April Yang and Dick Grayson share deep-rooted connections to Gotham, even if they prefer not to give them much thought and keep their emotions to themselves. When Dick turns up in Devon City, where April works towards becoming a surgeon, she inevita...
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April didn't know a thing about teaching. Her situation was even worse because of her pupil's lack of interest in learning, which only made it harder for the both of them.
"No, Lola, you cannot just go around knowing how to shoot people, the job is more than that," April said, having lost her patience five minutes ago. "Pick up the staff, we're going again..."
The blonde scowled for a millionth time but did as she was told. "I so don't need this."
"Do you think I want to be here, Lola?" April looked around—it was a nice day for a Devon spring. She could be out enjoying a nice cappuccino in the park, but was otherwise stuck with a grumpy eighteen-year old. "We could've been done an hour ago, but you choose to take water breaks every five minutes. How does that work?"
"It works because I need to hydrate, obviously. I'd figure you'd know something about that since you're a fucking plant or whatever..."
April laughed, annoyed. "You have no idea at all about any of this, do you?" At core, she felt pity for the petite and innocent girl. "I've seen versions of you, Lola. You never survive the trial month, and that's right around the corner for you, so how about you wake up?"
Lola's eyes darkened, but she stood with her head held high. "Pamela says I have potential," she said. "I have what she couldn't pass onto you."
That was true; Pamela failed to incorporate toxin production into April's DNA, yet by some dumb luck it had prevailed in Lola.
April stood firmer on the ground. "Show me. You've just started administering the toxins, right? What do you have?"
"Botulinum," Lola said. "Botulinum toxin."
Nodding, April started circling Lola. "When you can get to me in five moves, we'll finish."
"Won't you, like, die or something?"
"It takes more than some toxin to kill me," she said, soon enough remembering the cold embrace of death. She was starting to miss it.
Lola, encouraged by the prospect of ending the session soon, leapt for April's skin. Literally. She was narrowing her mind to what was visible, failing to recognise how she could get to April through being smart.
Hit, hit, hit, blocked.
Hit, hit, hit, hit, blocked—that one hurt Lola's pride.
