GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

XII | NARCISSA

"Shit, Narcissa," he mumbled from the floor. A needle stuck out from his side, the tip of it tinged with green as she pulled it out, holding back a gag.

"How long, Finn? How long?"

His eyes widened, pupils dilating. "When I got stabbed," he admitted. Suddenly, he stood up, racing to a bottle of detergent. The colour drained from his face as he gripped it, breathing heavily. Narcissa watched as the bottle turned to solid gold, feeling distantly sick.

The last time she'd seen him so weak was when they'd been twelve. The Grandmaster decided to start administering larger doses of their serums, and Finn's hit hard. Afterwards, they discovered that it had been an assassination attempt, and a mad scientist had slipped poison into his serum, but his enhanced immune system allowed him to survive. It was a miracle, really.

Was that what she was looking for now?

A miracle.

The words were sweet on her tongue.

"I didn't want to slow you down. I-I figured that I would be fine."

"You were wrong. God, can none of you think? These two," she pointed at Wildfire and Sasha, "make out in the middle of a mission, you don't tell anyone when you get injured-" Narcissa stopped, hissing with agitation. "The saviours of Semper City, and we've got Jesus Christ himself, Casanova and Snow White. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Narcissa."

She ignored Finn, cracking her knuckles. "From now on, none of you have creative input. The North wing is where they should be - it's the most secure part of the entire headquarters. Along the way, find as much information as you can. Labs, files, whatever. I'm going with Jesus here, and you two horndogs go together."

Wildfire stared at Narcissa for a moment, probably thinking, "damn," but she didn't waste any time, heading out the door with Finn on her tail. It was a good thing that he didn't argue - she didn't have enough energy for that.

This supposedly short mission was proving to be a very long one, indeed.

[~]

"TAKE THEM OUT."

Finn's words weren't said aloud, but the silence  was deafening nonetheless. She jumped, realising he was behind her, and the dart gun threatened to slip from her hands onto the shiny floor below. A high ceiling manned with CCTV cameras glared down at them, the art piece that Dollard Elementary had donated to the facility dangling from the ceiling in a whirl of colourful thread. It was like a huge, garish friendship bracelet, disgusting to the eye. How anyone could find it pleasant, she had no idea. Frankly, the sight of it made her want to gag.

"Gosh, isn't that threaded beauty so sweet?" one of the guards asked his companion, a machine gun in his hand.

Narcissa frowned.

"Of course. I just love kindergarteners. They're such little cuties!"

Her frown deepened.

"You know, my niece - so adorable! Her teacher says-"

But they never learnt what the guard's niece's teacher had said, because Narcissa readied her dart gun, unable to bear their conversation any longer, and shot the guard in the temple. No blood spurted out - she hadn't expected any, but the man tumbled to the ground with a loud thump. The dart shifted under his skin, not deep enough for permanent brain damage but deep enough to warrant something.