Work Text:
"The stamp, Tigress."
Tigress' glower expression was replaced by a smirk, and her stance shifted to a laid-back manner. With her head now going in the direction of the wind, platinum-blonde collectively flaps along the left side of her face. Even if not at a standstill, Carmen was still able to perceive the extra few inches that had been sliced off. It was similar to how her own had been throughout her childhood years. Several months ago, she decided to start letting it grow out to see if it would be something that'd favor her. She's been keen on it so far, her length now having made it to her shoulders.
She couldn't deny that the shorter style suited her former classmate much more, but the girl hadn't admitted it to her back then, and she had no plans on doing so now.
Tigress presents the stamp enclosed within two of her claws.
"You want it so badly? Here."
"For your little save the kids, or whales, or whatever charity." Before Carmen has the chance to process, the wind has already taken the stamp from Tigress.
Carmen's body moves before her mind. She dashes forward, her eyes never leaving the stamp dancing in the air. She makes it to the railing as it continues to descend. She's impulsively swiping with one hand as the other is preventing her from going over with how fast she ran. The stamp keeps evading her outstretched fingers, and she still hasn't realized until a laugh rings out.
Peering behind, Carmen is met with the actual stamp still in Tigress' hold. Her hands ball into fists over the realization that she had nearly gone over just for the ziplock bag.
Tigress doesn't seem phased at all by it. Just by the self-satisfied grin on her face, she probably thinks it's hilarious.
"Ha! Made you look!"
Carmen made her way from the railing, eyes narrowed at the other, yet her primary focus still remained on the stamp. Even if she was currently holding all the cards, it wasn't out of Tigress' character to still act on the offense. The last thing either one of them needed to do was rip it in half.
"You need to come back." The blonde says, her tone void of haughty spark.
Even with the red coat, a chill manages to infiltrate Carmen's body, giving rise to a shiver. She hopes it was subtle enough that the other couldn't tell. Tigress hadn't even needed to specify for Carmen to know where she was referring.
"Aw, have you finally made it to the conclusion that you miss me?" Carmen teases, compeling a mischievous smile to her face.
Tigress scoffs. "Me? You wish,"
Carmen's about to push more before the blonde continues with an unnerving grin.
"But now, El Topo, come on, you know the guy wears his heart on his sleeve regarding stuff like this, especially when it comes to you, Le Chèvre too, even if he would never outwardly admit it."
The taunting comment Carmen had prepared halts at the edge of her tongue with the mention of her other late teammates.
"Back in the shop, you could tell with the mime too, couldn't you?" Tigress goes on, "even with the dingbat not speaking."
There's a pause, yet Carmen has a feeling that the woman is not finished.
"And then there's Crackle..."
Tigress' face takes on a somber expression, and for the first time since they've known each other, Carmen finds herself contemplating whether or not there's any amount of authenticity.
"The poor guy blames himself, you know; he believes he was the reason behind you leaving. For every mission that permitted, he's run himself ragged searching for you, and believe it or not, there were a few times that even I was a little concerned for his well-being."
Carmen's breath hitches at everything that is being thrown at her. There's a quiver in her bones, yet she's able to keep her eyes locked.
Tigress lets out a sigh.
"But even he can't compete with just how much the faculty wants you back."
Every survival instinct is threatening to kick in now, telling her to run, to escape, or at least cover her ears so she doesn't have to listen.
The girl wants to give in, but she overrides instead.
She still has to get the stamp. The stupid stamp.
"They promised that they'd work all this out." Tigress tells her before her voice goes unsettlingly low.
"If you just come back,"
There is no stopping Carmen's boot from taking the tiniest of steps behind her.
Carmen could tell from the way that Tigress was looking at her that she was trying to see if her attempts at provocation were succeeding. All the girl could do was hope that whatever expression she was wearing wasn't giving the blonde any satisfaction, even with this dread that has wrapped itself around her body and is steadily meshing into her skin.
"Well, that's fine; I can knock you around for a bit if that's what it takes." Tigress chuckles; the grave demeanor now gone.
The sudden change makes it easier for Carmen's own to settle down a bit, better presenting herself as if unstirred by Tigress' words.
Carmen's lips curl. "You've returned me to them tattered and bruised before. Care to jog my memory of how that worked out last time?"
The remindment of that day was probably the last thing Tigress was expecting. Her former teammate growls, and Carmen has to hold back the comment about how much more of a cute kitten she resembles than the animal in her name.
"I have a feeling it's going to be different this time." Tigress declares, "as long as I bring you back alive, I can't see them as anything other than grateful."
"You willing to bet on that?"
"This cat’s got plenty of lives left, so why not?"
Carmen huffs.
"Give me the stamp, Tigress," she orders, done with discussing something that was never going to happen.
"If you want it so bad, I guess you're going to have to come get it."
"An itty bitty stamp is probably even harder than, oh, I don't know, a dollar bill." Tigress mocks, slipping the stamp down the opening of her boot.
There's no stopping the flashes of images.
Coat.
Clock.
Him-
Carmen does everything in her power to push back the distressing memory. It wasn't the right time...but then again, when was it ever?
"Why don't we find out?" Carmen challenges, more than ready to be through with this, her foot sliding back in a set stance.
"Why don't we?" Tigress agrees, following suit.
The chopper's still overhead, rotor blades producing a near-deafening noise with how close it has come to them in the past few minutes. The spotlight centers on both her and Tigress, as if spectating a showdown for a final boss.
If it wasn't so blinding, Carmen may have attempted to catch a glimpse of the two pilots behind the controls; the aircraft is tilted just right for it to have been possible. She wonders how they've been.
Tigress is the first to move, as she predicted, and charges towards Carmen. The girl in red acts too, her steps swift and light.
She knows Tigress is going high, for her face, as she had said back in the souvenir shop, wanting to scratch it to pieces.
So Carmen goes low, gliding along on her knees and dodging the claws with deftness. It's almost too simple; she slides the stamp out with ease, as well as a little parting gift for herself.
After skidding to a stop, a gasp is let out behind her.
"Black Sheep!"
Carmen turns to peer over her shoulder; the stamp now between a different set of fingers. At first, she kind of wishes the kitty didn't have her visor on so she could see what look her eyes held. But the rest of her shows plenty. Her mouth now agape, and both her hands have tightened into fists. Her entire body is tense. Not one ounce of attention focused on her now-opened pouch.
Where's that conceited attitude gone?
"Surely you've heard. I go by Carmen now."
The auburn-haired girl doesn't wait for a reply before sprinting and letting herself fall off the bridge's tower. She begins plummeting before her glider unsheathes into her own pair of wings, allowing her to start sailing across the night sky.
With a glance behind, Carmen watches as the chopper hovers just enough to let down the ladder for Tigress.
For a split second, there's worry that the aircraft may turn her direction and give chase, but she brushes the thought off; Tigress no longer had the means to contact VILE, and by the time Vlad and Boris explained the situation, it would be too late.
Her hang glider's more maneuverable anyway, so they could try now if they wanted, but they still wouldn't catch her.
The girl smiles grimly.
Not if I can help it.
"Tigress, confirm that you have secured the stamp."
Carmen's glancing down, the words spilling out of her mouth before she even fully processes who that gruff voice belongs to. Along with the high of one-upping Tigress, there’s also the force of habit of always contacting Player after each caper. It looks pretty similar to the one she has too.
"Oh, it's been-"
The rest of her response dies right there on her tongue at the image of what she sees.
Despite the girl having been addressed by one voice, she's greeted by multiple people, eyes displaying different ranges of shock upon meeting her's, faces that belong to those of her former mentors. Well, four of them, at least. Carmen's gaze is instinctively drawn to the odd one out, which is the back of a certain doctor's head.
Dr. Bellum's fingers fly every which way between multiple screens, tapping and swiping at numerous windows.
One notices and turns towards the smaller woman, and it’s no one other than the countess, who’s sitting in her usual spot in the middle of the extensive table. Carmen almost doesn’t catch Cleo’s hand barely rising above the surface of the table to sit upon, presumably Dr. Bellum’s thigh.
A spin of the chair, and there were five.
There we go. Carmen thinks bittersweetly. Now that's everyone.
Even if googles shield what the doctor’s eyes manifest, she can imagine they’re mirroring the rest of the faculty's in some form or fashion.
Bellum. Scientist. Gifted inventor. Someone who made a toddler Black Sheep a tracking bracelet after she kept escaping her crib and having field days throughout the academy. A woman who she had watched all seasons of Hikari: The Little Kitten Ninja with, a show that luckily had short enough episodes so she didn't have to frequently draw the doctor's attention back. The one who would ask her for assistance with new experiments, but not without the proper safety equipment, of course, much to the stubborn girl's dismay. But even with the excessive gear, the woman would never let her get too close.
Always standing behind the doctor and the experiments. Never in between.
Cleo. Countess. Educator of culture. A woman who had made sure she went to bed at reasonable times and kept her hair at certain lengths so it wouldn't get in the way of her boisterous child activities. The one who dressed a toddler Black Sheep in the finest fabrics and materials, some that would shimmer in the light as the girl would spin around, entranced by the way her clothes sparkled. Even if adolescent Black Sheep had more or less grown out of the dress-up dates, there was never that inclination to call them off. The occasions made the countess beam, and the girl liked making her happy.
Black Sheep thought she had the prettiest smile. Carmen still does.
Maelstrom. Psychiatrist. Doctor of psychology. A former marine biologist who taught her all he knew about the ocean’s creatures. She had been the first one he showed his prized piranhas to when the fish first arrived on the island, and had even let her name them. A man she has beaten only once at chess, a victory she holds dearly no matter how much of an edge she had in that single game. One presumed to be a psychopath by academy students due to his demented tendencies and the questionable delight he gets out of certain things.
But she knows better. She knows him.
Brunt. Training instructor. Bender of steel. A protector who once shielded her from the wrath of their boat captain by knocking him into the fountain after the young girl had bombarded him and the bookkeeper with water balloons. A woman who she’s played nearly every sport in the book with and won next to none against. But no outcome ever stopped the coach from having cookies and candies on her person, always ready to shower the girl with sweet treats for her hard work. Someone who came to her aid time and time again against the other faculty with rebuttals when one of her pranks and other wild behaviors got her into trouble.
A mighty guardian. Her mama bear.
Shadowsan. Swordsman. Master of stealth. The one who a small Black Sheep made an origami of a lotus flower. It hadn't been perfect by any means; her fingers inexperienced in the craft, but it was put on the same shelf as his katana, which was held up by a katanakake. She had snuck into his dojo while he had been away on a trip. The man returned. The paper art remained. Someone who was the cause of her having Japan as her number one place to visit when she grew up. The one who began training her in the ways of meditation from the age of five, flicking a shoulder or forehead every time he opened his eyes to find her moving or on her back asleep.
He said she’d be thankful one day to possess such a skill. She always hated admitting when he was right.
Carmen doesn't like the way her heart is beginning to beat at a brisk tempo the longer the five stare at her.
So she aims her gaze dead center at Shadowsan because it's easier, as the man is still wearing the stoneface he's rarely seen out of. But even with him, she feels herself struggling, the ache still lingering.
She's the first one out of all of them to get her words out.
"Now will you admit the coat was empty?" Carmen inquires, and it takes everything to keep her tone steady. She shouldn't be this out of tune with herself, but hearing Tigress talk about the faculty was one thing; being face-to-face with them like this was a whole other.
You know you didn't snatch the phone just to outdo her. A part of you wanted to see them, even if it hurt. Just admit it.
Shadowsan replies with the furor of his brows, and she hates it—hates these inexorable feelings that overwhelm her. It's as if her soul is being severed, her brain and heart acting on their own accord yet wanting to protect each other at the same time.
Inflame is clawing up her throat. Her teeth clench down, standing guard and locking up anything that would disrupt her strong front, not wanting the sheep to appear any more prey to the wolves than she already was.
But she still wants to stick it to them. Another caper foiled by her hands. Skills that she acquired from them. By one that they had been molding to be the perfect combination of VILE's top five.
A possession that will never be utilized for their wicked wants.
Yet she's desperate. Desperate for one of them, any of them, or even all of them at once to interrupt her, revealing if this was just as difficult for them as it was for her.
But they just look. She's starting to think they may have been peering at her for too long and are trying to decipher if she's really there or not. As if she's a figment of a dream. It's probably in her best interest anyway, if that were the case. If they say the wrong thing, or if even she does, she may just start weeping and won't be able to stop.
With a roll of her eyes, Carmen scoffs before she's filling in the silence that was, in reality, no more than a few seconds. She didn't believe that Shadowsan was going to end up answering, but she needed to hinder him on the chance that he decided to prove otherwise.
She's approaching her brink, and this call was overdue for a cutoff.
"Like, I need your stamp of approval anyway," Carmen claims nonchalantly, as if it weren't something that she had strived to receive from him at one point in time...from all of them.
And with that, the girl begins to let the phone slip through her fingers, not wanting her too big of a heart to get the chance of possessing her to keep gripping.
She douses herself in the illusion of frantic voices playing from the speakers as the device fully falls from her grasp. Because if she ponders too much, managing to convince herself that there's a chance it's real, she doesn't know if anything could stop her from unclipping the glider's harness and going for a night swim.
Even with everything that laid within her coat.
So the young woman simply angles her head and watches as the mobile continues to descend before generating a small splash in the strait below. She's staring just a little too long, and the temptation begins to grow the more her eyes train on the swashing water.
You know the things are waterproof. A little diving, and it'd be back in your hands. But you'd have to go now.
Come on, they're waiting for you.
Both hands have found their way back to the polyester straps, fingers gripping tighter than usual. She turns away and closes her eyes for a moment, indulging herself in the salty air that assists in opening up her sinuses. She opens, the exhale coming out at a leisurely tempo. She feels herself gradually beginning to calm down, with her view now only containing the dazzling lights of the city.
Yet there's no stopping the lone tear from breaking past her lower eyelid. It starts racing down her cheek. But as swiftly as it appeared, it was gone.
Extinguished by the back of her black leather glove.