Marauding or Something

1. borrowing misery from future

2. carrying grief of the past

Ficlet for the badly injured prompt

Tw: gore !!

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This was a bad idea.

Like a really bad idea.

It would’ve been helpful if he could see where he was to distinguish how bad of an idea it had been. Blood had dripped down, washing out one eye, leaving his sight blurry and barely there, the other eye was covered by the broken screen on his helmet. It had turned off about 20 minutes ago. Probably from the whole thing breaking in half, if he had to guess.

And Duke definitely had to guess. His powers let him know he was somewhere with the stark fluorescent lights he hated, they irritated him. Maybe he was in one of the free clinics in down town Gotham? No. They’re busy even at night, had to be somewhere else.

He could be in a lab, but he couldn’t smell the science-y antiseptic he imagined he would. In all fairness all he could smell was iron so it’s not like he could tell if there was any antiseptic smell.

Okay, surroundings aside, the gash in the side of his skull maybe needed to be dealt with. Thick blood had already started to congeal on the opening, forming like amber around the cut.

As far as he knew he’d gotten into a crash, his fault really. Throwing yourself off a bike at 50 mph? Doctors don’t recommend. But he did need to dodge the explosion of fear gas, which was also presumably his fault. He was on a roll today.

Would Izzy kill him if he texted right now? Uh. Maybe.

The helmet wasn’t doing him much help anymore, tossing it just let him see. Not that seeing helped much. One eye was still jacked up.

God his head hurt. He was grateful for the adrenaline keeping the white hot pain at bay, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Warmth seeped into his skin, bubbling under the surface, sticky red gunk dripped down the side of his face, his neck and his arm.

Had he hit an artery? He really hoped not. He loved Alfred but he didn’t want to deal with that lecture.

Could be worse. Could be concussed.

“Don’t jinx it.” He chastised himself, rubbing his palm against his eye, swiping away the blood, he waited for his vision to come back, letting him survey the room—

Why wasn’t it coming back.

Ok. Okay. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone. He needed a mirror. The adrenaline wouldn’t be that good to stop him feeling a missing eye, blunt force trauma can do questionable things to a person, it was probably that.

Lecture be damned, he hit his panic button.

“Hey b?”

“Signal?” Bruces voice cut through the silence.

“B I fucked up.”

The longest reoccurring modern day super without an ongoing.

Over 500 appearances but less than 10 center focused stories.

Nat has existed since 1994, why is it that I can finish her entire chronology in a week or less? Nat has an established origin, family, strong principals and reasons for being a hero, friendships and relationships; All waiting to be told to new and old audiences. It’s more of a world than even some popular characters get. So much to work with but none of it is ever largely expanded on. Natasha deserves a new story; one that highlights her as a black woman, an inventor, and an amazing form of queer representation. Not just now but for years to come.

FLY is a story about a boy who gets a second chance. Help his story take flight June 9th 11am EST on Kickstarter. Thank you for being the wind beneath my wings I hope this story lifts the world to a brighter place.