It's up finally ;D I know this is prett short, but I felt like leaving the ending on a cliff hanger *trollface*
Again, I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors... I typed this on a severely.cracked iPod.
Mila found herself slumped against a building in agonizing pain. She had not even made it half the distance to her neighborhood before her legs gave out and she was forced to drag herself on her hands and knees over to this alley way. She had never gotten herself hurt this severely and the fact that she had now had her furious with herself. What had she done wrong? What could she have done so this had of gone smoothly? This repetitive thought process was even mais maddening because they steady pounding of her head. Mila was almost 99.9% positive that that blow to the back of her head had left her with a concussion.
All of these things combined weren't even the worse part of the situation. How had the League found her?! She had been so careful. She'd covered her tracks. The frustrations of her failures were most likely the only things keeping her conscious right now. She WOULD do better seguinte time. There was no other alternative. Failure was never an option in Mila Anderson's book.
Once she'd gotten her wits about her as much as any concussed girl could, she slowly began to peal off her tattered costume. She always kept a t-shirt on hand in her utility belt. She'd simply ditch her mask and top, then incinerate them both with a couple of fogo balls. Then she'd make her way to a private clinic she'd visited several times before and once again pay off the doctors not to contact her parents or police at the sight of her injuries. She was happy her family was quite well off when it came to finances, had they not been, her father might have noticed the relatively large sums of cash disappearing on a fairly regular basis.
Once she had the clean t-shirt on and the deed of burning the could be evidence was done, she reached back into her cinto, correia and pulled out her phone. She wasn't stupid enough to bring her actual cell on her vigilante missions, instead she had a simple disposable one that could not be traced back to her or her family. She flipped it open and dialed the number of the city's taxi service. She'd come to the terms with the fact that she'd never be able to walk all the way to that clinic and she was not desperate enough to ride the filthy public buses. Besides, she was a mess and she did not want any witnesses to see her like this. Her father was a fairly popular politician. Someone was bound to recognize her.
After she put her phone away, all she could do is wait. She hoped it wouldn't be a long one. Mila's vision had already begun to get spotty again. Thankfully the yellow cab pulled up within minutes. She shakily got to her feet and limped slowly towards the vehicle. Mila managed to pull the car door open with a good deal of effort and stumble into the back seat.
"where to?" the driver asked
"Dr. Harrison's Private Practice, 397 crescent road." she replied, hoping she did not sound as weak as she was feeling.
"Alright" and the car sped off. Within a few moments Mila realized that they were going in the wrong direction to go to the clinic. What the hell was this guy doing?
"Hey! The clinic's the other way!" she received no response from the driver. He simply kept going. "Hey! You. Are. Going. The. WRONG. Way!"
"I'm not taking you to the clinic" The man finally replied. Mila's eyes widened in panic. What was this?! Was she being kidnapped?! She quickly reached for the door handle and began to pry on it desperately. When it became apparent that was no use she began to pound her fist agains the glass of the window. She tried to ignite it into flame to hopefully melt through, but it was no use. She was too drained and the area was too confined.
She did the only thing she could think of now and it hurt her pride mais than she'd ever care to admit. "Heeeelp! Someone help me! I'm being abducted!" it was doubtful anyone would hear here, but what else could she do? She glanced progressivo, para a frente at the taxi driver... Did he have something over his face? What was that? A gas mask? Before she could fully comprehend what was going on, she saw a strange smoke begin to fill the cabine of the car and she instantly began to feel drowsy. She tried to fight it. She tried to continue to scream, but now her cries were coming out as no mais than pathetic mumbles. And then she drifted off into the dreary darkness of a dreamless sleep.
Again, I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors... I typed this on a severely.cracked iPod.
Mila found herself slumped against a building in agonizing pain. She had not even made it half the distance to her neighborhood before her legs gave out and she was forced to drag herself on her hands and knees over to this alley way. She had never gotten herself hurt this severely and the fact that she had now had her furious with herself. What had she done wrong? What could she have done so this had of gone smoothly? This repetitive thought process was even mais maddening because they steady pounding of her head. Mila was almost 99.9% positive that that blow to the back of her head had left her with a concussion.
All of these things combined weren't even the worse part of the situation. How had the League found her?! She had been so careful. She'd covered her tracks. The frustrations of her failures were most likely the only things keeping her conscious right now. She WOULD do better seguinte time. There was no other alternative. Failure was never an option in Mila Anderson's book.
Once she'd gotten her wits about her as much as any concussed girl could, she slowly began to peal off her tattered costume. She always kept a t-shirt on hand in her utility belt. She'd simply ditch her mask and top, then incinerate them both with a couple of fogo balls. Then she'd make her way to a private clinic she'd visited several times before and once again pay off the doctors not to contact her parents or police at the sight of her injuries. She was happy her family was quite well off when it came to finances, had they not been, her father might have noticed the relatively large sums of cash disappearing on a fairly regular basis.
Once she had the clean t-shirt on and the deed of burning the could be evidence was done, she reached back into her cinto, correia and pulled out her phone. She wasn't stupid enough to bring her actual cell on her vigilante missions, instead she had a simple disposable one that could not be traced back to her or her family. She flipped it open and dialed the number of the city's taxi service. She'd come to the terms with the fact that she'd never be able to walk all the way to that clinic and she was not desperate enough to ride the filthy public buses. Besides, she was a mess and she did not want any witnesses to see her like this. Her father was a fairly popular politician. Someone was bound to recognize her.
After she put her phone away, all she could do is wait. She hoped it wouldn't be a long one. Mila's vision had already begun to get spotty again. Thankfully the yellow cab pulled up within minutes. She shakily got to her feet and limped slowly towards the vehicle. Mila managed to pull the car door open with a good deal of effort and stumble into the back seat.
"where to?" the driver asked
"Dr. Harrison's Private Practice, 397 crescent road." she replied, hoping she did not sound as weak as she was feeling.
"Alright" and the car sped off. Within a few moments Mila realized that they were going in the wrong direction to go to the clinic. What the hell was this guy doing?
"Hey! The clinic's the other way!" she received no response from the driver. He simply kept going. "Hey! You. Are. Going. The. WRONG. Way!"
"I'm not taking you to the clinic" The man finally replied. Mila's eyes widened in panic. What was this?! Was she being kidnapped?! She quickly reached for the door handle and began to pry on it desperately. When it became apparent that was no use she began to pound her fist agains the glass of the window. She tried to ignite it into flame to hopefully melt through, but it was no use. She was too drained and the area was too confined.
She did the only thing she could think of now and it hurt her pride mais than she'd ever care to admit. "Heeeelp! Someone help me! I'm being abducted!" it was doubtful anyone would hear here, but what else could she do? She glanced progressivo, para a frente at the taxi driver... Did he have something over his face? What was that? A gas mask? Before she could fully comprehend what was going on, she saw a strange smoke begin to fill the cabine of the car and she instantly began to feel drowsy. She tried to fight it. She tried to continue to scream, but now her cries were coming out as no mais than pathetic mumbles. And then she drifted off into the dreary darkness of a dreamless sleep.
