Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

INTERLUDE

He was a red blur, a streaking bolt of yellow lightning that snaked through the world at ultrasonic speeds.

Faster. He said. I need to go faster. And so the man in red pushed his legs. The intoxicating electricity of the speed force coursed through his being, pushing him along, allowing him to bend the laws of reality and propel himself faster than any vehicle on the planet.

I’m coming, Iris. Barry affirmed as he ran towards the speed of light, waiting for the welcoming feel of blueshift—the effect of shortened photon wavelengths that allows one such as he, moving at relativistic speeds to be momentarily perceived in a deep blue as he breaks the light speed barrier.

It was taking longer than he thought it would, longer than when he first broke the barrier travelling through time in the first place. But he wouldn’t give up, not now. Not with what he’s seen of this twisted world.

He relived the dark memories that poured into his head after reconnecting to the speed force. Superman’s pod crash landed in Metropolis, killing thousands and possibly even the passenger himself—why else would no one on this earth have heard of him?

He saw blood splatter as Diana struck down Queen Mera of Atlantis, the spark that ignited the war between the Amazons and the Atlanteans. A war that resulted in entire drowned continents and millions of human lives lost.

All because I saved my mom. When the young Bruce stated it, Barry found it unbelievable. He questioned how an action as small as saving his own mother could result in this dark, twisted universe. Why would it? Why? Why? Barry asked, feet threading over the crystal surface of the oceans, he wasn’t worried about being intercepted by Atlanteans, he was moving too fast for anyone to feasibly even notice his presence.

Faster, Barry.

His chest was beginning to burn, the back of his throat was going dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper in his dry mouth. His thighs trembled and quaked with each running step he took. He noticed the telltale signs of exhaustion building up, yet he was nowhere nearing the speed of light. So he pushed harder.

Faster.

But it was time travel, the rules were always muddy, it was nigh impossible to predict the effect even the most miniscule of actions would have in the future.

Young Bruce was right. This was all his fault. Acknowledging that fact, he ran still. Whether trying to fix his wrongs or to escape the grim realization that he’d have to let his mother die again after going through all this to save her.

There was one fact he could not run from; Barry couldn’t breach the speed force, there was something or rather someone else siphoning the little of it he could connect to in this universe. Young Bruce was right again, Barry noticed, the laws of science in this reality had certain differences from his native one.

C’mon Barry, move it!

The speed force was generated with each step he took, and he could freely tap into that dimension to empower himself. But in this reality, that very connection was limited, no more was it as free as air; it was confined and restricted.

Thawne. Barry guessed. It had to be him responsible for stealing what little there was of the speed force.

“Argh!” Barry cried, tripping over his own feet. The exhaustion was too much, the damage to his muscle fibers too extensive. He rolled, tumbled and skated over the cold sands of the Sahara Desert for miles on end. Coming to a sliding stop on his back, he blinked the grains of sands from his eyes and gazed at the glinting stars that dotted the clear night sky.

“He’s Batman, he will have a plan to fix this.” He said out loud at his wits end. “Right?” He questioned. This Bruce was young. Was he as experienced as his Bruce? Was he as good or skilled?

“He did discover the cause of this whole…Flashpoint, before you did.” He admitted, thinking fondly of the name he had given it. It was one of the many things that spoke to the young Bruce’s deduction abilities. But weren’t all Batmen essentially detectives? It was to be expected of them. Except for Thomas of course, that Batman is a violent psycho.

Plus, the young Bruce did say that he was the leader of the Justice League on his world—that was no small feat. Effectively directing and managing superpowered beings that could succumb to their destructive desires at any moment as a purely baseline human was nothing to scoff at. It took much more than deduction to achieve that.

While he was running out the Batcave he overheard the young Bruce telling Thomas that he’d be back. “He had to know that I’d fail.” He said, rising to his feet. If there was one thing he appreciated more than the speed his powers granted him, that would be the enhanced healing factor he possessed.

I’ll trust him, I have to. He’ll have a way. Batman always has a way. Barry exhaled, pushing down the unpleasant thought of having to leave his mother to her fate to save reality. But Barry was a hero. Heroes made sacrifices, he prayed to be strong enough to make this one. And with that, the man turned into a red blur, a streak of yellow lightning snaking through reality, back to meet with the one who had the plans.

X.X.X.X

He couldn’t have been any happier. The world was a burning bus about to roll down a cliff and it was entirely the fault of the one who called himself a hero.

He savored every bit of the dark and vile history of this new, twisted world. Who cared if it wasn’t going to be lasting much longer? The fact that he was here to witness it was more than enough to die for.

Oh, how he wished to have had an audience, to show the sheep of the world just what their chosen hero had done and what awaited them in the very near future. No, he would have to be satisfied with this for now.

He was setting the grand stage. They still needed hope, no matter how small it was. So he could break them all, laugh at their suffering and dance in their agony. In the end, when he’d break that oh, so wonderful yet little hope they had.

He dashed through the ruins of what was once London, now called New Themyscira. He found his target—it was time to leave clues and crumbs, the best bait for the so-called hero.

The Amazons were as built as the myths mentioned, women of high physical stature and might. All stood armed to the teeth in cold weapons, and thirsty for the blood of man. Well in this case, a woman; Pulitzer prize winning journalist Lois Lane, who had been embedded in New Themyscira to gather intel for the Resistance—a coalition of humanity’s heroes against the Amazon/Atlantis war, under the leadership of cyborg.

Queen Diana herself had pried the information from the lips of the now deceased colonel Steve Trevor. Lois recorded what she assumed would be the last moments of her life. Here she was surrounded on all sides by hostiles, who shared in the same sadistic tendencies as their Queen. As swift as her death would hopefully come, she knew they would take great glee in making those moments the most painful experience of her life.

“Well, are you waiting for an invitation?” She snarked, arms spread wide as archers aimed at her. “Bitches” she cussed, seeing exactly where those steel head arrows were pointed and the smiles on the faces of those who drew them.

She heard a buzz and flinched back, expecting an explosion of pain to assault her senses. Instead of arrows flying, she saw a yellow blur move past her vision. Twisting and coiling through the Amazonian death squad and almost simultaneously she saw their bodies drop. Impaled by their very own weapons of war. It was swift and gruesome.

“Guess I still have that Lane luck.” She joked, waiting for whoever it was that rescued her to reply.

He wanted to show her just what he thought of the Lane luck. But no, she was the crumb—just bait. You don’t eat your own bait. He had much to do tonight than ponder over killing an insignificant pawn.

Perhaps it was that Lane luck after all.