Author's Note: This is a reloaded version of Chapter 15. Resultant from some formatting changes that apparently didn't get through the system, I present it to you again for consideration. Dialogue is changed in areas. Black Adam's line at the end has been forestalled till next chapter, as I'm a sucker for a good cliffhanger. So that's it. Consider this a retcon if you will, as the ending bit with Black Adam has been, for the time being, left a mystery (though not much of one). I'm a stickler for formatting; as the narrative shifts, I wanted to make this all as accessible as I could. Enjoy.

Author's Note II: Just a note on narrative for clarity's sake: Tim in a little quasi-soliloquoy, then Tim as he's fighting Talia, then finally Bart.

"They don't trust you, Conner. They feel you're too dangerous. The League…the Titans. They fear you. You must break through those concerns; they don't matter. Transcend your limitations…and you will achieve godhood."

Luthor leans in closer to Conner, whispering calmly to the boy. "Purpose, son. Meaning. All the secrets of the world…spread before you."

"You're lying," Superboy mutters.

"Possibly. Can you take that risk?"

Conner looks up to Luthor. The man who had once been the CEO of LexCorp International stared at Superboy through narrow eyes. Crows feet extend out from the corners of his eyes and curve downward a few short centimeters across his aged and worn face—a haggard kind of determination setting in on Luthor. He's waiting for a response from Superboy.

"No," Luthor says, his voice teetering between insanity and glee. "You have the power to end this."

Superboy rises slowly from his chair, stares at the ground for a second, and takes laborious steps down the dais. He moves toward the Kid Flash.

Black Adam—or Teth-Adam, depending on who you ask and what you read—has Bart held a few feet in the air, in a chokehold. Superboy shuffles across the main floor, walking towards Bart lazily. Hesitantly. Like he doesn't want to.

Presentation is everything. Superboy…presents himself as lazy. A jock. He is anything but. A clone, comprised of DNA from Superman and Luthor, Superboy is at best a curiosity of nature. And at worst? A time bomb.

The latter worries me more.

Luthor knows Superboy—what's troubling him, what drives him. He exploits it, as he always does. Luthor uses those around him to his advantage. One might argue that Bruce does the same, and I can vouch for that. In this way, they're alike.

Alike, and yet so different. Isn't that usually how it goes, though?

My head hurts. Talia's boot presses itself into my temple. For a moment, I can almost envision my skull splitting at the cranial fissures and my brain spilling onto the floor. Yeah, that's a positive image. Lying there—dead on the floor, my bloated eyes staring up at the ceiling in a hazy glare.

Helpless. Hopeless. Cut down in my prime...a boomerang sticking out of my chest...

Talia's a talker. She thinks it'll distract me, and it almost does. "You are nothing like your mentor," she says. Her soft alto sounds…Italian. Almost. "He would never allow himself to be defeated so easily."

Through the pain, my teeth clench together, and I lock a hand around Talia's ankle. Drawing strength from…somewhere, I manage to push her off me. She lands with a dull thud a foot or so away from me. I stand, and dust myself off. I pull my gloves tight against my hands, and let the cape drape over my form. It's theatric, to a point.

The overhead lighting casts a long shadow over Talia's body. She props herself up on her elbows. From behind red-embossed lips, she smiles wickedly. Like she's getting some sick pleasure out of this.

"What now, Boy Wonder? You're impossibly outnumbered."

"I don't intend to take them all one on one," I say quietly. I reach down, grab Talia's collar, and pull her up. My bicep aches in momentary pain. I work through it. "Just you." My voice is gritty. Angry.

"I was mistaken," she says, the smile disappearing. "You…are very much like your mentor."

A brick lands in my crotch and sends me to my knees. A second later I realize the brick is Talia's knee. My head lolls backward, staring up at her. Our eyes meet. "Yes. Neither of you knows when to stay down." She pulls the gun from its holster. It's a Ruger Mark III .22 caliber. Holds 10 rounds, if memory serves. What was it Bruce said? To fight the enemy, know the enemy.

Yeah. I know the type.

But Talia becoming Annie Oakley is…questionable. Maybe Psycho's working her. Maybe not. It's a risk I can't afford running.

The end of the barrel presses into the center of my forehead. She knows how to go for maximum damage—messiness. At this close range, there wouldn't be anything left of me above the neck. Bottom line? Talia's sloppy. I take advantage of that.

I fall to my back, throwing a kick to Talia's elbow. The Ruger falls from her hand, and before she can react, I've got a boot over the barrel. She's not getting to it. And for once, I've got the upper hand.

"Talia," I say. I try my damnedest to restrain the self-efficacy in my voice. "You shouldn't have been defeated so easily."

Black Adam's got a death grip on my shoulders, making sure I don't go anywhere. Conner's advancing on me slowly. My knee hurts; it's nowhere near to being healed right now. I can feel the sweat matting my hair and mask to my forehead. And for once, I'm stuck without a comeback.

But something doesn't look right. Conner's got an almost sickly look on his face. Like he doesn't want to do what I fear he's about to—break my other leg and leave me a wreck on the floor for Luthor's pride of lions to rip apart.

And yet it's oddly peaceful. People say that your life flashes before your eyes in the moments right before your car slides off an embankment and into the river, but I wonder about that. My life flashes before my eyes every day. Right before the speed kicks in and the world becomes a series of black blurs in my vision. Wally used to call it the thrill of flight. I love it. The wind rushing against your face. If it was a drug, it'd be illegal. It doesn't even feel like you're running. Its like…some kind of dream.

That…is super-speed.

This? Being held in place waiting for a Franken-Conner to draw and quarter me? This is Hell. Hell is nakedness. Vulnerability. If life is a rope, Hell is dangling at the end of it.

It sucks.

Conner's footsteps slow, and he stops a few feet in front of me. He hangs his head low, staring at the ground like he did before. My eyes scan his body, roll down his linebacker-esque forearms. His hands are formed into tight fists. I go back to his face. His jaws are clenched tightly.

What's he doing?

"What are you waiting for?" Luthor asks from his seat on the dais. His voice is a mixture of annoyance and anger. "Do it."

"No," Conner says, turning to Luthor. "No. I won't."

The corners of Luthor's mouth dip into a scowl. He bares his teeth like some rabid animal, and stands. "Don't you understand? He's holding you back! They all are. This is the only way."

Conner grabs me in a chokehold, lifts me at least a foot off the ground. Black Adam's hands slide off my shoulders and he backsteps a few paces. Conner's right arm rears back past his head in a clenched fist. Ready to smash my beautiful mug. For a moment, I almost wonder what would Cassie think if she saw Conner like this. She'd probably give him what-for.

A right hook from someone like Zoom is bad enough. But from Conner—the man who shares Luthor's strength of character, and Superman's strength of fist? Yikes. I almost think it's the end. But that doesn't mean I won't go down without a fight.

Conner hesitates for a moment. His mouth closes a bit, and his grip loosens slightly.

"Can't do it, can you?" My voice is…pleading almost. And testing too. Will he really do it? Tune in next week. Same Flash-time, same Flash-channel.

But I won't have to wait till then. Time slows down, and Conner's eyes meet mine. I could find a way out of this. Kick him in the balls or something like that. But it wouldn't accomplish much. I'd still be a speedster without the ability to speed anywhere. It's all very lame-horse, Catch-22, you ask me. Lousy Heller...

In a nanosecond, the right hook comes for me. Instinctively, my head jerks to the right, to avoid it. But then…I realize that Conner wasn't aiming for me anyway.

He lets me fall out of his grip. I land with a dull thud, just in time to see Conner's fist smash into Black Adam's face. More specifically, his nose. Adam stumbles back a few steps. Conner lands another punch across Adam's face.

Third time, not so lucky. Adam grabs Conner's arm in two places. Using it as leverage, he slams an open fist into Conner's nose. Conner stumbles backward, but Adam catches the collar of his shirt. Adam pulls Conner close to his face and readies a fist.

"What are you waiting for?" Conner challenges. "Just say it."

Adam scowls. The blood trickling from his nose seeps over his lips and into his mouth, coating his teeth in a pale red. And it comes to me. If it looks like Captain Marvel. and if it dresses like Captain Marvel...it's probably powered like Captain Marvel. Birds of a feather.

Conner flicks a beckoning finger at Adam. "You know you want to."

Continued...