Author's Note: Because, y'know, no good can come from Kid Flash and Zoom--especially when they're in the same room! (as it were). Enjoy.
Gotham City.
Kid Flash and Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Partners.
"I don't like this," Bart says. He folds his arms over the lightning bolt-logo on his chest and hunches a bit. His head keeps going back and forth—left to right in some kind of nervous switchback. He's scared of something.
"Don't like what?" I try to crack a smile to put him at ease. Times like these, I like to think my sense of humor has some bearing. I think the move fails when Bart cocks an eye at me and picks up the pace.
"Being out here in the open. We're vulnerable."
"Since when do you worry about vulnerability?" I question. "If anyone here should be worried, it's me. Remember? No super-speed or sight of Athena here."
"But you trained under Batman," Bart replies. "I think even the Marines would love to get that kind of training."
"What?" I ask, turning my head to him.
"Y'know," he says anxiously. "Batman. He's a legend. A walking, talking—"
"Quiet," Wonder Woman says. Her voice is calm and stern. The mother who'll tell you to shut up, but smile as she slaps your wrist. Reassuring or creepy, I'm not exactly sure which one. But it's definitely interesting to watch.
Wonder Woman goes into a crouch and touches her index finger to the asphalt, cracked and weathered. A few weeds look like they're sprouting through, courtesy of the constant beating the planes dole out. Like a lot ofpeople and businessesin Gotham, Goodwin International doesn't seem to notice or care about the decay they do business in.
Way of the world, I guess.
Bart, ever curious, leans his head over Wonder Woman's shoulder and asks, very quietly, "What is it?"
Wonder Woman's head turns to Bart half a degree. "Blood," she says darkly.
"Whose?"
Wonder Woman sighs and stands. "I don't know." She holds her and in front of her face, giving the smear of blood in her hand a scrutinizing look. She rubs her thumb against the smear on her forefinger. For a moment, I almost think she's gonna wipe it on that star-spangled…suit of hers. But she doesn't.
Bart's eyes dart back and forth between Wonder Woman and I. He's nervous. Or bored.
"So what do we do?" he asks tentatively.
"Dianaaaaa."
All three of us freeze for a minute. We know what it is—who it is.
"Where's it coming from?" Bart asks. His breathing quickens. Probably afraid to go 3 for 3 in broken legs.
"PrinnncessoftheAmazonnsss."
"What the hell is he saying?" I blurt, letting my anger get the momentary best of me.
"WonderWoman."
And then he materializes in front of us. Zoom, the walking ghost. Tormentor of Wally for, oh, going on a year now. Wonder Woman throws back the cape from around her shoulders, and pulls out a small blade. Her other arm is protected behind a shield with a single white star in the center.
Her lips curl downward in a scowl, and she holds the blade at eye-level. Zoom is a few yards away, but she could nail him with a good—or lucky—throw.
Zoom fades away. A second later, a loud thud catches our attention, and Wonder Woman stumbles to one side. She rights herself and massages her jaw. Her eyes dart around, desperately looking for Zoom. And she realizes her knife is gone.
"We don't have to do this again, Mr. Zolomon."
"YessswedoDianaaaa."
"No," she says. Her hands form into fists and she positions her legs shoulder-width apart. Perfect fighting—or boxing—stance. Seems to me that someone's counting on fighting dirty. "You're lying to yourself."
"Becauseofwhatyoudid."
"What did I do?"
"Raaatther…whatyoudidn'tdoooo.Whatyoucan'tdo."
Wonder Woman's eyes narrow. "And what is that?"
"Createabetterworld. HelpthepeoplewhoneeeeditmostAmazon."
"You want to destroy the world to make it better, Zoom," she challenges. "I want to build on what we already have."
I slide a hand into my belt and wrap my fingers around a few batarangs. Bart just stands there—silent. He closes his eyes, and folds his arms over his chest, inhales deeply, slowly, and lets his out. Bart meditating--if that is what he's doing--is something new; I'm unsure if I've ever seen it before.
"YoursystemisflawedAmazon. Icanrebuildit."
"You can't do anything, Zoom."
"OhbutIcan." The ghost reappears, standing further away from us, with a hand held against the now-open hangar doors. The interior lights flicker to life, and the bodies in the threshold become visible.
Hush, Prometheus, and Dr. Light—joined by Zoom.
"AnnndtheSocietycanhelp."
"Alright," I say. "Enough's enough. Now we do it my way."
I barely have time to ready the boxing-glove arrow before Clark's hand stops me from strolling out on the tarmac.
"Oliver."
"What?" I ask forcefully.
"We're going to wait until the rest of them get here," he says slowly, like I'm some child not understanding what we're getting into. Yeah, this is Clark taking the world on his shoulders because he thinks he's the only one capable—the only one who won't get hurt doing it. Guess what, Clarky, we all get hurt. Part of the job. Deal with it.
"Who knows how long that's gonna be?" I pressure Clark, sticking a finger on that self-righteous red S on his chest. "You have any idea how far it is from St. Roch to Gotham, because I do and it's—"
"Oliver," Batman chimes in. "Shut. Up."
I shoot Bruce a dirty look. When his expression doesn't change, I back down.
"Yeah," I say quietly—dejectedly. "Okay."
I walk away from Clark and Bruce, find one of those oh-so-nice airport seats and throw myself down in it. Connor sits in the one next to me. For a minute or two, neither of us says anything. Up ahead, Clark and Bruce stare out the window into the night.
"It'll be alright," Connor says reassuringly.
My brow furrows and I glance at the ceiling before turning to Connor.
"No it won't," I say dismally. "But we'll deal with it."
My ears catch a small rumble from somewhere outside.
"What was that?" I say, immediately sitting up. "Did you hear that?" The worst-case robot inside me clicks to life and my first thought is of Diana.
"Yeah," Connor says, standing. The two of us walk back to Clark and Bruce. They're still staring out the window.
"What was that?" I ask. I don't really expect an answer. From here, Clark can hear a woman scream in New York; if he doesn't know what that rumble was then we're all screwed.
"An explosion," Clark says distantly. "There." He points a finger into the night.
Toward the hangar at the far end of the tarmac.
"Uh…"
"What, Oliver?" Bruce asks. It strikes me odd that we're all just standing here watching the world go by.
"At the risk of sounding stupid, shouldn't we, uh…check it out?"
Without a word, Clark and Bruce turn away form the window. Bruce starts running towards the ramp a few yards away; Clark lifts off the ground and flies away. Connor and I break into a run, trying to catch up to Bruce.
'Nother day of wine and roses for old reliable human physiology.
Continued...
