Written by Acacia Dyre
Disclaimer: Original character (narrator) is my creation, the Titans and their universe all belong to DC and no infringement is intended.
Warning: Civilian POV.
Bystander
There are always stories that belong behind the scenes, the news no one really hears except through gossip or urban legend. Sometimes those stories are true, but the truth they carry is not one that the majority of people wish to learn about. I could say that is the reason my own story has been overlooked or ignored for so long, but it would only be an excuse, because I want to pretend it isn't true also. I belong to the masses of people who like living beneath the veil of `everything is fine' as we sweep the little shards of our problems under the rug.
I live in New York City. I'm one of the millions in this city, and one of the anonymous ones. Most of us are. Some citizens of the city are not. You might remember that this is where the heroic team called the Titans has their Tower. Well, Gotham has the Batman, Metropolis has Superman, and Keystone City has the Flash. And NYC has the Titans. It sounds pretty cool, until you see first hand what happens when someone decides to go after one, or the whole team, in the city.
It isn't a daily or even weekly occurrence, but it leaves a mark: on the buildings, the people and our spirit. We rally around their victories and understand their failings. Or we try to and when we can't we forget about the failures, even those of us who personify their failures. We blend into the city as victims of some crime, some other event that has taken its toll upon the people and we become invisible. That's right `we' become invisible.
There are times when I'm not sure to whom this failure belongs. Was it mine for not being fast enough, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for not having any experience with being up close and personal during a battle between super-powered beings? Or was it their fault for being blind to the civilians who were in danger around them, who were without powers and without escape routes? Most of the time I think that it is the fault of everyone who lets it be pushed out of sight. If I had known of the possibility that they wouldn't be able to protect me would I have been more careful, more observant? I don't know.
Being careful may not have helped me. Some things are just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There could not have been a more wrong time or place for me. Some sociopath villain didn't injure me, one of the heroes did. You may have seen film of the Titans in action, or the Justice League for that matter. Troia and Wonder Woman are able to deflect things with the bands on their wrists. Things like bullets. Where those things end up can not always be controlled and in the heat of battle, I guess there isn't always time to make sure the civilians are unharmed when you need to continue chasing the bad guys.
I was lucky because I wasn't alone. There was another woman who ducked into the storefront and the clerk who hid behind the counter. They stopped the bleeding and called for an ambulance. The bullet passed through my right shoulder and luckily it didn't cause very much damage. I was stitched and bandaged and sent home with a few instructions on caring for the wound. I didn't talk about how I had gotten shot, but no one asked either. I just healed and kept my news to myself. I didn't even tell my parents, I wasn't sure if they would believe me anyway.
And when that postcard arrived a few days after my `experience' I just looked at the gentle slop of the `T' it was signed with and threw it away. There was no need to hang onto the memory. My only memorabilia that wouldn't find it's way into my scrapbook with the newspaper and magazine clippings, because there was no need for it. Nothing had happened.
Disclaimer: Original character (narrator) is my creation, the Titans and their universe all belong to DC and no infringement is intended.
Warning: Civilian POV.
Bystander
There are always stories that belong behind the scenes, the news no one really hears except through gossip or urban legend. Sometimes those stories are true, but the truth they carry is not one that the majority of people wish to learn about. I could say that is the reason my own story has been overlooked or ignored for so long, but it would only be an excuse, because I want to pretend it isn't true also. I belong to the masses of people who like living beneath the veil of `everything is fine' as we sweep the little shards of our problems under the rug.
I live in New York City. I'm one of the millions in this city, and one of the anonymous ones. Most of us are. Some citizens of the city are not. You might remember that this is where the heroic team called the Titans has their Tower. Well, Gotham has the Batman, Metropolis has Superman, and Keystone City has the Flash. And NYC has the Titans. It sounds pretty cool, until you see first hand what happens when someone decides to go after one, or the whole team, in the city.
It isn't a daily or even weekly occurrence, but it leaves a mark: on the buildings, the people and our spirit. We rally around their victories and understand their failings. Or we try to and when we can't we forget about the failures, even those of us who personify their failures. We blend into the city as victims of some crime, some other event that has taken its toll upon the people and we become invisible. That's right `we' become invisible.
There are times when I'm not sure to whom this failure belongs. Was it mine for not being fast enough, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, for not having any experience with being up close and personal during a battle between super-powered beings? Or was it their fault for being blind to the civilians who were in danger around them, who were without powers and without escape routes? Most of the time I think that it is the fault of everyone who lets it be pushed out of sight. If I had known of the possibility that they wouldn't be able to protect me would I have been more careful, more observant? I don't know.
Being careful may not have helped me. Some things are just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There could not have been a more wrong time or place for me. Some sociopath villain didn't injure me, one of the heroes did. You may have seen film of the Titans in action, or the Justice League for that matter. Troia and Wonder Woman are able to deflect things with the bands on their wrists. Things like bullets. Where those things end up can not always be controlled and in the heat of battle, I guess there isn't always time to make sure the civilians are unharmed when you need to continue chasing the bad guys.
I was lucky because I wasn't alone. There was another woman who ducked into the storefront and the clerk who hid behind the counter. They stopped the bleeding and called for an ambulance. The bullet passed through my right shoulder and luckily it didn't cause very much damage. I was stitched and bandaged and sent home with a few instructions on caring for the wound. I didn't talk about how I had gotten shot, but no one asked either. I just healed and kept my news to myself. I didn't even tell my parents, I wasn't sure if they would believe me anyway.
And when that postcard arrived a few days after my `experience' I just looked at the gentle slop of the `T' it was signed with and threw it away. There was no need to hang onto the memory. My only memorabilia that wouldn't find it's way into my scrapbook with the newspaper and magazine clippings, because there was no need for it. Nothing had happened.