Max Gibson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
futurebatwoman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-02-20 12:03 am
futurebatwoman) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-02-20 12:03 am
are these hands a waste
WHO: Max, Midnighter, and Ghost
WHERE: unspecified not great section of town
WHEN: about noon Sunday
WARNINGS: torture aftermath, Midnighter
SUMMARY: Max was a guest of the Norman Torture You Till You're Green Squad, now she's getting a rescue.
FORMAT: quick? we can do prose if you'd rather though.
[ Back ages and ages ago, when Max was six, she’d nearly drowned in a pool. The moment she can move her body by herself again feels like the moment her rescuer had surfaced with her and she’d been able to breathe again. The same relief of sucking air in again as she stumbles sideways against a wall like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
(Which is an unpleasantly accurate description, actually.)
The pain is less welcome, no longer numb now that no one else is controlling her brain. She manages to scrabble off the blindfold as she sinks down against the brick wall of what turns out to be an alleyway and then reaches for the communicator they’d stuck back in her pocket. The battery is in her other pocket. Every nerve in her body protests as she shoves the battery into place and starts entering a code.
She set this up a month ago. If she can just enter the right code, a text with her coordinates and a message informing him that something's wrong and she needs help will be sent to Midnighter and he'll come. He has to come. She presses send and lets her hand drop. Just that took every ounce of willpower and strength she had left.
Please come quickly, she thinks, and quietly passes out, blood already beginning to slide down her arm to pool on the ground under the communicator. ]
WHERE: unspecified not great section of town
WHEN: about noon Sunday
WARNINGS: torture aftermath, Midnighter
SUMMARY: Max was a guest of the Norman Torture You Till You're Green Squad, now she's getting a rescue.
FORMAT: quick? we can do prose if you'd rather though.
[ Back ages and ages ago, when Max was six, she’d nearly drowned in a pool. The moment she can move her body by herself again feels like the moment her rescuer had surfaced with her and she’d been able to breathe again. The same relief of sucking air in again as she stumbles sideways against a wall like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
(Which is an unpleasantly accurate description, actually.)
The pain is less welcome, no longer numb now that no one else is controlling her brain. She manages to scrabble off the blindfold as she sinks down against the brick wall of what turns out to be an alleyway and then reaches for the communicator they’d stuck back in her pocket. The battery is in her other pocket. Every nerve in her body protests as she shoves the battery into place and starts entering a code.
She set this up a month ago. If she can just enter the right code, a text with her coordinates and a message informing him that something's wrong and she needs help will be sent to Midnighter and he'll come. He has to come. She presses send and lets her hand drop. Just that took every ounce of willpower and strength she had left.
Please come quickly, she thinks, and quietly passes out, blood already beginning to slide down her arm to pool on the ground under the communicator. ]