"You blew up nearly half the city!" Locks' reminded, running their hand through their hair, shaking the leftover dust onto the floor of the club.
Cookie, already sitting on the corner of her desk and winding a gauze around a rather deep cut on her bicep, nodded slightly.
They had just returned from Chicago, Cookie having burst in the door of the club three weeks ago, catching Locks' in the middle of a game of darts, and saying she was craving Chicago-style deep dish pizza, and jazz music. Then, off they went, rounding up their best, and taking a plane to Chicago, so easy it was as if they were buying groceries.
The end fight between the raining Mafia boss there and the heroes that had shown up in an attempt to apprehend them was novel-worthy and eventually ended with Cookie blowing up the local Star Labs. Really they only blew up the harbour and few deserted blocks, merely setting fire to half the city.
Cookie held the gauze between her teeth to pull it taught, fastening it down and looking back at Locks', "I regret nothing."
YOU ARE READING
OTP Prompts But Its COATS And Mostly Platonic
Short StoryBite-sized OTP prompts with COATS By Cookie
