♛ HELLHOUND

the lack of concern hardly merits a backwards glance;  perhaps because rey can,  at least in part,  understand some of the possible reasons for it.   split halves of a saber rustle about in her pack,  and though for now she wields skywalker’s old green as a substitute,  there is an expectation among the others   –––   including the general   –––   to see to it that such a legacied weapon as the blue is restored to rights.   as one of the last known jedi,  rey is only all too aware of the urgency she should feel to that end,  but how everything in her seems to meet it with the long - learned practice of denial.   to find a story,  an answer to explain the lack of any,  would be a loss and even likelier a waste to azhar,  but at least it wouldn’t spring from any of rey’s own deficiencies;  the uncertain future could still be waylaid that way,  postponed until another adventure needs undertaking,  maybe on a day she feels more prepared to tackle this mantle she’s stumbled into.   azhar doesn’t seem the sort to suffer those insecurities,  which may be the only reason rey dares to turn her back to her,  trusting in her own instincts to save her should there be a strike   –––   and banking on the hope that,  by then,  nothing on the jedi’s face will give her away upon finally facing back around.

after all,  leia had personally tasked her with keeping careful watch of the former sith;  no matter how fraught she feels,  rey can hardly afford to disappoint on that front.

and quiet though azhar has been,  her answer is proof enough to rey that the assignment is for good reason,  spoken so easily that it finally draws her eye back.   the other may not be blatantly threatening danger to the resistance everyday since defecting,  but there is   .  .  .   something of a bitterness that resonates from her,  some echoes of anger or resentment,  which have far from absolved her of the suspicions that,  had snoke not met his end,  she could have very well carried on for the other side.   rey supposes this is what leia had paired them together to understand,  once and for all;  better not to mince words then.     “  why?  ”     her pace slows up,  falling in alongside azhar,  cutting a wary glance to the grasp on said saber.     “  why did you do it?  was the dark really worth the price you paid?  ”

the  question  is  delivered  like  a  solid  blow.  a  sharp  edge  to  strike  through  the  core  of  something  quite  too  fragile  for  her  to  care  to  admit.  the  jedi  is  the  first  to  deliver  a  strike  and  has  yet  to  unleash  her  saber.  the  slight  falter  in  her  rhythmic  pace  the  only  indication  of  a  seismic  shift  to  agitate  such  turbulent  foundations  within  the  disciple.  WHY?  a  callous  enigma  directed  in  a  matter  of  defiance  to  the  implications  of  a  direct  challenge.

the  steely  grip  on  her  hilt  tightens,  attempting  to  find  a  reassurance  in  her  place  in  this  galaxy.

for  the  first  time,  the  rigidity  of  an  iron  disposition  has  withered  into  something  far  more  malleable,  definitive  emotions  unearthing  and  rising  to  the  surface.  perhaps  the  indicative  of  a  worry  or  the  blanket  of  perplexity  could  be  feasibly  read  among  the  furrowed  creases  on  her  face.  azhar  finds  it  difficult  to  formulate  the  right  words,  the  right  thoughts,  all  brought  to  challenge  by  the  jedi’s  inquiry.  the  passing  of  every  vital  moment  spent  in  a  stupefied  silence  further  weighs  the  embarrassment  azhar  is  forced  to  endure  by  failing  to  properly  merit  a  response  to  rey’s  challenge.  

to  question  it  was  a  defiance  to  the  structure  of  power.  an  unthinkable  challenge  evoked  to  the  order  of  the  nightsisters.  it  suggests  a  choice,  the  liberty  to  diverge  from  the  path  carved  out  by  another’s  ambition  for  power.  there  was  never  a  choice.  the  planet  of  dathomir  itself  did  not  have  a  choice.  the  planet’s  core  exudes  the  dark  matter  of  which  all  life  forms  are  consumed  by  it.  azhar  was  born  into  the  darkness.  the  dark  side  of  the  Force  was  all  there  was.  the  Light  did  not  exist.  how  do  you  explain  the  sun  to  someone  who’s  never  seen  it?

❝  .  .  .  its  the  price  of  survival.  ❞  it  was  a  simple  retort  that  came  with  the  complexity  of  what  remained  unsaid,  of  an  experience  that  was  far  too  violent  to  pass  between  lips  and  not  compromise  a  pretense  of  strength  she  so  desperately  clung  to  like  a  makeshift  shield.  betray  the  nightsister  and  live  or  be  struck  down  with  the  rest  of  them  by  snoke’s  hand.  ❝  it  was  them  or  me.  that  was  the  only  choice  i  was  given.  ❞  

plotted   starter   for :   @psifyre​

         𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂      𝙸𝚂      𝙰      𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙴𝚃      𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳.   it   degrades,   consumes   and   swallows   over   time.   festering,   eating   at   the   core   until   nothing   but   a   shell   remains.   a   hollow   existence   numb   to   the   passage   of   time,   devoid   of   purpose   and   sentenced   to   roam   an   empty   life   into   a   meaningless   abyss.   that   is   what   awaited   laura   upon   standing   at   the   parting   gates   of   the   school;   walking   into   the   mouth   of   the   beast   of   an   open   world,   surrendering   her   attachments   to   the   brief   life   she   held   among   her   mutant   kind.   but   even   among   a   bustling   school   of   misfits,   she   was   damned   into   a   lonely   existence.   

         𝚃𝚆𝙾      𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂      𝙾𝙵      𝙰𝙱𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴,   a   mindless   wander   of   the   concrete   world   in   pursuit   of   a   purpose.   a   meaning   beyond   those   tied   to   her   genetic   inheritance   or   those   bound   by   a   heroic   code.   she   was   more   than   logan's   legacy,   more   than   just   an   X-Men.   ‘   𝙸   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃   𝚃𝙾   𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴   𝙼𝚈   𝙾𝚆𝙽   𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴.   𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴   𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴   𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴   𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂   𝙸𝚃   𝙵𝙾𝚁   𝙼𝙴   𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽.   ’   the   parting   words   she   told   Ororo   before   being   granted   her   blessings   in   departuring   from   the   mutant   haven.   but   the   years   have   gone   with   little   show   of   progress   towards   a   righteous   path.   laura   was   lost,   no   better   off   than   since   breaking   free   from   her   cage   at   The   Facility   -   thrust   into   a   world   without   a   heading.

         𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽      𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂      𝚂𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂      𝚃𝙾      𝙰𝙽      𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁,   a   beacon   of   light   cast   out   to   offer   an   escape   -   a   way   forward   from   the   vast   space   of   nothingness.   it   is   the   first   time   in   years   that   laura   feels   a   lure,   a   faint   calling   in   her   mind   to   guide   her   towards   its   source.   it   is   warm,   inviting,   safe.   enough   to   allow   her   to   follow   her   instincts,   lay   down   arms   and   walk   towards   the   path   paved   out   before   her.   a   journey   that   leads   her   just   on   the   other   side   of   a   door.   she   doesn't   need   to   see   beyond   the   sheetrock   of   walls   to   know   what   lies   on   the   other   side.   a   familiar   scent   ingrained   into   the   back   of   her   skull,   a   distant   memory   of   their   first   meeting,   offering   a   comforting   resolution.   a   pause,   perhaps   too   long   as   she   stands   starring   at   the   door   before   the   draw   of   courage   to   rap   knuckles   at   the   wooden   door.      KNOCK.      KNOCK.   

         ❝ absolutely, ❞ she accepts the invitation without any hesitation. there were few things she missed about HOME. one of them was battling & sparring along her sisters. after all, diana had TRAINED all her life with them until her fateful encounter with steve that brought her FORTH to man’s world. in a way, they were no different from ARTEMIS, their PASSION for battle was akin to her love of the hunt.  the SMALL smile does not go unnoticed with diana & a part of her wonders if this is how kal-el feels amongst humanity.

         diana finds the TECH that alfred, bruce, & lucius tinker together to be impressive. in a way the batcave is a loaded ARMOIRE of gadgets that helped bruce fight crime or to help PLAN a way to stop the end of days. there was a sense of AWE in how quick batgirl was to come up with a way to ENSURE the criminals would be put behind bars.   ❝ i think he could use the BALANCE in life. ❞ in the months she had KNOWN him she had seen him BATHE in the darkness before being instilled HOPE.it was a powerful EMOTION, a driving force that could help anyone try to conquer amazing feats. 

               ❝ to be fair, these men were not WORTH swordplay.❞ in fact, she craved the sort of battle that made her ADRENALINE pump & the kind that made her want to get back up again. instead her sword & shield lay in tact behind the STRAP along her back. 

         a small SMIRK dances along her lips as batgirl presents a CHALLENGE. it makes this meeting all the more worth it. she could hear the APPROACH of police sirens in the DISTANT, the sound is a booming theater SPEAKER. instead she plants her feet on the ground as if she were about to have a RUNNING START but instead zips off into the SKY. she finds RIDING the wind to be the best part of flying, besides the way the element tickles along her skin. even if diana wins, she wouldn’t want to FORCE anyone to reveal their identity.  she understands that never HERO wishes to disclose that information & at the end she will always respect their PRIVACY. diana reaches the rooftop in no top, but she doesn’t HALT in her flight. she wishes to remain a SAFE gap between the police & themselves.

          a few blocks later, diana finds herself standing alongside the edge of the roof. her arms are crossed, still smiling brightly at the redhead.  ❝ i do not wish to FORCE you to reveal your secret identity regardless of the WAGER. but if you still want to, i will hold your secret. perhaps  you and i can go for some ICE CREAM.❞

         once   again   barbara   is   caught   in   state   of   bewilderment,   the   unavoidable   mysticism   in   evergreen   eyes   fixated   on   the   sight   of   the   heroine   take   off.      SHE   CAN   FLY?      mouth   slackened   in   partial   agape,   neck   craned   back   to   watch   in   awe   as   wonder   woman   soared   past   her.   her   ascent   on   her   grapple   gun   is   a   no   match   to   the   amazonian,   as   was   expected.   the   violent   gust   of   wind   she   left   in   her   wake   catching   underneath   batgirl's   cape,   the   sound   of   the   dense   fabric   flapping   in   the   wind.  

         below   her   echoed   the   collective   sirens   of   the   police   force   that   had   arrived   to   the   scene.   even   from   a   height   barbara   could   pick   out   a   lead   man   among   them.      𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈.   𝙶𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙰   𝚁𝚄𝙽,   𝙳𝙰𝙳.      another   night   of   cat   &   mouse,   the   police   force   on   the   heels   of   the   vigilante.   daughter   upholding   the   secrecy   from   her   very   father,   a   pretense   spanning   years   since   she's   taken   on   the   cowl.   

         following   her   lead,   batgirl   puts   some   distance   between   them   &   a   third   of   the   precinct   responding   to   the   last   sighting   of   two   costumed   weirdos.   as   if   a   plague   of   bats   &   robins   weren't   enough   for   the   streets   of   gotham.   now   a   𝚆𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁   𝙶𝙾𝙳𝙳𝙴𝚂𝚂   is   becoming   a   local   legend   of   their   grim   city.   only   a   matter   of   time   before   barbara   can   cross   out   meeting   a   𝙺𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙰𝙽   off   her   bucket   list.   

         pirouetting   herself   off   the   edges   of   gotham's   skyline,   it   was   a   like   a   dance   with   danger,   a   routine   she   mastered   in   her   early   years   of   becoming   a   𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋   𝐎𝐅   𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄   herself.   a   game   she   made   for   herself,   when   the   artistry   of   her   agile   acrobatics   served   as   a   liberation   of   worry   or   regrets.   an   unhindered   freedom   under   her   wings   as   she   propelled   herself   at   every   swing   of   her   grapple   device.

         in   a   silent   descent,   the   bat   lands   in   a   perch   just   a   couple   meters   from   where   her   company   presently   awaited   for   her   in   graceful   patience.   that   wide   grin   on   her   lips   the   whole   way   over   never   once   faltered   from   her   expression,   now   greeting   the   winner   of   the   previously   established   wager.   a   deal   is   a   deal.   the   cowl   is   tugged   off,   slipping   off   her   head   to   reveal   the   face   underneath   its   secret   identity.   barbara   carried   a   weightless   gait   over   towards   her   ally,   a   calming   relief   of   unburdening   shoulders   once   the   cowl   slipped   off.   sometimes   the   weight   of   her   secret   felt   like   a   crushing   punishment.   a   hand   is   extended   in   offerance   to   a   proper   introduction.   ❝   barbara   gordon      —      yeah,   that   gordon.   bruce   trusts   you   well   enough   and   i   think   i   should   too.   i   kinda   wore   him   down   to   finally   tell   me   about   you.   the   way   he   talks   about   you   ...   i   just   knew   i   had   to   meet   you   someday.   ❞

NOT AN EASY FEAT, keeping them at arm’s length. But often, he thinks it’s necessary. For their safety. For his. It’s a system. All of them doing the work. Keeping the bad off the ground when they can. And if the bad gets worse, they can all do it together. 

Crime never stops, after all. 

There must always be a BATMAN. 

Words he’d repeated to them, to himself, plenty of times through the years. But it’s importance, its meaning never changes. And it hardly matters now. It catches up to him, he thinks. That feeling of dread. That sense of mortality that he ignores, leaping from building to building, jumping away from bullets, fighting gods. But it catches up to everyone as it always does. 

And just like anyone, he gets hit by a bullet, he bleeds. 

He hunched over the computer. Hissing as he dropped the utensils and bandages he needed to attend to the wound. The marks of tonight’s affair littering his knuckles through the gloves. Cuts and bruises discoloring the skin. Radios turning on with a voice command. Jumping from network to network, catching both public and police frequency. News of tonight’s adventures sparking the same dread he feels in his bones. But he only prompts the volume louder. 

Anything and everything to fill the void he felt in his chest, the ache that came in the form of a name. A name he hasn’t even spoken out loud since he’d been taken away from him. His fingers tremble with the needle in his hand ; a hesitant reminder to steer his thoughts away. Hand grabbing roughly at the cowl and pulling it off his head. Watching as it slips from his knee to cover his boot. It’s dark empty eyes staring at him. The blank screen blinking red with an alert. 

         B . G .   I D E N T I F I E D …

With a sigh, he picks up the cowl and throws it onto the part of the table without something on it and tried to wrap up the wound quickly. 

@deathslayus​ .

         the   audible   click   of   heels   resonated   throughout   the   empty   expanse   of   the   bat   cave.   reverberating   off   the   walls,   echoing   down   corridors   of   unexplored   darkness.   the   sound   of   her   approach   only   augmenting   as   she   grew   nearer.   shrouded   in   a   cloak   of   black,   the   dim   lights   of   screens   illuminated   her   path   towards   the   still   being   hunched   over   at   its   center.   but   she   knew   this   cave   like   the   back   of   her   hand,   having   spent   her   childhood   running   around   with   the   boy   wonder   in   these   very   grim   caves.   there   was   once   a   time   their   laughter   &   banter   filled   this   space.   now   only   its   empty   solitude   remains,   threatening   to   consume   her   in   a   vacuum   of   darkness.   𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙲𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝙽𝙾𝚆.

         this   was   the   part   of   her   visit   that   she   𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳   in   coming   down   here.   the   feign   disinterested   look   over   his   shoulder,   the   way   he   made   it   a   point   to   keep   them   away.   barbara   could   feel   the   turmoil,   the   unresolved   tension,   twisting   at   her   insides   each   time   she   stepped   down   here.   perhaps   it   was   𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄   beginning   to   rot   her   core.   yet   a   faithful   desciple,   she   could   not   harbor   ill   will   towards   her   mentor.   barbara   knew   better;   despite   the   years   she   still   𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒   for   their   loss.   the   one   that   drove   them   leagues   apart   &   tore   their   family   apart.

         ❝   you   would   think   —   ❞   her   voice   makes   its   announcement   as   her   figure   emerges   from   the   darkness,   stopping   short   from   where   the   discarded   cowl   had   landed   on   the   table.   arms   folding   over   her   chest,   standing   tall   in   defiance   towards   his   blatant   disregard   for   her.   pressed   pants   &   buttoned   shirt,   she   was   not   in   her   alter   disguise,   having   just   clocked   out   at   the   GCPD   after   an   adventurous   evening   thanks   to   him.   ❝   after   all   these   years,   you'd   be   a   pro   at   this.   ❞   she   motions   to   his   shoddy   job   at   stitching   himself   up.   no   doubt   alfred   could've   done   a   better   job   himself.   

❝ 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍  𝐀  𝐋𝐎𝐓, ❞  not  anymore ,  Wade  didn’t  even  know  if  they  were  still  friends ,  if  Wolverine  still  cared  for  Deadpool .  HE  DOUBTED  IT ,  as  much  as  he  hated  to  admit  it .  The  table  covered  with  plates  &  drinks ,  did  they  order  too  much ?  maybe .  Two  people ,  made  to  be  weapons ,  was  it  ever  easy  for  them ?  ❝ you  can  eat  as  much  as  you  want ,  I’ll  pay …  maybe . ❞  

━━  ╳  @deathslayus​​​​​  liked .

The chokehold was gone and it was replaced by a hand to her clavicle, a warning that Karen understood. She’d looked into the girl as much as she could, and what she had found, the trail of bodies that followed after her, all pointed to the girl being a mutant. There was talk of a weapon, of using that weapon in the information Karen could find, but those notes were from childhood, from a time when she should have been embracing youthful joys and not being raised to destroy. 

From history, though, Karen knew the world was cruel enough to turn a child into a monster. To turn a man into a murderer. Without thought or care, there were forces out there that would do so and smile.

As Laura spoke and said no one sent her, Karen tried hard to read her tone, tried hard to seek out the truth in her features but Laura was unreadable.  “Fisk hasn’t sent you after me?” It was hard to believe, of course. She’d taken one thing he had cared about away from him, and he would get his revenge. But the girl was speaking in the vagueness of they and Karen was drawn down a different path. “Why do they? What do you mean by th-” And then it dawned on Karen: the gifts, the letters, and she shifted a little, heart pounding her chest, pulse racing. “I don’t know why but they think I know something. Which I don’t.”

And then, “Did they send you?”

         she   is   made   of   stone.   rigid,   unmovable   in   its   intent.   but   she   is   weathered   by   her   own   humanity.   the   slivered   crack   splintering   that   mold,   twisted   &   shaped   by   the   ill   hearts   of   men   playing   gods.   the   fracture   in   her   composure   triggered   by   the   𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚄𝙻𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂   of   being   under   the   reins   of   men   like   fisk.   features   of   marble,   her   stoic   facade   falters   to   the   submission   of   wrath.   even   in   her   fury   she   fights   to   submit   the   demon   of   vexation,   a   plauge   in   her   genetic   inheritance.   beckoning   to   surrender   to   the   will   of   nature.   

     𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴   𝙽𝙾𝚃   𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴   𝚆𝙾𝙻𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙴.   𝙽𝙾,   𝙷𝙴'𝚂   𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃   𝙰𝙽   𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙻.      𝙱𝚄𝚃   𝚈𝙾𝚄   ...   𝚈𝙾𝚄   𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴   𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙳   𝙵𝙾𝚁   𝙼𝚄𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁.

         the   subtle   lines   of   fury   settle   over   a   collected   facade,   brows   knitting   together   tightened   over   the   scrunch   of   nose.   tension   rippling   across   the   muscles   of   her   jaw,   pulled   taut   as   they   bite   down   a   feral   rage.   in   an   unflinching   display,   never   tearing   her   eyes   off   the   woman,   𝙰𝙳𝙰𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝚄𝙼   𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚆𝚂   𝙰𝚁𝙴   𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳   from   her   spare   hand   &   cleave   themselves   against   the   brick   wall   adjacent   to   the   woman's   head.   a   low,   gutteral   roar   is   stifled   through   clenched   teeth.   those   wild   green   eyes   furiously   searching   blues,   a   low   tenor   breaks   free   enough   for   only   her   to   hear.   and   despite   her   relapse,   the   mutant   remained   composed   in   her   address.   that   was   the   difference   between   her   &   the   wolverine.      ❝   fisk   is   my   business.   stay   out   of   it.   ❞

            THIS IS HER ELEMENT, the freshness of a battle although one-sided always engaged her. a quick use of the lasso to bring one of the masked men towards her before punching him. diana always wonders why the use GUNS, metal never stopped her even at her worst. she takes the moment to DELFECT the slow flurry of bullets hailed her way before making her approach.  A KICK throttles another man against one of the walls & he groans with surrender. the last man STANDING she finds always wants a bit of BRAVADO, a show before he really goes down. he makes another sorry attempt at firing his gun before she lands a punch square in his jaw. it is the price of man, they have both darkness & light.

           she takes the moment to round them up with her lasso when she’s surprised by another presence. she notes the way her LITHE feet make contact against the cement. diana wasn’t EXPECTING admiration from AFAR but she welcomes it. a SMILE as she hears the EXCITEMENT in her voice. diana always aims to INSPIRE & uplift other women. she wanted to do that for everyone.  ❝ ruin? i think it would have been more fun if we had joined FORCES together. he does tend to get GRUMPY. ❞

            ❝ would you like to ACCOMPANY me in turning these men in ? ❞ fighting for justice is a hard MANTLE to take on. it’s not something an ORDINARY individual can take on, these kinds of fight takes a STRENGTH from within. a part of diana wonders what her story was. her hand takes the moment to tighten her grip on the golden chord.     ❝ it’s a SHAME that he didn’t introduce us sooner.  ❞

      ❝   an   invitation   for   next   time   then   ?   ❞      the   way   her   words   carry   just   the   faintest   of   hope   laced   at   every   syllable,   the   way   a   young   child   would   dare   to   dream   for   such   new   heights   to   reach   one   day.   an   admission   she   hopes   is   not   too   pressing   in   its   intent,   urging   not   to   allow   her   professionalism   to   falter   before   a   revered   icon.   rather   she   maintains   an   air   of   collected   composure,   the   casual   plant   of   a   hand   on   her   hip   &   the   light   smile   to   accentuate   her   features.   keep   cool,   babs.

      ❝   you'll   find  —   ❞      she   begins   while   digits   distract   themselves   in   retrieving   a   gadget   from   the   compartments   of   her   belt,   a   click   of   the   device   &   it   shoots   out   a   lightweight   but   sturdy   steel   cable   to   coil   around   the   three   assailants,   freeing   up   the   golden   lasso   for   wonder   woman   as   a   courteous   offer   in   exchange   for   a   disposable   piece   of   tech.   i'll   have   to   swing   by   lucius   fox's   office   tomorrow   for   replacement.   a   quick   tug   to   tighten   its   hold,   it   was   a   𝙶𝙸𝙵𝚃   𝚆𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳   𝙸𝙽   𝙸𝚃𝚂   𝙱𝙾𝚆   for   the   GCPD   to   discover   upon   their   arrival.   ❝   i   am   anything   but   grumpy   like   him.   ❞

      a   humble   smile   that   shifts   into   the   subtlest   smirk   to   pull   at   the   corner   of   her   lips.   ah!   she   makes   a   sound   of   realization   at   the   suggestion   of   lugging   three   grown   brutes   over   to   the   precinect.   she   points   to   a   silent   alarm,   flashing   at   the   center   of   her   belt.   ❝   not   all   of   us   have   super   strength   —   its   a   beacon.   i   kinda   set   it   off   while   you   were   busy   punching   that   guy   in   the   face.   quite   entertaining,   i   might   add.      at   any   rate,   GCPD   are   already   on   their   way.   ❞

      the   grapple   gun   is   armed   as   batgirl   aims   for   the   skyrise   just   behind   them.   ❝   oh   —   this   is   the   part   we   𝚁𝚄𝙽𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚈   𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴   𝚃𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙾𝙿𝚂   𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙴.   let's   say   they   have   it   out   for   us   BATS   these   days   ...   and   the   last   several   years.   race   you   to   the   top,   loser   has   to   reveal   their   identity.   ❞   and   she   is   off,   swept   off   her   feet   &   propelled   upwards   towards   the   rooftop   before   the   sounds   of   sirens   turn   the   corner.   this   was   a   race   barbara   was   ready   to   lose,   quite   honestly.      

plotted   starter   for   @mademyth !!

         the   unmarred   fascination   is   not   lost   on   bright   features,   utterly   absorbed   in   the   display   of   a   pristine   heroism   unfolding   before   her   very   eyes.   a   mastery   of   the   signature   lasso   she's   only   captured   glances   of   in   blurred   news   report   images   that   make   their   way   to   the   front   page.   the   tales   of   several   encounters   that   bruce   had   divulged   in   sharing   with   her,   quite   frankly   after   the   insistent   wear   of   pleads   to   recount   the   experiance   of   meeting   an   Amazon.   a   myth   come   to   life   .   

      quite   literally   barbara   was   star-struck   as   she   stood   clad   in   her   notorious   gold   &   black   armored   suit,   the   cowl   draped   over   to   shield   her   identity   but   it   did   little   to   dim   the   enthusiasm   that   had   settled   on   her   face   like   stubborn   glue.   she   arrived   in   the   midst   of   unrelenting   chaos   as   𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑   𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍   made   work   to   apprehend   three   meager   bank   robbers.   but   her   duty   is   not   forsaken,   descending   from   her   perch   𝙱𝙰𝚃𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻   entered   the   fray   to   catch   the   last   thief   with   a   solid   boot   to   the   chin   to   end   his   night.   

      ❝   wow   !!   ❞   okay,   perhaps   she   could   work   on   expanding   her   vocabulary   beyond   the   realizations   of   overwhelming   glee.   ahem.   a   quick   clear   of   the   throat,   straightening   of   her   posture   as   the   red   head   trotted   over   to   the   amazon   with   just   a   subtle   spring   in   her   step.   ❝   i   mean   —   looked   like   you   had   everything   under   control,   wonder   woman.   didn't   want   this   bat   ruining   your   fun.   i   know   how   the   old   man   can   get.   ❞