freak ࿂ suicide squad

15 ࿂ screaming

When Zolita woke up, everyone was gone. The injury she sustained from being shot point blank in the head had also vanished, leaving behind nothing but more blood and gold lingering on her skin. The Latina groaned as she sat up, blinking harshly to adjust to her surroundings.

     There was a puddle of blood beneath her, which matted in her brunette hair. Zolita briefly ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to cut through the knotted locks, but was unsuccessful and quickly gave up. Instead, she balanced her weight against the ground and rose to her full height.

     "Shit," groaned the Latina as she stumbled slightly. She was much weaker than usual, which was surprising considering that this whole trip had strengthened her powers. Zolita was extremely dizzy as she stumbled to the bar, grabbing the abandoned bottle of whiskey. She immediately tilted the bottle back and chugged.

After a few moments, she pulled the bottle away from her mouth and aimlessly poured it over her face. The Latina then used her bloody fingers to rub the alcohol further into her skin and clean the abundance of blood and gold that was caked into her pores. She then poured some whiskey over her chest, and the liquid dipped between the Latina's breasts and leaked through her shirt.

The attempt at cleaning herself was only slightly successful, seeing as grime still lingered on the edges of her face and in the dip of her collarbones. Zolita, however, barely had any time to compose herself considering she had to go and find the group. She figured that they had gone to fight the witch: the Enchantress. She also assumed that the witch had started to drain her powers rather than enhance them. Zolita absentmindedly wondered if this was intentional or accidental.

     The walk to where the Enchantress was felt longer than ever, especially since Zolita could barely stand on her own. She felt as though the weight of the world was dragging her body down, and she had to fight against every instinct to just stop. She couldn't stop. She was covered in whiskey and sweat and blood and her skin was on fire and her head was pounding and she needed to-

"No!" Zolita yells out, scolding herself. She then repeats the world again, quieter this time. "No..."

The Latina could tell she was close to the Enchantress through the energy pulsing through the sky. While it was not visible, it teased Zolita's skin and tickled her brain. She knew it was there, and she foolishly grasped the air like she could grab energy with her bare hands.

     When she entered the building, the first thing she noticed was the overwhelming feeling of death. It radiated outwards and wrapped itself around Zolita, pulling her closer and closer to the Enchantress.

     "Ah! Step out of the darkness, my child," spoke the Enchantress, her voice light and floaty in the vast room.

     Zolita took several steps forward, focusing most of her weight on each column she passed. Gold handprints stained themselves against the white marble. "What are you doing to me?"

     "I gave you power without knowing it, my child. Now I am taking it away," the Enchantress twitched as she spoke, her body moving erratically. Zolita looked to her left and noticed that the rest of the group was still in hiding, seemingly in a trance.

     "You didn't give me anything," argued Zolita, pressing her whole back against the marble column. She let out a deep breath as she grasped tightly onto the pole, holding herself upright.

     "The gold within you was once within me," the Enchantress claimed, her head twitching awkwardly to the side and pressing against her shoulder. The witch's eyes shone gold as she said that, as if to make a point.