Cameron Oosthuizen - Crimson Raven
League of Twelve
4500 Beach 45th St, Coney Island, Brooklyn Borough, New York
April 11th 2022, 5:31 AM
The sound of rattling glass, shaking furniture, and loose sheets being thrown around the room was among the first sounds her ears registered, having subconsciously pushed herself upright in to a sitting position. The sounds of her phone blaring across the room was mixed with everything else, in a reminder to change her ring tone and either an alert that someone was calling or that she had set an alarm she had forgotten about.
In a mildly adrenaline fueled haze, the woman levitated herself out of bed and landed next to her dresser with a soft thump. Picking up her phone, a number of wounds began aching as consciousness finally caught up to her muscle and skin instead of just her brain.
Bringing the phone up to her ear she was reminded of the half dozen butterfly stitches she had pressed on to that side of her head the night before, "Hello?"
A robotic voice responded, "Hello. We've been trying to reach you about your car's extend-"
"Oh, fuck off." the woman unceremoniously hung up and tossed her phone back on to her dresser.
Rubbing her head she opened her eyes and turned towards her bed, and frowned at the mass amount of blood on it... and became aware that it was also coating her back. A cursory examination revealed it was from a bullet wound on her back she didn't properly deal with, rather than an incredibly early period.
A few steps proved to be more painful than it was worth it so the superhero levitated across the upper floor of her house to the bathroom. Craning around to spot the only partially healed hole on her back, she frowned. Sighing, she grabbed a pair of forceps from a tin full of barbasol and rather abruptly shoved it in to the wound, feeling metal on metal about half an inch in. Grasping it, she yanked it out with a ripple of pain through her body, groaning in pain.
Bringing it around to get a better look, she recognised the .44 Magnum round. One of now three she missed last night, the other two having struck her in the left tricep and lat. She tossed the round in to an empty coffee tin set on the counter and grabbed a rag to press in to the wound. It'd be fully healed in maybe a couple of hours, scabbed over in 20 minutes, considering it was partially healed by the time she yanked the thing out. Cameron had dealt with digging out healed over bullets before, it wasn't fun.
Turning back to face the mirror, she took in the few other wounds she had received last night. The slash across the right side of her head, had healed for the most part, besides being a bit pink. A full depth stab wound that caught her blindsided had gone through the whole of her left firearm, that too was healing well. The welts and bruises from being rattled by a trio of 3D printed fully automatic rifles were still barely visible, but compared to the weeping sores they left last night, it was a major improvement. Her left thigh was still on the tail end of the brown-yellow stage, thanks to the 10 gauge deer slug that nearly blew a hole in to her femur.
She was thankful to Anthony that the suit he made her was self healing, because she sure as shit couldn't sew whatever it was made of. Pulling the rag away she cast a glance and noticed the blood on it was starting to gel, and so tossed it in to a pile beside the bathtub. Walking back out, her phone started yelling again.
Making her way over, she picked it up and answered, "Hello?"
The reverberating gravel she knew as Alexander came from the other end, "You were out again last night, weren't you?"
She sighed, Alex was always exceedingly good at discerning how someone was based on how they talked, or breathed, "Yeah. Would it kill you to use your phone like a normal person?"
"It's less likely to be damaged when it's embedded in my chest."
"It also make you sound like you smoke 2 packs a day. How are things?"
She could almost hear the man nod, "Good. Anthony supposedly has a meeting up in Detroit, Arthur supposedly has gone off to Germany for... some reason."
"One?"
"One doesn't have a phone. But if we haven't heard of the Academy being nuked, he's fine."
"Right, and how about you?" The doorbell rang in response, "Right, let me get dressed."
Setting the phone down and closing her bedroom door, she could hear the front door being unlocked and the half a ton man step in as he did his usual thing of making a key out of bone on the spot.
A few minutes later and both were in the kitchen, the TV silently turning out the morning news. Osteo's bone plating had been pelled back along his head partially for a more personal conversation, and partially because of cookies. It was a grim appearance, since any form of melanin, carotene, and chromataphores were a waste of resources, the man's squishy skin was translucent, and his eye sockets retained their one way orange coating.
"The South Americans got thrashed a few weeks back. Not a lot of them left."
Cameron swallowed, more wondering if she should add more flour for the next batch, "We know who did it?"
"No, best the local gov could do was a rough description. If I didn't know any better I'd say they were describing me, except I don't have antlers. They said it fled though."
"Probably another one of Apocalypse's experiments." she shook her head, "I'm fucking astounded that we're still finding his old hideouts."
Alexander shrugged, "Say what you will about the man, he certainly had a plan despite what people think. Makes you wonder about why he attacked San Fransisco the way he did."
Crimson's ear caught something on the TV, as did Osteo. Both shared a look, it was go time.