Post by Bixir on Aug 14, 2024 21:18:54 GMT
"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in. Forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
General Information
Full Name
Eugene Thompson.
Codename or Alias
Flash.
Agent Venom.
Anonymity
Flash Thompson is a registered veteran of the U.S. Army who was stationed in Qurac for several years. Agent Venom is a highly classified military asset known only to ARGUS brass and Task Force X.
Gender
Male.
Race
Human Mutate.
Age
Twenty-eight.
Place Of Birth
Queens, New York (Forest Hill)
Occupation/Status
Army Veteran.
Teacher.
(Former) Bully.
Alcoholic.
Fuck-Up.
ARGUS Operative.
Symbiote Host.
Alignment
Neutral.
Factions
ARGUS.
Suicide Squad.
Canon Or Original?
Canon.
Powers/Abilities
Spliced Symbiote
Flash has been bonded to a variant strain of the Venom symbiote. However, the notion that Flash Thompson is a host to the Venom symbiote is a misnomer. The Venom symbiote ceased to be after it had separated from Eddie Brock and familiarized itself with Flash’s bloodstream. The symbiote has since changed to adapt to its new environment. More importantly, it has been rigorously experimented and reiterated upon by ARGUS R&D teams. Flash’s symbiote is something entirely different now, such that some do not consider it a symbiote at all. Codename Venom Prime certainly doesn’t. When Flash’s symbiote is active, he gains access to the following traits:
Superhuman Strength
Flash is as strong as the web-head. Stronger, even. He can punch through concrete with ease, launch people into buildings, and make massive leaps through the air. The degree of strength Flash is able to tap into is proportional to his emotional state, which is connected to his control over his symbiote. As he becomes more unstable, the more monstrous he appears, and the more power he is able to unleash. It is rumored that Flash’s modified symbiote is capable of trading blows with the Hulk, though this has yet to be tested.
Superhuman Durability
Venom Prime is considered to be capable of outlasting Spider-Man in an all-out brawl. Flash’s symbiote is of a similar physical caliber. He can withstand blows of dozens of tons of force, and though bullets do hurt him, they are far less lethal than they would be to an ordinary human. Flash can shrug off superhuman loads while dishing out even more. This also goes for fatigue - if he needs to, Flash can force himself to fight for hours at a time without tiring. The symbiote takes care of the rest.
Superhuman Agility
Flash can run fast enough to keep up with high-speed vehicles, and his reflexes are acute enough that he can dodge bullets and split-second movements.
Accelerated Healing Factor
All symbiote hosts acquire a healing factor that allows them to recover from wounds hundreds of times faster than an ordinary human. Stab and bullet wounds recover in a matter of minutes (or seconds), and lost limbs, miraculously, can be regrown over time. This is no exact science, however, nor is it without pain or limits. The process of the symbiote pulling itself back together is excruciating for the host, and that is certainly the case for Flash. It is not nearly as strong as Weapon X’s healing factor - if his heart or brain are compromised, or if his body has overwhelming damage inflicted upon it, then there is little that can be done.
Wall-Crawling
Derivative of Venom Prime’s emulation of Spider-Man’s abilities, this symbiote can stick to walls and (temporarily) ignore most physics of motion when scaling shear surfaces. This is done subconsciously - Flash does not even have to think about it in order to move like Spider-Man… unless he gets blasted, that is.
Invisibility
An additional feature that Flash’s symbiote develop as a result of A.R.G.U.S. experimentation is the ability to become invisible to the naked eye. The symbiote accomplishes this by adapting its matter state to invisible light spectra, similar to how Susan Storm makes herself unseen. Flash is still visible on the infrared spectrum and similar scanners. This invisibility is not perfect, and frequent hostile actions will cause the effect to abruptly end.
Constituent Matter Generation
A symbiote can emulate Spider-Man’s webbing by loosing parts of itself as an unconventional foam projectile. Its substance is much more rubber-like, imprecise and foul-smelling once it has left the symbiote’s body. These parts of itself are quickly regenerated, making it so that a symbiote host cannot expire through this method of attack.
Webbing Generation
As a result of its mutations, Flash’s symbiote can generate organic webbing that is virtually identical (and arguably stronger) to Spider-Man’s. This webbing acts as a tertiary bodily fluid, and as such, Flash can run out in a given period of time if he expends too much of it. Once his webbing has been fully depleted, it takes several hours for his reserves to refill to full capacity.
Shapeshifting
All symbiotes have means of hiding within their hosts, as well as extending themselves over their host’s form for their transformed state. Mutations in Flash’s symbiote have caused it to develop low-level shapeshifting abilities beyond this. He can adjust his general physical appearance - height, weight, hair and eyes, facial structure - to give him a disguise. Flash retains all of his symbiote abilities while he is in his disguise, but he must maintain concentration in order to remain disguised.
Genetic Memory
All symbiotes contain traces of their original self, and can date themselves back to their progenitor within the deep reaches of space. Much of this has become muted for Flash’s symbiotes, but he acquired much of Eddie Brock’s fighting ability and familiarity with his symbiote, which has made it significantly easier for him to gain control over his inner demon. Flash’s symbiote has yet to interact with another of its kin, though if it interfaced with one, it could theoretically tap into its knowledge and emotions in such a way.
Night Vision
Flash can see in the dark with perfect clarity. However, this does not affect his sensitivity to bright light.
Resistances
Flash is immune to all toxins and diseases that would otherwise affect the human body. To his
Traces of Magic
During Flash’s tour in Qurac with the Army - and subsequent operations as Agent Venom - resulted in mysterious magical energies affixing themselves to Flash and especially his symbiote. The nature of these energies remain unknown, though whatever they are, they were passed on to the Mania symbiote… Flash is as of yet unaware of this.
Weaknesses
The rigorous experimentation upon Flash’s symbiote have resulted in the absence of some commonplace symbiote abilities. For instance, he does not possess a “spider-sense” like Venom Prime does; conversely, he would track on Peter’s spider-sense as a threat if he tried to attack him. The symbiote also does not speak - it is more like an animal than a sentient thing. Flash’s symbiote is only able to communicate in primal instincts that it tries to force upon its host in moments of weakness.
In spite of the many genetic changes that have been made to Flash’s symbiote, it remains exceptionally sensitive to sound and vulnerable to fire. Either of these effects severely dampen the symbiote’s abilities, as well as causing it overwhelming pain. If these effects are sustained for a prolonged amount of time, the symbiote may even retreat within the host, leaving them exposed.
Without the symbiote, Flash is a feeble man. The wounds he suffered in Qurac were deemed interminable, and he was never granted prosthetics - as such, he is bound to his wheelchair, damnably so when his symbiote is separated from him. While he is a trained military personnel, there is only so much someone like that can do from a wheelchair.
Military Training
Flash is an experienced military veteran of several years, and he was Midtown High’s quarterback for three years before that. Flash has been physically fit all of his life, and carried that rigor into his military livelihood. He has been trained by highly skilled A.R.G.U.S. operatives, both when he served in the U.S. Army and the special operations that followed. While Flash is not one of their finest soldiers, he’s pretty damn good too.
Weapons/Items
Multi-Gun
A modular multi-purpose rifle developed using schematics from Bloodsport’s weaponry. The Multi-Gun is keyed specifically to Flash Thompson’s DNA - if anyone who places their finger on the trigger does not match the genetic test, the weapon will not fire, nor can this function be overridden. The Multi-Gun can change its function on the fly, from an assault carbine to a submachine gun to a sniper rifle to a shotgun, each within a matter of seconds. It exclusively uses high-caliber ammunition, much of which are specialized rounds, again taken from Bloodsport’s personal armory when he was first detained by ARGUS. Given the high value of this asset, the Multi-Gun is kept under Task Force X security - Flash is only granted access to it when he is deployed on a mission as Agent Venom.
Military Equipment
Flash maintains a garden variety arsenal in his apartment, courtesy of Uncle Sam. Most of it is simple things - handguns, grenades, assault rifles, the occasional shotgun. The pretty toys are kept with his handlers when they need him for a mission, though even when he’s home, Flash keeps himself strapped.
Personal Items
His cell phone, wallet, and other personal effects have been merged with his symbiote for a long time now. He’s come to accept that he’s not getting those back (though he can still access them).
Appearance
Image:
Physical Appearance:
A mountain of a man, built like a brick house. The muscle definition of an Olympian athlete, and stacked like a Superbowl quarterback. Sharp blue eyes and crew-cut golden hair. Arms and legs thick as tree trunks, and a nigh unsnappable neck. American pride.
That was Lance Corporal Eugene Thompson, United States Army. Flash Thompson, Agent Venom, is not these things. His muscles are atrophied. Perpetually hunched over, often avoiding eye contact. He typically appears malnourished, even if he is in (relative) health. His face is sallow, tired. His hair is staunched, from bleach or the latest scalp cure. He has difficulty breathing. And his legs are gone. This is Flash Thompson, for better or worse… just worse, really.
Clothing and Armor:
Flash’s idea of an outfit usually includes whatever is strewn about his room at the time that he bothers to pick up. Worn-out hoodies, torn jeans, oversized shirts, it makes no difference to him. He has no sense of hygiene nor fashion, and it shows. On the rare occasion that he does put an effort into making himself presentable, it’s only marginally better - motorcycle jackets and army camo, to remind him of bygone days. All in all, Flash is much more comfortable in his other half than his own skin.
That other half being his symbiote form. There are two phases to Flash’s transformation. The first is a dormant state, where his is completely enveloped in a black uniform. While it is reminiscent of Spider-Man’s black suit, it has distinct identifiers that set it apart, such as the inverted colors on the eyes, his hands and feet being covered in military-like gloves and boots, and the super-imposed Venom tarantula visibly displayed across his chest and back. While Flash is using his symbiote, he stands at his former height, and then some - at least six and a half feet, with evident muscle that belies his superhuman strength and agility… but still, appearing human enough.
When Flash’s symbiote becomes active via an emotional response, the human-like facade is immediately dropped. This state is much closer to the Venom that the people of New York City were exposed to during the Carnage crisis. A massive, inky-black monster, with massive arms and a grotesque maw to devour its prey. Like the Agent Venom “suit”, Flash’s symbiote has emphasized markers that Venom Prime does not have, such as a greater prominence of white in his form - from his eyes to the tarantula markings on his body - and the enhanced physical presence that Flash’s body affords the symbiote. Eddie Brock was a fit journalist - but he was no soldier. This symbiote is. Flash’s Venom is huge, roughly as large as Venom Prime, if not larger. He’s seven feet tall evenly, and weighs hundreds of pounds.
"I'm poisoned. You're right. There's no getting it out. The wound is sealed shut. Their hatred will always run through our veins, Jack. But if we make different choices... who knows?”
Personality
Sexual Orientation
Heterosexual.
General Personality:
Flash is a man defined more by what he lacks than what is right in front of him. His legs are the most evident reminder of this. He looks back far more often than he looks ahead, if he bothers to think of the future at all. He is often trapped in dwelling on what has happened that led him to his present circumstances, particularly things that he played a direct part in. He exhibits numerous symptoms of depression, anxiety, dread on a daily basis - a persistent restlessness matched with a complete lack of motivation to do anything; self-deprecating talk, often centered on mistakes that he made in the past (including things that weren’t mistakes at all); filled with overwhelming dread that something terrible is about to happen; feeling devoid of purpose. Flash’s case is at an exceptionally deep point, particularly in that he has next to no one to lean on for help, or professional experts to speak with. The comfort of his symbiote, alien and animalistic as it is, has played a significant role in helping him continue on in spite of this pain. Flash still doesn’t understand his symbiote, though at this point, he has come to accept it as a part of himself - sometimes, it is more him than the remaining human parts of himself that he struggles to hold onto.
Flash isn’t helpless, though. He is capable, much more than he realizes. He has an uncompromising moral compass that compels to act where many much stronger than him would turn away. He has deep sympathy for the downtrodden, being someone who is intimately familiar with the hardships of neglectful parents and substance abuse, to name but two. Though Flash holds himself in little esteem, he will push himself to extraordinary lengths to protect others, especially if it is someone that he cares about, rare though that may be. Flash may be a far cry from his childhood self. He may feel like he is in a dark, bottomless pit. In spite of all of this, nothing and no one can take away the fact that Flash Thompson is a soldier who will fight like hell for all the good in this world.
Face/Voice
Oliver Jackson-Cohen.
Anything Else
Gallery
Character's History
Siblings
Jessie Thompson - Sister
Mother
Rose Thompson.
Father
Harrison Thompson.
Other Family
Lea Thompson - Estranged Aunt and independent actress(Open)
Andi Benton - Tied to Flash via his symbiote. Not his daughter.
Betty Brant - Ex-fiance. (Open)
Peter Parker - One of his best friends. Maybe his only friend. Practically his brother.
History
(Content Warning: Extreme physical disability, abuse, depression, alcoholism, suicidal ideation
DENIAL
You had a decent upbringing at home. Your dad worked hard to make ends meet. He worked so hard, in fact. Your mom did what she could for you and your sister, but it seemed like things were hard for her too, but you could never figure out why. Maybe that was just how things had been at the time. You were too little to understand what was going on with the economy back then. You don’t even understand it now. It was better to just not worry about that stuff. Sometimes, it was even safer. Your dad… didn’t have a temper. He just got upset sometimes. He would yell at you, or your mom. Sometimes he went too far, but he loved you. Why wouldn’t he? If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have stuck around. He provided for them, didn’t he? Yeah, he did. You needed to not worry so much.
You don’t remember much about growing up. That just meant that there wasn’t anything notable, probably. That was alright. Not everyone led exciting lives, or had much to do as a kid. You didn’t. Once your dad found out you liked sports, he decided that that was what you were going to do. Being into basketball wasn’t so bad. Lots of kids in Forest Hill liked basketball. It made you friends at school. Then, you got to do football in middle school. Basketball was old news. Dad was insistent. Something about “men’s sports”. Sure, that sounded good to you. You were a man. A really strong man, too. You grew, ran, threw faster than anyone in your class, and even many of the upperclassmen. Sports were in your future. You liked that. You didn’t have to do math or science in sports.
High school was something entirely different. You made quarterback in freshman year. You were already getting offers for football scholarships. Dad was proud. You couldn’t remember another time where he was proud of you. It was nice - that part of high school, anyway. Puny Parker sure wasn’t. He never stuck around anyone or anything, not even at school. That poindexter thought he was above it all. Typical. That was the kind of man his dad warned him about. You wouldn’t ever become like that, some dumb loner who didn’t make friends with nobody with his nose in books all the time. No, sir. You were going to be a hero.
A hero like Spider-Man. That guy always did the right thing. He was so cool. Spider-Man could do anything. You didn’t waste any time following after him throughout the rest of your high school years, even when it was clearly a bad idea to. You couldn’t help it. You wanted to help out the web-head. You knew you were his biggest fan. It was during one of those times that you met her. You were a junior now. Your dad was expecting even more from you, but you had other plans. You had seen Spider-Man head into the Daily Bugle. Parker worked there, but he wasn’t in. Figures. A freaky snake lady was, though. She was about to venomize this chick. Without thinking, you had thrown yourself into her, both of you tumbling through the mayhem. Spider-Man warned you to keep your head down, so you did… with Betty. Her name was Betty. Betty Brant.
ANGER
You don’t even remember graduating. A blip on memory lane, it seemed. That part didn’t matter. Being with Betty was all you thought about then… still do. You were happy together. When you were with her, your dad being… your dad, felt that much further away. You felt like you could take on the world. You could do better than sports. Betty had helped you see that. She didn’t think that meant you had to enlist in the military. But what else were you supposed to do? You had always wanted to serve. You knew that veterans were respected in this country. What was so hard to understand? Betty understood. She wouldn’t have agreed to let you go if she didn’t.
Training for football, with your dad and with the various coaches, had been hell. You pushed your impressive body to its limits then. Army boot camp was so much more than that. You needed to be the best of the best. There was no room for slacking off or thinking you were the best (though it wasn’t something you thought. It was something you knew.). You kept your nose to the grindstone. You made a few friends. But just a few. The Army wasn’t like school, after all. Everyone here was just like you - they wanted to be the best. There wasn’t time for you to get too chummy. Not when you were going to Qurac.
You knew it was somewhere in the Middle East. You knew it put up with a lot of crap from the countries around it. You didn’t know why you were there, and you didn’t rightly care. The Army needed you, and you weren’t going to disappoint. Your squadmates, either. They were here too. They were a unit, sure, but you weren’t going to play fuck-fuck games with people who couldn’t take a joke, or worse, focus on the mission. The only other person there who seemed to agree with you was a no-nonsense merc from outside their outfit. He knew what he was doing. Somehow, he knew what was going to happen.
It was a mission out at some ruins. What kind of ruins? You didn’t really know, or care. The only thing that mattered was that the target was there. They would go in on chopper, take out the leader of some rebel cell, chopper out. You thought it’d be easy. But then- what happened, happened. Something about blips down memory lane. You knew it hadn’t been good, whatever it had been. Maybe there was a reason the terrorists were hiding out in that cave. Tomb? Too much was a blur. What wasn’t a blur was when you saw the helicopter roll through the air like a fighter jet… and there wasn’t anyone in the pilot seat. At least it had missed you. You didn’t feel anything from those helicopter blades when they did that flyby Then you looked down. Your legs were about twenty yards that way.
BARGAINING
There were too many gaps. Either this part was another convenient blip, or you had genuinely lost time. The latter might have been preferable. Better yet, if you hadn’t woken up again. Waking up to seeing Betty standing over your
For a while, you didn’t go anywhere. Why would you? It didn’t matter what Betty said. You couldn’t get work. The V.A. never sent you any compensation or anything for what you suffered. And forget about the civilian sector. No one was going to hire an invalid drunk. She didn’t like it when you called yourself that, but it was the truth. She didn’t like it when you drank, either. Of course. You were your father’s son, after all. One more thing that you couldn’t fix about yourself. Still, she stayed with you. Cared for you. None of it made any sense. You didn’t push her away. You didn’t try to. You just didn’t know what to do. Betty always knew what to do. You couldn’t call it unfair. She just deserved better than someone like you. Thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about you for long. A letter eventually came in the mail. It was… the military? They… they wanted you back.
You couldn’t believe your luck. Betty couldn’t believe it, either. She tried to talk you out of these tests they wanted you to do. It was crazy. Out of the blue. Why talk to you now when they hadn’t cared about you before? You couldn’t understand why any of that mattered. This was an opportunity for you now. A chance to be something. Betty… didn’t want that. It didn’t make any sense to you. You were going, and that was that. Waiting outside with your things was… hard. But, you had made the right decision. You knew you had. You were going to walk again. The letter said so.
There were so many tests. You can’t remember them all. You can’t even remember most of them. There was only pain left. It was all experimental, hush hush. Technically, these trials could kill you. You didn’t care. If it worked, you were going to be better than ever before. They said you would become the next Captain America. Dad would have to admit that you had become something worthwhile. And if you didn’t make it… Sweet release was better than going on like this. Either way, you got what you wanted. And in the end… we did.
Once the shrinks and suits were confident that everything was right, they immediately set us to work. We fought twenty men at once, all of them certified Navy SEALs. None of them laid a finger on us, we were too fast, too cunning. We didn’t even know the meaning of that word before. With this alien thing inside us, we could do anything. We even got to meet people from the Protectorate, the B.P.R.D., and other agencies that we had never even heard of, that we were going to be working with; but not as Flash Thompson. As a part of the paperwork that we had signed, Flash was officially dead to the world. Now, we were VENOM.
We went on dozens of missions, all of them around the world, all of them top secret. They called the outfit Task Force X. We had never heard of such a thing when we were in the Army, and we understood why. Most of these “heroes” were just dressed-up psychopaths that had gotten strongarmed into doing Uncle Sam’s bidding. After what had happened to us in Qurac, forcing people like this to do some good work for a change sounded like a proper change of pace. We didn’t get to know anyone. We didn’t want to. There was only one person on our minds, and we had left her behind. We had been told that we could tell one and only one person that we were doing okay. That we were alive. Who else could we tell but Betty? We didn’t say anything about what had happened to us, or what we were doing now. As far as she knew, we had started doing work for the V.A. as an advocate traveling abroad. We couldn’t say too much about what we were doing or where we were. She understood, even though we never came home to visit her, or talk to her in person. Everyone was happier this way. We had become something better. Sure, according to the labcoats, we were a monster, but we were a monster that made the world safer. Flash Thompson never did that.
"I didn't come here to give you the opportunity to talk to me. You don't have the courage to talk to me face-to-face so you don't get to talk to me face-to-face. You get to listen."
DEPRESSION
Years pass. Everything is going fine. Betty thinks we’re working for the V.A. We’re killing people that don’t deserve to live. We’re keeping America safe. Then, Betty calls us. We were never in Anaheim. She checked. She demands we come home. So… we do. We don’t get a word in edgewise. We don’t try to. It was her time to talk. She was right. The thing inside us screams in rebuttal. It doesn’t matter what it thinks. That was the end of that. One more thing that Flash Thompson can’t have. The grilling that we get from brass is almost worse. They threatened to wipe our family off the map to prevent any more leaks. We almost wish they did. Instead, they ship us off to the place all careers go to die. Brockton Bay, Massachusetts.
Venom was put on a much tighter leash. We could only walk when the handler said so. Most of our work was in a civilian capacity now. Flash Thompson was the new P.E. teacher at Winslow. A cripple in a wheelchair, teaching what we couldn’t enjoy for ourselves. Karma was cruel. We kept tabs on the criminal activity in the city, which was to say everything that happened in the city. Our new living situation was a quiet apartment. The only person there that gave us the time of day was one of our P.E. students. Good kid… bit of a punk, though.
They did let us walk the beat every now and again, though. They had to. This city was more broken than anywhere else in the country. Even more broken than Gotham. This place didn’t have any heroes. Not really. All it had were monsters. We were right where we belonged. We brought down plenty of monsters where we could… and then there was Jack O’Lantern. He was Black Mask’s pet in Brockton. We never questioned what the Maggia was doing here, or why. They were just one more monster to kill. Just a freak with a pumpkin for a head. What could he do? It was one of our worst mistakes. He sent us packing - worse, he followed us home. Nearly killed us. He didn’t… but he did take a consolation prize. Maybe they had always been the target. It didn’t matter. That punk kid… what was her name? Andi. That night Andi had to go to sleep without a father, or a mother. Worse, Jack got away.
We tried to fix our mistakes, but Uncle Sam had had enough of that. Typical. We never get to do anything right unless the man upstairs gives the stamp. Why had we joined the military in the first place? None of this was right. That only became more clear when Andi stopped showing up to school. It was more than hooky. On a rare chance, we took ourselves out on the town. We found Andi, but she was… like us. We couldn’t think about the how, or the why. We owed it to this girl to make sure she didn’t get herself killed. That was our job. After a week of playing cat & mouse with Black Mask, it ended with us blowing that skull-faced freak into a million pieces. We had made sure of that. No Jack… but it was a start.
None of this had been on the bingo card. We were out, plain and simple. They couldn’t separate us, but we sure as hell weren’t going to be doing anything like that again without someone looking over our shoulder - someone who could actually keep up with us. Forget about Andi. It was a miracle that she didn’t make it onto the reports. We must have made too much of an impression. That was fine by us. She got her closure. She needed to go back to her life. But us? Where else could we go but back home? That was the order, anyway. Go crawling back to New York. Wait for the next mission. We were too tired to say no.
ACCEPTANCE
Here we are. Back where we started. New beginnings, old endings. It was time to… there was something we needed to do. We knew what it was, we just- Forget it. We don’t need to do this part.
Role Play Sample:
(This scene took place within Andi and Flash’s history and is canon to the roleplay.)
Flash landed on the rooftop. Hard. That went badly. Really badly, actually. He could still feel where that thing had gotten him. Even with the symbiote, his body was screaming. It wouldn't be able to support him for much longer. His legs wobbled as he rose to his feet. Crack Damnit. He was going to feel that tomorrow.
"Ig- Ignore it. Just, get to our room. You can complain when we're on the couch."
He grimaced under the mask. The menacing form parted, retreating to allow the man beneath to start limping towards the fire escape as he truly was. It was raining hard. No one heard that, right? Who'd be up at 3 am anyway?
".... Coach Thompson?"
Damnit. Damnit, why did this have to happen now? And with Andi, at that? He was in no state to refuse her help, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to push her away. But how was he supposed to explain this? He didn’t have time to come up with an answer. She ran over to him, sopping wet. "What the hell happened to you - how did you get up here?... You're bleeding."
"No... no shit." Flash tried to get up, but it was an exercise in futility. He quickly grabbed the part of his body that was bleeding - the stomach. That wasn't even the worst part.
"Look, we can play nurse inside. Think- urk..." There was that pain in his side, his head... everywhere. Flash sighed. What did she think of him now? "Think you could get your Coach down the stairs?"
”Y-yeah… I think so.” Whatever Andi was thinking, she didn’t waste any time in helping him… as much as she could, anyway. She was a teenage girl trying to help a man nearly twice her size. "If this is some big, twisted ploy to get me to stop skipping gym, it's not gonna work.” Great, she’s got jokes.
"That ship has sailed, kid." Maybe she did care. He almost pointed out out where his room was, but by now she knows where it is. They saw each other at least twice a day, for... how long had he been here?
Irrelevant.
Flash awkwardly fishes his key out of his drenched pants pocket. Then, he dropped it. "Shit. Fuck." Grumbling, he steadied himself completely against the wall so he could reach down with his other arm. He nearly fell down through this whole stunt, but he managed to pick it up and try again.
Of course it worked after that. Flash swung the door open, and, with Andi’s assistance, he didn't waste any time getting inside. He was too exhausted to even notice some of the guns, knives, technical equipment haphazardly stashed around corners and under furniture. All he can focus on was plopping onto the couch with a solid thunk. It was Brockton quality, but it was better than the floor.
For a while, Flash just lay there, eyes closed. He can't take in anything but the new, marginal comfort. Eyes closed, chest slowly rising and falling. For a second, he forgets he's bleeding. Then he opens his eyes, searching Andi's face. Now what?
Oh, right.
“Th-" Flash coughs, hard. There isn't blood. Yet. "Thanks for the assist."
"Ig- Ignore it. Just, get to our room. You can complain when we're on the couch."
He grimaced under the mask. The menacing form parted, retreating to allow the man beneath to start limping towards the fire escape as he truly was. It was raining hard. No one heard that, right? Who'd be up at 3 am anyway?
".... Coach Thompson?"
Damnit. Damnit, why did this have to happen now? And with Andi, at that? He was in no state to refuse her help, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to push her away. But how was he supposed to explain this? He didn’t have time to come up with an answer. She ran over to him, sopping wet. "What the hell happened to you - how did you get up here?... You're bleeding."
"No... no shit." Flash tried to get up, but it was an exercise in futility. He quickly grabbed the part of his body that was bleeding - the stomach. That wasn't even the worst part.
"Look, we can play nurse inside. Think- urk..." There was that pain in his side, his head... everywhere. Flash sighed. What did she think of him now? "Think you could get your Coach down the stairs?"
”Y-yeah… I think so.” Whatever Andi was thinking, she didn’t waste any time in helping him… as much as she could, anyway. She was a teenage girl trying to help a man nearly twice her size. "If this is some big, twisted ploy to get me to stop skipping gym, it's not gonna work.” Great, she’s got jokes.
"That ship has sailed, kid." Maybe she did care. He almost pointed out out where his room was, but by now she knows where it is. They saw each other at least twice a day, for... how long had he been here?
Irrelevant.
Flash awkwardly fishes his key out of his drenched pants pocket. Then, he dropped it. "Shit. Fuck." Grumbling, he steadied himself completely against the wall so he could reach down with his other arm. He nearly fell down through this whole stunt, but he managed to pick it up and try again.
Of course it worked after that. Flash swung the door open, and, with Andi’s assistance, he didn't waste any time getting inside. He was too exhausted to even notice some of the guns, knives, technical equipment haphazardly stashed around corners and under furniture. All he can focus on was plopping onto the couch with a solid thunk. It was Brockton quality, but it was better than the floor.
For a while, Flash just lay there, eyes closed. He can't take in anything but the new, marginal comfort. Eyes closed, chest slowly rising and falling. For a second, he forgets he's bleeding. Then he opens his eyes, searching Andi's face. Now what?
Oh, right.
“Th-" Flash coughs, hard. There isn't blood. Yet. "Thanks for the assist."
