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Fearsome. One word to describe Timberwolf, the beast of the Legion of Super-Heroes. His growl made even the most battle-hardened criminals stop in their tracks. His eyes burned your skin as they shone with the cold calculating glare of a predator on the prowl.
Loyal. Devoted. Selfless as a dog protecting his family. First one in, last one out. There was a litany of attributes and expressions that described Brin, the man under the mantle. He was cold, he was protective; he was savage, he was kind; he was brave, but he was terrified.
Oh so terrified.
Despite his height, his voice, and his maturity, Brin was still very much a teenager (bordering on young adult) when he was picked up by the legion. With nothing else to live for, or to lose, he threw himself into the fray fully and with reckless abandon from his very first mission onward.
His reputation preceded him wherever he went now. With his devotion and resting bitch face, acting as a front; people trusted him to never be scared. They trusted him to take the lead in the interim of the actual leaders of their group. They believed him when he told them "I got this."
But he never had this. Legion work was as dangerous as it was varied, and Brin was constantly on edge; terrified he might not make it in time, terrified he might hurt someone, terrified the beast within might take over.
So he kept everything hidden inside, and he locked it away; only for Saturn girl to know. Stray thoughts and powerful emotions emanating from his presence had sparked many conversations between the two.
The most recent pertaining to his latest assignment: the daughter of the United Planets' president, Tinya Wazzo.
As a gesture towards the legitimization of the legion, the president had not only allowed her daughter to join the ranks but had also requested a Legionnaire to personally accompany her in the time she had left before basic training.
Brin was no stranger to protecting a single person; devoting his entire being to their safety was as natural to him as breathing. But he'd never considered himself a bodyguard, or mentor. Despite what other recruits who'd trained with him would say, Brin was convinced he was unsuited for teaching or anything positive of the sort.
"This'll be a good learning opportunity for you, then," Saturn girl had told him, officially handing him the assignment.
"Not sure there's gonna be a whole lot of learning going on," he grunted back, accepting nonetheless.
Brin thought he had become accustomed to fear by now. Fear of himself, fear for himself, fear for his friends and the people he protected. Being handed someone to protect like this was new to him. So many dangers to consider; senses, on high alert at all times, strained his usually aloof demeanour.
The training with Ms. Wazzo was not as bad as he had anticipated, however, as she had already been trained to defend herself. He was harsh and demanding with her. He was rough and unfair.
She had to be ready.
Regurgitating words from this old coach he'd trained with before his father went haywire, Brin told her this as she yelled at him: "If the training is hard, the fight will be easier. But if the training is easy, the fight will be hard."
He had seemed so sure of himself that she begrudgingly accepted his shitty attitude. Little did she know he was only distancing himself from her so she wouldn't get to know him; if she did, she might notice just how scared he constantly was.
Time and again, he threw himself in front of her without hesitation. He was made for this, his father's voice reminded him; made for the frontlines, made to take a beating and keep going. Made to hurt what was in front of him
Made to protect what was behind him, he countered.
Despite everything, Tinya clawed her way through his furry and fearless outer shell. Brin found himself wavering with her after a particularly harsh evening. A small evening dinner for the president had been crashed by terrorists and in the heat of the moment, a plasma grenade was in front of Tinya.
He'd never been so scared.
He'd never moved faster.
Calculating, in the way animals do when they instinctively right themselves before falling, or knowing which path to take while being chased; Brin knew he wouldn't have time to push her out of the way.
He took the full brunt of the detonation. He guarded Tinya - the guests, he reminded himself tersely - with his body. Fur, skin, and muscle were torn asunder. Ripped from his body.
With just enough strength left in the parts of his body that weren't a bloody mass of flesh, he took down the last of the terrorists before collapsing.
He was no stranger to the grips of oblivion after a mission - or even during - but this time felt different. He felt cold, and he felt the hands of someone on him as they screamed his name. Pleaded for him to stay awake, and then wake up. Warm tears fell on him as they cried for him, cried in fear that he would leave them.
"Please don't leave me," she whispered, a crack in her voice causing a crack in his very being.
Brin knew fear.
He awoke to the scent of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets he had no need of, covered in fur as he was. The calm he felt after his repose was quickly taken over by his last memory.
"I'm right here," a voice called out, tiredly, as if reading his mind.
Tinya was splayed out in a plastic chair to his right - the side of his that had taken the most damage. His right eye was bandaged up, but he could tell underneath it all that his healing factor had repaired his eyesight. He turned to look at her.
Relief washed over him and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh.
A smaller, daintier, and gentler hand took his. Warmth flooded through her fingers to his. He hadn't realized how cold he had still felt until she did that.
He hadn't realized how afraid he had been.
"You know," Tinya said, snapping him to reality, "your life is worth something too."
"It makes it worth something, doing what I do," he replied, his usual rasp worsened by his dry throat.
"Well it's worth something to me," she replied, leaning in and forcing him to look at her. "Regardless of what you do."
Brin knew fear.
He suddenly knew what his mother must have felt like when he was a kid running off into the jungle, or picking fights with gangs who picked on his neighbourhood. He knew what his father felt like when his mother confronted - and then fell to - those same gangsters.
"Don't mistake being foolhardy for being brave." Her voice broke the silence. "You think you're invincible, that your healing factor negates whatever danger you throw yourself in front of. That it's okay because it's just you and that you can take it." Her voice cracked. "You think your life is just this thing to be thrown away because somehow other people are worth more." There was a lilt to her words, it almost sounded like a question.
She grabbed both of his hands. "I know you're scared, underneath it all, I know it's because you're terrified of what might happen; to me, to others, to yourself." She paused.
"You're just as scared as I am. Please be scared for yourself, Brin, please."