Flare | Young Justice

Manipulation

|Unknown Location: October 15, 15:30 EDT |

The air was thick with a tangible sense of secrecy as Toxic and Destiny stood in the center of a dimly lit, cavernous room. Around them, digital monitors flickered to life, each one a blurred canvas of colors and shapes, hiding the true identities of the members of the Light who spoke through them. It was a place incapable of comfort, designed only for conspiracy and command, the perfect setting for those who thrived in the "Light."

"Ah, our little agents of chaos," came a voice, distorted and echoing, from one of the screens.

"You've done splendidly."

Toxic's lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with mischief and malice. She straightened her posture subtly, basking in the praise like a cat luxuriating in the sun's rays. Her heart raced with excitement; she could barely contain her eagerness to outdo herself on the next mission. She imagined the thrill of going toe-to-toe with Flare once more, the heat of battle igniting her veins.

"Your recognition is appreciated," Destiny murmured her voice a careful blend of humility and hidden timidity. "We aim to serve."

Beside her, Destiny shifted uncomfortably, her expression unreadable behind her stoic facade. The resignation had seeped deep into her bones, a heavyweight that grounded her in this grim reality. She was tired of resisting, her spirit eroded by the relentless surge of the Light and their unyielding grip on her will.

"Good," the first voice approved, the sound modulating in a way that suggested a smile. "Continue to do so, and you shall be rewarded."

Destiny listened but kept her head bowed, a silent rebellion against the invisible eyes that scrutinized them. Underneath the veil of submission, defiance sparked within her-never quite extinguished, always smoldering. Her black wings shone like oil slicks, folded neatly behind her, a testament to power restraint.

As the meeting progressed, Toxic couldn't help but let her thoughts wander back to the fiery dance of combat, anticipation coursing through her. She was ready to prove herself once more, to show the world the extent of her power.

"Rest assured," she said, confidence lacing her tone, "I will not disappoint."

The two of them stood side by side, a study in contrasts: Toxic in her dark green bodysuit, adorned with the toxic symbol that screamed danger, and Destiny, enigmatic in midnight blue, an enshrouded night sky gave form. Their outfits were not just clothing but a statement, declarations of their chosen paths-one reveling in the chaos, the other enduring it.

And though Destiny remained silent, her thoughts whispered of a different promise-a hope that one day she might break free from the chains of servitude and soar once again. But for now, they were both players in a game much larger than themselves, bound by the invisible strings of the Light that controlled them.

"Yes. Operation Nightshade was executed flawlessly," Toxic reported with a smirk, the toxic symbol on her chest catching the artificial light as she moved. "We've managed to intercept the data just as planned."

Destiny's gaze remained fixed on the ground, a single thought echoing through her mind: 'How much longer?' Her wings, usually aflutter with the restless energy of freedom, lay dormant and restrained by more than just the close-fitting material of her suit.

"Exemplary work, Toxic." The voice from the monitor was smooth, its tone patronizingly encouraging. "With talents such as yours, we're one step closer to reaching our goals. When Justice League is eradicated, no one will stand in our way."

"Speaking of standing in the way," Toxic interjected, barely containing the eagerness in her voice, "when do I get to take down Flare? I'm just itching for a rematch." The question hung in the air, an oft-repeated refrain that grated on Destiny's nerves.