The night was cold and brisk, a sharp contrast to the sunny warmth of earlier that day. The vast yard was empty, the bushes rustling in the wind, the трава alive with the melody of crickets. Inside the house, the man was moving from room to room, the thick carpeting in the long hallways muffling the creaking of the floorboards under his feet. He was a well-dressed man, although age had not been kind to his skin, leaving him with a fair share of wrinkles. His presence was so gentle, his demeanor so kindly, that he was beloved by all of the children residing within the rooms that he was visiting. Finally he reached the end of the hallway, and softly opened the door of the last bedroom. The two girls laying on the bunk постель, кровати inside the room, whose walls were a soft baby blue, turned to face him. The girl on the вверх bunk, whose long dark hair was strewn across the pillow, smiled sweetly at him. “Good night,” she сказал(-а) softly.
“Good night,” the man replied, smiling back, although the expression was not reflected in his dark eyes. He quietly turned out the light, leaving the room bathed in utter darkness. Softly, he closed the door, then breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He walked quickly through the hallway, down the three flights of stairs, and out the door, with a manner surprisingly brisk for a man of his age. The cold night hit him, and he smiled again, slipping on a black cloak. He reached into its folds and pulled out a pocket watch, flipping it open to unleash a burst of blue light. As it came into focus, it revealed a white silhouette, which rested on the blue background just above his head. He spoke.
“They are in the Wayne Manor, sir. They do not suspect a thing.”
“Thank you,” replied the figure. The voice was a low monotone, slightly raspy. “You have done well, Alfred.”
“Good night,” the man replied, smiling back, although the expression was not reflected in his dark eyes. He quietly turned out the light, leaving the room bathed in utter darkness. Softly, he closed the door, then breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He walked quickly through the hallway, down the three flights of stairs, and out the door, with a manner surprisingly brisk for a man of his age. The cold night hit him, and he smiled again, slipping on a black cloak. He reached into its folds and pulled out a pocket watch, flipping it open to unleash a burst of blue light. As it came into focus, it revealed a white silhouette, which rested on the blue background just above his head. He spoke.
“They are in the Wayne Manor, sir. They do not suspect a thing.”
“Thank you,” replied the figure. The voice was a low monotone, slightly raspy. “You have done well, Alfred.”
So I'm Письмо this story on my account on Quizilla (Google- LunariAssain1) and as I сказал(-а) will be placing Обновления for it. So here is this update before I start because i will WRITE THIS STORY even if it kills me.
Title- Birds Of A Feather
Summary-
She is a weapon. дана a power she is afraid to use. She loves it and hates it. When she is rescued Hawkwoman takes her in. She refuses to use her powers and joins Young Justice. Will she hide her powers или hide them forever?
Hero Name- Angel
Secret Identity- Amelia Tor
Age- 13
Powers/abilities-
Martial Arts
Memory
Flight
Notes-
Shy about using powers
Prone to lashing out if pushed to hard
Protege Of Hawkwoman
Stats-
Strength-
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Speed-
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Intelligence-
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Title- Birds Of A Feather
Summary-
She is a weapon. дана a power she is afraid to use. She loves it and hates it. When she is rescued Hawkwoman takes her in. She refuses to use her powers and joins Young Justice. Will she hide her powers или hide them forever?
Hero Name- Angel
Secret Identity- Amelia Tor
Age- 13
Powers/abilities-
Martial Arts
Memory
Flight
Notes-
Shy about using powers
Prone to lashing out if pushed to hard
Protege Of Hawkwoman
Stats-
Strength-
||||||
Speed-
|||||||||
Intelligence-
|||||