prompt fill; morgue
Title; the end but not quite there
word count; 276
rating; PG
prompt; morgue
At the time, she'd been sure it had happened. There had to be something Ms Marvels' powers were vulnerable to, and she'd thought that was it. The daggers had gone through her, straight through her stomach, tearing her uniform to pieces, searing her skin and burning her bones. She'd crumpled like a rag doll in agony and lost consciousness soon after.
She'd thought she was dead.
So had the others.
Two days later, she woke in the morgue, on a slab, in a drawer. Daggers power had apparently wounded her, but not killed her. Although no one seemed to realise it. She didn't really like the tight, cold, suffocating space, she wasn't tall enough to push her way out, but she could still bust her way out.
The solid punch to the door above her head; which took a bit of wriggling to reach, knocked the hinges straight from the door and opened the drawer out. She was out faster than a flash and crouching on the floor. She was still in her uniform, still torn and bloody. She noticed the warning on her door, her codename and then scribbled in 'deadly, leave for forty eight hours'. They meant her powers, she knew it. But she'd never been so thankful for the cautious efforts of the anti-mutant groups in the city.
Pulling the sheet around her body, Rogue pulled to her feet, stumbling through the cold, dark, steel plated morgue and into the bowels of the hospital. Keeping her head down, avoiding detection, Rogue made it through the back of the building, finding an exit at the rear. Dropping the sheet, Rogue took to the sky, heading quickly towards home.
word count; 276
rating; PG
prompt; morgue
At the time, she'd been sure it had happened. There had to be something Ms Marvels' powers were vulnerable to, and she'd thought that was it. The daggers had gone through her, straight through her stomach, tearing her uniform to pieces, searing her skin and burning her bones. She'd crumpled like a rag doll in agony and lost consciousness soon after.
She'd thought she was dead.
So had the others.
Two days later, she woke in the morgue, on a slab, in a drawer. Daggers power had apparently wounded her, but not killed her. Although no one seemed to realise it. She didn't really like the tight, cold, suffocating space, she wasn't tall enough to push her way out, but she could still bust her way out.
The solid punch to the door above her head; which took a bit of wriggling to reach, knocked the hinges straight from the door and opened the drawer out. She was out faster than a flash and crouching on the floor. She was still in her uniform, still torn and bloody. She noticed the warning on her door, her codename and then scribbled in 'deadly, leave for forty eight hours'. They meant her powers, she knew it. But she'd never been so thankful for the cautious efforts of the anti-mutant groups in the city.
Pulling the sheet around her body, Rogue pulled to her feet, stumbling through the cold, dark, steel plated morgue and into the bowels of the hospital. Keeping her head down, avoiding detection, Rogue made it through the back of the building, finding an exit at the rear. Dropping the sheet, Rogue took to the sky, heading quickly towards home.