#thislooksbadbarton

[Text]; …. Um. No.

[Text]; I go up there to clean my wounds. Duh.

[Text]; There’s probably blood on the edges as well. 

[Text]; Icicle’s always broken.

[Text]; Careful not to sit on the blood-stained bits of gravel—that’s from my previous reckless endeavors.

{Text to: The Kiddo} They physically shrink other things. {Text to: Kiddow} Though the other thing would actually be pretty awesome. If they could grow back…

[Text]; Hey, I could always bug Mister Stark to make some for you.

[Text]; ... unless of course I could run down to the labs or something

[Text]; play with some of the things...

[Text; Carrie]; It’s stored in my mental reminders.

It had been more than a long night for Logan. Her client bailed on her and left her sitting alone at the bar for nearly two hours before she decided to leave herself. She wasn’t bummed about missing a job, just bummed about not getting paid. Boy, if she ever saw them in the streets, she’d give them what for for standing her up.

It was dark, and only the lights of passing cars and the moon above gave her light to see. For once, she missed the  ugly yellow streetlights of the city. She stopped suddenly. Was it her mind playing tricks on her, or was she being followed?

Not wanting to expose her power immediately (though how could anyone see shadows in the dark?), she pulled a gun out of her purse. “Alright," she bellowed. “Who the hell is there?"