c3p-0h

To be or not to be (Heroes)

Lexa jumped back with a curse at the clatter of gunfire, releasing her hold on Jack's arm. She watched him collapse to the ground as the elevator doors slid closed. Crimson blood painted the walls and pooled beneath his body. Her heart in her throat, Lexa knelt down. Her hand hesitated before it found its way to Jack's neck. But she couldn't tell if the pounding she felt was his heart or her own.

The elevator dinged again as it passed by another floor.

"Shit shit shit shit shit."

Lexa lifted his torso, using her knee to help support his weight. One arm was under his shoulders, the other over his waist trying to keep him in place. His hot blood was leaking all over her, staining her clothes and skin, slick and sticky and so red. She clutched him in an iron grip and looked up, eyes focused on the door.

The elevator finally slowed to a stop again on the ground floor.

As soon as the door slid open enough for Lexa to see out into the lobby, she and Jack were gone. They teleported past the group of armed gunmen, already opening fire on the empty elevator, out the building, and through the city, Lexa’s grip never easing from Jack’s limp body. Adrenalin pounded in her very bones. The world was a frantic blur of motion as she jumped through space. All that mattered was that Jack couldn’t die, she couldn’t watch someone die again.

Somehow they ended up in the empty, darkened dance studio that had doubled as Lexa’s aikido dojo before she’d quit. Lexa was a statue, clutching Jack’s body, blood already starting to pool on the floor beneath them. She was still kneeling, in the same position she’d been in in the elevator. Lexa couldn’t move. He was dying, maybe already dead in her arms, and she couldn’t move. She’d been so focused on getting away she hadn’t prepared herself to deal with the reality of the situation: she had to save him.

Now what?

With a jolt Lexa forced herself to let go of Jack. Stiff fingers uncurled from their grip around his shoulder and side, and Jack’s body fell unceremoniously to the floor, hitting her knee and turning so he landed on his stomach. Her sword fell next to him. Her hands were shaking. In the darkness, the blood was black as pitch on her skin.

Lexa stumbled to her feet and took a step back, absently running a hand through her crimson hair. Blood stuck the strands together in messy clumps as she tried to control her breathing and reclaim some sort of direction in her racing thoughts. He was dying Shirley was a liar she had to help him she wasn't ready for this she wasn't qualified he was dead he was dead he was dead she couldn't do this.

But she knew someone who could.

At the first hint of a solution, Lexa teleported away.

Before long she was in a tiny apartment, dark save for the light coming from a laptop screen. Tyrell was stretched out on the couch, one large arm behind his head as a pillow, and a laptop sitting on his chest playing some animated movie Lexa didn't have the interest in identifying. His eyelids were drooping and he wore nothing but a pair of long, checkered sleeping pants. His dark hair was a tangled mess, already showing the early signs of bedhead.

"Ty."

"Woah!" His alarmed shout was followed by a thud as Tyrell jumped in surprise and fell from the couch. The laptop landed in a clatter on the floor, exaggerated voices still coming from its speakers. His eyes darted around before finally finding Lexa's form in front of him. "…Lex?" He started to push himself up. "How did you – did I give you a key?"

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching for him. "I don't have time to explain." The light from the laptop shined off the fresh blood on her hand and Tyrell's eyes widened at the sight. Finally standing up, he caught her wrist.

"Is that blood?" He looked down from her dirty hand up to her face and squinted in the darkness. Concern was rapidly outgrowing confusion. "What the hell happened? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." Her answer was too fast, too sharp to be sincere. "But I need your help and I need you to trust me, ok?" His eyebrows pushed together and he opened his mouth to question her again. But they were already teleporting halfway through the city, back to the dance studio to Jack's body. As soon as they stopped moving, Tyrell released Lexa's wrist and stumbled back, falling.

"Jesus fuck!" He looked ready to throw up. His eyes were wide, darting this way and that without really focusing on anything. Lexa took a step towards him and the movement immediately caught his attention. "What the shit was that?!"

"Teleportation." Tyrell froze and looked around again. Guilt mixed with frustration in the pit of Lexa's stomach. He was her friend and he deserved answers but they didn't have time for this. "I'm sorry, I'll explain I promise." She teleported to the wall and slammed a hand on the light switch. Bright light flickered on, momentarily blinding them and revealing the bloody mess that was Jack. "But he's dying and I need you to save him." Tyrell froze at the sight. Glancing at Lexa, he rose onto shaky feet and moved towards Jack.

"Christ, Lex…"

"He took a bullet in the chest that I think is still in there, and he was pretty roughed up before that." In a distant part of Lexa's mind, she was amazed at how even her voice was, how clinical she sounded – like she was just stating facts, and not having an internal break-down. She watched as Tyrell moved Jack onto his back and recognition flashed in his eyes. He looked at the bullet hole, perilously close to the heart. "I can't take him to a hospital and I didn't know what else to do." Tyrell felt the pulse point at Jack's neck and Lexa's own pulse jumped. What if he was–

"He's got a pulse." Relief was staggering. Tyrell looked down at Jack, hands floating around him like he didn't know what to do. "We can't remove the bullet. If he's not dead yet then the blood loss from that will kill him." He pinched Jack's nose closed and lowered himself over Jack's mouth. Tyrell blew and Lexa watched the rise of Jack's chest. "Lungs aren't punctured." Tyrell was speaking in the same detached voice Lexa used. "But the bullet probably hit an artery." He looked up at her. "Lex, I… I'm a nurse, not a surgeon. He needs a hospital–"

"I can't," she cut him off. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed the heels of her palms into them. "I can't take him to a hospital." She couldn't risk them discovering Jack's powers and who he was, she couldn't risk Shirley finding them, and she couldn't risk Jack waking up and hurting any civilians at the hospital. She could protect Tyrell on his own. She had to. She opened her eyes again. "Ty, please. You're all I have." The honesty in Lexa's voice was pitiful to her own ears. Tyrell stared at her for a long moment, torn. Then he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"I need surgical tools." Lexa was gone before he'd even finished speaking. She returned in less that fifteen seconds with a borrowed satchel of surgical knives and clamps. Tyrell was quiet and stunned, still not used to her teleporting around. He opened his mouth, probably to question where she'd gotten that from and if it was stolen, but seemed to think better of it. "We should be doing this somewhere sanitary. An infection–"

"He can deal with it." Something told her an infection would do little to slow Jack down, if he could even get one. Lexa looked at him and something shifted in her eyes. "He's hard to kill." There was almost a grudging sort of respect in the admission. Tyrell raised an eyebrow before opening up the satchel.

"Ok, c'mere. I'm gonna need help." He pulled out a portable container of latex surgical gloves and put on a pair before holding it out for Lexa. She hesitated, looking from the gloves to Tyrell. Then down at Jack, pale and bleeding. Setting her jaw, she stepped forward to take the gloves.

Mirror, Fox, Key

post from me will probably be up tomorrow ish

Mirror, Fox, Key

lmaooooooo. meryn is kinda just pure determination. 'this is a thing that needs doing, how do i get it done? jump from a roof to do it? sure i'll jump from a goddamn roof.' this is gonna do wonders for her emotional/social issues tho, because if we separate them, then she'll have lost everyone.

…………i'm game.

To be or not to be (Heroes)

Lexa's eyes flashed a dangerous gold at Shirley at the casual assumption that she'd taken to killing her enemies. She let go of Jack's arm when he was standing (mostly) upright and gave him a flat look when he double checked with her to make sure he wasn't going to be turned in.

Oh, she was absolutely turning him in. Just because she wasn't going to execute him in cold blood didn't mean he was off the hook. Then Jack was a blur of motion, killing the men who'd been holding him down. Lexa really shouldn't have been surprise. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she released him. Maybe she should've kept the ropes and just take out the goons herself. He'd still be tied up, she could handle herself, and best of all, he'd wouldn't have been able to take out the gag from his mouth.

But alas, the dye had been cast. Jack was out and murdering people again. Lexa didn't even bother drawing her sword. As soon as Jack had returned to her side, she grabbed his arm and teleported back to the elevator, slamming her fist on the button. Lexa didn't release her grip on Jack's arm, both to make sure he didn't get away, and to keep him upright. Fancy acrobatics or no, he look just about dead on his feet. Who knew how long the adrenaline would last.

Shirley looked pissed. He was stalking towards them with a thunderous look on his face, over the two bodies. The elevator dinged open and Lexa half lead, half dragged Jack in. She pushed once on the door-close button and hit the button with a G on it. The door slid closed.

Elevator music started playing. Lexa found herself oddly irritated at it. Her hand was still gripping Jack's arm, the other tight around her sheathed sword. She gave a quiet sigh and closed her eyes as the elevator dinged at different floors.

Lantern

This is either going to be fantastic or a tale of regret and woe.

Lantern

lmao anise is on this righteous deep quest and arty's just on the side being a sitcom douchebag protagonist.

Lantern

Something prickled inside Artemis when Oseely said the Lady of Light wasn't around anymore. What had happened to her? Something told Artemis she didn't want to know. And giving all that power and trust to someone named the Lord of Shadow hardly seemed wise. Even if these spirits were eternal, they still seemed human enough from what Artemis had seen. And human meant fallible. Corruptible.

When she was ten years old, her mother had told her about Artemis' grandfather, a man so thirsty for control and drunk with power that he'd nearly driven the valley to ruin. There'd been a rebellion, long and bloody. Her entire family had almost been overthrown, until Artemis' mother had killed him and tied his body to the castle walls for all to see. It'd kept them from being lynched by the commoners in the street, but it'd taken decades of hard work to earn the people's trust and affection back.

She wasn't about to get in the middle of a political fight between the forces of nature though. And as far as she was concerned, this wasn't her problem. So Artemis held her tongue as Oseely continued his casual explanation. A big game of tug-of-war, he said. Seemed like a lot of work.

Artemis shot him a look at his (correct) assumption that she didn't have a plan. Turning, she started walking to the mouth of the cave.

"Who said I didn't have a plan?" Give them a medal. "I always have a plan." She never had a plan.

Artemis took stock of her resources. Untrained gryphon. Questionable demi-god. Bunny mask. A rosary for some reason. Lightning stick of death. Sneaky feet. Rudimentary grasp of runes. Rune-imentary.

Now she was just stalling.

"If I'm going to be on my own," she announced louder than necessary, interrupting her own thoughts, "I'm gonna need some more supplies." She could probably figure out things as she went, and she'd get the hang of runes eventually. But at the moment, she didn't have any useful skill set for the island aside from being an overall drain on society. Until she had a decent grasp of how to make it on her own, she was going to have to rely on others – whether they were willing or not.

A knife was always useful. Maybe a blanket. Some food and water. Better clothes. Plus whatever fun stuff she could find. She looked over her shoulder back at Oseely.

"Know anyone willing to lend me some?"

Translation: who's getting robbed first?

Lᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ Lʜɪᴠᴏʀɪᴀ

Soooo…?

Mirror, Fox, Key

Meep

To be or not to be (Heroes)

Lexa's first instinct was to ask if Shirley had remembered to get a gift receipt. Because… the hell kind of gift was this? Was Shirley… was he serious right now? Lexa looked down at Jack, bruised and bloody, and more of a mess than he usually was. Lexa tried to not be thankful for the gag in his mouth. She really didn't need any of his sass adding to this situation.

Somehow this meeting had spiraled out of any sense of control. She stared down at Jack, then back up at Shirley. Coming to a decision, she drew herself up to her full height.

"He doesn't reign over this city," Lexa said in a steely voice. "I do." She'd dropped all pretense of not being Trick. She unsheathed her sword in a long, smooth motion.

In the next moment she teleported just behind jack, in between the two men holding him. She stabbed the sword into the ground, piercing the rope that held his wrists. Yanking the sword out, she sheathed it again and took a step back. The rope was still in place, but just barely – the cut hadn't severed it entirely, but it'd take little effort for Jack to free himself.

"I've done as I wished," she said, mimicking his earlier words. Her eyebrow was raised slightly in challenge. She pushed the guard who held him down away and grabbed Jack roughly by the arm and tried to haul his dead weight to a standing position. "And now we're leaving." Jack was a pain in the ass, but even then Lexa couldn't bring herself to kill again. Especially not for this ass' agenda.