ARGH, frick nutters!
Where did my writing go?
I KNOW I wrote a scene with Mario and Amy in the gym, and I KNOW I started the Robin/Raven conflict except it was sucking...really badly.
And I think that was where I stopped writing...but none of it seems to be here.
--
AHA!
Knew it was somewhere.
Yay, it's like you guys get an update, only, like...without the me having to write one. 'Cuz I already did. Months ago.
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After a few minutes, Mario entered the weight room, expecting it to be uninhabited. He was surprised, however, when he saw a thin-framed girl on her back doing bench presses. As he approached, he smiled in amusement, watching her struggle to lift the weights up with her skinny arms. Her face was oily, and sweat dripped from her slicked bangs of disheveled pink. In such a position, the fresh scar on her neck was easily noticeable. She grunted and groaned, forcing as much strength into her arms as she could, pushing and pushing upward. Her emerald eyes burned with determination—a determination that was distinctly reminiscent of the night before. When her arms were finally stretched out, she bared the pain, her entire body trembling. With an exasperated gasp, she let the barbells come crashing down onto the supporters above her, landing safely above her chest. With that ‘clang,’ she was done, and moaned out, rubbing her aching arms as she panted from the exertion.
“Ya let it come down slow—better for your arms.” Mario chuckled at her and shook his head, which received a frustrated growl from below—like a child huffing at her parent.
Mario took a seat on a bench near the wall to Amy’s right and scooped up a sturdy barbell, working out his biceps as he began his mechanical work. His arm moved like a slow piston—up, down, up, down—and Amy stared for a few moments in silence, almost hypnotized by the steady motion. She shook it off like a cat clinging to her back and slowly raised her body up from the padded bench. A slow, tired movement of her arm shifted over her forehead, collecting sweat and removing it. She shook some drops off of her wrist and took a deep sigh, glaring at Mario with rebellious discomfort. She couldn’t see his eyes, though, as his head was tilted down, and his cap’s brim cast a shadow over his brilliant eyes of blue.
Up…down…up…down.
His arm pumped with rhythmic force, and Amy watched the muscles in his arm contract and loosen. That cat was still clinging to her back, its claws stuck in her. Instead of shaking it off this time, she gently removed it.
“I’m sorry.”
The words did not spill from her lips with ease like water from a bucket, but were released like molasses from a colander. The tensed arm that had been lifting weights froze for a moment, then slowly unwound, resting the barbell in its owner’s lap. The opposite arm tipped the red cap up slightly, and Mario’s sapphire eyes received Amy’s hard, prickly glare.
“I should’ve thought things through before I acted like a dumb-****…”
A nonchalant “heh” slipped into Amy’s ears, and she watched that sly smirk form on his face.
“But you didn’t think first,” Mario concluded, his head tilting to the side in acknowledgement to his own comment.
Amy felt her insides bubble up with crude frustration, and she felt like digging her nails into a chalkboard. What the hell? Why the **** did she even bother apologizing in the first place? She shouldn’t have even—
“You didn’t think because you can’t control your anger, just as you can’t right now.”
This swift smack in her head paralyzed Amy, releasing her body from its tightened state. Her arms loosened, her clenched fists unwound, and her grit teeth were relieved. Something about those words had grabbed her brain and given it a good throw down. She couldn’t place exactly why, but they had. Mario delivered a bit more prattling, shifting his weight to the other arm and repeating the pumping process with the left.
“You can’t explain it, but you get pissed off really easily. Inside, you’re angry all the time, at everything, and you don’t know why.”
The pink-haired girl couldn’t look him straight in the eye as he said these words, averting her gaze to her red boots—they were loose boots of red with a white stripe running down the center. As she admired the white stripe, tapping the boots together with anxious impatience, Mario finished, amused by the reaction. He wasn’t surprised, of course, but amused, nonetheless.
“Don’t worry too much about it—it’s no shocker, given your condition. But you’ve gotta learn to control it better. If you let that anger out at the right time, you’re golden.” He rolled his eyes as he struggled to look her in the face, but was only able to see slick bangs. “Hey—chin up.”
Amy’s face jolted up just enough so that her fierce gaze met his icy calm expression.
“It’s no big, Rose. We’ve all got our problems, ya know.” Mario finished his brief arm exercise and stretched his limbs out over his shoulders. In mid-groan, he added with nonchalance, “Maybe if you stopped looking so pissy all the time, you’d be a step ahead…You’re cute when you’re pissed, but you’re cuter when you’re kind.”
Stupid ***-wipe. He thinks I’m pissy? Ohhh, I’m show him pissy. I’ll shatter his jaw—
“It’s all about attitude. If you dwell on your anger, that’ll only make it worse.”
Amy had been so lost in her own irate mind that she hadn’t noticed how the capped one was now on his back on the floor, feet pinched beneath the bench he had been sitting on. With his arms tucked over his shoulders, he executed a smooth series of sit-ups, continuing the conversation with no thought of it.
“See, problem is, you have more natural anger in you right now than you’re used to; that’s ok. As long as you can harness it, like I said, it’s all good. So get to work on it, eh?”
Amy forced back her pouting frown, maintaining a neutral—and very blank—stare. Was he telling her to go through anger management? Psh, whatever. What the hell did HE know, anyway? He acted all high and mighty, like he knew everything about her, but he didn’t know ****. She oughtta kick his ***, and—
OK. Deep breath…all right. I’m NOT angry. I’m not angry. I can do this. I can DO this. ‘More natural anger?’ What did he mean by that? I mean, I DO feel like I’m more pissed off than I SHOULD be, but…Why is that? ****it! He knows, doesn’t he? Why isn’t he telling me? Why is he being such an *** about it?
“Because it’s what you need right now.” That’s what he’d tell her. Wait…isn’t that what he just said? Like, out of the blue, just now? Her piercing eyes of green glared at him, emitting waves of doubt and suspicion.
Can you read my mind?
“When I want to…Sort of,” he corrected in a mumble. “Kinda.”
Why?
“Wish I knew. Been creepin’ me the hell out lately.”
Amy paused, her brain stirring the mush of ideas and thoughts around like mashed potatoes. They didn’t turn out too fluffy when she was done—still plenty of chunkiness to it.
Do you know why we’re here?
Mario, still as casual as ever, jumped to his feet and carelessly pumped out some jumping jacks. “I do,” he replied to Amy’s pondering, leaving it to dry like a raisin.
“WHY?” Amy growled out impatiently.
Mario’s routine sputtered to a halt, a wind up toy whose key was reaching the end of its cycle. When he finally was still, his rough thumb flicked the brim of his cap up an inch, and like a man of the ol’ west, he leaned against the wall behind him, arms thoughtfully crossed over his chest.
“You really wanna know, huh?” he murmured, his left brow creaking up a couple centimeters. His eyes twinkled with mystery, alluring Amy’s head to nod. She bobbed her head with care, however, almost afraid at what answers may await her.
The tension in Mario’s smirk sealed it for her, and nagged at her patience all the more, reeling her in. How did he know about all of this? Once she got an answer about the cause of this whole mess, she could finally get down to—
“Don’t feel like tellin’ you just yet.”
Amy’s mind was shattered, and shrapnel was careening out in all directions.
“…Excuse me?” she hissed out, eyes narrowing. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t gonna get off that easy. If he didn’t explain to her what he knew, she was gonna castrate him, and then—
“See what I mean?” Mario calmly pointed out, tapping his index finger at her forehead while she snarled. “Gotta work on that anger issue. We don’t want another situation like last night, now, do we?” A condescending glance was all Amy needed to calm down. She ran her fingers across the inch-long scar on her neck and was drawn back to that moment the night before.
“A true warrior fights with his mind, heart, and body—not just his fists or his sword,” Mario muttered with a pensive nod, shoving his hands into his gaping pockets.
“Yea…” Amy admitted in a forced grumble.
****it! I’m getting showed up by a loony dressed up like a plumber…Then again…maybe I’m the loony…
Her self-doubt was interrupted by a slap on her back that eased her to her feet.
“You got two of those three aced,” he commented. “Now you need to work on the third one.” He grinned as he jabbed his finger into her head. She shoved it away, a small smile sliding into her expression.
“You eaten breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“Well you should, ‘cuz you need to make sure the guys know my pancakes are the best.”
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The air was fresh and cool, the spices of autumn drifting through her nostrils and tickling her soul. Oh, man, did it feel so good! After being cooped up in a dark room full of computers for so long, this was a brisk refreshment. And it was so different, going outside just…to go outside. She wasn’t out on a mission to steal anything…she wasn’t worrying about making sure things ran smoothly…She was just here to enjoy here.
The wooden bench was a bit hard against her bony body, but she was enjoying the atmosphere too much to notice.
The sky was a pale palette of bluish gray in the early afternoon, and the sun was up in the sky, not glaring down, but drearily staring. Jynx caught a glance of a flock of geese rising from a brief break at the pond in the distance. They ascended from the pool in a flurry, spraying feathers in their wake, and soon enough, they were ordered into their mighty formation.
The sound of a dog’s bark yanked her gaze from the birds to a small pug, it’s face wrinkled up in disgust…or maybe it was just wrinkled up already. Jynx couldn’t tell, and she didn’t care for dogs at all. Based on the discriminating growl and judicious glare she was receiving from the mutt, Jynx concluded that this dog didn’t care much for her, either.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, lashing around the grouchy dog’s neck like a lasso. It remained transfixed on Jynx, dead-set on ensuring that she knew how pathetic she was. With a disdained snort and a stiff growl, it trotted off, leaving puddles of pride in its footsteps.
Mere seconds after the mongrel was gone, Jynx’s attention was jerked in another direction as the cries of children chimed in her ears. They came in a group of three—none older than seven.
The first was slightly taller than the other two, with spiked maple hair and sharp, eager blue eyes. He had a defiant grin that radiated mischief. The second child was a girl, slightly shorter than the ‘leader,’ pointed pigtails of orange, and olive eyes of ferocity. Though her demeanor hid it, those eyes and her equally sneaky smile conveyed the same glow of tomfoolery as her ally. The third child looked a little younger—he had to be about five. His shy, glazed eyes observed the world around him with timid alarm; he wondered if that shaking leaf would fall on him, or if those flying birds would be a threat, or if that pug near the pond was mean. He kept a balloon at his side, squeezing its string like a lifeline and keeping it pressed to his chest, as if to make sure none would so much as tarnish its shiny, blue surface.
They were all running in single file, chasing after a soccer ball that their ‘leader’ was hording in his grubby paws.
“Cheater! Cheater!” cried the girl, sprinting after him with arms stretched out to catch the boy. Her words were playful and bubbled with giggles.
“Wait! Wait!” whimpered the frail child playing caboose, his balloon drifting behind, bobbing about haphazardly.
The frenzy was cut short as the leader tripped on his untied shoelace. He flailed like a fish out of water as he plummeted to the ground, and the girl behind him shrieked as she fell over him. Both landed flat on their faces in the grass, and the soccer ball popped out from under them. It playfully rolled its way across the grass, and lightly tapped against Jynx’s left boot. She bent over and scooped it up, and a faint memory of her childhood washed over her and left as quickly as it came.
Jynx’s insides were sloshing around inside her, rocking back and forth in an unsettling fashion. As the children scrambled to their feet and rushed her way, she almost felt like throwing up for a moment. The kids came to an abrupt stop, a few feet in front of her. A bad omen washed over her mind—she knew this feeling from somewhere.
No, not right now…Why right now?
“Um…Hi, Miss…”
The words of the feisty child leader slapped her and brought her attention back to the reality laid in front of her. Those three small children stared at her blank expression with an expectant stare for a moment of awkward silence before Jynx’s brain wandered off yet again.
They were so…cute and innocent. Playful, mischievous, and curious. And they wanted their ball back.
“Please? Miss?” The girl clasped her hands together in a coy plea.
“Oh, um…” Jynx fumbled with the ball in a clumsy manner, embarrassed by her own thoughts. Her fingers were tingling, a shiver ran down her spine, and a shock of pain went through her head as she stretched out her arm to hand it to the child—pop.
Wait…pop?
Three pairs of horrified little eyes stared at the black and white lump in her hands. The ex-soccer ball that rested between her skinny fingers had practically been shredded in half. It had started. Why did this have to happen now?
Pop!
The smallest child screamed in terror as a gunshot rang through his air when his blue balloon exploded. Afterward, his fear and grief congealed into a shrieking cry, tears gushing from his eyes. As the girl went to comfort him, the little boy frowned and marched toward Jynx in a fit. Jynx’s hands quivered uncontrollably, and the flat ball slipped from her hands to the grass below. It hit the ground at about the same time as the boy’s face did—he’d tripped on his untied shoelace.
Jynx’s mind was being pounded by throbs of pain and confusing thoughts. A frisbee flew over and whacked the girl in the back of the head. Someone talking on a cell phone walked past her back, shouting into his device due to an absence of reception.
Three children bawling before her, Jynx sprung to her feet and sprinted off, putting distance between her and the poor people her powers were bringing misfortune to. She blasted off, and soon enough, she felt her lungs would burst, but she kept going. She ran and ran, almost out of the park, when a huge, fleshy thing came out from behind a tree, blocking her way.
Something about this large, round, fleshy thing was familiar. For one thing, it smelled pretty rank, and Jynx knew that rank stench from anywhere.
She stared up in turmoil at Mammoth, who glowered down at her with a tainted grin.
“Hey,” he grunted with gruff chuckle.
“Well, well, well,” chimed the whiny voice of Jynx’s other old ‘friend’ as he came dropping from a tree branch, metal spider legs holding him in place. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Jynx glared at them with jealous fury, hissing, “What do you want?”
“Just sayin’ ‘hi’ to an old pal,” Mammoth slyly explained, his eyes twinkling in a way that suggested otherwise.
“Bull****,” Jynx seethed, her fingers twitching with pain.
“Fine,” Gizmo huffed. “Listen, snotface, we’re only here because our crud-munchin’ Headmaster has an offer for you.”
Jynx’s heart pounded at the thought of going back home, back to the life she once had. This didn’t erase her doubt, however. There was certainly something fishy going on. How did they know she was here? All the same, they had an offer, and she figured she might as well listen to it.
“…What kind of offer?”
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And that's all for now...Hopefully 'for now' and not 'ever'.
I'm actually pleased with how good my writing was before I stopped...
I really sucked at the beginning of this story compared to what it got to later...
Gah, but I think I may be too rusty...
Now I really want to try and start writing more again...
You ARE my oldest reader--it's the Destinia Saga, by the way. 
After what happened the night before, it's no surprise that the Titans are acting so... quiet... this morning. To be honest, I didn't even notice the grammatical errors.