The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
invocation of the muses
young justice
code by @fudgecakez
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The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
black canary
âWatch Tower is ready to go.â
âIâm glad I moved Cadence in last week, thatâs four less people we need to do this dance with.â She sighed, maneuvering her earpiece and checking her phone. Cadence, Dinahâs son, had been moved into the mountain early as a sort of perk to being in the loop of what was going on and because Dinah wanted to lessen the moving parts of this plan on moving day. Beaming technology of this caliber was new, and she just knew bits of luggage were going to get left behind in the transfer or something.
Cadence wouldnât let her in his room so far but she suspected that it was less out of a desire for privacy and more because he was being a lazy bum and still hadnât unpacked everything. Even though sheâd told him to at least fold his clothes and put them in the dresser first thing. He wasnât a little boy anymore!
The second headache already in the mountain was still busy decorating, he and his no doubt soon to be step-brother had moved in the same as Cadence had last week, courtesy of bat privileges. Then he proceeded to insult the interior of the room he was assigned as he ordered all new furnishings, which his mother encouraged and had delivered via bat plane. Which was ridiculous, and sheâd let them know that, but Selina retorted in french and waved her off. Dinah supposed that there was nothing she could do about it considering this was on Bruceâs dime and time, and neither herâs nor the Leagueâs.
Headache number three walked around like he owned the place, as expected, but had settled in with little trouble and few complaints (directed at her, which is the important distinction) apparently.
And the absolute angel that was Sunny had given no one any fuss, already having organized the med bayâs equipment and supplies to his liking, and had helped her unpack groceries and stock the fridge when her own son had been nowhere to be found. >:c
Dinah stood outside of a bedroom, the door open, and gave the go ahead to patch her through to the person the room was assigned to, and beamed them into their room. She told them to meet her at the base of the twin stairs in ten minutes, and repeated this process six more times.
Then she attempted to corral the four other children who had already settled in, but could only find three, Damian, Sunny, and her own boy. To whom she charged with leading everyone down to the meeting room while she hunted down the straggler, who turned out to be mixing himself some sort of fruity drink in the kitchen, and only relented in allowing him to finish making it when he offered her some too. She was a fan of smoothies. What can she say?
Armed with a smoothie and an overgrown cat, Dinah finally made it down to the meeting room.
âAlright everyone is here? Sascha tuckus in the chair not on the table⌠feet donât belong on the table either.â She went from cheery and welcoming to growling stern mum in a nanosecond flat and then counted heads. Sighing in exasperation when she found that once again one was missing.
âOk who is gone, how did that happen⌠where is Sunny?â She looked around.
âSorry! Iâm here!â Sunny rushed into the room and took his seat.
She debated asking him where the hell he went but figured it didnât matter at this point, what mattered was that she started the damn presentation. She took a long sip of the smoothie and smacked her lips, damn that kid made a mean drink.
âAlrighty then, so now that weâre all finally gathered, let us begin!â She set her drink down and smiled, picking up her tablet and tapping it to life. The lights in the room dimmed and the table lit up, a holographic 3D rendering of the Watch Tower appeared in its middle, floating and blueish in tint.
âSome of you know, and some of you donât, that the Justice League operates in Space, and has for some time now, five years to be exact.â The image switched up to a rendering of the Hall of Justice and Mount Justice, side by side, âWhat you donât know, at least those of you not connected with the league directly, is that the Justice League never operated out of the Hall of Justice. We operated out of a base we call Mount Justice, where we are now.â A red dot appeared, blinking, towards the bottom of the image of Mt. Justice, indicating their current location.
âThe Justice League has renovated this base with all new gear and interior, and lucky you guys because the paint was chipping I can assure you, in preparation for your arrival. Youâve each been selected to participate in something called project Young Justice. Youâll be trained as earthâs next generation of heroes. Using the facilities in this mountain youâll be prepared to carry out missions that the League gives you, youâll work as a team and form relationships thatâll carry on to the future of the vigilante world. Ultimately the goal is for you guys to carry on when us old timers age out of this gig. Crime isnât slowing down, and we, the league, feel itâs important to invest in the future. Any questions so far?â
âIâm glad I moved Cadence in last week, thatâs four less people we need to do this dance with.â She sighed, maneuvering her earpiece and checking her phone. Cadence, Dinahâs son, had been moved into the mountain early as a sort of perk to being in the loop of what was going on and because Dinah wanted to lessen the moving parts of this plan on moving day. Beaming technology of this caliber was new, and she just knew bits of luggage were going to get left behind in the transfer or something.
Cadence wouldnât let her in his room so far but she suspected that it was less out of a desire for privacy and more because he was being a lazy bum and still hadnât unpacked everything. Even though sheâd told him to at least fold his clothes and put them in the dresser first thing. He wasnât a little boy anymore!
The second headache already in the mountain was still busy decorating, he and his no doubt soon to be step-brother had moved in the same as Cadence had last week, courtesy of bat privileges. Then he proceeded to insult the interior of the room he was assigned as he ordered all new furnishings, which his mother encouraged and had delivered via bat plane. Which was ridiculous, and sheâd let them know that, but Selina retorted in french and waved her off. Dinah supposed that there was nothing she could do about it considering this was on Bruceâs dime and time, and neither herâs nor the Leagueâs.
Headache number three walked around like he owned the place, as expected, but had settled in with little trouble and few complaints (directed at her, which is the important distinction) apparently.
And the absolute angel that was Sunny had given no one any fuss, already having organized the med bayâs equipment and supplies to his liking, and had helped her unpack groceries and stock the fridge when her own son had been nowhere to be found. >:c
Dinah stood outside of a bedroom, the door open, and gave the go ahead to patch her through to the person the room was assigned to, and beamed them into their room. She told them to meet her at the base of the twin stairs in ten minutes, and repeated this process six more times.
Then she attempted to corral the four other children who had already settled in, but could only find three, Damian, Sunny, and her own boy. To whom she charged with leading everyone down to the meeting room while she hunted down the straggler, who turned out to be mixing himself some sort of fruity drink in the kitchen, and only relented in allowing him to finish making it when he offered her some too. She was a fan of smoothies. What can she say?
Armed with a smoothie and an overgrown cat, Dinah finally made it down to the meeting room.
âAlright everyone is here? Sascha tuckus in the chair not on the table⌠feet donât belong on the table either.â She went from cheery and welcoming to growling stern mum in a nanosecond flat and then counted heads. Sighing in exasperation when she found that once again one was missing.
âOk who is gone, how did that happen⌠where is Sunny?â She looked around.
âSorry! Iâm here!â Sunny rushed into the room and took his seat.
She debated asking him where the hell he went but figured it didnât matter at this point, what mattered was that she started the damn presentation. She took a long sip of the smoothie and smacked her lips, damn that kid made a mean drink.
âAlrighty then, so now that weâre all finally gathered, let us begin!â She set her drink down and smiled, picking up her tablet and tapping it to life. The lights in the room dimmed and the table lit up, a holographic 3D rendering of the Watch Tower appeared in its middle, floating and blueish in tint.
âSome of you know, and some of you donât, that the Justice League operates in Space, and has for some time now, five years to be exact.â The image switched up to a rendering of the Hall of Justice and Mount Justice, side by side, âWhat you donât know, at least those of you not connected with the league directly, is that the Justice League never operated out of the Hall of Justice. We operated out of a base we call Mount Justice, where we are now.â A red dot appeared, blinking, towards the bottom of the image of Mt. Justice, indicating their current location.
âThe Justice League has renovated this base with all new gear and interior, and lucky you guys because the paint was chipping I can assure you, in preparation for your arrival. Youâve each been selected to participate in something called project Young Justice. Youâll be trained as earthâs next generation of heroes. Using the facilities in this mountain youâll be prepared to carry out missions that the League gives you, youâll work as a team and form relationships thatâll carry on to the future of the vigilante world. Ultimately the goal is for you guys to carry on when us old timers age out of this gig. Crime isnât slowing down, and we, the league, feel itâs important to invest in the future. Any questions so far?â
code by RI.a
a z u l a
these violent delights have violent ends.
Kataly'a
princess of almerac
Faded_Neon
Very witty
Sure, it was good to help take down any neighborhood's crime rate, making sure the residents would remain safe. However for the eighteen year old, there was only one criminal on his mind that he needed to stop. And one day, he will.. But his plot of vengeance aside, Sylas was not thoughtless of the idea of attempting to do so while being hunted down by Batman of all people, like a common criminal. Sylas was no criminal..was he?
The boy's green and gray hues stared blankly from his apartment window, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he peered down at the crowds of bystanders who went about their day. Going to work, getting off the bus from school, meeting up for a date. Such simple things that seemed so alien for Sylas. Maybe this life..was the only one meant for him.
Those eyes had shifted though, as they caught the glimmer of the light particles shaping over his form. Zeta beam-tech.. With a heavy sigh, Sylas had taken one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it from his apartment window, just in time for the beam's transport process to finish. The method of travel was relatively instant, however the mass of light that shines during could feel potentially blinding to anyone. Once the young Todd's eyes adjusted, they blinked a few times before peering around. It appeared that he was beamed into a bedroom, assuming to be where he'd be staying. The League certainly spared no expense.. Everything was lavish and modern, from the room itself to the control panel on the doorway. Speaking of the doorway..
When Sylas's eyes gazed towards the open doorway, it was there he had seen her. A female on the shorter side, with a head of blond locks that the the boy couldn't forget the first and only other time he had seen them. It was years ago, when she and Green Arrow had come to visit their home to see Roy. The Black Canary.. Dinah didn't seem like she had aged a day. Familiarity aside, Sylas had remained silent when he saw her. He had assumed that this was his overseer during his stay in this facility. She had instructed firmly to meet her at the base of the twin stairs in ten minutes time.
Though never being partial to following orders, Sylas found no reason to object to the Canary's request. They had already beamed him here, after all.. The boy had made his way through the corridors, eyes taking in the modern design and detail before seeing the pair of steps that would lead him down to what he would see as the meeting room. There were already several others there. Dinah and Oliver's arrogant son, Connor..go figure he would be here. Connor he had met a few times in their childhood, though the two didn't become quite as close. There was also a rather stunning boy with platinum-blond hair, someone Sylas had found himself gazing at for a bit too long. Quickly dismissing the thought, there was also a dark-haired girl with striking green eyes that could have matched the Canary's own beauty. Finally off to the side was...
Damian. In the moment of seeing the young Wayne present, Sylas's stern gaze broke as he looked over his childhood friend. Along with Connor, Damian was one of the only other children Sylas had been around in his youth. But unlike with the older Connor, Damian was someone Sylas relished in being with when they were younger. It was like having only one friend in the world, and Damian was that friend for the young Todd. But after his parents' death, Sylas had shut himself out from everyone around him, and since hadn't seen Damian in years.. With a knot forming in his chest, Sylas grimaced and shook his head to dismiss the thought in his head before finally joining the small group at the very end of one of the seats away from the others. His eyes were fixated on the Canary before them, almost as if he were making a point to not peer over anyone else as she spoke..
Project Young Justice.. Earth's next generation of heroes. So that's what all this was for. The heroes had set up this initiative in order to prepare their replacements by placing their sidekicks and protege's in a facility and act as a team, to eventually take their mentors' spots in the League. Invest in the future? Sylas almost wondered if it would have been worth risking staying in Gotham and getting captured by Batman. The boy had never worked alongside a team before, as all of his firsthand experience with criminals were dealt on his own. And being honest, he was not exactly prepared to engage in such actions either.. Nonetheless, when Canary had asked if the group of teens had any questions, Sylas did not speak. His gaze never left Dinah's, remaining quiet although one of his legs began to bounce out of a restless impulse. In truth, he wanted this meeting to be finished with so he could return to his room in solitude..
(
The Witch Son
a z u l a
JustJazzy
fin
)
Last edited:
BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
MADISON "JINX" JONES
tags:
a z u l a
The Witch Son
location: Mt. Justice (group meeting)
interaction: Kat (mostly)
a z u l a
The Witch Son
location: Mt. Justice (group meeting)
interaction: Kat (mostly)
SOMETIME AGO (yesterday)
The last thing sheâd expected was that âformalâ meeting with the clown. Perhaps he hadnât made his stance clear, though Madison was sure he had, when she had been confronted over going to see the Batfreak in private. The gun to her head had been a surefire scare tactic; and most would have wet their pants. The second gun aimed at her head was the definite tipping point-- for anyone else. Part of her had held the fear tightly, emoting nothing but a straight grimace. There was a time and a place to show you fear to the Joker, where he would enjoy it most and perhaps spare your life, but in that moment it hadnât been a joke to him. Or maybe, it had. Madison was never quite sure on the manâs level of humour, but she liked to think she had a greater range of actual comedy than the killer clown in front of her.
He lacked the bulbous nose and big-headedness that a Killer Klown should have. Only recently, upon finding out that they were actually related, did she consider that it was the tip of the clownâs nose she saw herself in. Her nose was smaller, maybe, and still perky with youth. He was much older, and it was downcast. The notion itself was still a strange one, but Madison figured it was more a curse than a blessing.
Especially in the situation she was in now.
Hunkered down in some abandoned building, outfitted with the most bright and nonsensical colours on the inside, and graffiti on the outside, was the Jokerâs âlairâ. It was a nondescript building otherwise, just part of the junk that stunk up Gothamâs less desirable parts of town. The Mayhem Gang hide-out was no more than a twenty minute drive away, and Nicky and Vicky had been so kind as to take Madison.
Well, it was more like grill her for whatever information she could supply before leaving.
âHe ainât sayinâ where heâs sendinâ you?â Nicky asked, his grip on the wheel growing tight. Madison made a noise with her mouth, lapping loudly at the cherry sucker between her lips.
âDunno Nicks, Joker makes the calls, we answer the phone; thatâs all I know!â Madison shrugged, tilting her head toward the side mirror. She caught Vickyâs glare, her arms crossed against her chest. Madison whirled around, sucker posed like a cigarette in the corner of her mouth. âYou wonât miss me too much, will ya?â Vicky rolled her eyes, kicking the seat with her hot pink boots.
âIâll miss you crazy, Jinx.â
They arrived, parking outside for a moment. Nicky drummed the wheel, not budging on unlocking the door. Madison, raising an eyebrow, stuck a thumb to the door. âYou mind?â Nicky shook his head, pressing a button. The lock flipped, and Madison beamed.
A sudden weight gripped her arm, and she snapped her head back. Nicky. His grip, hard as rock. She bit down on the sucker, narrowing her kohl-rimmed eyes at the boy. Chewing the sugar, she ripped her arm free.
âGive a call sometime⌠yeah?â His face dropped, Madison suddenly noting how young her peer looked. He was the same age as her, but in that moment he looked no older than sixteen. How long heâd been with the gang. The usual mania in his eyes was gone, and replaced with a word beyond his lips. He opened his mouth, maybe to speak, but shut it fast.
âYeah, yeah. Yâallâs got shit to do anyhow, donât worry âbout me. Gotham ainât stoppinâ madness on account of the craziest bitch taking wind,â Madison giggled, slipping out of the vehicle with her duffel bag. She hadnât much things, really at all, except her favourite pieces of âluxuryâ clothing. âThriftedâ, always, or acquired through her time prowling the streets. Her most important things were on her back, or in her pocket, but she did keep Knife 1 and Knife 2 in the bag-- for safety reasons, of course.
Heading into the building, she spared only a brief look over her shoulder. The red, beat-down car thrummed to life and reversed out. She thought she caught the glimpse of Vicky in the back, but Madison continued on her way anyway.
Her heavy boots echoed in the empty room. It looked like a decorated parking garage, with a few broken lights flashing. Seems it didnât matter if the outside was obvious enough or not, because the inside screamed exactly who lived here. Sheâd only been once or twice in the last year in a half. Usually when Joker wanted to meet with his kid-gang, heâd meet them somewhere outside. Driver, tatted and beefy, with a couple of his favourite entourage. Back-up maybe, but definitely intimidation. Even if The Mayhem Gang was loyal, undoubtedly, to their âpatronâ saint, there seemed to be a need to instill fear.
Maybe he liked it, just to see the diving gazes and the rhythmic chest flutters. A sicko, definitely. Madison liked the sight of fear as well, so she figured she was a sicko too.
At the end of the giant building was an elevator. Mannequins with painted faces, gas emitting from a few of them (Madison didnât want to know what it was), and plenty of more painted services. Pressing the elevator button, she was delighted to the seven foot figure of Diamond Jack Duggan. He wore his clown mask just barely on his massive jaw, and had bulging muscles that seemed to twitch in front of Madisonâs eyes.
âJinx Jones, right? Kiddo,â The man growled out a tease, stepping aside and letting the smaller girl enter the elevator. It whirred to life when he pressed a few buttons, silence overcoming the two.
âI thought it was kind of a secret,â Madison asked with a wide-eyed glance at the man. He looked down, grunting. âYa know, the whole⌠me. But I guess all the goons get to hear about it.â Duggan grunted again, shrugging.
âYouâre very talkative, Jack. Not. But it is quite broody, and very confusing for a girl like me. And, just as you thought, it is turning me on.â
The rest of the ride was silent. They arrived at one of the subfloors, and with a kiss blown back to the stoic man, Madison hurried along. This room had a large hallway, probably built within another parking floor. She navigated along, sighing, as the stretch seemed to last forever. As she walked her head spun, wondering what last words Joker would have with her. Fuck this up and I fuck you up? Make Daddy proud?
Finally she arrived to a heavy steel door, with a singular smile printed in red paint. Wonder if this is the right door, she thought with a smirk. Reaching out, she was surprised to see the door open back. On the other end, with a chipper grin, was the man himself.
âOh, kiddo, you look great. Did you get your hair done?â He chirped, forcing the girl into a tight hug. Madison blanked, rather unmoving beneath his grasp. He clicked his tongue, pulling the girl back and pressing both hands against her cheeks.
âPumpkin, why, you seem to be so excited for your first day of Zero School!â Her face was, still, squished to oblivion. It hurt, a bit, and she was sure he knew it. She smiled at him, nevertheless, which made him smile back. âOh, it warms my heart to see you so grown up. Although, as we know, I hardly knew you existed âtil⌠a week ago! Funny how time flies,â Joker said, finally releasing her face. Madison massaged her cheek with the back of her hand, following as he walked back to this desk. A crude painting of the Gotham skylight was visible behind it, almost like a window.
âYou know, when I look out at this great city⌠Iâm going to imagine you out there. Being⌠heroic. Heh. SavingâŚha... lives,â Joker suddenly broke into a fit of giggles. He bent over, coughing out his laughing. A low chuckle after, and he slowly turned to face her. âBut, we should know better. You arenât capable of good.â
âI am, actually,â Madison retorted with a frown. âThe community doesnât fear me. The only thing that makes me⌠bad⌠is this,â she said with a hand wave. Joker sighed, coming around to the other side of the desk. He lounged against it, crossing his arms.
âCall it whatever you want, kiddo, but you arenât anything but a lowlife degenerate with a pretty face. Youâre WELCOME, by the way. Plus, the blood that runs through your fragile little frame is partly mine, and well, Iâm anything but good. Look at all youâve done here, with the Mayhem Gang⌠youâve been a model citizen there. Chaos is your middle name-- or, it would have been if I had a say.â Madison bit her tongue, chewing particularly hard on the sucker stick. It was gummy in her mouth, but she refused to speak out.
Joker sighed again, reaching around to examine a shiny pistol. He held the thing in his hands, checking the chamber, and then cocked the gun. Aiming it at her head, he gave her a solemn stare. âYou havenât any choice anyway, my dear. Did you charm the device?â He gestured with one hand, and she shuffled in her pocket. Chucking the ring at him, he just managed to catch it. âWasnât ever one for hand-eye coordination.â Gazing at the shiny thing, he let another ring of laughter slip out.
âThis is it?â He asked, and she nodded.
âItâs linked to my earring. I wear it, you hear it. I dunno where weâre goinâ though, so Iâm not sure about the range--â
âIt better work. Enough, at least. If the Bat so much as talks to you, I want to hear it. Heâs been quiet, that bastard, and why⌠I miss his smooth, symphonious calls for my end to chaos. This is more for me than you, kid,â Joker grinned, and Madison adjusted the bag on her body. He leaned back, savouring in the memory, before staring intently at her.
âYou donât fuck this up, you hear?â Madison gulped, but remained as clear-headed as she could. This could all be over, all in a second. Bullet between the eyes, maybe in the heart. Would he risk all the effort given to end the game before it began?
âI hear ya, Boss,â Madison said. She licked her lips, anticipating the gun to lower. It didnât. He cocked his head, a mock frown finding his painted lips. Madison sighed. âI hear ya, Daddy.â
TODAY (Mt. Justice)
She hadnât really had a chance to breathe prior to the burst of energy that transported her from the top floor of the parking garage, next to her makeshift bed, to another bedroom entirely. Her legs were jelly, and her things instantly dropped next to her. Eyes wide, like a raccoon in the headlights, Madison looked around the room.
It was⌠nice. Too nice, she wanted to think, but was there too nice when it came to the glamorous Justice League?
At least sheâd been semi-aware of what was to come. But to see the room, and to finally be there⌠was world-shaking. It was sleek, and roomy, and nothing like the hovel she shared with Vicky and Sweet-tea on a dingy mattress. Maddy gasped, but none so much as the small shriek emitted from her when she saw the blonde woman waiting there. Very short, and she reminded Madison of Sweet-tea a bit. Mostly in the height, and the blondeness.
âPut down your things and meet me at the base of the stairs in ten - weâre having a meeting,â the woman said. Black Canary, as it were, and Madison had heard of the name. Hadnât been privileged enough to hear the proper canary cry, she fancied herself lucky. Madison looked down to the discarded bag, then back to the woman-- who had already left the room.
Alone, actually, Madison took a second to ground herself. She walked over to the dresser, running her fingers over it. A small grin broke out on her face, but none so much as the grin on her face when she ran onto the bed. The big wall behind the bed was bare, and Madison was sure sheâd decorate it in no-time. The mattress was soft, so soft, and the cleanliness of the sheets felt like silk on her skin.
Oh yeah, she would have a shower the second they were dispersed from the meeting.
Upon entering the bathroom, Madison almost shed a tear at the sight of the bathtub. She was smiling, looking around, before she finally caught her own reflection in the mirror.
Skinny, gaunt-- this mirror was not considerate, was it? She leaned forward, pulling and pushing her skin. The makeup on her eyes was gaudy, but she liked it that way. A little dark, a little mysterious. Licking her finger she wiped away some of the stray flicks of eyeliner. Madison primped her hair a bit, wanting to look a little less like a Gotham alley-cat, and adjusted her clothes: oversized shirt, ratty flannel, and black patched jeans. Another smile found the girl, and gazing at the earring in behind her hair, she quickly removed it and tossed it onto the counter.
Itâs not like heâd know for sure she left it behind⌠sheâd put it on later. She just wanted to enjoy⌠without thinking about the bug in her ear.
Madison exited the room, digging in her back pocket for another sucker. Blue raspberry. Looking around, wide-eyed, she stuck the thing in her mouth and smacked her lips against it. Some others were emerging from the rooms, probably in similar positions (hopefully, because wouldnât that be terribly awkward otherwise), and Madison hastily made her way down. A real host of weirdos, as it happened.
She just hoped sheâd remain as anonymous as possible⌠for some time. Let her own impression speak instead of her unfortunate birth-family.
The group managed to form a cluster around Black Canary, who went off to begin explaining their residency.
Continuing to gaze at the others, still sucking on her candy, she tried to remain as vigilant in listening to Dinah. In reality she was⌠excited. Thrilled, maybe, and perhaps a whole lot terrified. She hadnât been a part of any experience like this before. Ever. In only hoping that her behaviour wouldnât fuck it up, or any judgement from Gotham kids if she casually mentioned her allegiances, Madison reasoned that this would definitely be something to write home about.
If she had a home. If that home wasnât waiting for her to slip up, and to put a bullet between her eyes.
A loving home.
Young Justice. Madison never figured sheâd be on the other side of justice. There was always time for change⌠somehow. How many boot-lickers here were going to parade their goodwill around, anyway?
The floaty one, an absolutely gorgeous brunette with venom-green eyes, dressed in some battle-maiden armor straight out of a vid, asked how useful she was supposed to be-- not being from Earth and all. Madison nearly gaped, sucker popping out of her mouth. A real alien, then? Madison had called some of her friends aliens, and maybe made fun of Superman a few too many times, but sheâd never actually met one.
They seemed to be as haughty as the big S, apparently.
Madison curled her finger around the sucker stick, twirling the thing around her tongue. âDonât worry Space-head Barbie,â she said with a deliberate glare to the gap between the girl and the ground. âIf ya keep your head closer to the ground, maybe you can hear whatâs being said,â she stuck her sucker out, pointing it to Black Canary.
âShe just said, investinâ in the future. Isnât the big green guy parta the League? Heâs alien, right? Clearly world-wide safety ainâ jusâ an Earth thing.â Madison blinked sardonically, raising her brows and grinning at the girl.
The last thing sheâd expected was that âformalâ meeting with the clown. Perhaps he hadnât made his stance clear, though Madison was sure he had, when she had been confronted over going to see the Batfreak in private. The gun to her head had been a surefire scare tactic; and most would have wet their pants. The second gun aimed at her head was the definite tipping point-- for anyone else. Part of her had held the fear tightly, emoting nothing but a straight grimace. There was a time and a place to show you fear to the Joker, where he would enjoy it most and perhaps spare your life, but in that moment it hadnât been a joke to him. Or maybe, it had. Madison was never quite sure on the manâs level of humour, but she liked to think she had a greater range of actual comedy than the killer clown in front of her.
He lacked the bulbous nose and big-headedness that a Killer Klown should have. Only recently, upon finding out that they were actually related, did she consider that it was the tip of the clownâs nose she saw herself in. Her nose was smaller, maybe, and still perky with youth. He was much older, and it was downcast. The notion itself was still a strange one, but Madison figured it was more a curse than a blessing.
Especially in the situation she was in now.
Hunkered down in some abandoned building, outfitted with the most bright and nonsensical colours on the inside, and graffiti on the outside, was the Jokerâs âlairâ. It was a nondescript building otherwise, just part of the junk that stunk up Gothamâs less desirable parts of town. The Mayhem Gang hide-out was no more than a twenty minute drive away, and Nicky and Vicky had been so kind as to take Madison.
Well, it was more like grill her for whatever information she could supply before leaving.
âHe ainât sayinâ where heâs sendinâ you?â Nicky asked, his grip on the wheel growing tight. Madison made a noise with her mouth, lapping loudly at the cherry sucker between her lips.
âDunno Nicks, Joker makes the calls, we answer the phone; thatâs all I know!â Madison shrugged, tilting her head toward the side mirror. She caught Vickyâs glare, her arms crossed against her chest. Madison whirled around, sucker posed like a cigarette in the corner of her mouth. âYou wonât miss me too much, will ya?â Vicky rolled her eyes, kicking the seat with her hot pink boots.
âIâll miss you crazy, Jinx.â
They arrived, parking outside for a moment. Nicky drummed the wheel, not budging on unlocking the door. Madison, raising an eyebrow, stuck a thumb to the door. âYou mind?â Nicky shook his head, pressing a button. The lock flipped, and Madison beamed.
A sudden weight gripped her arm, and she snapped her head back. Nicky. His grip, hard as rock. She bit down on the sucker, narrowing her kohl-rimmed eyes at the boy. Chewing the sugar, she ripped her arm free.
âGive a call sometime⌠yeah?â His face dropped, Madison suddenly noting how young her peer looked. He was the same age as her, but in that moment he looked no older than sixteen. How long heâd been with the gang. The usual mania in his eyes was gone, and replaced with a word beyond his lips. He opened his mouth, maybe to speak, but shut it fast.
âYeah, yeah. Yâallâs got shit to do anyhow, donât worry âbout me. Gotham ainât stoppinâ madness on account of the craziest bitch taking wind,â Madison giggled, slipping out of the vehicle with her duffel bag. She hadnât much things, really at all, except her favourite pieces of âluxuryâ clothing. âThriftedâ, always, or acquired through her time prowling the streets. Her most important things were on her back, or in her pocket, but she did keep Knife 1 and Knife 2 in the bag-- for safety reasons, of course.
Heading into the building, she spared only a brief look over her shoulder. The red, beat-down car thrummed to life and reversed out. She thought she caught the glimpse of Vicky in the back, but Madison continued on her way anyway.
Her heavy boots echoed in the empty room. It looked like a decorated parking garage, with a few broken lights flashing. Seems it didnât matter if the outside was obvious enough or not, because the inside screamed exactly who lived here. Sheâd only been once or twice in the last year in a half. Usually when Joker wanted to meet with his kid-gang, heâd meet them somewhere outside. Driver, tatted and beefy, with a couple of his favourite entourage. Back-up maybe, but definitely intimidation. Even if The Mayhem Gang was loyal, undoubtedly, to their âpatronâ saint, there seemed to be a need to instill fear.
Maybe he liked it, just to see the diving gazes and the rhythmic chest flutters. A sicko, definitely. Madison liked the sight of fear as well, so she figured she was a sicko too.
At the end of the giant building was an elevator. Mannequins with painted faces, gas emitting from a few of them (Madison didnât want to know what it was), and plenty of more painted services. Pressing the elevator button, she was delighted to the seven foot figure of Diamond Jack Duggan. He wore his clown mask just barely on his massive jaw, and had bulging muscles that seemed to twitch in front of Madisonâs eyes.
âJinx Jones, right? Kiddo,â The man growled out a tease, stepping aside and letting the smaller girl enter the elevator. It whirred to life when he pressed a few buttons, silence overcoming the two.
âI thought it was kind of a secret,â Madison asked with a wide-eyed glance at the man. He looked down, grunting. âYa know, the whole⌠me. But I guess all the goons get to hear about it.â Duggan grunted again, shrugging.
âYouâre very talkative, Jack. Not. But it is quite broody, and very confusing for a girl like me. And, just as you thought, it is turning me on.â
The rest of the ride was silent. They arrived at one of the subfloors, and with a kiss blown back to the stoic man, Madison hurried along. This room had a large hallway, probably built within another parking floor. She navigated along, sighing, as the stretch seemed to last forever. As she walked her head spun, wondering what last words Joker would have with her. Fuck this up and I fuck you up? Make Daddy proud?
Finally she arrived to a heavy steel door, with a singular smile printed in red paint. Wonder if this is the right door, she thought with a smirk. Reaching out, she was surprised to see the door open back. On the other end, with a chipper grin, was the man himself.
âOh, kiddo, you look great. Did you get your hair done?â He chirped, forcing the girl into a tight hug. Madison blanked, rather unmoving beneath his grasp. He clicked his tongue, pulling the girl back and pressing both hands against her cheeks.
âPumpkin, why, you seem to be so excited for your first day of Zero School!â Her face was, still, squished to oblivion. It hurt, a bit, and she was sure he knew it. She smiled at him, nevertheless, which made him smile back. âOh, it warms my heart to see you so grown up. Although, as we know, I hardly knew you existed âtil⌠a week ago! Funny how time flies,â Joker said, finally releasing her face. Madison massaged her cheek with the back of her hand, following as he walked back to this desk. A crude painting of the Gotham skylight was visible behind it, almost like a window.
âYou know, when I look out at this great city⌠Iâm going to imagine you out there. Being⌠heroic. Heh. SavingâŚha... lives,â Joker suddenly broke into a fit of giggles. He bent over, coughing out his laughing. A low chuckle after, and he slowly turned to face her. âBut, we should know better. You arenât capable of good.â
âI am, actually,â Madison retorted with a frown. âThe community doesnât fear me. The only thing that makes me⌠bad⌠is this,â she said with a hand wave. Joker sighed, coming around to the other side of the desk. He lounged against it, crossing his arms.
âCall it whatever you want, kiddo, but you arenât anything but a lowlife degenerate with a pretty face. Youâre WELCOME, by the way. Plus, the blood that runs through your fragile little frame is partly mine, and well, Iâm anything but good. Look at all youâve done here, with the Mayhem Gang⌠youâve been a model citizen there. Chaos is your middle name-- or, it would have been if I had a say.â Madison bit her tongue, chewing particularly hard on the sucker stick. It was gummy in her mouth, but she refused to speak out.
Joker sighed again, reaching around to examine a shiny pistol. He held the thing in his hands, checking the chamber, and then cocked the gun. Aiming it at her head, he gave her a solemn stare. âYou havenât any choice anyway, my dear. Did you charm the device?â He gestured with one hand, and she shuffled in her pocket. Chucking the ring at him, he just managed to catch it. âWasnât ever one for hand-eye coordination.â Gazing at the shiny thing, he let another ring of laughter slip out.
âThis is it?â He asked, and she nodded.
âItâs linked to my earring. I wear it, you hear it. I dunno where weâre goinâ though, so Iâm not sure about the range--â
âIt better work. Enough, at least. If the Bat so much as talks to you, I want to hear it. Heâs been quiet, that bastard, and why⌠I miss his smooth, symphonious calls for my end to chaos. This is more for me than you, kid,â Joker grinned, and Madison adjusted the bag on her body. He leaned back, savouring in the memory, before staring intently at her.
âYou donât fuck this up, you hear?â Madison gulped, but remained as clear-headed as she could. This could all be over, all in a second. Bullet between the eyes, maybe in the heart. Would he risk all the effort given to end the game before it began?
âI hear ya, Boss,â Madison said. She licked her lips, anticipating the gun to lower. It didnât. He cocked his head, a mock frown finding his painted lips. Madison sighed. âI hear ya, Daddy.â
TODAY (Mt. Justice)
She hadnât really had a chance to breathe prior to the burst of energy that transported her from the top floor of the parking garage, next to her makeshift bed, to another bedroom entirely. Her legs were jelly, and her things instantly dropped next to her. Eyes wide, like a raccoon in the headlights, Madison looked around the room.
It was⌠nice. Too nice, she wanted to think, but was there too nice when it came to the glamorous Justice League?
At least sheâd been semi-aware of what was to come. But to see the room, and to finally be there⌠was world-shaking. It was sleek, and roomy, and nothing like the hovel she shared with Vicky and Sweet-tea on a dingy mattress. Maddy gasped, but none so much as the small shriek emitted from her when she saw the blonde woman waiting there. Very short, and she reminded Madison of Sweet-tea a bit. Mostly in the height, and the blondeness.
âPut down your things and meet me at the base of the stairs in ten - weâre having a meeting,â the woman said. Black Canary, as it were, and Madison had heard of the name. Hadnât been privileged enough to hear the proper canary cry, she fancied herself lucky. Madison looked down to the discarded bag, then back to the woman-- who had already left the room.
Alone, actually, Madison took a second to ground herself. She walked over to the dresser, running her fingers over it. A small grin broke out on her face, but none so much as the grin on her face when she ran onto the bed. The big wall behind the bed was bare, and Madison was sure sheâd decorate it in no-time. The mattress was soft, so soft, and the cleanliness of the sheets felt like silk on her skin.
Oh yeah, she would have a shower the second they were dispersed from the meeting.
Upon entering the bathroom, Madison almost shed a tear at the sight of the bathtub. She was smiling, looking around, before she finally caught her own reflection in the mirror.
Skinny, gaunt-- this mirror was not considerate, was it? She leaned forward, pulling and pushing her skin. The makeup on her eyes was gaudy, but she liked it that way. A little dark, a little mysterious. Licking her finger she wiped away some of the stray flicks of eyeliner. Madison primped her hair a bit, wanting to look a little less like a Gotham alley-cat, and adjusted her clothes: oversized shirt, ratty flannel, and black patched jeans. Another smile found the girl, and gazing at the earring in behind her hair, she quickly removed it and tossed it onto the counter.
Itâs not like heâd know for sure she left it behind⌠sheâd put it on later. She just wanted to enjoy⌠without thinking about the bug in her ear.
Madison exited the room, digging in her back pocket for another sucker. Blue raspberry. Looking around, wide-eyed, she stuck the thing in her mouth and smacked her lips against it. Some others were emerging from the rooms, probably in similar positions (hopefully, because wouldnât that be terribly awkward otherwise), and Madison hastily made her way down. A real host of weirdos, as it happened.
She just hoped sheâd remain as anonymous as possible⌠for some time. Let her own impression speak instead of her unfortunate birth-family.
The group managed to form a cluster around Black Canary, who went off to begin explaining their residency.
Continuing to gaze at the others, still sucking on her candy, she tried to remain as vigilant in listening to Dinah. In reality she was⌠excited. Thrilled, maybe, and perhaps a whole lot terrified. She hadnât been a part of any experience like this before. Ever. In only hoping that her behaviour wouldnât fuck it up, or any judgement from Gotham kids if she casually mentioned her allegiances, Madison reasoned that this would definitely be something to write home about.
If she had a home. If that home wasnât waiting for her to slip up, and to put a bullet between her eyes.
A loving home.
Young Justice. Madison never figured sheâd be on the other side of justice. There was always time for change⌠somehow. How many boot-lickers here were going to parade their goodwill around, anyway?
The floaty one, an absolutely gorgeous brunette with venom-green eyes, dressed in some battle-maiden armor straight out of a vid, asked how useful she was supposed to be-- not being from Earth and all. Madison nearly gaped, sucker popping out of her mouth. A real alien, then? Madison had called some of her friends aliens, and maybe made fun of Superman a few too many times, but sheâd never actually met one.
They seemed to be as haughty as the big S, apparently.
Madison curled her finger around the sucker stick, twirling the thing around her tongue. âDonât worry Space-head Barbie,â she said with a deliberate glare to the gap between the girl and the ground. âIf ya keep your head closer to the ground, maybe you can hear whatâs being said,â she stuck her sucker out, pointing it to Black Canary.
âShe just said, investinâ in the future. Isnât the big green guy parta the League? Heâs alien, right? Clearly world-wide safety ainâ jusâ an Earth thing.â Madison blinked sardonically, raising her brows and grinning at the girl.
coded by natasha.
Last edited:
jones573
gen, you viper
Sybil had felt pretty stupid, standing in a hotel room in Jump City with her duffel slung over her shoulder, waiting for something to happen. But just as Oracle had told her- One moment she was looking at nondescript landscape painting nailed to the wall, and the next moment she was standing across from a blonde woman that she recognized as Black Canary.
She nodded curtly at the woman's instruction, but otherwise said nothing.
(O had mentioned that Sybil had the option of arriving early, so she could 'settle in' and 'meet some of the others'. She had declined.)
When Canary left, she tossed the duffel on the bed, frowning at the large piece of furniture. She'd told Oracle she didn't much care about her living arrangements so long as the walls and ceiling weren't cluttered with decoration, which was true. But maybe she would like a smaller bed.
Though that would only serve to make the room seem more vast.
She unzipped a pocket on her duffel and pulled out a thick black marker, and stood on the bed. She drew parentheses that touched at their edges in large arcs, as large as she could manage to reach from the edge of the bed to the headboard. She drew a circle in the center, and another inside that. Hopping off the bed, she moved around the room until she found the furthest spots from which she could see the door in either direction, and drew smaller eyes on the wall at both places.
It would do for now.
She did a cursory examination of the room and its attached closet and bathroom, but found no obvious recording devices at least. She'd like to be more thorough, but Canary had said 10 minutes. She had no intention of being overly early, but she wasn't going to be late either. First impressions and all that.
She hardly looked like she was trying to make a good impression for her first day at a new job, though. She wore a pair of black, light weight capris that might have passed as professional if she wasn't wearing a loose gray tee shirt with it and a pair of sandals. Admittedly the clothes were clean but other than that, it was the same sort of ensemble she would wear in her apartment by herself.
The only thing she'd changed up was her face- Where she might wear a loose and comfortable blindfold at home, she'd covered the flesh-toned eye mask with a pair of very darkly tinted sunglasses. They might be described as 'overly chunky' and swallowed most of her face, but they completely covered the edges of the mask and the scarring underneath.
She'd brought only her cane and a notebook and pen to the meeting. The cane was collapsed and tucked under one arm- She managed to get to the meeting room without tripping or running into anything, using the eye hanging from a necklace, the one marked on one of the glasses lenses and the tattoos on her hands. It was weird, to be actively paying attention to where she was going. She was so used to monitoring elsewhere, and she still felt uncomfortable that Oracle had allowed her - told her- to suspend any ongoing surveillance she'd been assigned. But she supposed she needed to learn the layout of her new home while she still could. Once they started working in earnest, she'd have new things to monitor.
She'd arrived with a minute or two to spare and took her seat quietly, not bothering to greet any of the others with words or gesture. When Canary began speaking, Sybil opened her notebook and took her pen in hand, but didn't write anything down. She hadn't known about the Hall of Justice ruse, but it wasn't relevant for her to note.
Instead, her hands shifted slowly as the woman spoke, running one along her jaw as if in thought and the other flexing back and forth with the pen. It wasn't even enough movement to be considered a nervous action, but Sybil was using the slight adjustments to look around the room and assess her new 'teammates'.
Why had she agreed to this, she asked herself for what like felt like the fiftieth time that day alone. Fifty first time, once blondie started in on the alien girl.
Ugh.
"None yet," she said evenly, answering Canary's question for herself at least. If the others couldn't follow such a simple summary, that was on them to speak up. "Proceed," she waved her hand.
She nodded curtly at the woman's instruction, but otherwise said nothing.
(O had mentioned that Sybil had the option of arriving early, so she could 'settle in' and 'meet some of the others'. She had declined.)
When Canary left, she tossed the duffel on the bed, frowning at the large piece of furniture. She'd told Oracle she didn't much care about her living arrangements so long as the walls and ceiling weren't cluttered with decoration, which was true. But maybe she would like a smaller bed.
Though that would only serve to make the room seem more vast.
She unzipped a pocket on her duffel and pulled out a thick black marker, and stood on the bed. She drew parentheses that touched at their edges in large arcs, as large as she could manage to reach from the edge of the bed to the headboard. She drew a circle in the center, and another inside that. Hopping off the bed, she moved around the room until she found the furthest spots from which she could see the door in either direction, and drew smaller eyes on the wall at both places.
It would do for now.
She did a cursory examination of the room and its attached closet and bathroom, but found no obvious recording devices at least. She'd like to be more thorough, but Canary had said 10 minutes. She had no intention of being overly early, but she wasn't going to be late either. First impressions and all that.
She hardly looked like she was trying to make a good impression for her first day at a new job, though. She wore a pair of black, light weight capris that might have passed as professional if she wasn't wearing a loose gray tee shirt with it and a pair of sandals. Admittedly the clothes were clean but other than that, it was the same sort of ensemble she would wear in her apartment by herself.
The only thing she'd changed up was her face- Where she might wear a loose and comfortable blindfold at home, she'd covered the flesh-toned eye mask with a pair of very darkly tinted sunglasses. They might be described as 'overly chunky' and swallowed most of her face, but they completely covered the edges of the mask and the scarring underneath.
She'd brought only her cane and a notebook and pen to the meeting. The cane was collapsed and tucked under one arm- She managed to get to the meeting room without tripping or running into anything, using the eye hanging from a necklace, the one marked on one of the glasses lenses and the tattoos on her hands. It was weird, to be actively paying attention to where she was going. She was so used to monitoring elsewhere, and she still felt uncomfortable that Oracle had allowed her - told her- to suspend any ongoing surveillance she'd been assigned. But she supposed she needed to learn the layout of her new home while she still could. Once they started working in earnest, she'd have new things to monitor.
She'd arrived with a minute or two to spare and took her seat quietly, not bothering to greet any of the others with words or gesture. When Canary began speaking, Sybil opened her notebook and took her pen in hand, but didn't write anything down. She hadn't known about the Hall of Justice ruse, but it wasn't relevant for her to note.
Instead, her hands shifted slowly as the woman spoke, running one along her jaw as if in thought and the other flexing back and forth with the pen. It wasn't even enough movement to be considered a nervous action, but Sybil was using the slight adjustments to look around the room and assess her new 'teammates'.
Why had she agreed to this, she asked herself for what like felt like the fiftieth time that day alone. Fifty first time, once blondie started in on the alien girl.
Ugh.
"None yet," she said evenly, answering Canary's question for herself at least. If the others couldn't follow such a simple summary, that was on them to speak up. "Proceed," she waved her hand.
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
The past week alone had been an amazing one for Connor. Though he wasn't necessarily supposed to be aware of this information, and feigned naivety when his mother asked about it, Connor's father had given him the gist about Mount Justice in the past among other not-so public information. Here, in Jump City, Mount Justice had been the true base of the Justice League, and not the facade of a building that the Hall of Justice was. It made sense though, why would heroes base themselves in a public location, and one as populated as the Hall of Justice? In all honesty, Connor was surprised the Hall of Justice didn't come under fire more often than it already did. It was like a target yearning to be attacked. Mount Justice made significantly more sense, and when he'd been offered the opportunity to bunk in the hollowed out J.L. mountain? Who in their right mind could resist? As long as the people were just as pretty as him of course.
Connor's packing was a long one. He didn't know what to expect when it came to bathroom supplies, clothing, and the like. In total he'd brought along four separate suitcases, one for clothing, another for bathroom supplies, a third for his archery equipment, and a last one filled with miscellaneous apparel. With all the "junk" as his mother had put it, Dinah opted not to accompany Connor to the mountain. Reasonably so. From Central City, Connor packed up his most necessary belongings into his baby, and took off on the road. He definitely wasn't going to leave his car behind in exchange for some prototype teleportation technology. He had junk he'd rather not accidentally leave behind at fault of a "tear in space." As sleek, and compact as his car may appear, there was more than enough to fit the four. The drive to Jump City wasn't necessarily a long one, about an hour or so since both cities were situated in California. With coordinates delivered into the heads up display of the maxed out Lambo, there was little room for mistake in getting there, and Connor made sure to shove it in the face of his mother when he'd beat her to the mountain.
At the tower, Connor was surprised at the single familiar face present. That of Damian Wayne. Along with Sylas Todd, the three had been childhood friends-- childhood something at least, brought together by their vigilante parents. In spite of being the older of the three, Connor quickly remembered just how manipulative and aggressive the child Damian had been, and opted not to converse much with the old face. It didn't matter much anyways, since the death of Sylas' parents, and his distancing from them, the band hadn't necessarily kept in touch. Not that he knew of, anyways.
Connor had spent most of the past week just enjoying himself at the tower. From the home theater to the indoor pool, it seemed less of a super-hero base and more-so a vacation pad. Albeit was growing tired on Connor. With all of the current inhabitants of the male sex, Connor hadn't had much a chance to flirt-- or much anything. For the first time in years, Connor was forced to refer to lotion, and his telephone. How one had stooped so low. Equally he'd been warned by his mother to stray from his social media's, at least when in the tower. Geo-tagging locations and all. Currently his verified Instagram account was being ran by one of Queen Consolidated's associates with old pictures being refreshed and reposted but it didn't stop him from lingering on the thought. Then there was his Tik Tok account that'd surely be dying out by now. It hurt being such a strong social media presence along with being a superhero, but with time the team would go on missions and Connor would have a chance to post footage of his endeavors as Cadence on his "hero" account. Just a little bit more patience.
****
Today was finally the fucking day. The rest of the misfits would be arriving at the Mountain, and Connor would've been lying if he said he wasn't looking to see who'd be arriving.Connor wasn't sure how hard it was to head over to the meeting room. Apparently the task had been different for Stray, and Sunny. He'd caught the names of the other two boys, though that was it thus far. For someone so social it was a surprise that he wasn't already acquainted with them, but perhaps it was a side effect of all the porn he'd been watching. It was already fucking up his psyche and he knew it, dammit. Anywho, Connor had a single standard arrow in one hand. Green-tipped, and metallic the rest of the way down. He played with the point, and whistled the 'Sound of Music' melody as he made his way towards the meeting room.
He pulled out a single chair for himself, angling his hind to get comfortable on the seat. Soon the room was growing full with new faces, the new arrivals. As soon as it seemed they'd all arrived, the briefing was on. The blue of the hologram reflected in crystals of Connor's emerald eyes. He was well aware of the initial ice-breaker, though it didn't seem to contribute much to the rest of the meeting anyways. The gist of it was that they'd sort of be the league's insurance, the runner-up's when the olderheads couldn't throw down anymore. Connor nodded his head at the idea, but remained silent. There wasn't all too much to wrap one's head around, and so he refrained from asking a question. The only downside to this all seemed to be the fact that his mother would be running it. Was she going to be here to whole time?
Connor's eyes shifted to what seemed to be the single question, better yet, objection. The woman it stemmed from was obviously alien, talk of "staying on Earth" wasn't something even metas tended to say. Plus the floating above the ground gave it away. Still, Connor couldn't help but smirk at the brunette who was also emerald-eyed. What seemed to be some sort of foreign armor definitely hugged her right around the curves, and didn't leave much to imagination. He enjoyed the bold green that was the base of it all. The way she looked, even spoke, it was as if she was piercing into one's person. Connor fought the urge to bite at his lower lip, and made the mental note of striking up conversation with her. He may have been rusty, but it was already difficult to keep his eyes off of her. Thankfully another had rebutted her objection, though it seemed it wasn't his mother.
His sights shifted to a blond, one that found it hard to finish her words with the proper "-ing" at the end, and had way too much fun waving her candy around. It was obvious she was erratic, perhaps a couple screws had come loose, and that grin... It reminded him of someone, though he couldn't put a finger on it right now. She was just as cute as the alien though, perhaps a proper makeup tutorial was required to aid her case, maybe a re-take of several English classes, but Connor could picture it.
It wasn't like he had much to offer to the conversation though. The argument didn't much concern him, and he'd rather continue playing around with his arrow. Connor reclined further into his seat, swaying side to side on the wheels as his eyes fixed onto his mother in anticipation.
coded by natasha.
Shadow
Akin to a Fool
Blitz
Be ready. Be ready. Be ready...
A full week after his surprise visit by Superman and Callum still wasnât sure he could claim to be ready.
He had barely slept in the days since he found Superman in his apartment; too eager to pack up his things and try to prepare himself for meeting more actual superheroes. That was, at the same time, the dampener. He hardly felt ready to walk into a room full of superheroes and pretend he was in any way their equal. Packing his tattered âBlitzâ hoodie reminded him starkly of that. It wasnât as if he could have refused, though: he had to consider that some consolation. If Superman asked you to jump off a bridge, you simply had to do it. And, however intimidating, this was a far cry from a tedious or punishing request. Even to be considered as a candidate for this crime-fighting team was an honor.
The night before the day, Callum had been almost frantically restless. His clothes, along with a few small trinkets, had been packed for days. Still, they bore going through one more time, just to be sure he hadnât forgotten anything.
With darkness falling, and everything safely repacked in a backpack, Callum had pulled out his Blitz hoodie and put it on. It felt weirdly final, like an ending he hadnât seen coming. He had suddenly realized that he honestly didnât know if he would ever come back to Metropolis, even if he was given the choice.
So he had set out into the night, sans vigilante mask, just to breathe it all in one more time. It wasnât exactly a sentimental outing, but he couldnât resist tagging a small, glittery, silver heart on the concrete edge of the building he climbed. To new beginnings.
Destruct had been unusually quiet since Supermanâs visit, which Callum found oddly unsettling. There hadnât even been a comment on the âsuper spyâ ear piece. That was just strange. He tried not to let it tangle his nerves further. Surely his body-buddy would come around eventually. âPassive-aggressiveâ didnât feature anywhere in Destructâs personality; Callum was sure of that.
The day came, the moment approached, and he could feel his nerves eating away at his innards, putting his breakfast in jeopardy. But there was nothing for it: when opportunity nips at your heels, you donât say âow,â you say âthanks.â
âThanks,â Callum blurted out the moment his feet felt planted on solid ground again. He opened his eyes carefully and gave his new surroundings a quick scan. The lady (Black Canary!) in the doorway across from him drew his embarrassed attention. Thankfully, she seemed to be on a schedule, so he only had to nod numbly before she moved away, announcement given. Base of the stairs. Ten minutes. That gave him, what....eight minutes to panic and then get over it?
One look at the cushy mattress behind him gave him a far more appealing option, but he knew he would probably pass out if he even sat on it, so he didnât. He really should have slept last night or...any time in the past week.
After another moment of frozen contemplation, Callum carefully un-shouldered his backpack and set it by the foot of the bed. Hesitant curiosity led him to the two closed doors, the first of which opened to a closet that he couldnât even imagine filling up, and the second to an intimidatingly glamorous bathroom. Wow. He really, really hadn't known what he signed up for.
He returned to the bedroom, running a slightly shaky hand over his hair as he continued on to the door that was still half-open. The corridor outside was long and wide, with other half-open doors on either side. It was empty as far as he could see, so he went to the left on an impulse and found a set of stairs. On the next level down he ended up at the head of a sweeping double staircase. Voices burbled up from its base, sending stinging nerves up his spine. He pulled the wrinkles out of his dark blue sweater self-consciously and made his descent.
The gathered crew was just as intimidating as he had feared, not least because of the armored girl who was floating. All of his attempts to not feel overwhelmed disintegrated then and there, as he came to a stop near the little fish pond.
âFish!â He spoke softly, delighted and momentarily distracted.
âFish!!â
It was so loud that he flinched and looked to the others to make sure they hadnât heard, but of course it was just in his head. He turned back to the fish pool obligingly and let Destructâs simple joy seep into his body and calm him slightly. He was oddly relieved to hear the gruff voice in his head again, as if it was some reassurance that his body-buddy didnât hate him for coming here, that he wasnât alone.
As soon as the assembly began to move, Callum was brought back to reality as he trailed after them. This mountain was huge, and every level they passed seemed to bury him further in his status as âunder their league.â By the time they reached the meeting room, he was quite back to feeling out of place, and his shoulders curved inwards as he sat gingerly in one of the pristine chairs.
Black Canary appeared again, followed shortly by someone apparently named Sunny. Cute. He leaned forward unconsciously and listen with rapt attention as the spiel began, eyes riveted to the hologram that appeared in the middle of the table.
When she spoke, his eyes darted over to the floating alien and he struggled to cling to his composure. Sure, Destruct was weird and he had tried to be a vigilante, but which part of that had brought him here alongside an...actual alien goddess? In fact, looking around the table more carefully, he didnât see anyone that looked as ordinary as he felt.
His gaze fell to his lap, where his hands twisted uncomfortably in the pockets of his sweater. This was going to be a long day.
Destruct cackled in his head, like sandpaper.
Be ready. Be ready. Be ready...
A full week after his surprise visit by Superman and Callum still wasnât sure he could claim to be ready.
He had barely slept in the days since he found Superman in his apartment; too eager to pack up his things and try to prepare himself for meeting more actual superheroes. That was, at the same time, the dampener. He hardly felt ready to walk into a room full of superheroes and pretend he was in any way their equal. Packing his tattered âBlitzâ hoodie reminded him starkly of that. It wasnât as if he could have refused, though: he had to consider that some consolation. If Superman asked you to jump off a bridge, you simply had to do it. And, however intimidating, this was a far cry from a tedious or punishing request. Even to be considered as a candidate for this crime-fighting team was an honor.
The night before the day, Callum had been almost frantically restless. His clothes, along with a few small trinkets, had been packed for days. Still, they bore going through one more time, just to be sure he hadnât forgotten anything.
With darkness falling, and everything safely repacked in a backpack, Callum had pulled out his Blitz hoodie and put it on. It felt weirdly final, like an ending he hadnât seen coming. He had suddenly realized that he honestly didnât know if he would ever come back to Metropolis, even if he was given the choice.
So he had set out into the night, sans vigilante mask, just to breathe it all in one more time. It wasnât exactly a sentimental outing, but he couldnât resist tagging a small, glittery, silver heart on the concrete edge of the building he climbed. To new beginnings.
Destruct had been unusually quiet since Supermanâs visit, which Callum found oddly unsettling. There hadnât even been a comment on the âsuper spyâ ear piece. That was just strange. He tried not to let it tangle his nerves further. Surely his body-buddy would come around eventually. âPassive-aggressiveâ didnât feature anywhere in Destructâs personality; Callum was sure of that.
The day came, the moment approached, and he could feel his nerves eating away at his innards, putting his breakfast in jeopardy. But there was nothing for it: when opportunity nips at your heels, you donât say âow,â you say âthanks.â
âThanks,â Callum blurted out the moment his feet felt planted on solid ground again. He opened his eyes carefully and gave his new surroundings a quick scan. The lady (Black Canary!) in the doorway across from him drew his embarrassed attention. Thankfully, she seemed to be on a schedule, so he only had to nod numbly before she moved away, announcement given. Base of the stairs. Ten minutes. That gave him, what....eight minutes to panic and then get over it?
One look at the cushy mattress behind him gave him a far more appealing option, but he knew he would probably pass out if he even sat on it, so he didnât. He really should have slept last night or...any time in the past week.
After another moment of frozen contemplation, Callum carefully un-shouldered his backpack and set it by the foot of the bed. Hesitant curiosity led him to the two closed doors, the first of which opened to a closet that he couldnât even imagine filling up, and the second to an intimidatingly glamorous bathroom. Wow. He really, really hadn't known what he signed up for.
He returned to the bedroom, running a slightly shaky hand over his hair as he continued on to the door that was still half-open. The corridor outside was long and wide, with other half-open doors on either side. It was empty as far as he could see, so he went to the left on an impulse and found a set of stairs. On the next level down he ended up at the head of a sweeping double staircase. Voices burbled up from its base, sending stinging nerves up his spine. He pulled the wrinkles out of his dark blue sweater self-consciously and made his descent.
The gathered crew was just as intimidating as he had feared, not least because of the armored girl who was floating. All of his attempts to not feel overwhelmed disintegrated then and there, as he came to a stop near the little fish pond.
âFish!â He spoke softly, delighted and momentarily distracted.
âFish!!â
It was so loud that he flinched and looked to the others to make sure they hadnât heard, but of course it was just in his head. He turned back to the fish pool obligingly and let Destructâs simple joy seep into his body and calm him slightly. He was oddly relieved to hear the gruff voice in his head again, as if it was some reassurance that his body-buddy didnât hate him for coming here, that he wasnât alone.
As soon as the assembly began to move, Callum was brought back to reality as he trailed after them. This mountain was huge, and every level they passed seemed to bury him further in his status as âunder their league.â By the time they reached the meeting room, he was quite back to feeling out of place, and his shoulders curved inwards as he sat gingerly in one of the pristine chairs.
Black Canary appeared again, followed shortly by someone apparently named Sunny. Cute. He leaned forward unconsciously and listen with rapt attention as the spiel began, eyes riveted to the hologram that appeared in the middle of the table.
When she spoke, his eyes darted over to the floating alien and he struggled to cling to his composure. Sure, Destruct was weird and he had tried to be a vigilante, but which part of that had brought him here alongside an...actual alien goddess? In fact, looking around the table more carefully, he didnât see anyone that looked as ordinary as he felt.
His gaze fell to his lap, where his hands twisted uncomfortably in the pockets of his sweater. This was going to be a long day.
Destruct cackled in his head, like sandpaper.
Outfit:
Sweater
Shoes
Mentions:
The Witch Son
a z u l a
Everyone
The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
arriving late
x
drink in hand
x
drink in hand
sascha kyle
code by @fudgecakez
JustJazzy
Old soul
(ill make it pretty n the morning, I promiseee :c)
Damian Wayne
The long awaited afternoon everything finally started found Damian lounging in the relative darkness of his new bedroom.
Already having gone through the usual morning routine he'd introduced into his schedule just a couple of days into his move into the Mt. Justice base, the rest of the day - like all the others - he'd allowed himself a bit of free-time. Most of the days of the week, this free-time had been spent acquainting himself with the many levels of his new domain, from the first floor hangar to the empty bedrooms on the seventh and eighth. That first morning he'd busied himself with planting recording devices in the unoccupied bedrooms all along the seventh and eighth floor in places he hope would be hard to access. After that his free-time was really his own, the Wayne heir spending most of the time poring over what few books the library had to offer. None of them were really as interesting as Damian had hoped and the quick-reader he was, he'd finished most of them, even the couple of manuals on properly plunging a toilet for the heck of it.
Luckily for their chaperone (as Damian was certainly not above complaining and attempting to add onto Dinah's already probably steep work-load), he'd brought along a few classics of his own per his father and spent much of his afternoons re-reading those in that comfortable, isolated space. It was probably too much to hope the library would remain that way once the others moved in, but for the time being whenever he was in need of some isolation/silence for meals and other such ventures that wouldn't be appropriate in his room, Damian made his way into there.
Today however, Damian had begin his day with a sort of anxiousness that had him dragging through his usual routines, retiring back to his room once he'd finished for that 'free-time'. He wasn't exactly sure if the energy ticking through him was born of nerves or if it was simply whatever he'd eaten that morning (he probably should've known better then to indulge in what Sascha had whipped up for breakfast, as he really did have such a delicate stomach, no matter how good the stuff had smelled). Though he'd quickly found laying still atop his dark mahogany sheets helped calm it, even stilled the restless, ever-racing thoughts.
Dark eyes lidded and unfocused as he ran a light hand absently over the top of Alfred's dark head (said cat had finally stopped hissing and clawing at at him over the decision he'd made to sneak him along atop his cargo bag, a decision Damian had tried to argue wasn't a personal one, and he'd had plenty of air and space !!), said feline mirroring his owner's expression, though his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth in a more amusing picture of passivity, Damian felt a barely perceptible shift in the air before his door was sliding open and Black Canary was sticking her blond head in to ask him downstairs.
In her haste to move on to the next person, Dinah didn't seem to notice the cat sitting in plain sight beside Damian, though part of that could've been the blend of the dark room, dark sheets, and dark fur.
He hadn't exactly gotten Bruce or the league's permission to bring the cat along as asking permission - in his opinion - was just setting himself up for failure, though Damian didn't exactly understand how Bruce expected him to leave very single animal of his behind when he simply knew the caretaker's he'd hired would be lax about their care, despite the 12-page manual he'd personally typed and left behind that covered every task, from manually brushing Bat-Cow mornings and afternoons in the places she couldn't reach and keeping Titus and Sherpa's (the more recently adopted sheep dog) foods separated during mealtime as Titus had a bad habit of eating Sherpa's feed despite there being very distinctly flavored dietary supplements in it.
Alfred was the smallest (and most attention-craving) of his pets, so Damian had settled for simply bringing the feline along albeit secretely and giving him free roam of the place once a couple of weeks had passed into their stay and everyone was moved in. It wouldn't be a big deal at all he hoped, and with luck there would be no cat allergies to contest Alfred's place in the base, nor any dissenters simply looking to throw a helpless feline onto the streets.
Making his way off the bed slowly as to not disrupt Alfred, Damian pulled a dark sweater from the closet and slid it on, letting the dark cashmere material fall over top him before retreating from the room and down the steps to the meeting room. One other had already taken his seat - Damian drinking in Connor's familiar blond head with a bit of relief at the familiarity - so he went ahead and slid into the space beside him, busying himself with peering at the entrance expectantly rather then forcing Connor through a conversation he really didn't have the energy at the moment to start.
Next in was tuna-breath, Damian feeling a slight scowl touch over his lips as the guy immediately attempted to put his feet atop the table - uncouth as ever despite the fancy gem he had around his neck as if he thought he was making a statement or something with that amount of exorbitance. Though his lips itched to shoot some sort of snippy comment at the other guy, Damian instead let his eyes touch the door once more as one of the new folk made their way in, dressed in what looked to be a green and and blue body suit set with gold - some sort of alien armor. Tearing his eyes away from the garment although reluctantly as he matched this unfamiliar face to one of the files he'd had the pleasure of decrypting the week previous, Damian recalled this new inhabitant to the room to be one Kataly'a, the alien princess with the long name and a fiery villainous for a mother.
She, Damian had decided just a couple of seconds into reading over her file, was definitely a threat who needed surveillance he was sure he could provide. The only problem with that declaration was that she wasn't the only figure Damian had flagged upon simply reading over the file, though the others who fit in the category had yet to enter.
Having read through what files he could find in Bruce's stuff on each potential member of the team, Damian had thought himself to be fully prepared for the moment when Peregrine entered, an admittedly presumptuous thought as as soon as the guy rounded the corner the Wayne found himself feeling a childish sort of hopefulness (weakness) wash over him, couldn't help the way his brown eyes seeked out the others' mismatched ones. There was brief contact before the link was severed rather harshly, Damian gritting his teeth in spite of himself at the perceived rejection. He forced himself to move on, back to the door just as another of the newbies made their way in.
This one had been one of the league's most questionable choices in Damian's opinion, the brunette settling scrutinizing eyes over the blonde as she made an entrance. Her dark eyeliner, the heavy-handed application of it got his ire for a couple of seconds, the Wayne feeling his lip curl with some distaste before moving on to the blue sucker sitting in her lips. All things considered, she was a little more.. normal - if that was the right word for it? - then Damian had expected for someone descended from the joker's former queen. He supposed a full jester's costume would be too much of a giveaway though.
Next was the girl with the eye tattoos strewn all over her skin, Damian finding himself peering at her curiously for much longer then was probably necessary. Her file had been one of the most interesting to read if the most brief and conventional though suspiciously so. He'd have to glean what he could from interacting with her he supposed.
The last of the newbies to enter was a curly-haired one, Callum, Damian recalled. He looked nervous, a far cry from what he'd expected the instant he'd read up on what was thus far known about the creature bonded to him. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected however, had he expected to see the creature just hanging out on his back, maybe across his shoulders? Tearing his eyes away as the last early-inhabitant made his way in, the delicate and unassuming Sunny, with an apology on his lips, Damian forced his brown gaze to touch over Dinah's as she begin the presentation.
Nothing particularly new or fresh was being said as Bruce had already regaled him with the speed just a week prior, so Damian instead focused his energies elsewhere, having no questions to add on once she'd finished. The faster they got through this, the faster he could get Alfred's dinner ready after all.
Another's voice - alien princess' - broached the brief silence that had followed Black Canary's question, an answer coming quickly from Jinx, if it could even called an answer as it seemed a deliberate lead-in to some sort of argument. Irritation touched over Damian's features briefly though he wasn't sure whether it was because they were putting off Alfred's meal (and he wasn't exactly in the mindset to deal with an angry cat) or if it was because of the two parties behind the conversation. That bit of chaos was headed off, at least momentarily by eye-girl, Sybil. So Damian focused his eyes back on the front, swallowed down any venom he'd been ready to spit.
"Nope," he managed, leaning forward a bit to let an elbow touch the table, his dark head resting against it.
Damian Wayne
The long awaited afternoon everything finally started found Damian lounging in the relative darkness of his new bedroom.
Already having gone through the usual morning routine he'd introduced into his schedule just a couple of days into his move into the Mt. Justice base, the rest of the day - like all the others - he'd allowed himself a bit of free-time. Most of the days of the week, this free-time had been spent acquainting himself with the many levels of his new domain, from the first floor hangar to the empty bedrooms on the seventh and eighth. That first morning he'd busied himself with planting recording devices in the unoccupied bedrooms all along the seventh and eighth floor in places he hope would be hard to access. After that his free-time was really his own, the Wayne heir spending most of the time poring over what few books the library had to offer. None of them were really as interesting as Damian had hoped and the quick-reader he was, he'd finished most of them, even the couple of manuals on properly plunging a toilet for the heck of it.
Luckily for their chaperone (as Damian was certainly not above complaining and attempting to add onto Dinah's already probably steep work-load), he'd brought along a few classics of his own per his father and spent much of his afternoons re-reading those in that comfortable, isolated space. It was probably too much to hope the library would remain that way once the others moved in, but for the time being whenever he was in need of some isolation/silence for meals and other such ventures that wouldn't be appropriate in his room, Damian made his way into there.
Today however, Damian had begin his day with a sort of anxiousness that had him dragging through his usual routines, retiring back to his room once he'd finished for that 'free-time'. He wasn't exactly sure if the energy ticking through him was born of nerves or if it was simply whatever he'd eaten that morning (he probably should've known better then to indulge in what Sascha had whipped up for breakfast, as he really did have such a delicate stomach, no matter how good the stuff had smelled). Though he'd quickly found laying still atop his dark mahogany sheets helped calm it, even stilled the restless, ever-racing thoughts.
Dark eyes lidded and unfocused as he ran a light hand absently over the top of Alfred's dark head (said cat had finally stopped hissing and clawing at at him over the decision he'd made to sneak him along atop his cargo bag, a decision Damian had tried to argue wasn't a personal one, and he'd had plenty of air and space !!), said feline mirroring his owner's expression, though his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth in a more amusing picture of passivity, Damian felt a barely perceptible shift in the air before his door was sliding open and Black Canary was sticking her blond head in to ask him downstairs.
In her haste to move on to the next person, Dinah didn't seem to notice the cat sitting in plain sight beside Damian, though part of that could've been the blend of the dark room, dark sheets, and dark fur.
He hadn't exactly gotten Bruce or the league's permission to bring the cat along as asking permission - in his opinion - was just setting himself up for failure, though Damian didn't exactly understand how Bruce expected him to leave very single animal of his behind when he simply knew the caretaker's he'd hired would be lax about their care, despite the 12-page manual he'd personally typed and left behind that covered every task, from manually brushing Bat-Cow mornings and afternoons in the places she couldn't reach and keeping Titus and Sherpa's (the more recently adopted sheep dog) foods separated during mealtime as Titus had a bad habit of eating Sherpa's feed despite there being very distinctly flavored dietary supplements in it.
Alfred was the smallest (and most attention-craving) of his pets, so Damian had settled for simply bringing the feline along albeit secretely and giving him free roam of the place once a couple of weeks had passed into their stay and everyone was moved in. It wouldn't be a big deal at all he hoped, and with luck there would be no cat allergies to contest Alfred's place in the base, nor any dissenters simply looking to throw a helpless feline onto the streets.
Making his way off the bed slowly as to not disrupt Alfred, Damian pulled a dark sweater from the closet and slid it on, letting the dark cashmere material fall over top him before retreating from the room and down the steps to the meeting room. One other had already taken his seat - Damian drinking in Connor's familiar blond head with a bit of relief at the familiarity - so he went ahead and slid into the space beside him, busying himself with peering at the entrance expectantly rather then forcing Connor through a conversation he really didn't have the energy at the moment to start.
Next in was tuna-breath, Damian feeling a slight scowl touch over his lips as the guy immediately attempted to put his feet atop the table - uncouth as ever despite the fancy gem he had around his neck as if he thought he was making a statement or something with that amount of exorbitance. Though his lips itched to shoot some sort of snippy comment at the other guy, Damian instead let his eyes touch the door once more as one of the new folk made their way in, dressed in what looked to be a green and and blue body suit set with gold - some sort of alien armor. Tearing his eyes away from the garment although reluctantly as he matched this unfamiliar face to one of the files he'd had the pleasure of decrypting the week previous, Damian recalled this new inhabitant to the room to be one Kataly'a, the alien princess with the long name and a fiery villainous for a mother.
She, Damian had decided just a couple of seconds into reading over her file, was definitely a threat who needed surveillance he was sure he could provide. The only problem with that declaration was that she wasn't the only figure Damian had flagged upon simply reading over the file, though the others who fit in the category had yet to enter.
Having read through what files he could find in Bruce's stuff on each potential member of the team, Damian had thought himself to be fully prepared for the moment when Peregrine entered, an admittedly presumptuous thought as as soon as the guy rounded the corner the Wayne found himself feeling a childish sort of hopefulness (weakness) wash over him, couldn't help the way his brown eyes seeked out the others' mismatched ones. There was brief contact before the link was severed rather harshly, Damian gritting his teeth in spite of himself at the perceived rejection. He forced himself to move on, back to the door just as another of the newbies made their way in.
This one had been one of the league's most questionable choices in Damian's opinion, the brunette settling scrutinizing eyes over the blonde as she made an entrance. Her dark eyeliner, the heavy-handed application of it got his ire for a couple of seconds, the Wayne feeling his lip curl with some distaste before moving on to the blue sucker sitting in her lips. All things considered, she was a little more.. normal - if that was the right word for it? - then Damian had expected for someone descended from the joker's former queen. He supposed a full jester's costume would be too much of a giveaway though.
Next was the girl with the eye tattoos strewn all over her skin, Damian finding himself peering at her curiously for much longer then was probably necessary. Her file had been one of the most interesting to read if the most brief and conventional though suspiciously so. He'd have to glean what he could from interacting with her he supposed.
The last of the newbies to enter was a curly-haired one, Callum, Damian recalled. He looked nervous, a far cry from what he'd expected the instant he'd read up on what was thus far known about the creature bonded to him. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected however, had he expected to see the creature just hanging out on his back, maybe across his shoulders? Tearing his eyes away as the last early-inhabitant made his way in, the delicate and unassuming Sunny, with an apology on his lips, Damian forced his brown gaze to touch over Dinah's as she begin the presentation.
Nothing particularly new or fresh was being said as Bruce had already regaled him with the speed just a week prior, so Damian instead focused his energies elsewhere, having no questions to add on once she'd finished. The faster they got through this, the faster he could get Alfred's dinner ready after all.
Another's voice - alien princess' - broached the brief silence that had followed Black Canary's question, an answer coming quickly from Jinx, if it could even called an answer as it seemed a deliberate lead-in to some sort of argument. Irritation touched over Damian's features briefly though he wasn't sure whether it was because they were putting off Alfred's meal (and he wasn't exactly in the mindset to deal with an angry cat) or if it was because of the two parties behind the conversation. That bit of chaos was headed off, at least momentarily by eye-girl, Sybil. So Damian focused his eyes back on the front, swallowed down any venom he'd been ready to spit.
"Nope," he managed, leaning forward a bit to let an elbow touch the table, his dark head resting against it.
Last edited:
idalie
á´ĘĘ á´ę° Ęá´ĘĘĘá´É´
Location: Mount Justice; Meeting room
Interactions:
The Witch Son
Mentions:
BELIAL.
a z u l a
fin
(everyone)Nevaan Gupta
Mount Justice was a little slice of Olympus, brimming with hubris and the legacies of titans. A new generation began and the playwrights who hid just beyond every corner, lingering in the corridors of thought and hallways of conversation, turned to a new page. An odyssey waited, itâs future unwritten and itâs authors already spelling tragedy. Nevaan, unfortunately, began his prophetic voyage staring at the ceiling of his new home with a groan. Destiny had a sense of humour. Having fallen asleep whilst waiting to be transported, Nev would eventually find himself and his luggage reclining in thin air - before collapsing to the floor in a rude awakening. Drowsily holding the back of his head and glancing up at the one and only Black Canary in his doorway, perhaps things couldâve gone better.
There were ten minutes to freshen up before congregating by the stairs, ten minutes Nev would use to try and rouse himself into a more charismatic mood. Rolling onto his side in an attempt to get to his feet, Gupta became more aware of the sleek and minimalist surroundings that constituted their accommodation. A far cry from his small flat in the city with its leaky pipes and awful central heating, although the scummy apartment somehow felt homier. His head turned to the pile of belongings heâd managed to bring with him, pulling one of the larger bags into his lap to see whether anything had been damaged during the process. Whilst nothing appeared out of place, the thought of having his particles turned into scrambled eggs and thrown countless miles to Mount Justice set him on edge.
He huffed, clambering to his feet and putting the suitcase upright, preoccupied by fleeting inner narratives about spyware in the bathroom, quickly rationalised by glimpsing himself in a nearby mirror. If there was some surveillance in the building, they could do better than his shower. Surely.
Pushing down on the mattress of the broad, double bed before sitting on the edge, Nevaan threw himself back into the soft sheets and warm duvet. Suddenly this whole deal didnât feel too bad.
Chandi had been the driving force behind his selection for the program, something sheâd called a decisive move. And she was right. Nev had never been interested in the superhero mythos, the legendary powers and protectors of the Earth that had been nothing but crusaders against a recurrent wave of evil. However, Nevaan had never saved anyone. Heâd walked people home, thrown a few punches in school, and his training was woefully unspent unless in a professional setting. So, before time slipped away, this was a taste of using what gifts heâd been given for good.
In his own eyes, Nevaan still believed he was nothing more than the son of an estate agent.
As time began getting on, he dragged a hand through his curly mass of hair to neaten it somewhat and made for the staircase, eventually to where the meeting would be held - along with his breath.
***
The table felt crowded with the personalities of each young hero, their auras louder than the last. A legacy of titans seemed only too true and in the most sarcastic tone possible for the mind to bear. Luckily, Nevaan sat down before the last walked in. Looking around the group, it was apparent he didnât know who anyone was. Not even an inkling, yet the brooding few looked like Batmanâs territory.
Over to the side he noted floating Space Camp counsellor in her eighties bodysuit, drawing about as much attention as any alien would get; especially from Robin Hoodâs alter ego across the room.
Then there was the snarky blonde with an attitude he didnât feel like getting on the wrong side of and a confusing amount of flamboyance and gloom between individuals arriving. At least they were memorable. He hoped names and faces might start sticking later on. Black Canary made the nerves bearable by starting her small presentation and further welcome, some of the usual spiel prefacing a little Q&A pause
âNone here,â Nev shrugged, mindlessly stretching an elastic band between his fingers and tying it into several knots.
The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
Sunny
Sunny had been so very excited at the prospect of both being on earth again and of making friends with people his own age. As a child heâd been a social butterfly, life in a lot of ways had been easier back then, but it did little to dwell on the past and right now the truth was that he didnât know what to do with himself or others in a social sense anymore. Most of his human interaction had been on the basis of professional medical work, or working with a therapist, or politely answering questions the curious adults would ask him about why he was at the watch tower and oh is his hair natural because that was strange he looked asian and what kind of asian was he and⌠well you get the point.
Truth be told he probably wouldnât have been in a place emotionally to make friends when he first got to the tower, but now he was restlessly eager to feel normal again. Or as normal as someone like him could feel. He wanted a life. And this was as close as he supposed he was going to get he supposed. For now anyway.
Unfortunately his hopes kind of⌠turned into dandylion wishes floating away on the wind once he faced the actual prospect of his peers. Heâd arrived at the Mountain earlier than most of the others, but along with three other boys, who were all much more intimidating in presence than he was expecting. He didnât want to come off as shy, but heâd be lying if he tried to claim he jumped at the chance to make acquaintances.
He kind of got the impression that they wanted to be left alone, and that heâd be intruding if he attempted to make friends, and even his smaller attempts were pretty ineffective. If simple âhellosâ could actually be called attempts to make friends in the first place. Meal times were basically the only time when he even saw them for more than mere moments, and only Sascha, who was a pretty good cook and generous enough to share, had any sort of actual conversation with him. But even he seemed very busy doing something to his room with one of the prettiest and most elegant ladies Sunny had ever seen. They spoke rapid french and looked like they both popped out of a moody 1930âs movie. She seemed too young to be his mother, but upon inquiry found out she was, just not biologically. And then to his absolute shock found out from Sascha that she was none other than the notorious Catwoman! And Sascha was her partner, Stray. The other recluse was also actually Robin, the boy wonder, and the man whoâd visited once or twice was actually Batman!? (He nearly fainted.)
Sunny knew Cadence was Black Canaryâs kid, but the thought that the others there were also the kids of other notorious figures hadnât crossed his mind. He supposed that was why they were here early like him.
It certainly made them all the more intimidating, and caused him to stare by accident once or twice, especially at the boy wonder. (He was a bit of a fan when he was a kid, still was a fan to be honest, but didnât want to embarrass himself.) Were all vigilantes and villains this good looking?! Well they all worked out like crazy, so he supposed they probably were to some degree.
He hoped that when the others arrived things would get more lively, and when that day came he was buzzing with excitement, had fussed with his setup in the med bay, and had paced around his room in anticipation waiting for the time to come already. He practically jumped up when Dinah finally came knocking, and straightened his clothes up before he made his way downstairs. Anticipating⌠he didnât know, but anticipating nonetheless.
He smiled softly at the group as he took them all in, a group of very mismatched but also very interesting looking people. Heâd heard about the alien princess (was she really a princess?!) whoâd arrived at the watch tower, but had never even seen yet, was going to be joining them, and she was pretty easy to pick out of the bunch. Even if she hadnât been floating, everyone else, though characteristic, he had no idea about.
One guy was admiring the fish, and Sunny immediately liked him for that, as heâd also admired them frequently while here.
âTheyâre pretty arenât they? Apparently they donât have names and we get to feed them.â He mentioned, peering over at the five koi.
âIs everyone here?â Sunny did a quick head count and noticed that neither Damian nor Connor were really keen on leading the group anywhere so Sunny went ahead and flipped on the professional tone of voice he used when in scrubs.
âAlright everyone weâre gonna head down using the stairs so you can get a good idea of the floors I think. We donât have time for a proper tour but this place is pretty big so itâd probably be good to get a look at it through the stairs just in case the elevator ever breaks.â He reasoned, waving everyone to form up and follow him.
âThat over there is the elevator.â He pointed straight ahead at the metallic and out of place double doors across from them and the double staircase.
âAnd over here near the dining room we have the stairs⌠Kitchen is gonna be through that door over there, on the other side of this floor thereâs a living room and a library.â He lead them to the off-white ornate stone spiral staircase and began the descent, walking them through the light up corridor.
âThis corridor separates the living areas from the work areas. And the floor weâre headed to, the fifth floor, is where all the workout stuff is. Thereâs a pretty big pool that I havenât dipped in yet, I think itâs bigger than an olympic one which is crazy.â They passed by some of the rooms and entered the side, where industrial looking stairs led them down to the fourth floor. They didnât enter that floor but Sunny pointed it out as they passed the entrance.
âThe fourth floor only has two rooms apparently, a simulation room and the sparring room. You guys wonât believe your eyes when the simulation room turns on, it can make you think youâre in the amazon rainforest, I didnât believe technology like that existed until Iâd seen it at the WatchTower.â
They arrived at the third floor and Sunny led them through the stark white interior, past the med bay and the forensics lab and onto the meeting room. Chattering as he went.
âThatâs the med bay, where I work, and over here is the forensics lab, and the meeting room is just ahead through those doors right there. Feel free to take a seat, I have to go check on something real quick but Iâm sure Black Canary will be along soon.â
Sunny didnât have anything to âcheckâ on, he just had to use the restroom, and didnât want to go the entire meeting holding it in. The trip that he thought had been quick though turned out to make him the last one in the room, and slightly embarrassed, he apologized quickly before taking a seat next to Sascha, the only seat available. He turned and smiled at the other boy he was sitting next to, who didnât really pay him any attention, and just resolved to fold his hands in his lap and pay attention to the meeting, and not try to make a dork out of himself in the process.
Truth be told he probably wouldnât have been in a place emotionally to make friends when he first got to the tower, but now he was restlessly eager to feel normal again. Or as normal as someone like him could feel. He wanted a life. And this was as close as he supposed he was going to get he supposed. For now anyway.
Unfortunately his hopes kind of⌠turned into dandylion wishes floating away on the wind once he faced the actual prospect of his peers. Heâd arrived at the Mountain earlier than most of the others, but along with three other boys, who were all much more intimidating in presence than he was expecting. He didnât want to come off as shy, but heâd be lying if he tried to claim he jumped at the chance to make acquaintances.
He kind of got the impression that they wanted to be left alone, and that heâd be intruding if he attempted to make friends, and even his smaller attempts were pretty ineffective. If simple âhellosâ could actually be called attempts to make friends in the first place. Meal times were basically the only time when he even saw them for more than mere moments, and only Sascha, who was a pretty good cook and generous enough to share, had any sort of actual conversation with him. But even he seemed very busy doing something to his room with one of the prettiest and most elegant ladies Sunny had ever seen. They spoke rapid french and looked like they both popped out of a moody 1930âs movie. She seemed too young to be his mother, but upon inquiry found out she was, just not biologically. And then to his absolute shock found out from Sascha that she was none other than the notorious Catwoman! And Sascha was her partner, Stray. The other recluse was also actually Robin, the boy wonder, and the man whoâd visited once or twice was actually Batman!? (He nearly fainted.)
Sunny knew Cadence was Black Canaryâs kid, but the thought that the others there were also the kids of other notorious figures hadnât crossed his mind. He supposed that was why they were here early like him.
It certainly made them all the more intimidating, and caused him to stare by accident once or twice, especially at the boy wonder. (He was a bit of a fan when he was a kid, still was a fan to be honest, but didnât want to embarrass himself.) Were all vigilantes and villains this good looking?! Well they all worked out like crazy, so he supposed they probably were to some degree.
He hoped that when the others arrived things would get more lively, and when that day came he was buzzing with excitement, had fussed with his setup in the med bay, and had paced around his room in anticipation waiting for the time to come already. He practically jumped up when Dinah finally came knocking, and straightened his clothes up before he made his way downstairs. Anticipating⌠he didnât know, but anticipating nonetheless.
He smiled softly at the group as he took them all in, a group of very mismatched but also very interesting looking people. Heâd heard about the alien princess (was she really a princess?!) whoâd arrived at the watch tower, but had never even seen yet, was going to be joining them, and she was pretty easy to pick out of the bunch. Even if she hadnât been floating, everyone else, though characteristic, he had no idea about.
One guy was admiring the fish, and Sunny immediately liked him for that, as heâd also admired them frequently while here.
âTheyâre pretty arenât they? Apparently they donât have names and we get to feed them.â He mentioned, peering over at the five koi.
âIs everyone here?â Sunny did a quick head count and noticed that neither Damian nor Connor were really keen on leading the group anywhere so Sunny went ahead and flipped on the professional tone of voice he used when in scrubs.
âAlright everyone weâre gonna head down using the stairs so you can get a good idea of the floors I think. We donât have time for a proper tour but this place is pretty big so itâd probably be good to get a look at it through the stairs just in case the elevator ever breaks.â He reasoned, waving everyone to form up and follow him.
âThat over there is the elevator.â He pointed straight ahead at the metallic and out of place double doors across from them and the double staircase.
âAnd over here near the dining room we have the stairs⌠Kitchen is gonna be through that door over there, on the other side of this floor thereâs a living room and a library.â He lead them to the off-white ornate stone spiral staircase and began the descent, walking them through the light up corridor.
âThis corridor separates the living areas from the work areas. And the floor weâre headed to, the fifth floor, is where all the workout stuff is. Thereâs a pretty big pool that I havenât dipped in yet, I think itâs bigger than an olympic one which is crazy.â They passed by some of the rooms and entered the side, where industrial looking stairs led them down to the fourth floor. They didnât enter that floor but Sunny pointed it out as they passed the entrance.
âThe fourth floor only has two rooms apparently, a simulation room and the sparring room. You guys wonât believe your eyes when the simulation room turns on, it can make you think youâre in the amazon rainforest, I didnât believe technology like that existed until Iâd seen it at the WatchTower.â
They arrived at the third floor and Sunny led them through the stark white interior, past the med bay and the forensics lab and onto the meeting room. Chattering as he went.
âThatâs the med bay, where I work, and over here is the forensics lab, and the meeting room is just ahead through those doors right there. Feel free to take a seat, I have to go check on something real quick but Iâm sure Black Canary will be along soon.â
Sunny didnât have anything to âcheckâ on, he just had to use the restroom, and didnât want to go the entire meeting holding it in. The trip that he thought had been quick though turned out to make him the last one in the room, and slightly embarrassed, he apologized quickly before taking a seat next to Sascha, the only seat available. He turned and smiled at the other boy he was sitting next to, who didnât really pay him any attention, and just resolved to fold his hands in his lap and pay attention to the meeting, and not try to make a dork out of himself in the process.
code by RI.a
The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
orientations
are
hard
are
hard
black canary
code by @fudgecakez
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a z u l a
these violent delights have violent ends.
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
"Because I said so..."
Connor winced at his mother's words. Hearing them stated so bluntly almost made him feel like he was under punishment. A subtle reminder of the times he'd overspent on his debit card, had a couple girls over, or trashed the Queen beach house with a party. He fought the urge to glance over at Kataly'a, and was tempted to whine "mooom" towards Dinah. Instinctively, Connor rested one hand over onto the table, leaning over and used the other to lightly sheathe his face. Playing it off as if he was closely analyzing the tip of his bow. One he'd reverse-engineered several times over. He was embarrassed, his cheeks burning with pink but he fought it. No one needed to know Black Canary was his mother, especially not Kataly'a.
Eventually his mother shifted topics to the more important matters. A deeper synopsis of just what the Young Justice were, certain procedures that'd be underway, and more. Connor yawned at it all, Dinah's words turning into blurs that entered through one ear and exited another. With the focus lifting off of Madison, Kataly'a, and the Canary, he felt free to relax in his seat once more and righted himself as such. As much as he tried to focus on the debriefing, Connor just couldn't find himself able to. This was so much like a school, with all eyes on the teacher. He didn't join the super hero gig for this kind of shit. This was boring. His attention span was just as short as that of his father's, and in fighting alongside Oliver he'd learned to take orders on the fly, and proceed to do the opposite. There wasn't much opposite of sitting down and staring than standing up with eyes shut and that just seemed silly.
At his name called out, Connor smirked mischievously from his place in the chair. Along with himself, his alter ego "Cadence" mounted a strong social media following. Millions of people tuned in night in and night out to watch clips of Cadence hitting thugs with ricochet bows, going live as he participated in roof chases, and the like. Sometimes when out as Cadence in broad daylight he'd stop for autographs, and pictures just for the fans. The true reason he loved being a super hero- also to help the world of course. Apparently it was always in constant need of saving, and produced a steady sum of content for his fans. It was convenient, but he smiled at his mother. At least he was allowed to keep that.
"I'll be careful--" Connor hesitated momentarily, and almost let the word mom slip out. Quickly, he picked up pace as if nothing had happened, having developed a skill of conversation and charm with all the galas he'd attended in the past. "--Canary."
To say a sting of guilt hadn't echoed through his heart was an understatement. He bit his tongue the moment he'd finished his statement, glanced around subtly in the case anyone had spotted his white lie, and continued watching her presentation. As soon as the debriefing came to an end though, Connor let out a breath of air in relief. He could keep his socials, his mother wouldn't be bunking with them, and she was already off and away. He'd have to call her tonight concerning the whole 'Canary' incident, but Dinah was relaxed for the most part. Connor hoped she wouldn't freak out, and even if she did he'd enlist his father's aid in wooing her over once more.
At the sound of the alien in the corner of the room, Connor's eyes veered over in the direction of the stallion. His eyes softened on her for a moment, not even taking in her words, and continued to linger as she exited the room. In Connor's opinion the view of her leaving was just as amazing as that of her fronting him for pg-13 reasons and he already knew he wanted more of it. Just as quickly as she'd exited the room, he too sprung out of his seat. He waltzed with grace towards the door, making a gesture of himself twirling the standard green-tipped arrow in his right hand.
"You guys should loosen up. Been here like two minutes and everybody's brooding. We get it-- daddy issues. Vigilante. Whatever. But this place is basically a free hotel, enjoy a little." He said as he continued towards the door. Connor paused for a moment near the hinges of the door though, and glanced back towards Madison in her place in the room. His arrow stopped twirling, and halted with the point aimed dead at her. "You guys ought to be like her. She clearly doesn't give a fuck. I like you, blondie. See you around." With a final wink, the arrow continued its spin as Connor turned into the hall. The symphony of 'Sound of Music,' including the instruments and sounds of nature sounded throughout the hall. Though the music did serenade him, in this particular situation he was only using it as a means of focusing. Focusing on the steps of Kataly'a. Something familiar often aided in doing so, and though it might only seem counterproductive, it helped his case. Plus the Sound of Music was one of his favourites.
Following every rounded corner, and turn, it was soon made obvious where Kataly'a was headed. The sparring room. He smirked at the thought of seeing her sweaty following a good workout-- just that his thought didn't involve any "training room" at all. It did involve another sort of room though, one with far less weights, and plenty more pillows. Still, she'd chosen the training room and so he had to go with the flow.
"Swords are over to the side." Connor stated simply as he snaked around Kataly'a and entered the sparring room. His hands were gentle on her shoulder, and torso as he maneuvered around her. With a subtle chin-flick in the direction of the sword racks propped up onto the far wall, Connor made his way to the pre-assembled quivers and bows on a wall not too far away. "Sorry about Canary, it's probably that time of month for her." He said calmly as he slid one of the quivers over his back. It was nothing as specialized or advanced as his own, and he certainly didn't enjoy it. But as stated earlier Connor had to go with the flow, and going up to retrieve his bow and arrows didn't seem reasonable. His eyes then scanned the combat bows propped up above the section for quivers, and he grabbed the sleek, jet black built bow. One with gloss that shone in the light, hardly built for legit combat but that definitely fit his taste. With his equipment adorned, Connor tossed his own green bow into the quiver, and turned his sights towards Katal'ya picking out her weapons.
In several strides he stood on one of the mats in the centre of the room, eyeing Katal'ya in her place. She was clearly the warrior-type, and with his female seduction algorithm, Connor opted to try and best her at her own thing. Or at least impress her in the process.
"I'm Connor, and you seem like you've got some pent up anger that needs to be dealt with. What do you say we go mano a hermano? If I win we go for a movie or something, ..." His emerald eyes opened slightly towards the end of his words, hinting at a question in need of resolution. All this time and he still wasn't clear what her name was.
coded by natasha.
Faded_Neon
Very witty
"Other rules league associates follow include no killing." Those words from Dinah caused Sylas's eyes to travel back towards the canary, their gazes locking even before the Peregrine was specifically addressed, along with the dark-haired beauty that looked rather uninterested in the statement. Sylas himself, hardened his gaze as she continued on. Non-negotiable. It shouldn't be a thought, no killing. Since the beginning of his training, Sylas was taught more ways on how to kill people than one could count. However, he was also taught restraint so as to never let the altercation reach that point. He didn't want to kill any person. Just the Clown. And if there's anyone that gave Sylas even a chance to make that happen, there are no measures he would not take. No Canary, no Bat, no League would ultimately keep him from that.
His feelings aside, It appeared the orientation was over and Canary had been called for assistance, needing to promptly leave. Technically, he could too.. But just as quickly as Dinah had left, did her ostentatious son spring up from his seat and walked towards the nearby doorway, twirling that arrow between his fingers. Sylas could say that he could care less on the thoughts and actions of others. Though admittedly, there were very few others as insufferable as Connor Queen. Sylas had considered several instances where he could have thrown one of the loose feather blades in his pocket and cut that arrow in the older boy's hands clean in half. Instead, maybe a more frontal approach. Maybe he could bare to 'reconnect' with an old childhood acquaintance.
Daddy issues, huh? Rather bold for him to say so openly. Nonetheless, while the heir to the Queen fortune was whimsically making his way through the halls, Sylas followed silently behind from a distance. It was clear where Connor's head was as those striking eyes could barely stay off of the dark-haired beauty, Kataly'a. It was rather fortunate though, that they were headed to the sparring room. Sylas didn't enter immediately, instead stood in the doorway and watched the movements Connor made. Typical rich playboy bachelor, at twenty years old. Sylas wondered if the boy was even skilled like Green Arrow, he obviously hadn't taken after his mother..
Connor had settled himself on a mat in the center of the room, expecting Kataly'a to join him for what the Queen expected as more than a 'friendly' spar. Sylas had finally proceeded in, his mismatched eyes quickly finding the table of laid-out throwing projectiles; knives, glaives, shuriken. His primary weapons of choice. But today... maybe his archery could use some tuning. The Todd's movements were decisive as he pulled a quiver and bow from the archery rack; a metallic recurve bow that would suit just fine for what he needed. Sylas had then proceeded to walk slowly in the direction of Connor, his eyes never leaving the male as he spoke out. "Sad to see you haven't changed much, Connor. Except the bow. Is that real by the way, or just a prop for a photoshoot?"
Sylas didn't smile or snicker, showing the other boy the upmost sincerity in his demeaning words as he now stood in front of the male from a few yards away at the other end of the mat. "Can you even use one? Or is it just a trending fad for your social media? What if someone..was about to shoot you? Right where you stand." With the end of his final sentence, Sylas's arms moved fluidly and quickly, his fingers drawing two of the steel-tipped arrows from the borrowed quiver, nocking both of them and pulling back effortlessly on the tight drawstring. "Would you shoot first like the triumphant hero..?" His bow was lined perfectly with Connor's direction, Sylas's eyes unwavering as the mismatched hues looked directly into the other's. "Or would you choke up, and get cut short like a bad joke?" With a fast, instant motion, Sylas had twisted the bow from its vertical position to horizontal, almost immediately releasing the nocked arrows afterwards. They flew in perfect tandem, soaring at a blinding speed in Connor's direction. They were close shots, whistling past either side of Connor's head and missing the Queen by centimetres, only to continue their travel to the end of the room behind the male; where Sylas was able to accurately strike the torsos of two practice mannequins that stood when needed for training.
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jones573
gen, you viper
Sybil gave a curt wave at her introduction, though really it was more just lifting her hand of her face momentarily. She wondered if she would be subject to these physicals and training regimes. She certainly didn't like the idea of letting Sunny see under her glasses and blindfold, but she wasn't willing to be uncooperative with him either, since that usually meant he'd be uncooperative with her. Maybe if she asked nicely, he'd take highquality photos of everyone's eyes for her under the guise of 'examination'. That would be useful.
Her own ink eyes only saw in black and white. She'd seen Canary's eyes in color before though, due to her status as a public figure, and Sybil contemplated the pros and cons of piggybacking on the older woman's vision.
Pros: She'd get to see all of her teammates eyes in color.
Cons: Canary might be aware of what she was doing, and be pissed.
Pros: Canary might be aware of what she was doing, and be pleased she was taking intiative.
Cons: Canary might be color blind or near sighted and it wouldn't be much help anyways-
And then the woman left before Sybil could decide, and Sybil was annoyed by her own hesitation. Well at least they didn't have to go around the room and 'introduce themselves and what they could do'. Sybil hadn't even shared with Oracle the exact intricacies of how her powers worked, and she had no intention of doing so with a bunch of strangers. That would just make it easier for them to circumvent her surveillance.
She felt... uncomfortable, watching the others walk away without having established a way to observe them first. She hadn't gotten a good look at their eyes, even in black and white, and she hadn't yet explored the mountain to determine where any photos or artwork might be. But she supposed she was supposed to be keeping an eye of them while on missions, not while at base. (Not that she wouldn't be doing both, once she was able.) Besides, Canary had just warned them about tech use and what other sort of trouble could they really get into so soon?
Connor had social media, so she reckoned she could start with him once she had a chance- He was bound to have photos with he eyes exposed. (If she'd accepted Oracle's offer two weeks ago instead of two days ago, she could have already done all this research, she reminded herself, but- Whatever. What was done was done.)
"Bit odd to bring up 'daddy issues' unprompted, isn't it," Sybil muttered observationally. Sounded like maybe he had some of his own.
She stood up from her chair and grabbed her notebook.
"Not sure if you need to do an examination on me, Sunny," she said, trying not to sound too much like she abhorred the idea. "But let me know whenever you're ready, if you do. Haven't got a whole lot else on my schedule." That had sounded casual, right?
She was going to just leave, but Oracle's words about 'building relationships' and 'positive social skills' echoed in her head.
"I'll be checking out what I'm gonna be working with and doing some setup," she continued, gesturing at the adjacent room full of computers where she'd be based. "If anyone needs me."
Her own ink eyes only saw in black and white. She'd seen Canary's eyes in color before though, due to her status as a public figure, and Sybil contemplated the pros and cons of piggybacking on the older woman's vision.
Pros: She'd get to see all of her teammates eyes in color.
Cons: Canary might be aware of what she was doing, and be pissed.
Pros: Canary might be aware of what she was doing, and be pleased she was taking intiative.
Cons: Canary might be color blind or near sighted and it wouldn't be much help anyways-
And then the woman left before Sybil could decide, and Sybil was annoyed by her own hesitation. Well at least they didn't have to go around the room and 'introduce themselves and what they could do'. Sybil hadn't even shared with Oracle the exact intricacies of how her powers worked, and she had no intention of doing so with a bunch of strangers. That would just make it easier for them to circumvent her surveillance.
She felt... uncomfortable, watching the others walk away without having established a way to observe them first. She hadn't gotten a good look at their eyes, even in black and white, and she hadn't yet explored the mountain to determine where any photos or artwork might be. But she supposed she was supposed to be keeping an eye of them while on missions, not while at base. (Not that she wouldn't be doing both, once she was able.) Besides, Canary had just warned them about tech use and what other sort of trouble could they really get into so soon?
Connor had social media, so she reckoned she could start with him once she had a chance- He was bound to have photos with he eyes exposed. (If she'd accepted Oracle's offer two weeks ago instead of two days ago, she could have already done all this research, she reminded herself, but- Whatever. What was done was done.)
"Bit odd to bring up 'daddy issues' unprompted, isn't it," Sybil muttered observationally. Sounded like maybe he had some of his own.
She stood up from her chair and grabbed her notebook.
"Not sure if you need to do an examination on me, Sunny," she said, trying not to sound too much like she abhorred the idea. "But let me know whenever you're ready, if you do. Haven't got a whole lot else on my schedule." That had sounded casual, right?
She was going to just leave, but Oracle's words about 'building relationships' and 'positive social skills' echoed in her head.
"I'll be checking out what I'm gonna be working with and doing some setup," she continued, gesturing at the adjacent room full of computers where she'd be based. "If anyone needs me."
a z u l a
these violent delights have violent ends.
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idalie
á´ĘĘ á´ę° Ęá´ĘĘĘá´É´
Nevaan Gupta
Hanging his head back in mute frustration, Nevaan winced at the lights overhead. He shouldâve been prepared for Canary to mention health exams, it was obvious a League operation would want to know their limits and overall vigour for the challenges ahead. Pitted against the other blokes put Nev more on edge than the thought of what the physical trials entailed, anxious to know whether he could hold his own or if heâd fall to the bottom. Shit, heâd never been a good loser anyway. One just had to ask his sisters.Letting his head loll to the side before straightening up, his gaze rested on Sybil. IT support? Now, he could find interest in that and likewise, curiosity. Something to do with the dark shades and slightly off-putting demeanour spoke volumes that Nevaan decided to ignore. Much like the ominous creaking of a house built on an Indian burial ground with the suggestion it was just the plumbing.
Drawing back to Canary, her warnings were laid thick. No politics, no slip-ups, and Nev rediscovered his desire to avoid social media like the plague. There were some old photos here and there, Aunties and Uncles, friends with pleasant group pictures - but Gupta preferred forums. Obscure taxidermy threads he posted on for advice when restoring roadkill and how to avoid making a dead badger look like a striped sausage. Niche interests had hit the mainstream steadily though and the growth of the community didnât make it seem much different from any larger sites. The only politics remained between ethical taxidermy and hunters taxidermy; hardly a republican and democrat debate.
More surveillance, however, meant less freedom. Well, freedom with the thought that League members could see your search history, like some Catholic guilt complex.
The orientation ended early, interrupted by the disappearance of their new den mother who suggested a more informal introduction in her absence. Nevaan began to wonder if he could use the physical examination to skip some of the tests tomorrow, yet the stern nature of Canary made him doubt itâd be that easy.
Deciding to split with the rest of the table, Connorâs farewell was enough to make Nevâs eyes roll full circle.
âArrow really knows how to raise âem, huh?â He drawled, getting to his feet. No use in being a loner with the climate, teamwork was a big part of the initiative after all. Heâd work his way around, although - some of the personalities he was working with made it impossible to know which was easier to befriend. Without much further forethought, he went ahead and motioned to Sybil.
If anything were to go by, perhaps it was the similar thoughts on Hood Junior that almost proved a small basis of familiarity. It was all worth a try. âMind if I tag along? Looks like a real tech crows nest, besides, you won't even know I'm there." Nevaan flashed a trustworthy smile, or what he hoped was close to one. In reality, he just wanted to see the James Bond set up they had going on and maybe investigate if there were as many cameras as he thought.
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BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
MADISON "JINX" JONES
tags:
a z u l a
The Witch Son
JustJazzy
Shadow
location: Mt. Justice (group meeting, maybe leaving) - OPEN
interaction: Kat, Sascha-Damian-Callum-Sunny
a z u l a
The Witch Son
JustJazzy
Shadow
location: Mt. Justice (group meeting, maybe leaving) - OPEN
interaction: Kat, Sascha-Damian-Callum-Sunny
âThen I shall put your head through the ground and we can test it,â the brunette retorted, which made Madison giggle. She nodded a couple times, shooting a wink and a kiss to the alien.
âJust give me a ring hon,â Madison whispered across the room. The chief feeling of pride rose in the blonde, a smug grin on her face-- definitely not pointed at ETâs genetic superior-- when Canary took Madisonâs point into the polite scolding. It also amused Madison that the barbieâs own mother had a hand in forcing the brunette into Young Justice. Must have been something important, since this whole thing was equal parts reformatory school and summer camp for bumbling vigilantes. Madison had gone on her own accord, as she was the only one that made decisions for herself. She was independent like that! If Joker hadnât threatened her to try and betray the group, she would have probably had a grand old time learning to be good.
The reminder made her grin take a pointed tip, not in that she truly was amused by the idea of funneling information to the outside, but to try and not convey that perspective in her expression. But then again, she had nothing to lose with these individuals. With the Justice League. Trying to be good was a handsome goal, but maybe Joker was right-- she could just as easily not be suited for all of this. He was her father, and she shared half his genetics⌠maybe she was destined to entropy.
It wasnât important now, as Madisonâs attention peaked when Canary mentioned that she had to leave. She gave a wicked glance around, soaking in the others. Her brain plucked the pieces of explanation Canary had given, as well as the couple of name drops sheâd mentioned. Plenty of dark and brooding to complement the others. Arrow boy with the boy band jaw-- Connor--, really hammering in his lineage by fondling the notch and tip, seemed to be an interesting case. As playboy as Batman, by appearances alone. There was Air Force One, and while she was ferociously beautiful, Madison wondered what her temperament was like outside of feeling suffocated to do something. Madison could relate, she did hate being told what to do. The bearded one had a look to his eyes, something that seemed equal parts aware and unaware. The rather sunny dispositioned one, he was their life line on the field. A medic, thank god, as Madison wasnât one to tread carefully in dangerous territory. A kid with curly hair and his hands in his lap seemed to be concerned elsewhere, but Madison figured sheâd get something out of him. Then there was the smaller girl with the oversized glasses, which Madison adored. Sheâd have to talk to her, Madison was determined, as the girl seemed as mysterious as one could.
Her gaze continued to roll around the room, taking in appearances and dispositions, as Canary quickly beamed out. Spacebabe bee-lined for the exit, and a few others shuffled out after. Connor made sure to make the room remember him, shooting off about daddy issues and the amount of frowns present on their faces. He singled out Madison, which made her eyebrow raise and a curious curl of her tongue around the sucker stick.
âYou guys ought to be like her. She clearly doesn't give a fuck. I like you, blondie. See you around.â She let a wheeze of laughter out, saluting the boy as he left. Madison watched them all, now tapping her knee with a free hand. She looked to the others who remained, and then to the one who arrived late with the smoothie in his hand.
âHey, Sascha, yeah? Whatcha put in that smoothie? You make enough for the whole class?â Her eyebrows wiggled. âThough I sâpose a whole three act playâs gonna go on in the trainin' room. Anyone fancy a look-see?â She leaned her body forward, munching on the last bit of her sucker. She was definitely interested in at least watching the others train. Tall, dark, and angry had made her stance clear-- which ignited a few bits of electricity in Madison--, StrongJaw McChad was every playboyâs ideal male cover model, and even the one with the mismatched eyes and the clinical disposition was a sight for sore eyes. In fact, the whole ass room was full of pretty faces. Oh, Madison was gonna enjoy her stay-- up until Joker decided what he wanted to do with everyone, of course.
âThough a lilâ bit a sparrinâ wouldnâ hurt, Iâm a tad bit rusty you see. âBout as useful as you can throw me⌠but I wouldnâ mind a few pointas,â she said and stood up, adjusting her top before making her way out of the room to follow the three who had exited. She lagged a bit in case anyone followed, for conversational goodness.
âJust give me a ring hon,â Madison whispered across the room. The chief feeling of pride rose in the blonde, a smug grin on her face-- definitely not pointed at ETâs genetic superior-- when Canary took Madisonâs point into the polite scolding. It also amused Madison that the barbieâs own mother had a hand in forcing the brunette into Young Justice. Must have been something important, since this whole thing was equal parts reformatory school and summer camp for bumbling vigilantes. Madison had gone on her own accord, as she was the only one that made decisions for herself. She was independent like that! If Joker hadnât threatened her to try and betray the group, she would have probably had a grand old time learning to be good.
The reminder made her grin take a pointed tip, not in that she truly was amused by the idea of funneling information to the outside, but to try and not convey that perspective in her expression. But then again, she had nothing to lose with these individuals. With the Justice League. Trying to be good was a handsome goal, but maybe Joker was right-- she could just as easily not be suited for all of this. He was her father, and she shared half his genetics⌠maybe she was destined to entropy.
It wasnât important now, as Madisonâs attention peaked when Canary mentioned that she had to leave. She gave a wicked glance around, soaking in the others. Her brain plucked the pieces of explanation Canary had given, as well as the couple of name drops sheâd mentioned. Plenty of dark and brooding to complement the others. Arrow boy with the boy band jaw-- Connor--, really hammering in his lineage by fondling the notch and tip, seemed to be an interesting case. As playboy as Batman, by appearances alone. There was Air Force One, and while she was ferociously beautiful, Madison wondered what her temperament was like outside of feeling suffocated to do something. Madison could relate, she did hate being told what to do. The bearded one had a look to his eyes, something that seemed equal parts aware and unaware. The rather sunny dispositioned one, he was their life line on the field. A medic, thank god, as Madison wasnât one to tread carefully in dangerous territory. A kid with curly hair and his hands in his lap seemed to be concerned elsewhere, but Madison figured sheâd get something out of him. Then there was the smaller girl with the oversized glasses, which Madison adored. Sheâd have to talk to her, Madison was determined, as the girl seemed as mysterious as one could.
Her gaze continued to roll around the room, taking in appearances and dispositions, as Canary quickly beamed out. Spacebabe bee-lined for the exit, and a few others shuffled out after. Connor made sure to make the room remember him, shooting off about daddy issues and the amount of frowns present on their faces. He singled out Madison, which made her eyebrow raise and a curious curl of her tongue around the sucker stick.
âYou guys ought to be like her. She clearly doesn't give a fuck. I like you, blondie. See you around.â She let a wheeze of laughter out, saluting the boy as he left. Madison watched them all, now tapping her knee with a free hand. She looked to the others who remained, and then to the one who arrived late with the smoothie in his hand.
âHey, Sascha, yeah? Whatcha put in that smoothie? You make enough for the whole class?â Her eyebrows wiggled. âThough I sâpose a whole three act playâs gonna go on in the trainin' room. Anyone fancy a look-see?â She leaned her body forward, munching on the last bit of her sucker. She was definitely interested in at least watching the others train. Tall, dark, and angry had made her stance clear-- which ignited a few bits of electricity in Madison--, StrongJaw McChad was every playboyâs ideal male cover model, and even the one with the mismatched eyes and the clinical disposition was a sight for sore eyes. In fact, the whole ass room was full of pretty faces. Oh, Madison was gonna enjoy her stay-- up until Joker decided what he wanted to do with everyone, of course.
âThough a lilâ bit a sparrinâ wouldnâ hurt, Iâm a tad bit rusty you see. âBout as useful as you can throw me⌠but I wouldnâ mind a few pointas,â she said and stood up, adjusting her top before making her way out of the room to follow the three who had exited. She lagged a bit in case anyone followed, for conversational goodness.
coded by natasha.
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
Cadence x Peregrine
Connor piqued a brow at Kat following the mention of her mother. He couldn't quite imagine what sort of beauty would've birthed the alien princess though his eyes softened at Kataly'a's distaste of her mother. At her tease, Connor rolled his eyes and let out a short chuckle. "I wasn't sure if humour was a thing on your home world-- or planet. I haven't met much aliens." A girl with an ego and humour that rivaled his was definitely worth the while in his opinion. Paired with her appearance it was undoubtedly a no-brainer. As he adjusted finger tabs over the index, middle, and ring fingers of both arms, Connor found himself repeating the princess' name quietly under a breath. He liked the name, it rolled well off the tongue the same way 'Connor' did too.Connor watched Kat slice the air as she felt out the sword. His eyes lingered on the each ferocious go at the weapon, tracing the muscles down her arms and towards her armour. It was obvious she was an experienced fighter, and finally Connor realized that her arrival at the training room was no mistake. He wasn't too sure what sort of rules they had where she came from, but this fight probably wouldn't be uber friendly even with it just being a spar. Still Connor's confidence was through the roof, and so was his skill. He wouldn't be giving Kat an easy fight. "Neither will I." He responded simply, and reached from an arrow in his quiver. With the arrow horizontal over his lower body, he loaded it in which was when they'd been so rudely interrupted.
Out of the corner of his eyes Connor could make out the rough look of Sylas Todd. He gritted his teeth, and stood still on the mat, only watching Sylas through his trained peripheral vision. As an archer one had to be constantly aware of their surroundings, and Sylas was no different. It was evident that he was pissed off though, why'd Bird-Boy feel the need to join him while he had a shot at the princess? He'd pussied out all those years ago, and honestly, Connor wished he'd have done the same now.
Shifting his eyes to follow Sylas, Connor bit the insides of his mouth at the sight. Not only was Sylas interrupting his sparring session, he'd overstepped his turf and picked out a bow and quiver of his own. Connor was trained by the Green Arrow, live and in the flesh. Sylas received training from his anger-ridden sidekick. They were not the same, but for whatever reason Sylas saw Connor's confidence as a weakness. There was a reason he was the Green Arrow's protege, and Sylas wasn't.
"Stay a little longer and I'll show you if it's real or not, Sy." Connor replied without the skip of a beat. His focus was completely on Sylas now, the faint appearance of a smirk written on his face. At the rest of Sylas' words, Connor remained silent. His cheeky expression turned to anger. Connor was sure of his skill, and training. He was a world-renowned archer in his own right, Sylas was an orphan with insecurity issues. Connor should've felt bad for Sylas, he was his old friend after all but right now he was pissing him off. As Sylas rose the arrows to face Connor, his eyes thinned down on Sylas' heterochromic eyes. While the off-brand Robin spoke, Connor was reading the direction of the arrows pointed at him... the chances of them actually hitting him. While it was a neat scare tactic, Oliver Queen's training had been far more rigorous and scary than anything Sylas could offer. Connor didn't even flinch at the arrows whizzing past him.
"Cool party trick. Been there, done that." Connor sighed. With a swift motion, Connor retracted a second arrow and added it to his bow. "Breathe in..." He thought to himself, and inhaled a soft breath. His eyes softened, before snapping open at their target. He lifted his bow from its dormant place, slightly above Sylas' head. "... Breathe out." With the exhale, Connor released his hold of the bowstring. The arrows whipped into the air, slicing speedily at the air as they ventured into the room. Each one shot out towards a corner of the room, with the corner of the arrow points slapping against the weapon stands in each corner of the room. The arrow's ricocheted backwards, and with the trajectory it seemed both would collide with the back of Bird-Boy's skull. Instead, the arrows crossed paths with one another in the nick of time, and whizzed past Peregrine's ears. They continued further into the room and collided with Sylas' arrows in the dummies, slicing them down in half and usurping their positions.
"Stick to your feathers, Bird-Brain." Connor finished. He had set his sights down onto Sylas. There was no particular need to use his arrows in this battle, Connor didn't believe Sylas to be a threat to him nor did he want to injure his teammates their first official day in. His mother would be pissed. In one motion, Connor transferred his weight backwards onto the balls of his heels. He spun swiftly, quick and graceful as he removed his quiver from his back. The sack of arrows was tossed to the side, and with the same spinning momentum Connor's arm extended outwards, and smacked down against Sylas' jaw with his own force and momentum. Following the attack, Connor planted his feet into the ground, quiver up and stance favouring his left side. The fight was all going to go down in seconds, and so Connor anticipated Sylas' follow-up.
Sylas' movements fell in tandem with Connor's when the boy discarded the quiver, shrugging his own from his back and tossing both it and the borrowed bow to the side. Though after that, the young Todd fell still again. He saw the male readying himself to retaliate. Sylas almost could have smirked, but his face remained stern. Atop of having no faith that Connor was even half as skilled as he thought himself, Sylas Todd was fully aware of what he was capable of. But even after all of his training, he still found that he struggled with holding back against an opponent. Oh well.. When Connor had come in to deliver a blow against his jaw, Sylas remained still until it almost seemed as if the blow had landed. It all happened in an instant; one of his hands had come up to deflect the strike, the other holding firmly over Connor's extended arm and using it to leverage himself while his lower body leaped up from the floor in order to catch a leg around the male's neck. Once secured, it was simply a matter of rotation and weight distribution so the two tumbled to the mat below. From this position, Sylas was able to clinch a hold around Connor's head with his legs, meanwhile his arms were free to disable the male's own arm, keeping it locked straight out and twisted slightly; all it would take was a slight shift to pop the joint out of its socket.
Connor's expression stayed still at Sylas' counter to the quiver strike. Of course he'd been able to parry it. He'd underrated him, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. While Sylas had used his own momentum strike against him in order to climb up on his person, Connor made the easy call and forced himself down. The momentum of the downwards motion of himself dropping his back onto Sylas onto the floor would be enough to shake Peregrine's grip, and kick-flip himself backwards and up into a standing position above Sylas' head.
Connor gathered himself, and hopped backwards to create space between himself and Sylas. He eyed the bow further off in the corner of the mat, distaste clouded his expression. With Sylas on the floor, Connor charged forwards again, this time flipping forwards and aiming to strike down with a jumping kick aimed at the man's chest.
The momentum of the downward force had caused Sylas to release his grip over Connor with a grunt. It had appeared that physically, the other male was a bit stronger than him. But having trained with his mother Artemis, Connor's strength paled in comparison to the Amazon's. Sylas' gaze watched Connor as the male eyed the bow off to the side. He would take advantage of that split second, centering his balance on the floor and letting a hand slip down underneath him. By the time Cadence had charged toward him and readied a kick square for his chest, Sylas' hand had come up swiftly to reveal that he had unfastened his own belt from his waist. The belt lashed outward as Sylas tumbled to the side to evade the strike, catching around the leg Connor had used to try and connect a blow. "Amateur.." The Peregrine stood back to his feet quickly and tugged harshly toward himself; Connor would need to either follow through with his captured leg, or risk falling back to the ground. Sylas calculated the male's movements for both instances, closing the rest of their distance with a fast twirl to create momentum for an elbow strike aimed for Cadence's solar plexus that would knock the wind clear out of the other's lungs should it connect. And if it hadn't...well, that's what the feather blade he held hidden in his hand was for.
Connor smirked slightly at Sylas' lost grip. The boy was definitely stronger than when he'd first met him, but so far his moves were predictable and left room to be countered. "Pick it up, Bird-Brain." As his flip was coming to an end, Connor's eyes widened at the feeling of a belt strapped around his leg. "Cheap.." Connor thought at the feeling, but shook the thought. He had to think quickly to parry the room, and hell, thinking quickly was his thing. While Sylas was undoubtedly stronger than their last meeting, Connor outweighed him in weight and total momentum as he descended from the flip. Rather than give any of it up to parry, Connor forced his legs down to the floor to forcefully land. The exertion of force ripped past the belt with a "thwip" noise as his feet planted firmly against the floor, eyes dead set on Sylas.
He didn't hesitate to grab at the hook of the belt at his foot. Connor removed it quickly, and with expert accuracy and total force he whipped the metal hook of the belt towards Sylas' temple. In the same movement, Connor dropped down to the floor. He planted his palms flat against the mat, bending up one knee, and sliding the other towards Sylas' feet. Peregrine would be forced to take the belt hook hurtling towards his face, or slip as Connor aimed to remove his balance.
Sylas was beginning to see, Connor's toned body wasn't entirely for show. Cadence was almost able to keep up with him, however the male's overwhelming confidence in himself...that would get him killed one day. If the Peregrine wanted Connor dead, there would already be a corpse laying on the mat he stood on by now.. When Connor planted himself on the floor, Sylas anticipated for the male to go for the belt around his leg. Though admittedly, he was nearly caught off guard when he was met with a counterattack aimed for both his upper and lower body. The window was narrow, and to most it would seem there was no escape from both strikes. But Sylas saw his opening, and took it; in a fluid movement, his upper body dipped down while his legs hiked up off of the floor. His body went parallel to the ground, corkscrewing mid-air between both strikes and narrowly avoiding them. In the midst of his rotation, Sylas was able to grab two more feather blades from his pocket and simultaneously project them right beneath. They had successfully connected and pinned Connor to the mat below by the loose fabric of the male's shirt, the metal almost resting against Cadence's shoulders while gravity eventually brought the Peregrine down. Right on top of his opponent. Sylas used an arm to push down over Connor's chest, while his other hand rested the first blade he held against the male's neck. Their faces were close now, the Peregine's gray and green eyes baring down at Green Arrow's protege with a rather cold indifference. "How do you call yourself an archer while constantly blinding yourself with your own arrogance?"
During the swift lower kick, Connor flinched at what was going on above him. The unnatural reflexes of Sylas were evident in how he avoided the attack, flipping into the air like an expert gymnast. "Gotham," Connor thought to himself. As his kick returned without connect, Connor was caught off guard by the metal projectiles hurtled at him. "Cheap!" He called, but it didn't produce any luck. The metal shards while small, carried strong force. Paired with Sylas' flick, the feathers tore into his clothing and pinned Connor down onto the mat, and flat on his back. Following his descent came Sylas with a blade at his neck. Connor just chuckled in the other man's face, nodding slightly as he casually removed the shard from his shoulder.
"If I had my actual arrows. The one I'd grown accustomed to using for years? You'd have been dead by now." Whilst tugging the feather out of his clothes, Connor chin-flicked into the direction of the shard in Sylas' hand. "You were armed with yours. Would've only been fair. Now get off me bastard I was in the middle of something."
The Peregrine was almost tempted to push the blade against Connor's neck just a little more at the chuckle he was given. However that could result in a rather bloody mess.. Instead he granted Cadence the request and slowly stood up from the male. "I could have used a pencil and the result would have been the same, Connor. In a real fight...if you've ever been in one...it isn't a matter of being fair. It's a matter of doing whatever it takes to be the one left standing." Sylas' mismatched gaze peered at Connor's neck briefly; there was no blood, but a very fine line of red over Cadence's throat was visible from where his blade rest over. The feather blades he used were as thin as a surgical scalpel and possibly sharper, designed to be nearly impossible to see when thrown in a linear direction. "You can keep those, by the way. Maybe they'll save your life one day if you run out of your precious arrows." There was a rather hefty hint of snark in Sylas'voice at the end of his words, before he turned his back to Connor and began making his way to the exit of the sparring room. He honestly expected better from the older male..maybe he subconsciously wanted Connor to be better. But he couldn't admit that, not now. Instead, he stopped in the doorway and turned to take one last look at Cadence and Kataly'a. "If you plan to continue your funny attempt at flirting, try not to get ripped in half while doing it." With that, the Peregrine had left the room. It was time for a cigarette..
Shadow
Akin to a Fool
Blitz
Listening to the Black Canary gave Callum three different waves of anxiety thanks to the mentions of tests, tests, and oh yeah, tests. He couldnât seem to recall which part of Supermanâs recruitment speech had included that rather significant tidbit. He tried not to feel bitter about it, but found he was a little. He had never been very good at tests of any kind, and he dreaded to think of the humiliation that would follow comparing himself physically to anyone else in the room. A small sense of dignity wanted to argue that he could probably take at least one of them in a fight, but he couldnât listen to it without laughing, so he blocked it out instead.
He rubbed his thumb nail against his palm to focus himself and tried to think up a solution instead of just worrying. As long as he didnât have to do any of the tests today, he reasoned, then he should be okay. He had caught sight of two different libraries on the hologram map, so at worst he might have to endure a few more sleepless nights to study up. What exactly he would need to study, he wasnât sure. (He decided the physical tests were pretty much just a lost cause at this point. Hakuna matata, or something like that.)
Miss Black Canaryâs sudden exit was both good and bad. He was extremely relieved by the culling of âintroduction and share your powerâ time. On the other hand, he had no idea what to do with âfree time.â His mind quickly traveled back to the welcoming arms of the bed that had greeted him upon his arrival, but that seemed unfortunately like a cop-out. âThe guy who took a napâ didnât seem like a flattering first impression, and it probably wasnât a great idea to delay interacting with his teammates anyway. That posed the issue: what was a good first impression to superheroes?
He flicked through the pages of the sticky-note pack in his pocket with his thumb nail, hoping to buy some time and maybe gain an idea by simply watching what everyone else decided to do with their free time.
The armored alien was the first to leave, quickly followed by mister arrow guy with his...morale building speech? He had a point that this place was essentially a free hotel, but there was also the crime-fighting, superpowers, maybe-get-sent-home-if-you-suck part that weighed on Callum. If any of them were brooding, was it really that hard to understand why? Then the guy turned around again and pointed out the edgy blonde girl who was still at the table.
[I like you, blondie.]
âI like her too,â Destruct pitched in suddenly. âAnd the other one. She left. I liked her too.â
âReally? Just those two, huh?â Callum queried inwardly, with a well-practiced blank expression on his face. Feeling a slight nudge in his vision and a sense of curiosity from Destruct, he glanced obligingly around the table, taking a moment to note everyoneâs face. Then came the mental equivalent of a shrug from Destruct and his presence faded slightly.
Callum frowned, just a little, taking no notice as another person left. It was weird for Destruct to like anyone, let alone focusing on...the two people who had acted angry earlier. Ok, that made sense.
He zoned back into his surroundings just as the one Miss Black Canary had introduced as Sybil left the room with mister beard. Callum didnât have time to wonder where they were going as the edgy blonde began talking and made a mention of the training room. It felt like his whole chest and innards contracted at the horrifying thought of sparring against any one of his teammates right now. He really, really didnât want his complete humiliation on a training mat to be his first impression on everyone.
Still, when she set off for the training room, he found himself standing up and trailing after her.
When they reached the training room, arrow guy was already engaged in what appeared to be a less-than-friendly sparring match with the dark haired guy with piercings.
Callum hesitated inside the doorway of the training room, then took a few reluctant steps inside and to the right. His first impulse on seeing a fight was usually to step in, but the alien goddess didnât seem to be concerned with stopping them, he figured he shouldnât be either.
That was all fine and dandy until the fight suddenly ended with a knife at mister arrowâs throat. Callumâs adrenaline spiked and he finally noticed, almost too late, just how closely Destruct had been paying attention to the sights and sounds of the fight. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that his lack of sleep over the past week had made him too tired to hold much sway over Destruct in a situation like this. He quickly reached inside his pocket as the victor left the training room and pulled out the pack of sticky-notes, scrawling hastily with his pencil.
As he wrote, general movement in his peripheral vision slowly reminded him that he wasnât alone, and this, in fact, wasnât normal behavior. His face would have turned bright red if he had the complexion for it. Here he was, scribbling madly in a notebook just seconds after his new teammates had finished a rather unfriendly sparring match: at best he probably looked like some weirdo journalist type, and at worst like he was a very detail-oriented snitch.
He clenched his jaw and drew in a careful breath to slow his heart-rate down, then walked along the wall toward a table that was lined with various knives. He finished the note quickly, then looked at it for a moment to make sure Destruct could read it all.
âDO NOT COME OUT. I canât help you right now and itâs safer for you to stay hidden. Promise.â
Worryingly, no response came.
He shoved the note hurriedly into his pocket anyway and reached as casually as he could for one of the knives. He unfolded the knifeâs blade and examined its serrated edge, then closed it again and reached, hand slightly shaky, for a different one. This knife, with a locked-open blade and a curved handle, shared the same shiny newness as the rest of the knives on the table. It made him think of his own knives, safely packed in his bag upstairs, and he felt a stubborn desire to ignore the new equipment in favor of the things he had collected over the years. Familiarity. Still, a part of him recognized that he would hardly be able to turn down such fancy upgrades when he actually went on a mission. There was certainly something about shiny knives that drew in his attention, something about holding one that made him feel more heroic than patchwork project. He liked that.
Listening to the Black Canary gave Callum three different waves of anxiety thanks to the mentions of tests, tests, and oh yeah, tests. He couldnât seem to recall which part of Supermanâs recruitment speech had included that rather significant tidbit. He tried not to feel bitter about it, but found he was a little. He had never been very good at tests of any kind, and he dreaded to think of the humiliation that would follow comparing himself physically to anyone else in the room. A small sense of dignity wanted to argue that he could probably take at least one of them in a fight, but he couldnât listen to it without laughing, so he blocked it out instead.
He rubbed his thumb nail against his palm to focus himself and tried to think up a solution instead of just worrying. As long as he didnât have to do any of the tests today, he reasoned, then he should be okay. He had caught sight of two different libraries on the hologram map, so at worst he might have to endure a few more sleepless nights to study up. What exactly he would need to study, he wasnât sure. (He decided the physical tests were pretty much just a lost cause at this point. Hakuna matata, or something like that.)
Miss Black Canaryâs sudden exit was both good and bad. He was extremely relieved by the culling of âintroduction and share your powerâ time. On the other hand, he had no idea what to do with âfree time.â His mind quickly traveled back to the welcoming arms of the bed that had greeted him upon his arrival, but that seemed unfortunately like a cop-out. âThe guy who took a napâ didnât seem like a flattering first impression, and it probably wasnât a great idea to delay interacting with his teammates anyway. That posed the issue: what was a good first impression to superheroes?
He flicked through the pages of the sticky-note pack in his pocket with his thumb nail, hoping to buy some time and maybe gain an idea by simply watching what everyone else decided to do with their free time.
The armored alien was the first to leave, quickly followed by mister arrow guy with his...morale building speech? He had a point that this place was essentially a free hotel, but there was also the crime-fighting, superpowers, maybe-get-sent-home-if-you-suck part that weighed on Callum. If any of them were brooding, was it really that hard to understand why? Then the guy turned around again and pointed out the edgy blonde girl who was still at the table.
[I like you, blondie.]
âI like her too,â Destruct pitched in suddenly. âAnd the other one. She left. I liked her too.â
âReally? Just those two, huh?â Callum queried inwardly, with a well-practiced blank expression on his face. Feeling a slight nudge in his vision and a sense of curiosity from Destruct, he glanced obligingly around the table, taking a moment to note everyoneâs face. Then came the mental equivalent of a shrug from Destruct and his presence faded slightly.
Callum frowned, just a little, taking no notice as another person left. It was weird for Destruct to like anyone, let alone focusing on...the two people who had acted angry earlier. Ok, that made sense.
He zoned back into his surroundings just as the one Miss Black Canary had introduced as Sybil left the room with mister beard. Callum didnât have time to wonder where they were going as the edgy blonde began talking and made a mention of the training room. It felt like his whole chest and innards contracted at the horrifying thought of sparring against any one of his teammates right now. He really, really didnât want his complete humiliation on a training mat to be his first impression on everyone.
Still, when she set off for the training room, he found himself standing up and trailing after her.
When they reached the training room, arrow guy was already engaged in what appeared to be a less-than-friendly sparring match with the dark haired guy with piercings.
Callum hesitated inside the doorway of the training room, then took a few reluctant steps inside and to the right. His first impulse on seeing a fight was usually to step in, but the alien goddess didnât seem to be concerned with stopping them, he figured he shouldnât be either.
That was all fine and dandy until the fight suddenly ended with a knife at mister arrowâs throat. Callumâs adrenaline spiked and he finally noticed, almost too late, just how closely Destruct had been paying attention to the sights and sounds of the fight. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that his lack of sleep over the past week had made him too tired to hold much sway over Destruct in a situation like this. He quickly reached inside his pocket as the victor left the training room and pulled out the pack of sticky-notes, scrawling hastily with his pencil.
As he wrote, general movement in his peripheral vision slowly reminded him that he wasnât alone, and this, in fact, wasnât normal behavior. His face would have turned bright red if he had the complexion for it. Here he was, scribbling madly in a notebook just seconds after his new teammates had finished a rather unfriendly sparring match: at best he probably looked like some weirdo journalist type, and at worst like he was a very detail-oriented snitch.
He clenched his jaw and drew in a careful breath to slow his heart-rate down, then walked along the wall toward a table that was lined with various knives. He finished the note quickly, then looked at it for a moment to make sure Destruct could read it all.
âDO NOT COME OUT. I canât help you right now and itâs safer for you to stay hidden. Promise.â
Worryingly, no response came.
He shoved the note hurriedly into his pocket anyway and reached as casually as he could for one of the knives. He unfolded the knifeâs blade and examined its serrated edge, then closed it again and reached, hand slightly shaky, for a different one. This knife, with a locked-open blade and a curved handle, shared the same shiny newness as the rest of the knives on the table. It made him think of his own knives, safely packed in his bag upstairs, and he felt a stubborn desire to ignore the new equipment in favor of the things he had collected over the years. Familiarity. Still, a part of him recognized that he would hardly be able to turn down such fancy upgrades when he actually went on a mission. There was certainly something about shiny knives that drew in his attention, something about holding one that made him feel more heroic than patchwork project. He liked that.
a z u l a
these violent delights have violent ends.
jones573
gen, you viper
Sybil frowned at Navaan as he followed her. "I don't care," she told him. -What you do, was the rest of that sentence, but she bit it down. She was being 'less hostile'. That was a thing. That she could do.
The computer room was.... Sterile. White on white on white. With an accent color of white. Who the hell kept this place clean?
There was a white table that she assumed projected screens and holograms or whatever fancy stuff she was expected to eventually be using, but she'd prefer to start with something more familiar.
On a far wall, there was something that wasn't white- A dozen monitors of different sizes, their sleeping screens black and silent. The keyboard in front of the largest one had a neon pink sticky note.
Credentials as we discussed.
Enjoy!
-O
Sybil frowned at the note and crumbled it, tossing it at the small trash can. She missed, and scowled. Whatever.
She was always shitty at physically interacting in a space when she had limited sight. And it was new. And all bright white, with minimal contrast.
Sybil pulled the chair out from the desk and took a seat, grabbing the keyboard and typing in the username and password she'd set up with Oracle, her feet dangling above the floor. The screens loaded quickly, the computers beneath humming in that comforting way.
There was a smooth square to the side of the keyboard, and Sybil pressed her right hand to it. After it had logged her fingerprints, she did her left hand. Now the keyboard and mouse could recognize her. Cool, if a bit creepy.
She started to click around and explore what was available to her with obvious interest, when she remembered Navaan.
"Poke at whatever you like," she said. "I'm not attached to any of it yet." There was a wall of built in cupboards that she assumed housed comms equipment and other various tech gadgets. Her frown returned. "Well- Don't poke too hard. I don't want anything broken before we get a chance to actually use it."
He seemed moderately more reasonable than some of the rest of the team, but she assumed warnings would always be a good idea with this lot.
She was pleased to see that she had administrative access and the others only had user level permissions, and that she had some authority over what they could and could not access. But there was still privacy protocols in place- She couldn't see everything they did digitally. Hmm. She'd have to find a way around that.
In terms of monitoring their physical action- Well, 'MJ Surveillance' looked promising. She launched it and went into 'Interior', bringing up dozens of small screens on the monitor to her left. If there were cameras in their bedrooms (which she was pretty sure there had to be), they didn't show up here- Another thing she'd have to find a way around.
"Let's see," she muttered. "They went to go check out the training room, yeah?"
She found the relevant footage- three small figures moving about one of the windows- and with a click, it sprang up in one of the larger screens for better, easier viewing. Another click, and it appeared above the white table that she assumed (correctly, obviously) did projections of some sort. Not that a video was really a good use of projection technology- It could really only be seen well from two positions.
But she appreciated how intuitive she'd found working with the system so far. She hated programs that could do amazing things but were nightmares to use, and the fact that she probably wouldn't need to set up her own interface to use Mount Justice's tech was a relief.
"Looks like they take their training very seriously," she said dryly, watching the two boys exchange blows. "What were their names again?"
âPeregrine and Cadence.â Answered Sasha, who had appeared in the room quietly, but didnât look around, as heâd already done that quite thoroughly. He was curious about the tech support and a little apprehensive about the discovery of his own snooping, so he decided to be nosy.
He approached the monitors and observed but found himself glancing down at Sybil, and from this angle he could see clearly that her eyes were bandaged behind those sunglasses. Her file had stated very little about her eeriely enough.
The computer room was.... Sterile. White on white on white. With an accent color of white. Who the hell kept this place clean?
There was a white table that she assumed projected screens and holograms or whatever fancy stuff she was expected to eventually be using, but she'd prefer to start with something more familiar.
On a far wall, there was something that wasn't white- A dozen monitors of different sizes, their sleeping screens black and silent. The keyboard in front of the largest one had a neon pink sticky note.
Credentials as we discussed.
Enjoy!
-O
Sybil frowned at the note and crumbled it, tossing it at the small trash can. She missed, and scowled. Whatever.
She was always shitty at physically interacting in a space when she had limited sight. And it was new. And all bright white, with minimal contrast.
Sybil pulled the chair out from the desk and took a seat, grabbing the keyboard and typing in the username and password she'd set up with Oracle, her feet dangling above the floor. The screens loaded quickly, the computers beneath humming in that comforting way.
There was a smooth square to the side of the keyboard, and Sybil pressed her right hand to it. After it had logged her fingerprints, she did her left hand. Now the keyboard and mouse could recognize her. Cool, if a bit creepy.
She started to click around and explore what was available to her with obvious interest, when she remembered Navaan.
"Poke at whatever you like," she said. "I'm not attached to any of it yet." There was a wall of built in cupboards that she assumed housed comms equipment and other various tech gadgets. Her frown returned. "Well- Don't poke too hard. I don't want anything broken before we get a chance to actually use it."
He seemed moderately more reasonable than some of the rest of the team, but she assumed warnings would always be a good idea with this lot.
She was pleased to see that she had administrative access and the others only had user level permissions, and that she had some authority over what they could and could not access. But there was still privacy protocols in place- She couldn't see everything they did digitally. Hmm. She'd have to find a way around that.
In terms of monitoring their physical action- Well, 'MJ Surveillance' looked promising. She launched it and went into 'Interior', bringing up dozens of small screens on the monitor to her left. If there were cameras in their bedrooms (which she was pretty sure there had to be), they didn't show up here- Another thing she'd have to find a way around.
"Let's see," she muttered. "They went to go check out the training room, yeah?"
She found the relevant footage- three small figures moving about one of the windows- and with a click, it sprang up in one of the larger screens for better, easier viewing. Another click, and it appeared above the white table that she assumed (correctly, obviously) did projections of some sort. Not that a video was really a good use of projection technology- It could really only be seen well from two positions.
But she appreciated how intuitive she'd found working with the system so far. She hated programs that could do amazing things but were nightmares to use, and the fact that she probably wouldn't need to set up her own interface to use Mount Justice's tech was a relief.
"Looks like they take their training very seriously," she said dryly, watching the two boys exchange blows. "What were their names again?"
âPeregrine and Cadence.â Answered Sasha, who had appeared in the room quietly, but didnât look around, as heâd already done that quite thoroughly. He was curious about the tech support and a little apprehensive about the discovery of his own snooping, so he decided to be nosy.
He approached the monitors and observed but found himself glancing down at Sybil, and from this angle he could see clearly that her eyes were bandaged behind those sunglasses. Her file had stated very little about her eeriely enough.
The Witch Son
and a swift justice to those that got away with it
Peregrine & Stitch
no smoking in mount justice
Stitch
code by @fudgecakez
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