A/N: I wrote this pretty much solely because I miss Bart and this was all I could come up with. I suggest listening to Staying Up by The Neighbourhood. Whichever way, I hope you like it!
Bart was in a bad way. His clothes were torn, hanging in threads off of his malnourished body. The dark spots under his eyes seemed like they would never go away, even if he slept for a hundred years. He almost wished he could, just to see if any of it would change. But in the end, he was pretty sure it would be the same smoldering pile of crap it was now.
"You should have learned by now, meat." The gravelly voice surrounded Bart, a cloak of uneasiness and fear. He tried to push it off but the voice insisted.
"There's nowhere you can run. There's nothing out there."
That couldn't be true. Bart had risked so much trying to escape. There had to be something out there for him. Someone must have survived out there. There were probably whole cities of refugees, and he could find shelter, and people who weren't beaten down and starved and barely alive. You can't crush hope, he thought bitterly to himself.
The voice was back, and indescribable in its awfulness. It was like rocks on sandpaper, it was the definition of sinister- it could raise the hair on the dead. It spoke of death and torture in such a matter-of-fact way that it drained the strength and hope out of almost anyone who heard it. You knew when you heard it that it was over. There wasn't a fight.
But there was a fight, this time. Bart Allen was that fight. He may not have met any of them, but he descended from heroes. If they could do the impossible, so could he.
He looked around to get his bearings, and found that he could no longer see Blue Beetle. The comfort lasted barely a moment before the voice rang in his ears again.
"You think you are strong. You think there is a way out." As he paused, Bart could hear the monster pausing for the sole effect of scaring him.
The silence was crushing with the weight of what he knew would come.
"It will not take long to break you. To crush the spirit out of you, to burn your heart where it beats in your chest."
Bart opened his eyes, hardly noticing that he'd squeezed them shut in the first place. Keep moving, something in the back of his mind reminded him. He quickly noted his surroundings and ran on.
I will not, he thought. I will not be broken. I am strong.
The thoughts were new to him. He didn't usually feel this strong. Not that he was a quitter, by any means. Something was different now, though, and he could feel it in the warmth in his chest that spread to his cheeks. It wasn't exertion, but he wasn't sure what it was. It felt like… like someone was rooting for him. Someone he loved, and who loved him in return. He had no idea why he felt that, or towards whom, but it kept him going. He pressed on.
There was something out there, for him. He wouldn't be caught. Bart Allen was strong, and someday, he was loved. I'm stronger than you, Beetle, he thought. Just try to catch me now.