging from their battle. He remained low on the ground then as Charlotte rapidly stood, her fingers instantly prodding at the skin on her elbow.
"Is that blood?" Raja crouched over the medic in concern, his hands hesitating to make contact with the other.
"It's fine, it's mine," the Russian admitted under his breath, his voice nonchalant as he stood and pushed past the Muslim man and towards Charlotte. His tone was serious as he spoke directly to her, "Did I hurt you?"
The girl, despite being shorter, stared down at Logan with suspicion, "Your thumb is dislocated, correct it before it's too swollen."
Just as suspicious, the medic glared as he did what he was told, his jaw tight as he pushed the finger back into the socket with a silent grunt of pain. He eyed her with a different lens then, doing a once-over for any outwardly present wounds. Momentarily, his gaze lingered on her forehead and Charlotte could read from his face that he was cataloging the newly forming bruise presenting itself more with each passing second. Aside from the plethora of contusions she was sure she would unearth in the shower later though, she was otherwise unharmed.
Cautiously, Charlotte turned towards Raja, "I am monitoring an incapacitated henchman right now, but I can feel exactly where Killer Frost is. One of you needs to take over so that I can proceed to my next mark." Her words posed the command as if it were an ask, but both men knew better. This was especially so as she eyed Logan expectantly, her body angled to display the propped security personnel from earlier.
Raja placed his forearm up high in response, a high-pitched whistle beckoning one of his tattooed ravens flying overhead. "We can leave one of my birds as a watchman, let's get going."
* Unknown Location
January 1, 2018
00:03
He stared, shell-shocked, at the bodies being extravated from the building, doing everything in his power to remain devoid of emotions as he counted the sheeted bodies atop gurneys exiting. It was only minutes prior that he himself had carried out her corpse, her muscles only then falling victim to rigor mortis. He still felt her skin haunting the tips of his fingers.
He stared.
"You're being relieved of your post," Black Canary approached, her face unreadable.
He stared, unmoving.
It was only when she tried handing him a napkin that he moved, however subtle, to face the Leaguer. Her expression turned solemn then, napkin forgotten, as her eyes captured the blood spattered across the medic's person.
Uh, so there you go, another chapter is done and uploaded, so thank you for reading and bearing with me. If I don't have another one done by Halloween, then, by all means, start bullying me again, as it does work (Shout out dragonwatergirl). As always though, I do have questions, so feel free to let me know what your answers are if you still somehow stuck around.
I mentioned mugs for two of the characters in this update, so what would your character's mug be like? Have any specific personality reasons as to why, or is it just because they like it?
Anything new/additional you want to add about your character now? Or is there something that you want to change because you made your characters when you were like, 12? If you want, you can send me a new "application" with everything you still want. If that is your preference, just send me a message or indicate that you want one in your review and I'll reach out to you with it.
Are there any characters you want your OC to interact with more? What are you hoping would happen/be said if they do? Alternatively, am I mischaracterizing your OC and would you prefer if they distance themself from a character I put them by too often?