" it's okay, trauma makes you hot, baby girl. " ( from cissie )
Navigating a battlefield came to him naturally. Winding through the chaos of it all with nimble and precise steps, the flow of time bent beneath his fingertips, he often avoided damage compared to the rest of the gang. But this fight, it felt different. He could sense an unnatural shift in the air, vibrations in the atmosphere which didn't match his own, and carried a threatening tremor to them. Not good. Chaos was cool and all, he thrived on that, though when it tried to wreck his good time mood, that was when he became anxious.
An almost imperceptible thrum then hummed beneath his feet, and it was the only warning Impulse needed to open up his comm channel. "Olympia, get Rook off the ground now!" He knew she'd take the order seriously because when had he ever given orders? When Impulse started barking commands, it was unwise to ignore them. Kon didn't need a warning given how he was already up in the air, which left...Cissie. How Tim even convinced her to come out for this, he didn't know, but he wished he hadn't.
Taking off into a blur, he searched for her in every scrap of red or white strewn around the site. The ground beneath him began to crack, and the rumble he experienced less than a minute ago grew louder, deeper. It was nothing to Impulse, but to Cissie it could be life or death.
Finally, he spotted her on the far side, still shooting her arrow straight and true despite the impending implosion. The gold of his eyes disappeared with a crackle of lightning, turned to solid white as he made a bullet dash for her, debris shattering to dust around him from the force of pure light energy. There were only a few times in his life when he didn't make the save. Kon came to mind, the devastating memory pumping static into his veins, and adrenaline into his heart that already beat like a hummingbird. Never again.
Cissie didn't get a warning before he scooped her up into his arms as the ground gave away beneath them, and they disappeared in a flash, into the time stream. It was dark, dotted with pinpricks of light that led to all sorts of places, and safe, so very safe. He hadn't failed again. "Sorry, Cissita." He said whilst setting her back down upon the mist shrouded floor. "If you throw up, feel free to swing at me. But I had to get you outta there. I got enough dead friends' based trauma for a few lifetimes, ya know?"
The last thing he expected in return was to hear...well, what she said. "Uh, thanks?" Staring at her, hands on his hips, head cocked and a small pout in place, he realised something. "Why do people keep saying that to me? First Tim, then Steph, and now you. Is there some conspiracy against me I should know about, girl? It sure feels like it. Am I hot gossip now?" Bout time.
