The final product wasn’t quite similar to my previous costume - I needed more armor pieces, materials and time for that - but it was a good imitation that would do for that night, considering the time frame I had. The end result was a bit on the patchwork side and inspired by my previous costume – using again a store bought hoodie and pieces of armor that both Crystal and Dad had left lying around, I completed the costume with comfortable leggings and fingerless gloves that Crystal thought would look cool on me. I couldn't show up in civilian clothing to a cape bar so, with a little help from Crystal, I made a new one with spares pieces and clothes we both had lying around and some Patrol armor pieces that one needed or wanted. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."ĭespite her teasing, I knew she had a point. Also try not to embarrass me with your new costume. She had fiercely insisted that I meet her costumed and ready for a fight just in case because, " No one needs to hear you presume how you don't have a secret identity and you have the most punchable face I've ever seen, so be ready. The last one had ended up in pieces and I didn't have much time to make a new one from scratch, so when Tattletale called to take me to a new exclusive cape bar that was a known gathering point for rogues,I knew I would have to improvise a bit. I did a quick pat down of myself I had my new costume on and I still had my purse and my pockets filled. The last thing that came to mind was Tattletale tipsily complaining about how annoying Imp and the Heartbroken had been the last two days or so and then just… pure blackness. She had called me the other day to discuss some stuff about the Chicken Tenders – their developing dynamics and some of the most worrying jobs they had taken among them – and somehow that had led us to go to get dinner and then to get some drinks to try and relax and… I couldn't remember what had happened. “Finally,” she muttered, “I was growing old, here.” My head was still pulsing, nausea rising from the depths of my body, and it was a fight to not vomit the very expensive dinner Tattletale had treated me last night. Anyways,I slowly rose – using my flight as support as I shook dirt and errant leaves off my body and I started to rub my eyes, trying to clean off the grime and recover my vision. But then again she sounded pissed the other night when she called me, needing help and it turned out to be a dare by Darlene. “Glory Hole,” Tattletale repeated, her tone more aggressive than before, “I swear if you don’t get up right now I’ll feed you the first shit-covered píece of dirt I can find in this hellhole.” I stopped, my thoughts halting as my mind finally caught up to the sensations of my body. I gingerly touched the ground beneath and sighed as I felt the bare, grassy bed below and. "What's happenin," I mumbled, reaching out to the direction her voice came from as soft cold wind touched my face, and the cicadas sang. 'She sounds worried,' I thought, but then with her you never knew. “I usually wouldn't care if you choose to roll around in grass and dirt like a moron, but I really need you to stop behaving like a drunk freshman and get your shit together.” “Victoria,” she repeated, her tone exasperated. I’d had a very busy week, with lots of classes and work with the Patrol Group that exhausted me, which had made Tattletale’s sarcastic invitation to go drinking a godsend.ĭid I crash at her place last night? Only reason I can think of why she’d be so annoyed with me right now. “It’s Saturday, just let me sleep in.” I felt sluggish and tired, like I had run a whole marathon without water or rest whatsoever – my whole body stung, with even a single twitch feeling like an enormous struggle that consumed all my energy. I let out an undignified groan and turned around. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I really need your usual self-righteous and annoying self right now. Now, however, her usual vitriol was magnified into a painful echo that made my head pulse even more and caused me to try and bury my head even deeper in my hood and the soft ground beneath me. “For fucks sake, Victoria,” said the voice, who in a moment of brief clarity I recognized as Tattletale’s. 'How much did I drink last night?' I touched my head and wriggled, feeling the soft material of my costume dig in and wishing the ground would swallow me up and spit me back up – hangover free. “Wake up, loser,” an acerbic voice said, waking me up and causing my head to ring and pulsate with penetrating pain.
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