Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or anything else you may recognize
So this is just something that has been going on in my head for a while. Hope I do a decent job.
He was a quiet boy who didn't really like talking. Talking was such a waste of time for him. People talked and talked and ended up forgetting other important things. He himself didn't talk much. Whenever someone saw him conversing with someone, it was rightfully assumed that the other person started the conversation. He just didn't see the point of talking to people. He was better off alone. He didn't need anyone to turn to.
Except one person. His mother. She always took good care of him. He was her star. He was all she had. She didn't care about his anti-social habits. She loved him. For who he was. Everyone else wanted him to be normal, like the other kids of his age. The teachers complained that he was too quiet. But she didn't care. And he didn't either.
His father was another matter entirely. The man visited him like once in a week. And unlike his mother, he was pretty bothered by his anti-social habits.
"Go son", he used to say to him every day while gesturing to a park full of happy, playful children, "Play with them."
"No", he used to protest in an almost indignant tone.
"Why?" his father used to ask.
"I just don't see the point of it", he used to say casually, as if nothing good came from mingling and playing.
His time was mostly taken up by his studies, which he took pretty seriously. But when he wasn't studying, he used to watch ants work hard in the backyard. He was fascinated by the tiny creatures. Once, while watching them, he accidentally stepped on one.
As he removed his foot, his eyes fell on the dead, crushed form of the ant. He knelt down and looked at it closely. It was dead. Crushed brutally by his foot. For some reason, he found the little ant dying due to him fascinating.
Just one step by him, and the ant lost its life. Perhaps that was because it was beneath him. All of these tiny creatures were beneath him.
He suddenly felt a sting on his arm. He turned his head and saw an ant trying to crawl up his arm. This little creature that was beneath him had the audacity to sting him? And crawl up him arm as if it was an anthill? How dare the ant?
He picked it up with his hand and crushed it. He then opened his fist and looked at the crushed body of the ant. Such a tiny creature. Killed by being crushed in his fist. It was definitely beneath him. All of these were.
And it had dared to hurt him. Anyone who hurt him deserved to be hurt back. Deserved to be shown their place. Deserved to be shown who they actually were.
As he grew up, he developed an interest in subjects like History and Psychology. He also used to read Greek Mythology.
One character he found compelling was Prometheus. The Titan who stole the fire from the Gods and gave it to the humans. In a way, Prometheus was like him. He had shown the Gods who they actually were. They had powers that made them believe they were above humanity. But like the humans, they too were not invincible and all-knowing, as this incident had shown them.
Because of his anti-social nature, his peers found him weird. Most of them stayed away from him. He wasn't the type they were supposed to hang out with. He was the type they were supposed to stay away from. But there was one who thought not staying away from someone who wasn't interested in socializing with his peers at all was a good idea. That person was of course a bully, which every class has.
Everyone has a different motive to bully. Some have a superiority complex, so they believe everyone to be beneath them, and they treated everyone like crap. Others were treated badly at home. Abused. So treating others badly was normal for them. Some were just plain jerks for the sake of being plain jerks. And if history has shown us anything, jerks have a strong dislike for outcasts. This bully fell into the third category.
He used to spread some rumors. Terrible rumors. Ones that would make the subject of the rumors a laughing stock for the entire school.
"Hey look", students used to say as he walked by, "That whore's son."
"His mom has fucked every man in the city."
"She doesn't even know who his father is."
His blood used to boil. Every single fiber of his being used to shake. But he was one against many. Not very wise. But every problem had a source. He just needed to know who the source was. But he didn't need to make any effort for that as the source eventually revealed himself.
"Hey", the bully one day interrupted him as he was studying on his bench.
He didn't even look up. He didn't even acknowledge that the person was trying to speak to him.
"Just wondering", the bully said, "Have you found your father yet?"
No response.
"Like I told you all", the jerk said to everyone around him, "He has no idea."
So he was the one.
"Well, I hope you find him soon."
No response. He just picked up his pen to write.
Jerks didn't like being ignored. This kid was no different.
"TALK TO ME!"
And as he yelled that, he punched him on the face, making his had fall back to the chair.
Brutal laughter echoed in the classroom. The jerk's was of course the loudest.
"Poor you", he said, "No father, no backbone."
That was his final mistake for the day.
In a matter of seconds, the jerk was writhing on the floor, screaming in agony as blood was pouring out of his shoulder, a pen sticking out of it. He had a black eye too due to a strong punch he had gotten. And his kneecap was shattered in the next few seconds as the one he had bullied could not stop himself from stomping on it.
Gone was the laughter. Now the only thing he could hear were horrified screams of terror and shock. He smirked. This jerk finally knew who he was. A pathetic person who could only terrorize those who did not fight back.
He was suspended for what he did. The bully required medical treatment and surgery. The Principal had suggested to his mother to get him a therapist. His father came to know of the incident too.
"Why?" he asked his son, "Why did you do it? You knew they were lies. There was no need to beat him up over them. So why did you do it?"
He looked up, with a cold, unnerving gaze. There was nothing there. No remorse. No concept of right or wrong. Just nothingness.
What he said made his father's jaw gape open.
"Because I wanted to. And I liked it."
"That's it. Amanda, make sure he sees a therapist."
But after he was gone, she told him what she truly felt.
"No need for a therapist, sweetheart", she said with a smile, "You are who you are. But it's not wise to beat up people anywhere. Maybe you can go learn martial arts. To control that anger. Use it only when necessary."
And so, he learnt martial arts in his spare time to blow some steam. The end result was that he was fluent in judo, boxing, karate, kickboxing and taekwondo.
Few years later
He knocked on the door.
"Come in", came his father's voice.
He opened the door and saw his father in deep conversation with Darren Coffman.
"Hello, Mr. Coffman", he said with a smile.
"Simon", Coffman said, "Good to see you, son."
"Well, Mr. Coffman", his father said as both got up, "I hope it is done soon."
"Don't worry, Mr. Claybourne", Coffman said as they shook hands.
Claybourne lead Coffman to the door. That's when he noticed a paper of Coffman had fallen. He knelt down to pick it up. It might be something trivial. Company related. But curiosity got the better of him. So he looked at some of the paper's contents. When he did, he wished he had not.
How could his father do this? What had he done to him? Was it because he didn't play with the other kids? Was it because of the incident with the jerk? Was it because he was not normal? Why? Why?
His body shook for a moment before he took control of himself. He stood up and called out, "Mr. Coffman."
"Yes, son."
"You forgot this", he said as he held out the paper. He noticed the shocked expressions they made for a fraction of a second before regaining composure.
"Oh, that", Coffman said as he took it, "Thank you. That's just some business related stuff."
His father needed to be shown his place. He needed to be shown who he was. He needed to see why he should not have even thought about disowning him. And his ways of proving this to his father were just not describable.
A month later
He stood in the rain with his mother, looking at the gravestone. She held an umbrella to protect them both from the downpour.
Justin Garwin Clayborune
March 14 1955 – December 10 2012
Beloved father
Rest in peace
Beloved father. But one who did not love him. And he had lost the chance to prove to him who he actually was. All because of that damned vigilante. That Hood.
Who was he to kill his father? Who was he to put an arrow in him? Who gave him the right? How dare that monster take from him his chance?
Unless, of course, he wanted to be shown his true nature too. Perhaps he needed to be shown who he was. He clenched his fists tightly, deciding that he would show this Hood what kind of person he actually was.
And that people is the end of it. Adrian Chase is my favorite villain in the Arrowverse. So I'm pissed he didn't get more screen-time and I really wish they had shown us his backstory via flashbacks or just word of mouth.
Josh Segarra did such an amazing job that I found it impossible to not like him.
So this was what I think he would have been like as a kid. I hope I did a good job.
Please review. I always appreciate your feedback.
Until next time.
Aragorn II Elessar.