#justletmechange

[ahawkunmade]

Looking for Trouble || Clint & Janet

Turn left, swing, pull back...

The thoughts translated to movements, each one practiced and precise. Clint had a habit for looking for trouble, that much was apparent, and maybe it was utter recklessness twisted with frustration that had him diving into a nearby gang of men, eager to step in when he heard the process of a mugging taking place.

The victim had run off, and as skilled as Clint was, he was heavily outnumbered. 

Lack of sleep hadn’t contributed well to his overall health either. He was slower than he should be, his reputable sharp eyesight a bit blurred as he tried to lock on to each target coming at him. He was best with his bow, but the gun in his hand would have to do for now. Thankfully it was silenced, and it was more than enough to keep the men from rushing him.

“Who wants the first bullet?” Clint asked with a raised brow, glancing around him.

Nobody wanted to get shot, but it was apparent they didn’t plan on letting him go either. 

He caught the movement of an arm, one gang member drawing his own weapon but barely getting it up before Clint fired. Chaos followed. The body dropping to the ground as the others lunged towards the archer. Clint managed to down two more, using the pistol to whip the nearest guy in the head seeing as his already low clip was now empty. He could see the glint of a knife, and his brain raced, trying to collaborate his next moves as someone grasped him from behind. 

Christ he was tired...how long had it been since his last full night of sleep?

Not the time for that...

Clint spun, elbow cracking against the man’s windpipe as he lifted his other forearm and blocked the driving arm that was seeking to stab him with the blade. A blunt pain coursed the breath out of him as someone slammed a pole against his upper back, an arm curling around his neck and forcing his head back as he continued to struggle with the knife aiming for his chest. Clint bent backwards, driving his head into the nose of the man behind him as he aimed a heavy kick to his front attacker. The knife still came down, swiping an ugly gash against Clint’s side rather than sliding through his ribs. 

Biting back a noise of pain, Clint pulled himself free from the choke hold and took the man’s arm in a vice like grip, twisting it roughly to the side before barreling the thug over his shoulder and face first onto the concrete.

Grasping at the wound, the archer eyed the last three men in front of them, daring them to move forward.

[weathergoddess]

Suiting Up | Janet and Ororo

Pulling off dark sunglasses with her hair tied in a neat high bun, Storm struts through the large lobby of the office building. Her heels snap along the smoothly waxed floor and she ignores the ogling glances the surrounding businessmen. Ororo is here on a important mission. A more personal mission, but an important one nonetheless. She knows it’s imperative to dress the part. 

It had been nearly a month with not even a preliminary sketch from the elusive Van Dyne. Ororo is nothing if not patient. This could be attested to by the many efforts she extends to calm down the restlessness within the underground mutant community she leads. Patience is a virtue, Goddess knows! Extra time is one thing, but ignoring Ororo’s attempts at contact is an entirely different matter. The idea for supplying the Morlocks with their own uniforms or sorts was well liked by the entire group and helped to reaffirm their unity and sense of belonging in the face of their profound distrust of others. 

Storm personally understood the importance of belonging somewhere. After the loss of her parents, she has bounced through life with a multitude of different groups of people...many of which her current teammates would probably disapprove. Her past has shaped her into the woman she is today, as hard as it sometimes was, she has never regretted a single thing. With that thought her mind focuses back on the Morlocks and the mission at hand. Annoyance fumed just beneath the surface requiring tight control over her mutant power to prevent emotional bleed over into the local weather. Approaching the front desk, Ororo provided a kurt smile. “Hello, I’m here to speak to Ms. Van Dyne. Please let her know that ‘Storm’ is here to speak with her.” She settled against the desk for a moment while the secretary glanced through a book, likely attempting to look through today’s schedule. Ororo sighed openly, and firmly spoke again. “I am not a scheduled visit if that is what you’re looking for. But trust me, you don’t want to keep me waiting. Let her know that a lady with white hair and a short temper is here to see her. I trust that she will gladly squeeze me in.” A low rumble of thunder shakes the building.