FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

TWENTY FIVE.

HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ FOR THE FIRST TIME. ❞

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO..

ABIGAIL LANCE DID NOT BACK DOWN. Especially not when Dick Grayson was the one challenging her. It had only been an hour, but over the past sixty minutes, Abby had grown to like to the group of sidekicks her aunt had introduced her to — aside from Dick Grayson, she already couldn't stand him — and the quartet had, waywardly, decided it would be a fun idea to sneak out the manor.

Turns out, the four of them had more in common than the fact their legal guardians liked to dress up in costumes and fight crime. Not much more, but enough. Abby hadn't realised how nice it felt to have people like her around, people who she didn't have to hide her powers with, ones she could complain to about Ollie's brief run with green rights, and Dinah's insistence that she learn Krav Maga.

Anyway. Back to her current problem. AKA, why the hell had she agreed to sneak out of Wayne Manor when A) she was scared of heights and B) she was nowhere near as skilled in acrobatics as the people behind her. Oh yeah, that's right, because Dick said she wouldn't. So obviously she said she would. Logic. Well done, Abby, you're an idiot.

She glanced down at the daunting manor grounds beneath her. Corrections: A suicidal idiot.

Her knuckles gripped the stone of the outer walls, palms red from the friction of the surface. Before her, the tree she was supposed to use to swing down to the ground; behind her, her three friends waiting for her to go first. She could see the bright, neon carnival in the distance — the one Nora had suggested they go to.

"Anytime today, Lance."

Dick Grayson's bored tone erupted from behind her, breaking her train of panicked thoughts. Asshole.

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, "Nah, was thinking I might stand here all night."

He glowered at her from under dark lashes.

Donna was grinning over his shoulder and Nora wore thinly-veiled boredom despite the twinkle of amusement in her hazel eyes. The two girls were stood shoulder to shoulder, hands barely brushing.

Abby pushed out a low breath, staring across at the tree she was supposed to swing onto. She could do this. For no other reason than to prove Dick Grayson wrong. The brunette adjusted her grip on the edges of the window, then pushed forwards as hard as she could. Running rooftops was one thing, jumping from a window to a distressingly far away branch was another.