#markmardon

Roscoe wasn’t an idiot, that was a known fact. It didn’t take much for him to figure out just what was behind this uncharacteristic heatwave that had settled on the twins. Not even the dense pollution could take the blame for the length of time this has continued to go on for, no.. that credit fell to someone Roscoe was swiftly losing his patience with. 

Immediate retaliation might have been more fulfilling, but it was getting exhausting trying to beat Mardon down that way. This wendigo would give credit where it was due; Mardon had a strong spirit to him, refusing to be broken. What Roscoe couldn’t understand was why it needed to end up this way. Why did Mardon have to side with the Flash’s family? Why did he have to act so--

...so...

Well, in any case, it really made no difference to Roscoe in the end. He would have his way, he was already making his presence known as the number of missing people in the city had sky-rocketed to a frightening degree. The Rogues were something to fear again, not just the butt of every joke and speedster’s amusement. 

Opting for something with more impact, Roscoe let Mark know exactly how he felt-- by leaving him with an inhibitor collar locked tightly to his leg. Sure enough, the heat would dissipate soon after and let the cold settle in as it was supposed to.

This morning was a lot more dim than usual. Sure, the power finally returned to the city, leaving only some areas without but a good team dispatched. The city was in mourning for the loss of their beloved hero, but the sentiment was not shared when Roscoe busted into the Rogue hide-out with newspapers in hand. 

“It’s time to celebrate!” He exclaims, letting the papers flutter around. “The best thing happened, Mardon.”

And he’s thrusting a cover page in Mark’s face, letting the wizard grab it for himself. “Some nasty beast in the river got the drop on the Flash,” Roscoe sneered in amusement, his lips curling back with a sharp-toothed grin. 

“It’s no trouble at all. By the by…. are you busy?”

He had been hunting. Luck was ever in his favor after he spotted an angry woman leaving the apartment of The Flash. He had caught her, sunk his teeth in, but she had managed to scramble out of his grasp and elude him until presently. Her scent was fading, and Roscoe began to wonder if she had skipped town all together after their little interaction. 

“Not presently.”

That heist had turned into an absolute disaster, but it wasn’t a complete waste of effort. Roscoe still made off with the loot, and then... there were other things gained from the experience. When Mark returned, if he expected immediate backlash, then what happened would come as a pleasant surprise. 

Roscoe’s arms wrapped around Mark’s waist from behind as he lifted the weather wizard up and spun him around ever so gently.

“Trying to run away?” 

Was that blood splattered on his costume, soaking the green and yellow into a dark black. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t anything pretty. The tips of his fingers were clawed and stained, dripping with blood as well.