Re: log: flash/felicity mission
The bathroom? Looked like the totally fugly remnants of a rap video and whoever lived here needed a date with an interior decorator, immediately. Felicity was familiar with tacky, had warm fuzzies about it when it came to specifics but this? Was another level of awful. Still, there wasn't a whole lot of time to criticize some asshole's taste in marble.
She was banking on no mass goblincide, not least because the suit protected her from scraping down the sides of buildings but she wasn't a super-anything. The classes, in the small gym on the outskirts of Queens where the place smelled like sour sweat and the teacher-guy was an asshole with a nose that had been broken in three places - they had covered the basics. How to hit or kick and not get hurt. How to keep somebody off you, if screaming didn't work. They had been enough for nightmares, enough to not see the inside of the car on the insides of her eyelids but it wasn't an overnight sensation kind of deal. She wasn't Cinderella man. She was probably the ugly stepsister.
"So we keep moving until we hit it. Or correction, I keep walking until I hit it and if anything looks like it's about to kill me, you bail me out. If the problem is finding it? Then I can try. Let's face it," her smile gleamed in the gloomy interior, "I could get lucky."