fandomhigh | All Across the Island, Sunday Morning through Afternoon

All Across the Island, Sunday Morning through Afternoon

The time for a final strike had finally arrived. The prisoners of detention had been freed, powers and abilities had been returned, and all that remained was Umbridge, and her still-faithful Loyalists.

It was time to pick a side, and bring Umbridge's reign to an end.

[The OCD is up, have at it! If you would like to add your own OCD below in any of the threads, or link posts of your own in appropriate spots, feel free to do so. A post for celebratory aftermath will go up a little later, and then Fandom Island will be back to normal!]

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"I'm a weapon, I'm a killer. Just as she always accused me of being."

They'd taken her. They'd taken her and they'd used Imperio on her, and he'd broken her heart. He'd told her that he couldn't be with her, not so long as she was Umbridge's pawn. But really, what did he have to lose, now?

He was in the only place he belonged any more.

"Would you have me be anything less?"

"Less?" Kennedy crossed her arms and gave him the scathing look she'd always reserved for her most trying students or anyone who'd disappointed her in some way or another. "Seriously? 'cause I have to say, I'm a little let down."

She shrugged and held her hands up. "I mean, hey. If that's what you want to be, go right ahead. You'll just have to go through me to go after any of them."

A small smile pulled at his lips, then, at the sight of her holding up her hands.

"Ah."

In a way, it was a relief, to know that she had been on the other side all along. Still, if Karla was under the effects of Imperio, he would cleave anybody in two who would lay a finger on her, if they managed to break through.

"And if I decide to simply go over you, instead of through? As far as I can recall, you can't fly, Kennedy."

"You can't do this, you can't do that, blah blah blah." Kennedy could still feel the bulk of her miniature crossbow against her back, and she trusted her speed to let her grab it in time if she had to.

She really hoped she didn't have to.

"Guys are always telling me what I can't do, and you know what? Hey, there was that old cocky grin of hers: not the smug one laced with too much power-tripping, but the one that was carefree and eager even if it was overconfident. "I have so learned to do more than just compensate."

Warren gave his wings a stretch, long and languid and deceptively lazy, though there was no small amount of menace in the gesture. His wings were made of blades. He would use them if he felt he had to, there was to be no mistake about that.

"You can shout threats at me from the ground all you like," he mused, sounding almost bored at the prospect, "but you're still on the ground. You look a bit like an ant down there, actually. Most of your people do."

Oh, the threat in that stretch did not escape Kennedy's attention. She just didn't care enough to be scared.

"The thing about ants is they might be tiny, but they're a pain in the ass." She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging. "And it's funny, you know? You're just hanging out up there. Out of ant-squashing range. Kind of like you don't want to come down, huh?"

"And miss the show?" Warren cocked an eyebrow at Kennedy, and then shrugged his shoulders, metal feathers scraping against one another behind him. "If you insist."

It was quick, that one fluid motion that sent him from his perch into the air, and then from there into a dive, aimed directly for Kennedy.

It'd been a while since she'd had this kind of challenge. The part where this was someone she used to think of as a friend pretty much blew, but that was the way it went around here.

There it was-- the old, familiar rush of adrenaline that came with a fight. She'd missed being able to indulge in that while she'd been under the curse.

So she waited until the absolute last possible second, then threw herself backward and kicked out at him.

And that kick connected with his shoulder at about the same moment that Warren flared his wings, coming out of the dive in a flurry of razors and a snarl of rage. He righted himself before his feet so much as hit the ground, and then once they had, he straightened, keeping those lethal wingtips pointed toward her.

That kick had hurt.

For a moment.

Hey, it was an actual challenge. Moreover, it was a chance to keep him occupied for a while.

"Not bad," Kennedy told him as she popped back up to her feet. "Love the wings, by the way. Nice and shiny."

Kennedy, don't taunt the guy with the arsenal of poisonous blades.

"The best that Stark technology can provide," Warren replied, keeping his expression carefully schooled and those blades trained on her. "They'll be all the rage, someday."

You know, prosthetic wings to replace limbs lost in horrific clashes of magic against mutant.

"Would you like a closer look, perhaps?"

One wing lashed out toward her, while he kept the other curled forward, a sheet of metal protecting a body that had a healing factor to keep it going regardless of the bruises and flesh wounds that he might receive.

The strike was half-hearted, at best. Warren himself still wasn't too keen on attacking someone that he'd once considered a friend.

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All Across the Island, Sunday Morning through Afternoon

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