Your brush with the League of Villains had been a close call. You hadn’t expected an ambush.

You’d been trailing a suspected League informant for days. He had been antsy, that was for sure, but you were better. Stalking from the shadows was your livelihood. Eventually, he’d holed up in some decrepit warehouse, and though you’d staked it out meticulously night after night, there’d been no activity.

You’d should’ve known better than to assume it was empty.

Now, you cowered in an alley, panting for breath and clutching the wound in your side. Toga’s knife was no joke. Your other injuries were minimal - some minor burns on your arms, bruised shins. Still, there blood seeping through your dark bodysuit was certainly cause for concern.

Footsteps. You unsheathed the dagger at your thigh, flinging it towards the source of the disturbance, eyes narrow and wary. It embedded itself in the brick just shy of the intruder’s face, his eyes wide with shock and brows arched. Was he… impressed?

“Easy, there. I won’t hurt you.”

Hawks tucked his wings behind him, lifting his hands in surrender as he regarded you cautiously, though the amused grin on his face betrayed him. He nodded at you, an appeasing gesture.

“Nasty looking injury, huh? Need some help?”