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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Li·a·bil·i·ty /ˌlīəˈbilədē/ noun a person or thing whose presence or behavior is likely to cause embarrassment or put one at a disadvantage.
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[ Russia 1986 ]
SLOWLY, I SLIPPED my shirt back on. Gideon patched me up with her futuristic voodoo medication. I gently applied a single pad of gauze to the healing skin. Tapping the edges, I scoffed at how seamlessly the wound already began to heal. Like magic. Wandering away from the medbay and into my room, I tugged on a jacket. Securing it shut with the zipper and followed the chatter in the hallway. The voice lead me to the bridge. With a groan, I walked through the bulkheads.
"Called a team meeting without me?" I hummed through a wince.
"Miss. Luna, you should be—"
"Resting? No thank you." I sidestepped a set of chairs, finding some relief after taking a seat. "Half the teams gone, I was shot, and you left us out to dry... I'm right where I need to be."
A glimmer of grief reflected in Rip's eyes. He nervously tucked his hands into his pockets, his head dropping as he spoke, "Well you can put your worries aside, our next mission is to get our compatriots back from Vostok."
"Who's to say they aren't already dead?" Kendra wondered, her head swiveling with Rip as he walked.
"They need Stein alive," I mumbled from my seat, "We have the thermal core— they'll need help re-building it."
"And the others? Ray and Rory?" Jax asked.
"Savage will keep them alive too." Speculated Rip.
"Yeah," I scoffed. "As leverage, maybe. They're expendable to him." I grumbled, shaking my head at the captain's idiocy and inability to form a solid plan.
"He'll torture them if Stein tried to hold out," Sara added, her arms crossing over her chest.
"Well, we'll have to pray that he does," Rip muttered hopefully.
With an unamused grumble, I shifted my placement in the uncomfortable chairs. Tucking myself deeper into them, I scoffed at Rip, "We'll have to do a lot more than that."
"More to share, Miss. Luna?" He quipped, irritated.
"I have plenty to share, English."
He bit the corner of his cheek, sighing heavily. Rolling off my comments, he looked down at the core. The sphere sat in its box, taunting him. Years ago I would have called this a successful outing. Got away— most of us anyways. The mission always comes first... but at what cost. Who do we leave behind in the process?
