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.

PRAY & PREY

My gloves were stained in red dust-like particles — inactivated Magnesium Carbonate— that made my hands within the glove as dry as twigs from a limited contact it had with my skin earlier. I loaded the final canister into my utility belt, pried off the rubber gloves and threw them into the bin by my side. The skin on the back of my hands cracked and peeled off, exposing raw tender flesh beneath. I soaked my hands in a bucket of special lye solution, it hurt, it seriously hurt. I watched the upper layer of my flesh dissolve in a mass of red, the red particles hidden within neutralized by the acidic solution.

I pulled them out, rinsed them with water, and moisturized generously —yes it was painful, but the skin was already growing back on, I noticed pulling my leather gauntlets on. Healing factor for the win. I poured the waste water down the kitchen drain and made my way to the Batcave, pushing the grandfather clock aside to gain entrance.

I could hear Martha gag up her lungs in between chuckles in the bathroom above, maybe from an inside joke or more likely from the noxious chemicals she was cooking up.

Thomas was busy on the phone talking to the all American cyborg—Victor Stone, last true patriot— about what the meteor that landed in Metropolis really was. That was his part of the plan to see through.

If you took away the costumes, we’d look no different from a dysfunctional family just going about the everyday life. The dad on the phone talking about business because it was all that kept him distracted from the grim truth and reality of a meaningless life. The mom in the bathroom shooting up coke to dull the pain of a sedentary existence. And I’d be the kid with a plethora of mental issues and well concealed psychotic tendencies, inviting strangers to the house so I could abuse their kindness and hopefully entrap them.

I was looking for an analogy to the broken home that for all intents and purposes looked pristine on the outside but was a festering mess within, that was the current Wayne family.

“Heh” a soft chuckle escaped my lips. If only they found out how much of a joke their life was. If only they knew how much entertainment their suffering and struggle brough to the audience. The ones who really were above, those who saw all their secrets and knew their deepest desires better than they knew themselves, their true gods—the ones I was part of before I fell here.

“Hahah” I could laugh because I was now part of the joke, and boy oh boy was I waiting for the punchline.

“You’re laughing too aren’t you?” I smiled at air. Who was that sentence for? Heh. You know yourselves. Not even my thoughts are safe from you.

I wiped a dribble of blood off my nose and powered through the throbbing pain that assaulted my head. I guess I didn’t come out of that Joker toxin debacle unscathed. I might have to get checked, to receive a proper mental evaluation. All in due time.

I grabbed a seat on the surveillance station—watching the monitors to pass the time as I went over the plans, counter plans and variations of those plans. I factored in as much as I could, churning the massive metaknowledge I possessed and the information I had acquired to the best of my abilities to produce most likely results, and the steps and conditions that would lead to those results.

Seeing leaves drift after a gust of wind in the video feed of the manor’s exterior told me that he was here.

“Did you get it?” I asked swiveling the seat to face the man in a red skin tight suit with streaks of yellow bolts. The question was redundant.

“It was right there on display. I searched the other locations but this was the only genuine one I could find.” He said, handing me the black headed mace, dusting the sands off his body. “I hope Carter won’t be mad.”

“He’s dead.” I said, observing the Nth metal weapon. The signature weapon of the famous reincarnating couple—Hawkman and Hawkgirl. Before he became Carter Hall or the superhero Hawkman, he was the Egyptian prince Khufu Kha-Tarr; His history is long, convoluted and at times contradictory, so I won’t delve. I’d rather simplify; the prince discovered a crashed alien spacecraft. Gripped with curiosity he made contact with the Nth metal element that powered said alien spacecraft, causing his very soul to be mutated by an energy emission from the metal. Short, sweet, and simple.

Like most misguided humans who obtain vast power over very short periods, he chose to enact his views of right and wrong through force—by becoming a superhero. At least he would have been in the main universe. Here though, in this flashpoint timeline, nothing ever goes right. He dies miserably, so does his lover. Their weapons and various items kept up in displays, probably finding their way by virtue of zealous archeologists and patriotic historians.

Of course there were replicas and fakes, but Nth metal was special and I trusted Barry to be able to identify it since he’s had extensive exposure to it before and the inner scientist in him must have noted its unique characteristics. Holding it in my hands, I could feel the limited pseudo-psionic connection it established with me, coupled with the almost imperceptible energy radiating outwards of its bulk and into me. This was special alright.

I knew the durability and special properties the metal held. I also knew certain people who —some by virtue of mutations and or by immense skill— could exploit those properties or even amplify it to achieve great feats, I wasn’t one of those people. There are some things that are only possible with experience and training. Think of it like a gun, an expert marksman could bring out the best in a weapon and hit targets at impossible distances with great precision and accuracy. You don’t expect someone picking up a gun for the first time to shoot bullets through the eye of a needle, but you do expect them to be able to shoot it at least.

Well, it’s a good thing I know how to use a morning star mace. I know, I know. It’s crude, primitive, backward and whatever synonym there was for archaic, but it was effective for the purpose I had in mind.

“Did you get the herb?”

“….” We shared an awkward moment of silence before he disappeared in a blur.

Thomas got off the phone. A deep frown across his face.

“The Amazons and Atlanteans are prepping for a final battle, aren’t they?” I ask, knowing the answer.

The frown eases and he nods. “We don’t have enough time.” There’s never enough time, plans will have to adapt.

“How long till they clash.”

“A day, maybe less.”

Of-fucking-course. “We can’t afford to make mistakes going forward. You’ll have to make compromises; we need all the extra hands we can get.” We’ll need cannon fodder, and of course we’ll need a Superman. Want, not need, sorry, I wasn’t going to be putting all my eggs in that malnourished basket. He’s just there to stall the other supers and metas while I make headway.

“I’ll do my best.” That’s all I’m asking for Tom.

“I know you will, old man.”

“I’m back!” Said Barry, carrying in his hand a plant with milky white flowers guarded by stalk like linear leaves. At the end of the leaves, past a chalk white stem was an equally chalk white, bell shaped bulb with black roots. It was Moly aka Snowdrop aka Galanthus nivalis. The plant that allows timed resistance to certain enchantments, it was also a certain anti-social witch’s Kryptionite.

“Good job, Barry. You just made life a whole lot easier.” Give them the carrot, make sure it’s delicious, so when next you use the stick they’ll even praise you for it. “I’ll need you to give me a boost of speed force, can you do that?”

“Hmm?”

“The flash on my earth could temporarily share his speed with others--”

“If I do that there’s going to be even more drain on the limited speed force I have access to.”

“I know that Barry, but I’ll only need it for seconds at most. Just to get to the planned location. I’ll ring you up to come pick me when I’m done.”

“Why can’t I just carry you there.”

“You’re our only hope at fixing this. Magic is very unpredictable and versatile; we only have one Nth metal weapon to fight against it. I cannot have you risking yourself like that. It’s the same reason why I can’t have anyone else accompany me”

He stared at me, then and at Thomas, and then sighed and acquiesced. “Bruce, you…you’re just too young. I don’t think you should be doing this alone.”

Naruto is that you. Shut up brain. “Barry, do you want to save the world?” I approach. I need to get him saying yes.

“…I do.”

“Do you want to see Iris again?” Another step forward.

“I do.” His eyes gained a certain luster.

I placed an open palm on his shoulder and gripped lightly. “I understand your concerns. But I need you to treat me with the same respect and trust you’d treat your Batman,” My grip tightened, my face inches away from his, allowing me to mirror the concern in his eyes, I injected purpose in mine, a purpose so contagious it infected him. “I know I can’t just ask for it, I have to earn it. You have to give me the chance to do that Barry. Will you?” Seduction is a powerful tool when engaged in perception manipulation. “We can only do this if we trust each other Barry. Can you trust me like I trust you?”

“I can. I will.”

“Good man.” I clapped his shoulder. Behind me was another person who didn’t necessarily support my decision to be involved in this whole world saving affair. I appreciated the fact that he chose not to voice his concerns.

The simple nod coupled with the encouragement that was more of a command “Make sure you come back in one piece.” Was good enough for Thomas Wayne. “You too old man.” I hugged him; he wasn’t expecting that. It’s the small things that make the big differences.

“Tell mom I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Whenever you’re ready Barry.”

“Ok” He stretched out a palm, yellow electricity arcing all along the length of his rapidly blurring hand. The moment it made contact with me, the world paused, revitalizing electric currents raced along my spine. Every single strand of hair on my body stood straight, colors gained a new vibrance, I could taste sound and touch light.

“Holyshit!”

“Awesome isn’t it.” Barry said, a wide smile on his face, moving while everything else was still in slow motion.

“More than the word.” I said, my lips moving faster than my thoughts. “Thank you, Barry” I smiled in turn, putting one foot in front of the other, I began running.

“You might be my favorite Batman.” He chipped, as I dashed past. It was a sight to behold, fireflies moving as though stuck in fluid ember as I left the manor’s forestry.

I was going so fast that Gotham became a painting of stark contrasts; on one side was the luxurious, lights fueled by the spirit of vanity burst through the gloom that hung in the air. On the other, despair and poverty compounded by the ink filled clouds and dread filled atmosphere. The sparks of a cigarette butt thrown silently stuck in the air dotted their immediate area like stars in a cup. The smoke from exhaust pipes were a smoker’s lazy puff. The people and things all semi-frozen in place and utterly breathtaking.

If not for the increased brain function the speed force provided, I might have gone splat on the road as consequence for my distraction with the sights. I was moving too fast, like a fighter jet with feet, it was insane that I could react fast enough to not trip over myself. The fact that I wasn’t slamming into people and rendering them into paste was a miracle. Forgive my wonder and amazement, this is all a first for me.

It dawned on me that I could go over my plans, and maybe with the sped up brain function, I could spot holes in them. I was ashamed at how I’d missed such blatant, glaring inconsistencies. They could be updated. Instead of heading straight to my destination, I made a bend to places of interest, acquiring items and materials I needed to update my plans.

*.*.*.*