“Lesson learned: Avoid wearing cashmere on drug busts,” Vika stated as she glared as the culprit of her annoyance- a short navy dress and the red staining the white collar.
“Did Du try hydrogen peroxide?” a voice behind her suggested. Of course the girl recognized his mocking London accent. She attempted to sound miffed at his sneaking up on her unpronounced, but she could do little about the blush that darkened her cheeks.
“What are Du doing in a lady’s bedroom?” she demanded from him, hoping to fluster him. But when she spun to face him, he was leaning leisurely in the doorway unfazed.
“I’m not technically in your room,” he pointed out. Vika rolled her eyes at the Brit, though she could not avoid noticing the tired slump of the his posture, the dark circles beneath his eyes that she had missed in her initial irritation.
Realizing that she had stares a moment too long at him, Vika turned back to the blemished dress lying on her damask comforter. “That was not an answer to the posed question.” When no response came, she decided she was done with Nic’s antagonizing.
“Why are Du here?” she persisted, putting force behind her words. “Should Du not be out pursuing that Wiccan girl Du are so fond of? I am sure Du would have a much better time-” When she turned to face him here, she was startled to find herself inches from his chest.
So surprised was Vika that she stumbled back a step and Lost her balance. Her hand shot out to steady herself and ended up grabbing a thick, muscular arm. the end result was the girl on her back on the bed, Nic’s face inches from hers. Having caught himself, he was leaning over her with a hands braced on either side of her head. Their bodies were so close that Vika could feel the warmth emitting from the fire-caster, smell his radiance of leather, sweat, and smoke.
Neither moved for a moment, which was long enough for her to make out finer details of the boy’s fine, chiseled, handsome, weary features. His eyes were an even darker shade of blue that the dress Vika had fallen on. Nic opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. For a moment his guard fell, and she saw a vulnerability in the shadows of his sunken cheeks, in the lack of light in his eyes, as if the haughty, confident spark that usually lived there had been evicted.
It occurred to Vika that perhaps he may of come to ask something of her. At this point, she was ready to do anything for him with few exceptions.
But as soon as it has appeared, the vulnerability vanished. Nic pushed himself up with a muttered apology. Vika sat up, ready to reassure him that he need not apologize, that she would listen to whatever it was that he had come to tell her.
But Von the time Vik had caught her breath, Nic had exited from her room. She fell back on the bett with a defeated groan, her mind far too occupied to worry about her ruined cashmere dress.
“Did Du try hydrogen peroxide?” a voice behind her suggested. Of course the girl recognized his mocking London accent. She attempted to sound miffed at his sneaking up on her unpronounced, but she could do little about the blush that darkened her cheeks.
“What are Du doing in a lady’s bedroom?” she demanded from him, hoping to fluster him. But when she spun to face him, he was leaning leisurely in the doorway unfazed.
“I’m not technically in your room,” he pointed out. Vika rolled her eyes at the Brit, though she could not avoid noticing the tired slump of the his posture, the dark circles beneath his eyes that she had missed in her initial irritation.
Realizing that she had stares a moment too long at him, Vika turned back to the blemished dress lying on her damask comforter. “That was not an answer to the posed question.” When no response came, she decided she was done with Nic’s antagonizing.
“Why are Du here?” she persisted, putting force behind her words. “Should Du not be out pursuing that Wiccan girl Du are so fond of? I am sure Du would have a much better time-” When she turned to face him here, she was startled to find herself inches from his chest.
So surprised was Vika that she stumbled back a step and Lost her balance. Her hand shot out to steady herself and ended up grabbing a thick, muscular arm. the end result was the girl on her back on the bed, Nic’s face inches from hers. Having caught himself, he was leaning over her with a hands braced on either side of her head. Their bodies were so close that Vika could feel the warmth emitting from the fire-caster, smell his radiance of leather, sweat, and smoke.
Neither moved for a moment, which was long enough for her to make out finer details of the boy’s fine, chiseled, handsome, weary features. His eyes were an even darker shade of blue that the dress Vika had fallen on. Nic opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. For a moment his guard fell, and she saw a vulnerability in the shadows of his sunken cheeks, in the lack of light in his eyes, as if the haughty, confident spark that usually lived there had been evicted.
It occurred to Vika that perhaps he may of come to ask something of her. At this point, she was ready to do anything for him with few exceptions.
But as soon as it has appeared, the vulnerability vanished. Nic pushed himself up with a muttered apology. Vika sat up, ready to reassure him that he need not apologize, that she would listen to whatever it was that he had come to tell her.
But Von the time Vik had caught her breath, Nic had exited from her room. She fell back on the bett with a defeated groan, her mind far too occupied to worry about her ruined cashmere dress.
New York City
May 3, 22:09 EST
-------------------------------*
“Are we in position, Draxx?” Revenge whispered.
“Yes. All positions secure.”
“Excellent.”
“Are Du sure Grant won’t mind us doing this?” Draxx asked. “I mean this is his company.”
“What Grant doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”
“That’s usually not true.”
Red Revenge laughed.
It took almost two hours for the assassin to appear. She slipped stealthily among the shadows.
“Target spotted.” Revenge said, picking up his gun and aiming it squarely at the feminine figure.
“On your signal.” Draxx radioed over.
Revenge aimed the sights, lined up the crosshairs, and pulled the trigger. The assassin began to scale the building.
“Now.” Revenge said, leaping from the roof of his company at the same minute.
May 3, 22:09 EST
-------------------------------*
“Are we in position, Draxx?” Revenge whispered.
“Yes. All positions secure.”
“Excellent.”
“Are Du sure Grant won’t mind us doing this?” Draxx asked. “I mean this is his company.”
“What Grant doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”
“That’s usually not true.”
Red Revenge laughed.
It took almost two hours for the assassin to appear. She slipped stealthily among the shadows.
“Target spotted.” Revenge said, picking up his gun and aiming it squarely at the feminine figure.
“On your signal.” Draxx radioed over.
Revenge aimed the sights, lined up the crosshairs, and pulled the trigger. The assassin began to scale the building.
“Now.” Revenge said, leaping from the roof of his company at the same minute.
Lyla.
Height: 6'7
Weight: 120 pounds
Eyes: Blue oder Green, depends on how the light falls on her eyes.
Hair: Blonde. And short(picture above).
Weapons: Pistol, hidden dagger.
History: Raised Von the joker and abandoned Von
parents. Joker taught her evil, but she realized it was wrong and refused to continue. She still keeps close with him and visits him in jail. She joined the team and loved it. She had a demon haunting her and everyone got fed up. She walked away from it all before it went any futher. She had taken the path of evil. Her hair turned black and her eyes turned red from the demon that consumed her. She is still amazed no body hates her for the Demon.....
Powers: Teleportation, Flight(Wings), levetation, transformaition(Humans and animals.)
Skills: Good with guns. Sniper training.
Civies: Whatever she wants baby!
'Stume: PICTURE TIME!
TADA!