Fear the Unknown
Chapter 10: Points of View
(Disclaimer: all characters are copyrights of DC Comics, a division of AOL- Time Warner. I don't own any of this stuff, sadly.)
For some, thirty minutes might sound like some degree of scrambling was needed to get ready. Not for Barry Allen. For the fastest man alive, thirty seconds was more than enough time for him to be prepared. So, with a surplus of time on his hands, Barry was left with the only other person to whom that short timeframe didn't really matter.
"How're you holding up, Clarkie? Sorry... 'Super-man'?"
Clark was sitting alone near the top of the massive equipment bay, where few could see him and fewer could reach him. Barry was one of those few.
"Do you remember what we agreed when we got into this, Bar? We said we wanted to be something new. We wanted to be something the world had never seen before."
"We wanted to be heros. I remember."
"So what are we now? Are we heros? Are we assasins?"
"We're neither, pal."
"Then what are we?"
"We're soldiers, Clark." They were both quiet for a moment. "Maybe in a different world, we could have been heros. Maybe in a different time we might have been able to afford the luxury of some moral code like the knights of the Round Table, but we don't live in that world or that time. We live in a world controlled by fanatics who believe they are right. We live in a world that fears everything it doesn't understand. In this world, we just have to do what we can... we do what we have to do."
Again there was a moment of silence, but it was broken by the sound of clapping hands.
"That's a fine speech, kid." Slade Wilson approached them, already fully decked out in his combat gear, his blind eye concealed by a solid side to his facemask. "Too bad you're full of it."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You want to be heros. That's a damned good idea, but it never would have worked. Don't you get it? You, him, others like you and this guy we're supposed to spring, you're freaks of nature. You never would have been accepted. They'd have hunted you down even without these religious nuts goading them on, and if you think otherwise, you're just kidding yourself."
The two men stared at each other for a moment, Wilson's hard glare shooting out from his one good eye. Finally, Clark stood.
"I feel sorry for you, Wilson. I really do."
With that he floated off of the platform and slowly descended to the main floor, where the others were boarding the advanced jet that their benefactor had supplied. Barry raced down the wall and beat him there by a heartbeat. Wilson was the last to approach, and Grayson was waiting for him at the gangway.
"It really is too bad." Wilson said, flatly.
Chapter 10: Points of View
(Disclaimer: all characters are copyrights of DC Comics, a division of AOL- Time Warner. I don't own any of this stuff, sadly.)
For some, thirty minutes might sound like some degree of scrambling was needed to get ready. Not for Barry Allen. For the fastest man alive, thirty seconds was more than enough time for him to be prepared. So, with a surplus of time on his hands, Barry was left with the only other person to whom that short timeframe didn't really matter.
"How're you holding up, Clarkie? Sorry... 'Super-man'?"
Clark was sitting alone near the top of the massive equipment bay, where few could see him and fewer could reach him. Barry was one of those few.
"Do you remember what we agreed when we got into this, Bar? We said we wanted to be something new. We wanted to be something the world had never seen before."
"We wanted to be heros. I remember."
"So what are we now? Are we heros? Are we assasins?"
"We're neither, pal."
"Then what are we?"
"We're soldiers, Clark." They were both quiet for a moment. "Maybe in a different world, we could have been heros. Maybe in a different time we might have been able to afford the luxury of some moral code like the knights of the Round Table, but we don't live in that world or that time. We live in a world controlled by fanatics who believe they are right. We live in a world that fears everything it doesn't understand. In this world, we just have to do what we can... we do what we have to do."
Again there was a moment of silence, but it was broken by the sound of clapping hands.
"That's a fine speech, kid." Slade Wilson approached them, already fully decked out in his combat gear, his blind eye concealed by a solid side to his facemask. "Too bad you're full of it."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You want to be heros. That's a damned good idea, but it never would have worked. Don't you get it? You, him, others like you and this guy we're supposed to spring, you're freaks of nature. You never would have been accepted. They'd have hunted you down even without these religious nuts goading them on, and if you think otherwise, you're just kidding yourself."
The two men stared at each other for a moment, Wilson's hard glare shooting out from his one good eye. Finally, Clark stood.
"I feel sorry for you, Wilson. I really do."
With that he floated off of the platform and slowly descended to the main floor, where the others were boarding the advanced jet that their benefactor had supplied. Barry raced down the wall and beat him there by a heartbeat. Wilson was the last to approach, and Grayson was waiting for him at the gangway.
"It really is too bad." Wilson said, flatly.