siu jerk jai

SHE TAKES THE BACK ALLEYWAYS with boots that patter little more than silence against the cement && tarmac. rifle strapped to her back, she works to put miles between her && gotham’s streets. the world can sleep a little easier tonight with one less underdog to a madman free terrorize their dreams.

footsteps catch her attention before the command to halt, directing natasha to dip into a shortcut behind the chinese takeout && towering apartment complexes.

             spy rule number one: get out clean. 

cursing her tail, she plants her hands against the top of an overfilled dumpster, slingshoting her legs until she can reach the lower rungs of a rusty fire escape. swinging over the chain link fence, she drops to a squat, lets her joints absorb the shock of her fall && only spares a second’s look back to smirk before she takes off running.

stop isn’t going to make her surrender. she’ll go down fighting before she lets herself get caught in a town like this.

    DUST ERUPTED AROUND her feet as she skidded, the sudden change in direction,     but it didn’t slow her down.  there was only one person in this town that knew the roofs     better than her &&  she was in her ear.  

    she followed the woman’s path like a shadow,  but still remained frustratingly two or     three steps behind.  that taunting smirk was as much a motivator as it was a nuisance,     dinah recognized that confidence--- she HAD that confidence.  it really only meant one     thing----                                                       ----EXPERT.

    the race was useless to keep up;  she wasn’t going to gain any ground by being tugged     on along a predicted path.  a split second decision &&  she made a sharp left,  barging     into the kosher deli; dodging a yelling butcher &&  sliding over a  (  hopefully clean  )       stainless steel counter before bursting out the other side of the alley----

       WHILE the news of an armed hostage situation wasn’t exactly rare, the information that two of the hostages were children had everyone on edge. The captain was looking more harried than usual, the normal organised chaos looking more than actual chaos as orders got called out and freshly brought in detainees were deposited into the holding cells without any pomp and circumstance as everyone else tried to figure out their position.

         Tim already knew he was heading out with SWAT, Lovett’s harsh tone directing him to get in gear, get his rifle and head to the vehicle post haste. They were en route ten minutes later, almost a RECORD when it came to efficiency – yet knowing almost half of the team consisted of trigger happy wannabe heroes ( and about half of the rest of dirty cops, not that anyone would ever say so ), it didn’t exactly ease the knot of tension in his gut, pulling his shoulders tight. 

        A CURSE pulled him from his own ruminations, line of his mouth thin as a wary gaze focused on Lovett. “ We got word of ‘n eight unsub on the scene, crashed the party.” The man didn’t sound pleased, gritty quality of his voice only getting rougher, meaty hand balled to a fist. “Gutterson, Davis, y’ go in through th’ front, Hardell with me via th’ back, everyone else waits for my goddamn sign. & For fuck’s sake, don’t shoot until y’ know who y’ shootin’.”

        Tim was the first one out the truck as soon as they arrived on scene, the sound of children screaming piercing straight through skin and bone, high pitched above deeper, angrier voices. “Cover me,” he hissed, moving closer, lifting his scope to peer through the first floor window. The chaos inside was reigning supreme; no chance at a clear shot. Davis was panting at his back, though Tim didn’t want to know whether it was fear or excitement. 

         Inside and up the stairs they went, sounds growing louder, more distinctive until the high pitch shriek of a woman – ‘ he’s got a bomb ‘

     dinah's body moved in a fluid blur; missions like this required less thought && more     direct instinct.  her body knew what to do before her mind could ever really piece it     together--- years of training the best sensei in the world allowed her appendages to     plow through two more armed assailants with little resistance.

    the room echoed with silence; the utter destruction of her cry reverberated off the     half-painted walls of the run down apartment.  it was almost enough to cover the crash     of the police arriving, but not quite.  they’re never elegant with their arrivals.  a part of     her actually wondered what had taken them so long, but mostly she cursed barbara's     father for always interfering with their work.  His men almost always got in her way----                                                 -----just like now.

    '                Stand down! NOW!    '

     she cursed under her breath, his gun was pointed at the wrong unwelcome guest;  the      memory of her father’s ‘only doing their jobs’ speech to her mother was about the only      thing that made her hesitate.   but he was in planted in between her && the shrill shrieking      promise of explosives.                                                                           Damnit.  I hate this part.

    she held back the best she could; a spinning kick disarming the officer && two quick    punches put him on the groaning on the ground. she skidded past him, scooping up the    discarded weapon with a whispered ‘I'm sorry’, &&  barreled down the hallway. She'd    hoped to beat the front team but---

    she FROZE, bending out of sight of the remaining thug, but keeping her masked eyes     fixed on the grenade clutched in his fat fingers.  the swat team was proving to be one     good benefit: a distraction.  The hostages squatted between the two opposing forces,     their wailing cries muted to simple  whimpers of fear.  while two of the swat were in     a screaming match with the foreign felon, dinah managed to catch the eye of the third,     bringing a finger to her lips && nodding at the target.  she needed them to keep the focus     off of her so she could slip in, but the chances of them complying with her evil vigilante     plan was so slim she was already formulating a back up plan which unfortunately involved     her borrowed automatic weapon.

fishnetflorist ( continued from here x )

Bobbi’s mouth curved up into a succinct smirk, dimples framing her lips, brows arched ever so slightly.

          ‘ Who could turn down real dumplings. ’

A soft chortle clucked against the roof of her mouth.

          ‘ I act as if I have been deprived of decent Chinese                                     which by the way, I totally have been.                 Nothing but Americanized overcooked noodle dishes                 and oily fried rice. It’s enough to make a girl tear her                 hair out.  ’

Tucking her card back into her wallet, Bobbi stuck out her hand.

          ‘ I’m Bobbi. It’s not weird, we know each other’s names                 now, so we can’t possibly be strangers. ’

     she took bobbi’s hand with her own  &&  a laugh.  she took the words      right out of her mouth.  dinah never had trouble making friends; she      was just glad that someone took to her overly-friendly invitations as      well as she would have.

     ‘          ---- i promise once you have these, you’ll never want any                 other kind again.  so i hope you like gotham, because they                 don’t deliver.

     there was a warm sarcasm in her voice as she rounded the corner      of the counter  &&  flicked the switch to the open sign off. 

fishnetflorist liked for a starter ( ϟ )

         “Look whatever you’re here for– Hal did it.” Yes, he was pulling that          card. Totally pulling that card.

❛          I WAS NOT! the creep i took down was coming from behind you            with a knife. i truly apologize for wanting to stop him, lance. i’ll            have you know i’m here for a plenty good reason — and that i do,            in fact, know where the building is! not that i’ve ever actually been            there, but….

being apart might have gotten easier for dinah over time, but for ollie, the void she once took up in his life was one that he could never refill, not that he would ever want to. there is only one dinah lance and he would have to bear that weight for the rest of his life. it was something he hated admitting to himself, that he hated even thinking about, because he knows the only reason they aren’t together is because he’d ruined things in a way that he’s not sure he’d ever really be able to repair. so, instead of seeking her out to fix things, he seeks her out just so he can remind her of his presence.

❛          christ —

her words slice deep and oliver is left feeling like he just had the wind knocked out of him; she didn’t have to use her fists to sucker punch him. she turns around and her last words ring over and over again in his ears — it was nice to see you, oliver. they sound the way a ‘goodbye’ sounds, and, for once, oliver queen is left feeling something like subjection. she can’t leave things like this. he can’t leave things like this. he waits a moment to see if she turns back around ( she doesn’t ) before he swallows his rampant pride and does something truly, incredibly oliver queen  — in other words, stupid  — and reaches out to catch her arm in his hand. he’s thankful the shadows he lurks in obscure the vulnerability he’s sure is present in his bright blue gaze.

❛          you know why i’m here. don’t play dumb with me, dinah.            you know me.

   everything slowed.  in an instant;  dinah became acutely aware of everything around her;    around them.  the wailing sirens in the distance were a promise their alone time was    dwindling;  the staggered breaths of unconscious men at their feet were a reminder    that they were never alone to begin with.  but most of all she was thoroughly aware that    her arm was on fire. 

   there was a core part of her that begged for his intervention, that wanted him to ask her    to stay; but the reality of the occurrence churned in her stomach  &&  she was frozen    against the burn of his touch.  she dug deep for the anger, for the resentment she’d had    buried inside her, but the desperation of his voice--- of his sincerity--- it pushed them    too far from her reach.

   still, she mustered enough strength to jerk,  ( the man-handling helped )  tugging him    along with her around the nearby corner into a tighter alley  && out of sight of their now    joint carnage.  the force of her pull was enough to whip him around her  && she pushed    him hard into the brick wall without any hesitance.  she felt the force of it reverberate    through his chest when she gripped his collar to hold him still.

   ‘         you don’t get to play that game with me anymore, oliver.    

   she struggled to keep her voice steady && angered but it was was a losing battle, because    there was a softness in his eyes that she could no longer avoid thanks to the self-inflicted    proximity.

   ‘          you don’t get to show up, out of no where and be the typical, flirty asshole you always               were!!  you gave that up!!  you----                                                                               you don’t----

   words died in her throat &&  her grip loosened but didn’t relent entirely.  there was too much    preventing her anger from peaking;  the warmth of his body so close to hers, the smell of    that aftershave she pretended to hate, the way he was looking at her--- every ounce of her    that was trying to resist, trying to be mad---                                                                                                              ---well, it gave up.

           ❝Well then I guess I’m just lucky I have BLACK CANARY to                 save my sorry ass when I get into trouble.❞

    He has no problem admitting that despite being a rather proud person     at times (to be fair Oliver Queen DID raise him). He’s said it before and     he’ll say it again: he USED to think Oliver was the toughest of them all     but he quickly realized he was wrong. Dinah could take anyone on and     heaven help the people who pissed her off; Dinah Lance was a force to     be reckoned with and Roy admired the hell out of her for it.

   ‘        yes, you certainly are.  you are also very lucky to have a BLACK CANARY             who un-teaches you all the useless crap that’ll most likely get you killed that             a GREEN ARROW taught you in the first place.        ‘

  she patted his face,  a cheeky &&  arrogant smile drawn across her face;  but it was   all in good fun.  roy knew that.  a lot of things between them could go unsaid  && that   was the real beauty of their what their relationship had grown into.  

  but as much as she loved the pleasantries, they had business.  the fun kind.  where   she got to hit things &&  tease roy about pretending she was letting help.

               HER PULSE GALLOPS wildly && stereo symphony greets her ears where dinah’s cracks along with her.  impotence seizes between her shoulder blades.  vining tension bundles tighter, winds across notched vertebrae.  she reaches for the keyboard because it’s the only thing she knows to do (  they only thing she can do  ) only to find her fingertips stalled           

dinah’s breath picks up, a measured gasp into her lungs.  

&& she strains, struggling to calm because her canary is trained for this. this isn’t their first rodeo. 

dinah’s laughing tease about getting killed flits to the forefront of her flawless memory so brightly that it yanks a string of bile up the back of barbara’s throat like a flame on a wire.  she folds over her searing gut, confined to her chair in her tower with her best friend on the line a whole continent away.  

❝                  ❞ her mouth forms silent encouragement when a pointed boot swings into frame to fell the attacker in front of her before the snare roll of bullets peppering the air freckles her hearing, disrupts the signal further.  vital signs climax at her lefthand screen, all adrenaline but still singing, still alive. && that, here, where barbara has situated herself at the brink once more, is EVERYTHING.  

guilt already streaks along in the wake of her scalding fear. 

hope springs on a font behind her breast as she watches the fray. flawless as always, blows land on their targets; skill wins out from kicks && punches, crunching bone giving way so that she can almost feel the impact beneath the heel of her own palm               

but then…

then, the discord reaches the peak of its opus with a note barbara recognizes so well she could pick it out of a hundred guns. it haunts her nightmares, every moment in which she travels back to the past.  a single shot, the mountain valleys of her monitor halting              

&& then the camera ducks, crimson slathered across the five-fingered splay of shock.  

❝                       DINAH!  ❞  she calls out, desperate && frantic both.  jamming the comm does nothing as the angle of her picture slants, steeps high && starts a free-falling descent toward nothing…. 

❝   please, no… dinah, NO.  ❞  her voice hitches && panic blooms in her belly along with a small dash of denial.  so many times they’ve been through this, so many times they’ve succeeded unscathed.  

a heavy slap of water, of a flat back unguarded by strength beats the image out from her purview.  

&& the lines to the left, beeping so quick with a heartbeat && respiration just moments before, go SILENT.  

       HER NINETEENTH && FINAL crudely etched tally mark was the last image she had   of that dank hole of a home she’d made for herself in that cargo ship;  a memory which   she planned on burying deep in a bottle of whiskey within the hour.  a throb of pain in   her abdomen resonated through her as she hauled herself onto the dock,  finally free of   the ship’s confines  &&  it’s less than pleasant sailors.  there were few things in her past   that topped the misery of her last three weeks of existence.

  how she managed onto the ship  (  &&  undetected at that )  was a true mystery;  she had   no recollection beyond the assumption of an adrenaline-powered determination, or hell,   maybe arthur was involved--- the alternative couldn’t be anymore far-fetched.  but the   salvation she had thought she’d found had been short-lived once she’d realized she’d   become a stowaway on-board the same organization that’d shot her in the first place.

  gotham’s glowing high-rises greeted her like a warm smile;  it was rare a sight like that   filled her with such reassurance---  but the bright, round, orange beacon of the clocktower   ...of her clocktower--- it loomed in between the cracks of it’s taller steel brothers, calling   her home.  

  her feet began to carry her on their own accord, dinah pulling up the borrowed shirt she’d   managed to scavenge earlier in the week to check her poorly attended bullet wound.  the   shot had been clean through ( something she felt incredibly lucky for; just another scar to   join her already plentiful collection ) so cleaning &&  dressing the thing hadn’t been as   horrific as it could have been.  she knew babs would force a proper doctor on her &&    she would oblige, though she felt could live without--  

                                                                                                                     BABS.

  her feet moved faster, closing the remaining blocks between her &&  goal in a trot;   the motivation of the relief on the best friend’s face cancelled out every single jolt her   wound sent her as a reminder.  it’d been nearly three weeks &&  the bat symbol painted   the overcast sky--- there was no way to even tell if she would be there, but she wasn’t   going to let that stop her.  

  she ascended the same way any other costumed street lackey would, slowly making    her way through the lower roof’s trap door ( a little slower than normal;  she never made   note of how much twisting was involved before )  &&  closed her eyes as the smell of   herbal tea && the hum of computer servers wrapped around her.  following the promise   of the cold glow of computer monitors around the corner, her heart leaping into her throat   at the sight of red hair silhouetted like a halo.

  ‘          hey----     ’  her voices rasped out with barely a whisper, another reminder she   hadn’t spoken or slept in nearly three weeks  &&  a wave of exhaustion washed over   her.  she leaned into the doorway for support, clearly her throat &&  wetting her lips.