Terry Moore by Truus, Bob & Jan too! Via Flickr: French postcard by Editions P.I., Paris, no 499, 1954. Photo: Paramount.
Terry Moore (1929) is an American film and television actress. She starred in several box-office hits, including Mighty Joe Young (1949), Come Back, Little Sheba (1952) (for which she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress), and Peyton Place (1957). In the 1970s she asserted that she was the secret wife of the late billionaire Howard Hughes.
Yellow Roses and Other Tragedies
Chapter 2- Recruiting
A/N: First, I’d like to just say I’m so happy people actually liked my work and wanted the second chapter! I mean I was gonna write it anyway but I’m beyond ecstatic that the first was enjoy so thank you! Second, this chapter will have more Digger finally but no romance yet so enjoy~
Character: Captain Boomerang/ George ‘Digger’ Harkness
Word count: 1633
Warning(s): None this time (maybe dirty and cheesy pick-up lines though)U30
“ Enough. Strap up everyone, it’s time to see if you were worth the effort.”
You glare at the back of Waller’s head, hoping it would explode like her threat promised yours would. You didn’t have to know someone long to hate them. Sure you were scared that she’d follow through but you’re also filled with spite and anger so the act of disobeying was tempting.
Before an idea could fully form though, you’re surrounded by soldiers who acted more as an escort team as they shoved you off to who knows where.
You’re lined up between Harley and the large man from before,just barely enough wiggle room between lines of soldiers to the front and back of you, all facing Deadshot who marveled at a table of guns beside Waller and Flag.With Harley now at your side, you notice how tall she actually was compared to you, the only petite thing about her being her figure. She notices your short stature as well.
“Can you see the action from down there peaches?” She grins at you, a giggle in her voice. You’d take that as an insult if it she wasn’t so genuine with her diction. You smile back at her. “It’s Y/N actually but I could use a boost.”You’d usually teleport using your hands to a higher vantage point but you didn’t want to lose your head unnecessarily over something so stupid. But then again seeing the panic on the blubbering soldiers’ faces would be funny. Harley pats the arm of the dude beside you firmly to get his attention. He grunts in obvious displeasure at the action but quickly brightens up when he notices who it’s from.”Well hi there gorgeous, couldn’t resist touchin’ the guns could ya?“ His voice was deep and silky, entwined with a thick Australian accent. It catches you off guard and you look up at him, taking in his features this time. He was unkempt but beautiful, his sharp jawline highlighted by the woolly chops. His dirty blond, curly mohawk cascading down his down his forehead looked like bunched together (loosely but closely) blooming yellow roses. It pangs a wave of calm over you. The early signs of a bruise on his right temple-probably from his drop in the bag-make his sea blue-green eyes pop.
He looked like art but it was a shame he sounded like a douche.
He gives Harley the cockiest, shiteating grin you’ve ever seen. She matches it, fluttering her lashes at him. “Could you do me a favor and lift my friend here on your shoulders?”She points to you, completely overlooking his comment. He looks down at you, tilting his head to the side, seemingly only noticing you now. The way his eyes run over you would make any girl squirm but you’re unfazed, more interested with the prospect of the new view and touching his curls. He runs a hand through the toughs of hair in his muttonchops before smirking at you and lifting you by the waist to his shoulders.
“Usually the girl is facing the other way but we can do that later.” He laughs at his own line, you only groan in response. It only seems to encourage him. He rest his burly hands on your thighs, giving them a squeeze. You coil his golden curls in your fingers, giving them a sturdy pull with half your strength. Not trying to pull them from their roots but definitely trying to hurt. “Did you use to mix concrete for livin’ sheila?’Cause you’re makin’ me hard.” You lean forward, peering your eyes into his. “It’s Y/N,I think I should know yours if you’ll be hitting on me often.”
He was the one caught off guard this time, it was evident as he threw his head back with a jerk into your lower abdomen.
He quickly replaced his shock with a casual smirk. “It’s Captain Boomerang, Digger to my mates.” “Well Captain, could we enjoy the show quietly? We’re not the stars here if you couldn’t tell by us standing back here.”
Harley giggles, catching both of their attention. She seemed to be watching your back and forth until all your necks snap in Deadshot’s direction at the sound of yelling.
“Lawton! Put the gun down!” Flag and his lackeys point their guns at Deadshot as he pointed his at a shaking Griggs.
“You don’t think we really gave a skilled hitman a loaded gun do you?” Waller was the image of calm as she talks to him.”Don’t know but we’ll see if his brains splatter or not.” He cocks the pistol. “Do it then.” Waller commands, her cool tone unwavering.
This is met with mix call outs.
“Do it boo!” Harley yells, flaring her arms so she’s visible in the back.
“Oh god no please Floyd, I’m sorry don’t do this!” Griggs nearly pisses himself. You grin in satisfaction at his squirming.
The rest you couldn’t really make out, but it sounded largely against Waller’s idea. Deadshot lifts it in the air and shoots in all the same blink. Griggs cries out and you think he actually pisses himself this time. You chuckle. “Aw,pity.” Harley sighs heavily. Deadshot looks to the pistol to Waller. “You jokers must be crazy!” She smiles. “Now show us what you can do.” He grins and turns to the arena.
After Deadshot’s display, things continue quietly: Harley crushes a steel beam and the metal bat they provided her with a swing, Slipknot shows his expertise as he mangles the dummies to unrecognizable piles of stuffing with nothing but rope and a hook, and Captain cuts the heads of all the dummies in one throw. Waller doesn’t seem to need more evidence the Croc would be a good tool and Chato refuses out right to use his abilities for violence of any kind, at most he displayed a no in flames inches from her face. It’s your turn and you aim to show off. You haven’t been able to do anything in almost two years and your body was aching for it.
You step into the arena, now cleaned up and targets replaced. You can’t help the wide grin that breaks out on your face, your palms were sweaty and you felt awake- wired and aware of every lovely second you had. You stretch in place, savoring the laffy taffy consistency of your muscles. They were still stiff understandably but quickly responded to your movements.
You’re in the air in the next moment, only a few feet. You twitch your wrist again, you’re higher in the clear sky. You briskly face the Earth, widening your left palm like you’ve done thousand of times before. The cold meteor falls and expands beneath you, you sit cross-legged on it as it suspended in midair at a complete halt. You laugh at the awe and shock on your team’s faces. This isn’t even the best of what you can do. You release four more meteors, each flaming or intensely hot, and suspend them to either side of you. Then, in a blink of a moment, they’re crashing through the dummies this way and that- dancing to the tremors of your fingers. The chaos is beautiful.
You raise all the remains;the surviving pieces of the dummies and the shattered shards of flaming rock float effortlessly around you. You snap and they’re gone, only remnants being the burns to the concrete. You unfold yourself on the meteor, standing then falling to the earth. The meteor follows you with a jerk, pulled by your gravity. You swing it underneath your feet and subsequently crush it painlessly. You stumble forward then close your eyes, bowing theatrically to your audience.
“Well done Y/L/N, let’s move out” Waller turns on her heels and walks off with her herd of soldiers. You skip happily to Harley and Captain.
“That was amazing Y/N!” Harley squeals and clutches onto your arm tightly. Captain simply shrugs at you, mumbling something about how he can throw rocks too.
Waller is escorted to her copter and you’re all left in flag’s hands. “Get dressed, we’ll be testing you in the field and remember! You’re life is in my hands.” Flag waves the remote before walking off. You sigh. This isn’t you’re ideal situation by a long shot but a least you’re outside of that cell.
A soldier drops a large box in front of you with a clutter. “What’s that, a team costume?” You mumble to yourself as you crouch a bit to open it up. As you do you gasp at the sight of your beautiful costume. Your costume, not some dumb team uniform like you were expecting.
You quickly kick off your solid gray slip-ons, manically ripping off your orange jumpsuit and tank top. You slip into your bright neon yellow, skin-tight, military grade pants as if you only slipped them off to piss. You go as to unhook your bra but think better of it, feeling the eyes of soldiers around you. You put on the neon blue, sleeveless, high collared crop top on next, the graphic of a shooting star across it makes you hum pleasantly.
You unhook your bra then.
You slip into your rather plain military boots and eagerly dive your hands in the box for your final accessories. You tie your vibrant red blindfold your neck, only needing it over your eyes when you’re in action. You’re hands quiver as you pick up the bangles and they shine as if reacting shuddering. You feel renewed as you flex your arms,the stars clinking cheerfully on your biceps. The grin on you was unstoppable and so were you.