See What's On the Slab

While June still had the lab, full of its incredibly expensive, new equipment, she and her former employer had parted ways. It was no real loss to her, save the interest she’d had in the challenge of the project, but it did leave her with an open window. After some consideration, though not for any lingering or long amount of time, she’d made up her mind. She’d spent years under the radar, changed her face, adopted a new name, but she was tired of it. Almost bored, even. She’d had a freedom before that she’d denied herself and once the idea struck her, she wanted to reclaim it. 

It was time for Toxic Doxie to return. 

June rarely paid attention to the goings on in the city that didn’t directly affect her, but once she started to look, her attention was pulled in the direction of what seemed to be a particularly potent street drug. Djinn, they called it. She wanted the manufacturer. Should they turn out to be incompetent or intolerable, she wanted their formula and would take it. If they weren’t, she was keeping herself open to the idea of a...working relationship. 

She had a genetic sample of a metahuman who happened to be a regular user of Djinn, and the weak, but very much present, psychic link that those genetic samples gave June to their owner allowed her to follow the young woman to a dealer. From there, it was the dealer to someone higher up in the chain, and eventually to a hideout. 

It had been so long since she’d had a good fight. Over the years, she’d amassed a vast number of different abilities that she’d cherry picked for herself. Thermal blasts, containment fields, the ultra-potent neurotoxin laced into her nails...she put them all to good use. The guards protecting the hideout were good. So good. It made it even more satisfying to leave one of them dying on the ground, their body shutting down from toxin rapidly invading their system, and the others in various states between life and death. 

She wanted to blame the whole kit and caboodle — he wanted to blame her. It was why the bathroom option was the better one, to put some distance between himself and the target of his frustration. Staying engaged would likely lead to an argument and it was better not to, especially over something that wouldn’t be changed. Not then, not now.

He hoped that she’d distract herself with her vices and her paperwork and nefarious little dealings. Instead, he heard the weight on the other side of the door, the click of its latch bolt as the door opened and the soft click of it closing. Among the steam, he could make out the faint smell of her and then the glass door was opening.

Chris stilled for the second the door slid open and shut before his hands went back to wetting his hair. “Don’t tell me you found more glitter,” he greeted without turning to face her. Either she did and she couldn’t handle it — or she was having her fun.

“No, but I think you can search for me. I’ve yet to give myself eyes in the back of my head.” Though she could, presumably, should she ever feel the need. She reached for the bottle of shampoo tucked away in a caddy and was soon running it through his damp hair. It curled, wet, at the ends of her fingers. When they weren’t being used to deploy neurotoxin, she had to imagine that the scratch of her nails might even feel good. He’d certainly never complained before. 

-

“It is on a mental level.” he chuckled, “I’ve found competent people are easier to bear than dumbasses.” Those ones tended to be on the receiving end of his stinger more often than not. But he appreciated June’s talents as much as he envied her her degree. That could’ve been him if life and money had been just a little different. He knew he had the intelligence for it or he wouldn’t be able to utilise his poisons the way he did.

“Indeed.” he smirked, “One of the deadliest poisons in the insect world, of course any bite to a human delivers a dose far too small to do any real damage but with a little tinkering from yours truly and an increased volume? Imaginable pain and fucked up kidneys within minutes.” He was rather proud of the concoction but he’d not had a chance to test it out yet, so why not share it around a little? “Hmm, for a sample of this special brew? Call it 15Gs and we have a deal.” he could easily replicate it so there was no need to charge a ridiculous amount.

“Until they get overly arrogant about it. I spent enough time in Academia to know that intelligence and competence can’t make up for everything.” The first time she’d ever used her plug-ins for direct harm had been on one of the most brilliant men she’d ever known at the time, after all. There were exceptions to every rule. 

@chrsgts

Many full moons had passed since June had augmented Chris’s X-Gene. She’d only heard about one of them and many of the others were apparently spent with him running around the woods in...wherever he’d gone. To his family. For months. Regardless, she’d not actually been able to witness the fruits of her labor and hearing about it was not nearly as satisfying. She’d seen him transform before, after all. The data wasn’t going to be complete without the follow-up. 

On the day leading up to the full moon, she’d been indisposed. Her work for Adrian Veidt involved a good amount of tinkering. For the first weeks, she’d been working with what she already had, or what he could provide to her, but she was still designing unique plug-ins just for him. It stood to reason that she couldn’t give him something that she wasn’t sure would produce perfect results, which meant...test subjects were necessary, and once the test was complete it wasn’t as if she could let them go. Something had to be done with them, and she had a solution. It would just need to wait until the sun set. 

Rather than risk losing track of him for the night, June sent a message a couple of hours before dark. 

“This isn’t the system’s fault. It’s yours,” he returned tensely; he didn’t want the conversation to turn personal, especially not when he’d just gotten home, but June seemed to have a disposition to dig up old bones. As if she liked causing the rifts. “The only reason I’m even sharing a bed is because you had to just-” Chris wrinkled his nose and looked away; his jaw clenched before releasing a moment later.

He nodded at her passing visage and knocked his knuckles against the bar top. “You know, you’re right. A shower sounds great right now.” It was a good place to destress, think things over, and cool off. The full moon was fast approaching and he could feel its influence even a week out.

“Yes, because I, personally, designed all the laws that put me in prison and let me walk out again to get a job working for the government. Silly me, I must have forgotten.” Walk out...break out...both had happened. If Chris wanted to snap at her heels, she wouldn’t hesitate to repay the gesture. It wasn’t her with the compromised morality. “I had to just-” she repeated, one pale brow arched in anticipation. 

He seemed to wisely think better of it before finishing the sentence. June just narrowed her eyes as she took another drink of wine. “Run along.” She didn’t stop him, nor did she follow him for a long while. She drained every last drop from her glass first. 

Chris sniffed. He’d noted June’s irritation the minute he’d walked through the door. It filled the living space and festered. To be honest, he found it a little amusing how easily ticked off she’d become - all over some tiny multi-colored flecks of plastic - at least, that’s what he surmised. While she hadn’t complained about them outright, it didn’t take a detective to figure it out. The charade of the chaos in the city would certainly be cause enough to irritate her enough.

He’d just gotten off duty; his body ached, but the dullness would soon soothe over in a few moments time. Leaving his boots by the front door, Chris picked off a magenta fleck from the corner of his brow. “Most of them were, so it wasn’t for nothing. Just because you’re upset that an insane clown decided to throw glitter all over you, doesn’t mean you get to pick on me.”

.

“Of course it was. The entire system is futile,” she said dismissively. “Aren’t you sharing a bed with proof of that?” She didn’t always make it a point to bring up Chris’ own willingness to turn a blind eye to things, but right then she was agitated and did not feel like letting him off the hook for it. Not if he wanted to try to rise to meet her, especially. 

-

“Aww, you have to make it so coldly financial?” he rasped, his voice always rougher the moment he put on the suit, it was a mental shield as much as a physical one, changing his mannerisms some whenever he wore it. “Here I thought we had a real connection? No one makes poison better than you or me.” he chuckled lowly. Sure they used it for very different reasons and he’d never had the opportunity to put fancy letters in front of his name, but they were both experts in their fields.

His tail twitched just slightly, still up in its threaten curl, and he took a few steps closer before handing the case over, “Some of the finest specimens I could grab on my way here.” he told her with a smirk, “I’ve a few more that’ll be arriving in the next few weeks.”

“Got some harvester ant venom there I helped mix up myself. Recreated and multiplied the compound to make it something people need to worry about.” That was the thing with most bug venoms, they needed a little helping hand for their purposes.    

“Competency isn’t a connection,” June informed him, “but at least it makes you tolerable.” For her purposes, anyway. She tended to be less willing to sacrifice people who had usefulness, especially if it was of a niche or rare variety. Certain skill sets took too much time to build or rare natural ability to just throw away. The world was too populated by people rooted in dull morals and lack of imagination already. 

[Juney:] I got a lotta friends, sweetie!! This one got a name?

When: Present Day (Evening) Where: Star City - Roof With: June @drdoxie​

Mac felt good, finally back in his suit doing what he best, no more cow-towing to a damn government agency just to keep himself outta prison. The city was everything it had promised and more. That damn clown had left madness in his wake and madness left several opportunities. Ones he’d been happy to make use of. His break-in to one of the cities most secure laboratories had gone smoothly and he now possessed samples of some of the most toxic animal venom in the world. 

Of course, he’s snuck a few into his suit, already stored away to be used as and when he needed, but the rest he’d sealed in a suit case and was waiting on the roof for his buyer to arrive. They’d done good business in the past, it was nice to be back at it. The display in his suit alerted him to June’s presence, the tail twitched slightly as he turned to face her. “Doctor.” he growled lowly, “Lovely to see you again.” 

.

June had contacts in certain very specific circles. She was as much a part of that market as they were, not only as a buyer but as a producer. It had been awhile since she’d sold her genetic plug-ins on the “open” market, so to speak, but her services were always available for the people who knew how and where to ask. In the mean time, she continued working either for pay or for her own amusement and curiosity. The particular order she’d placed was mostly the latter. 

Back in her days on Norman’s original “Avengers” team, they’d worked off and on with the Thunderbolts. She and Scorpion had crossed paths. There were too few people in the world that were of any use to her, so she tended to keep in touch (relatively speaking) with the ones who were. 

“You ran him over,” he echoed; really, he shouldn’t be surprised. It made sense that June’s bloodlust - or whatever it was - started at a young age, and with someone close to her, a family member. It made a lot of sense. What didn’t make sense was why Chris chose to stick around. Why did his heart feel the need to sleep in her bed and eat her food and touch her hair?

“Was it an accident?” Not that it mattered anymore. She didn’t sound the least bit remorseful about a potential accident, and even if it hadn’t been premeditated, she’d still done it with some kind of intent. It didn’t make him feel any differently towards her. If anything, it made more sense and even answered a question or two. He hummed in response. “No,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I suppose there isn’t.” Not anymore, anyway.

Chris huffed out a soft laugh and hid his smile behind a loose fist pressed to his mouth. “I thought not. I’d be surprised if you did.” He paused another moment with hands now clasped together against the cold countertop. “Any new projects you can tell me about?” If he were any other cop, June would already be in prison by now, or in some sort of asylum. But he wasn’t; he was weak. And he was sure June knew that.

“Yes. With a tractor.” There was a small quirk at the edge of her mouth like she might laugh. She knew how it sounded. Ridiculous. It had been, too. “They’re large, unwieldy things.” It was all she gave by way of answering his question. Had it been an accident? As far as all the paperwork was concerned, of course it had been. A tragedy, as she’d said.