LA FELINA、young justice

[004]

"No."

Planning and thinking ahead was never her strong suit.

She ran through the rain, her feet almost slipping against the wet sidewalk. She removed a knife from her pants and held it out as her eyes roamed to find the man she knew would be following her. The city was only a mile ahead. She heard a swish in the air and looked above her to find him gliding from building to building. In a split second motion, she ran across the street, a few cars honking as she maneuvered through them. She heard more honking even as she had reached the other side. Shit. She continued to run, refusing to look behind her as she neared a gas station. Barely anyone glanced at her as she ran inside, but she knew Batman would not risk public attention towards her.

Her wet boots squeaked against the tile floor. The cashier gave her a miserable look, "do you need something?"

Rio rolled her eyes at the woman and walked away. She traveled down to the women's bathroom, pounding on the locked door. A middle aged woman coughed out some curses at her before Rio stepped in and locked the door to the bathroom. She plumped down against the wall, ignoring the dead roach and paper towels thrown on the floor. And the little bit of piss that somehow missed the inside of the toilet and instead pooled at the front. She had seen worse, but it still made her stomach churn just a bit.

Her ski mask was soaked, the cotton uncomfortably sticking to her face. She pulled it off, her hair being entirely disheveled by the whole ordeal. Her deep brown eyes met that of her reflection, and the stings of pain encompassing her body began to flood through her. She worked day and night relentlessly, fighting off the devils of the earth or the devils in her head. There was not a moment where her body felt at peace in this ruthless reality she lived; except when her hands curled around the trigger of a gun, or her fists meeting already bruised flesh of criminals across the world. Then, and only then, did her body feel all encompassing peace. Peace that was accompanied by everlasting rage.

The truth was, more people felt themselves when they were hurting others than anything. The realists, purist versions of an individual exist when they defy all moral compasses, and decide to instead act purely on instinct. The instinct that ran towards the fire and not cowered away. The instinct that knew survival was more important than living.

Rio found herself always running towards the fire. And, without fail, her flesh would burn.

Rio removed both of her long, black braids that she had tied together that morning, fingering through her hair before braiding it again. Someone started pounding on the door, as if desperate. Rio sighed in annoyance, before shouting at them. She squeezed the rain water from her mask into the sink, and also attempted to do the same with some of her clothing. Eventually the woman from the front knocked on the door, threatening something about calling the cops.

Rio walked out, her face once again covered by the mask, "listen, I just had too much to drink and took way too much of I don't know what. Now let me buy a few things and I'll be on my way."

The woman noticed the gun holster and didn't bother asking questions. Rio stepped out of another woman's way, and marched through the aisles to find whatever she needed before parking herself at the cashier. She threw a water bottle, an umbrella, and a lighter onto the counter. Her hour-long pit stop should have deterred Batman enough for her to walk home or get a cab.

Well, you'd think. But patience is a virtue.

Rio removed her gun from its holster and held it straight at the figure that had just walked in. He grimaced through his mask as Rio continued counting the cash she had with her right hand and handing it to the woman who just vaped as the event occurred. She had pressed that not-so secret button under the counter that alerted 911.