𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

chapter 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

ˢⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵃᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

໒꒰ྀི'🐍‧｡⋆

[ escape plan ]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭.

Being sat beside the grotesque Killer Croc who had been swimming in sewage water for the past couple years and Harkness, with his practically steaming trench coat which you knew damn well hadn't been washed since his arrival in America was, funnily enough, not the most wonderful and preferred combination for a flight. 

And you were also sitting straight across from Rick Flag, who continuously eyed you and the squad of villains with beady eyes.

"You havin' fun over there, sugar?" Harley called, leaning forward and sending you a toothachingly sweet grin as she waved.

"My nostrils are burning, and my eyes are watering," you answered whilst returning the gesture before huffing with a mutter, "Happy days."

"Hey, is he supposed to be green like that?" Harkness questioned loudly, causing your head to snap to the side where he cautiously watched Killer Croc.

"K.C, no," you murmured in a scolding tone.

"Ain't my fault, sweet cheeks," the crocodile grunted out and within a single moment, you found yourself unbuckling your seatbelt and vaulting to the side to avoid his puke as he wretched. 

"Oh! Party foul! Not cool," Harley gagged.

"Jesus, open a fucking window!" you begged, pinching your nose, stepping forward and grabbing the duffel at one of the soldier's feet. "Don't mind me."

"Hey-!"

You dumped the bag on the puke, wiping your hands as it landed in the vomit with a squelch, soaking up some of the putrid liquidy mix. Sitting back down, you glared at K.C, trying desperately to hold in your own bile.

"Would've been nice if we had known," the soldier muttered with a scowl as he stared at his duffel bag.

"Beats me as to why nobody asked the crocodile if he was prone to airsickness," you frowned sarcastically, rolling your eyes when he scoffed in annoyance.

You turned around at the sound of coursing electricity, eyebrows pinching in confusion as you peaked out the circular window that could not be opened. Far into the center of the city, half a dozen lightning streaks were continuously pulsing as - and you hoped your eyes weren't betraying you - a ring of rubble.

"The hell is that?" Boomerang questioned, following your gaze.

"Nothing normal," you mumbled, turning back around and locking eyes with Flag.

He was good at hiding his emotions, you would give him that; his face was completely impassive, gaze straying from yours when he met your eyes too long.