An unlikely group of misfits... that's what the Legends are. A group of nine individuals gathered together to defeat an immortal tyrant by the name of Vandal Savage.
Rip Hunter, a Time Master from the future, plucked Xiomara "Xo" Luna out of her tim...
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Crashlanding /ˌkraSHˈlandiNG/ noun an act of bringing an aircraft to the ground roughly in an emergency, typically without lowering the landing gear.
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SMOKE.
All around. Pillowing. Disappearing. Reappearing. Leaping me from place to place. Completely terrifying at first. Then oddly freeing. Bouncing off the cement walls, dark clouds fogged the square cell.
Fear bellowed in my gut, sinking me to the ground. Hot tears blurred my vision and I sunk into the corner, clawing at the cool material. Blood trickled from my skin, the pain only numbing my fear.
Life in a concrete prison. A child locked away with other kids, used and disposed of like a paper cup. Not a safe haven as promised, but an experiment expected to fail.
"Knowledge is only gained through discovery. And discovery sometimes requires risk."
Slice— deep and precise. Medications and chemical compounds pumped into me, altering cells on a molecular level. A living success— no miracles here. A machine, to utilize in the evolution of humanity.
"Xiomara."
Shivering. Cowering. Cold. Numbed nerves. Half-lidded eyes attempting to stay open. A car crash. Head rush. Blood. Broken glass. Upside down. Twisting. Turning. Blinking rapidly. Smoke licked at my feet, billowing around my crouched body. Safe.
Six feet away from the transport vehicle. Quivering legs carried me to the smashed doors. Prying open the hinges, muffled calls for help. Desperate. Gone.
I remembered more— a face. Small and fearful. Eyes closed. Loud noises. Banging. Clanking. Then awake.
Gasping loudly, I woke in a pool of my sweat. Shifting until I was sitting upright, I lazily dragged a tired hand down my face. Closing my eyes for a second, I calmed my quick beating heart.
"Gideon," I grumbled, "Open my secure file— entry code 4987."
File accessed. What can I help you with Miss. Luna?
"Update sleep log."
Done.
"Recording entry."
Ready when you are.
Leaning forward, I inhaled deeply. I was quiet for a few moments, my thumbs massaging at my temples. Groaning slightly, I began to recant the broken memories in my dream. Documenting them was the only way I could piece together pre-existing memories. My brain has been programmed since I was 7... moments of my life before Cygnus stolen from me.
