Disclaimer: I don't own Justice League Unlimited.

Complicated Simplicity

Chapter Six: Retrospective

Hunter wasn't moving. He hadn't moved since Wally had last seen him the previous day, when he had brought him in. It wasn't just the fact that he was staring forward blankly. It was that he wasn't blinking. If he knew Wally was watching him through the window, he wasn't showing it. Wally was beginning to wonder if there was anything going on behind his blank brown eyes at all.

The elevator door opened, and John Stewart walked down the corridor towards him. Usually Wally would have smiled at the fact that John had brought him a mocha without being asked, but he wasn't in much of a smiling mood right now.

"Hey."

The speedster gave him a weak smile and a nod of thanks before taking the Styrofoam cup from his friend.

"How is he?"

He sighed. "No idea. The doctors can't find anything wrong with him, and when I try talking to him, he just stares off into space."

John crossed his arms. "In fairness, I don't think the doctors have ever seen anything like this. Even the ones at the Metro Tower."

"I guess."

"What happened to, uh… Mamar, was it?"

"Amar. He's at Iron Heights now in one of their high tech containment deals." He continued staring at Hunter. "Hope it works."

There was a pause.

"He's getting the death penalty."

John looked at him, waiting for some further elaboration. When none came, he cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

Flash shrugged. "Nothing, y'know, it's just…" His gaze came up to meet John's. He waved a dismissive hand. "Y'know what? Never mind. It's not important."

"Come on. What?"

"No, it's fine. You… you wouldn't understand anyway."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause I know you, and you, uh…" He looked down into his coffee, almost intensely examining the brown liquid. "You just wouldn't understand." He took a sip of his coffee. "Huh."

"What?"

"My coffee."

"Your coffee?"

"Yeah. You put thirty seven sugars in." He looked over at the Green Lantern blankly. "Y'know Hawkman still puts twenty seven in? And y'know, me being me, I can't bring myself to tell him." He stared into the brown liquid. "You'd think I'd be able to do something so simple."

John just stared at him, unsure of how to continue. He had originally come here with the objective of talking to Wally and making him feel better as only a best friend can. But now that he was here, John was just feeling more useless than ever.

He stood by Wally for an hour before going on duty.

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A content smile on his features, he licked his thumb before turning the page. It was a habit from his human days, and it had stuck with him, however ridiculous it seemed. He paused in his reading to once again note the silence the soundproof walls provided. Noise was one of the many reasons he had requested this cell, as well as the fact that it was suitably removed from the other inmates to allow him some privacy for his reading.

And, of course, for his opera. Not that he cared much whether his fellow inmates heard it or not, but after numerous complaints that had been communicated by the guards, Ultra Humanite had decided it best to kill two birds with one stone and be done with it.

Unfortunately, now that he had his privacy, he had quickly read through the prison's entire library, and was now three quarters through re-reading it. He sighed as he read page 175 of Tom Brown's 'Schooldays'.

His ears perked as he heard, even through the spectacularly soundproofed walls – the benefit of having ones' brain transplanted into the body of an ape - the sound of a door being opened and closed with a loud clang. At least, it would have been loud if he was in any other cell.

Footsteps approached, and he expected them to pass him by, and so returned to his book. He was mildly surprised when the door to his cell opened. The customary guard, who Humanite had learned was named Jerry, stepped through.

"It's not dinner time already, is it?" he asked, taking off his reading glasses.

"Nope. You've got a visitor."

His curiosity briefly piqued, but was quickly replaced by caution. "Who is it?"

"Just a guy with a book," a voice said from behind the door, and a red gloved hand came into view, firmly clasped onto a book shaped clump of wrapping paper. The Flash came around the door, the usual grin on his face. "Hey, buddy."

His face now locked in a grimace, Humanite put his reading glasses back on and continued reading page 175. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, now, is that any way to talk to someone who's brought you a first edition of 'The Capture in the Rice'?"

"It's called 'The Catcher in the Rye'. And I've already read it."

"Recently?"

Humanite paused. "No."

"All right," he replied, nodding and grinning.

After another long pause, Humanite sighed. "All right," he said, removing his glasses and using them as a gesturing tool. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"Just stuff."

"…Stuff."

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff! What? Yes! Stuff! Geez…"

He carefully folded his glasses and snapped his book shut, unconcerned about his losing his place. Yet another advantage of being a super genius.

"All right. Do you mind waiting outside, Jerry?"

He shrugged. "If I can't trust the Flash not to break you out, who can I trust?"

"Indeed."

Jerry turned and left the cell, closing it behind him. Ultra Humanite held out his hand to the Flash, who merely stared at it in puzzlement.

Humanite sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded to his hand impatiently.

Realization struck.

"Oh! Yeah. Here it is."

The speedster handed over the book and awkwardly looked for a place to sit. Humanite watched him attempt to lean against the dresser, the bedside table and the desk before intervening.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just sit on the bed."

"Yeah, I was… uh, just… thought that was kinda rude without asking."

A hairless eyebrow rose. "You? Concerned with manners? Who on Earth have you been seeing?"

Flash grinned. "Hey, I'm only rude with the people I don't like," he said with a wink, prompting a groan and another roll of the eyes from his companion.

He unwrapped the book and admired the illustration on the cover. "Remarkable."

"You like it?" the speedster asked, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head and legs crossed, his right dangling from side to side off his left. "It took me a long time to find it. You'd think it'd be easier to find old books like that, but it's really not, so I had to find people who liked books in the Watchtower and the Metro Tower, and that wasn't easy either, and-"

"Please. Stop. Why are you here?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, which Humanite instantly noted as unusual for the Flash.

"I uh, wanted to talk to you about something."

"Ah, yes. The elusive 'stuff' you hinted at earlier."

"Uh, yeah. That stuff."

He didn't continue. Humanite rotated his hand in a 'go on' gesture.

A heavy sigh escaped the speedster's lips. "Okay. I've been having a problem…"

Ultra Humanite didn't question. He didn't interrupt. He simply let his visitor talk.

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The first thing that Hunter noted upon waking was the silence. Although this wasn't the usual silence expected of a hospital room. As he took in his surroundings, he realised that the reason why was because he wasn't in the hospital.

How did he get here?

Amar.

He grimaced.

I was being careless.

Just like was with the Clown.

Hunter still remembered it like it was yesterday.

"He won't have a gun."

He had been so sure of himself.

So very cocky.

"Trust me, Ashley."

The sound of the gunshot still woke him up in a cold sweat.

From that day onward, he had vowed not to let himself get complacent or cocky. Nothing would stop him from finding maniacs like his father and the Clown and putting them behind bars. Or sending them to electric chair, if he had any say in it.

That was something that he had hoped to someday instil in the Flash. All of the charity work and keeping in touch with the people might by nice, but it didn't stop the criminals and psychotics. If anything, it encouraged them to attack, since the only image one gives out is one of sentimentality. Sentimentality and emotional attachments are a weakness to enemies.

He made to get out of the bed, and felt a small pain in his arm. A quick look down showed the IV drip that was hooked into his arm. He irritably ripped off the tape and took the tube out of his arm, using a pillow to the stop the bleeding.

Hunter didn't know why he was so intent on moving, but he also didn't care. He continued moving to the window and opened the blinds. As he looked out the window, he realised where he was.

He was in the Justice League's Metro Tower. The view of Metropolis was breathtaking. But Hunter didn't really notice. He simply saw where he was and moved on.

Why wasn't there any noise?

Hunter paused. But there was a noise. A very low, strange hum, but it was definitely there.

Even in the Metro Tower, Hunter expected some noise. Maybe the rooms were soundproofed. That was probably it.

Definitely.

He made his way to the door, the fact that his only piece of clothing was a hospital gown barely registering in his mind. He froze, and looked down.

His bad leg.

There was no pain.

There was no pain!

He took a deep breath, and instantly choked as his throat dried up. Hunter's eyes watered. Breathing made his throat burn. Every time he moved, his whole body heated up.

Then, just as suddenly, the feeling was gone.

Hunter took a few breaths to steady himself and wiped his eyes. He rubbed his throat, which now felt completely normal.

What the hell was that?

After taking another minute or so to make sure it wasn't going to happen again, he continued on through the door. He stopped instantly as he saw a doctor stood in front of him, a grimace on his features.

"Uh… sorry," Hunter said somewhat sheepishly, annoyed at himself for being caught. "I was just-"

He stopped in mid sentence as he noticed the doctor wasn't focusing on him. He was looking at him, but not focusing. Hunter waved a cautious hand in front of the doctor's face and snapped his fingers a few times for good measure.

Nothing.

He sidestepped, and the doctor's gaze didn't follow him. Hunter looked up and down the corridor, and saw other members of the Metro Tower staff similarly frozen in place. Something in the distance really got his attention, however. One of the Metro Tower staff (his name tag named him Richards) had dropped a file wedged full of paper.

Or at least, he was in the process of dropping it.

The paper was frozen in mid air, the staff member similarly frozen next it, the expression of irritation on his face stuck in place.

Hunter looked down at his hospital gown and grimaced. He needed to change. He turned to find some clothes, and then stopped himself.

Why aren't I phased by this? I should be amazed… and all I can think about is finding some clothes?

He looked down at his gown again.

I need to find some clothes.

After stealing a uniform from the staff member who had dropped the paper, Hunter took the stairs, knowing that the elevators wouldn't be working. If the world was frozen except for him, he doubted the guy would mind.

It took a relative half hour to get to the bottom of the stair case and out into the lobby of the Metro Tower. He went through the doors and out into the city of Metropolis.

He had to get to Central City.

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Flash shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "…and that's it."

It didn't look like Humanite was going to respond. His dull gaze seemed almost as if he were in a trance.

"Uh… you there?"

Humanite blinked, then frowned. "What?"

"You just… looked a little spaced out there."

"I was thinking."

"Oh. About what?"

"What do you think?"

Flash wracked his brain at super speed, going through all the smart topics he could think of.

Science, literature, philosophy-

"You, you fool."

"Oh. Okay." He paused. "So?"

"So… what?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, I don't know yet, do I?"

"…Why not?"

"Because you haven't allowed me time to think about it."

"Oh. Sorry." Flash sat in silence for a few moments before something occurred to him. "But aren't you like super-smart?"

"Please."

He put up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry…"

After an infuriatingly long time (at least for Wally), Ultra Humanite spoke up.

"May I ask you something?"

"Uh… shoot."

"Are you more concerned with the moral dilemma of killing your enemies, or how your comrades and adoring public would react?"

"What?"

The grey-furred head tilted to the side, the tired look appearing strange on the face of a gorilla. "Did you really expect me to sugar coat it? That is why you came to me, isn't it? For an undiluted, honest opinion?"

Flash sighed. "I guess…"

"Well?"

The speedster took some time on the question, and even seemed to be seriously considering his answer.

Humanite raised an impressed eyebrow.

"It's not… either of those," Flash said, staring at the floor in front of him. "Not really."

"Then what do you believe it is?"

"It's… the idea of killing someone. You know. They're alive, and then they're not. I…" He shook his head. "I don't know how anyone could live with it."

"You'd be surprised," Humanite replied quietly.

Flash didn't reply, not wanting to think about what was meant by the comment.

"In any case," the gorilla continued, "you have little to worry about."

"Really? I mean… you think I won't?"

"I didn't say that. To be honest, I'd rather not tell you what I think. I wouldn't want it to influence your decision."

"Gee, thanks."

"However, I will say that doubting yourself is merely increasing the difficulty you are having with this dilemma. If you spend all of your time worrying about killing your opponents, then you are unlikely to be fighting crime for much longer."

"So I should just stop complaining and get on with it?"

Humanite shrugged. "I wouldn't put it quite so crudely, but yes."

Flash nodded and smiled wistfully. "Do you know how ironic it is that you're the first person to make me feel better about this?"

"Well, my intelligence is far superior to everyone you know."

"Nice modesty, there."

"You can talk."

"You talk more."

"I talk with purpose."

"A boring purpose, usually."

"It's culture."

"It's boring, trust me."

"Hah. There's a concept."

Silence descended between them.

"Thanks."

Ultra Humanite picked up the book that Flash had brought him and began reading. "If you're planning on any further impromptu visits, please bring a larger selection of reading material. This will barely last me a day."

The speedster grinned. "Sure. How about some porno mags?"

"I'm not particularly interested in your preferred reading."

"Too advanced, huh?"

"Oh, please."

"So, porno it is."

"If you do, there will be consequences."

"Ooo, scary monkey."

Flash's communicator bleeped.

"Yeah?" He nodded. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." His hand descended from his ear. "I gotta go."

"I'm holding back the tears."

"Be nice, or you won't get any porno."

Humanite removed his reading glasses to glare at the speedster. "Incidentally, I would recommend that you talk to Superman about your current predicament."

Flash frowned, confused. "Supes? Why?"

"He's been through a similar conflict of ideals, if I'm not mistaken."

"How do you know?"

He smiled. "I'm very good at reading people, even over television broadcasts."

The speedster's frown deepened. "Uh… okay. Anything else?"

"Yes. Leave."

With a grin, Flash knocked on the door of the cell, signalling that he was done. Jerry opened the door.

Flash turned back to Humanite. "Okay, so that's two crates of porno," he said far too loudly. He looked back to Jerry. "You'd think that'd be too much for someone, but…" He shrugged in false confusion, and then sped away, leaving a disturbed Jerry trying to avoid looking at Humanite.

"You, uh… you really asked for-"

"No, of course I didn't."

Jerry didn't look convinced.

Humanite sighed. "Just close the door."

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It had taken Hunter a few weeks to walk to Central City from Metropolis, and he hadn't come across anyone who hadn't been frozen as he was. As he walked underneath the green sign welcoming visitors to Central City, he saw a deli he used to frequent in the distance.

Once again, the fact that he wasn't hungry or tired despite having not eaten or slept for weeks occurred to him, and he felt troubled. His racing mind quickly changed his train of thought, however, to getting into the city and finding the Flash. Surely he wouldn't be frozen, considering the nature of his powers.

Not that Hunter would want his help anyway. Flash wasn't willing to do what was necessary. He let his criminals run free. He-

Hunter irritably scratched his burning face. At first he had thought it was just his beard growing, but as he went on his journey to Central City, he had noticed that his hair wasn't growing at all. The only thing that seemed different to him was that he didn't get the attacks any more. No 'heat waves' as he had come to call them.

Walking without a cane was a strange experience. When he was younger, he had loved running.

Of course, the Clown changed all that.

As he entered the city, Hunter felt somewhat grateful at his current predicament. He had ended up in the worst end of the city, and considering his current purple attire of a Justice League worker, it wouldn't have been ideal under normal circumstances.

He looked up to the sky and saw a bird flying over head, its wings frozen as if in a photograph. Hunter would have given anything at that moment to see the bird continue on its way.

Sudden noise assaulted him. Cars blared their horns, babies cried in their cribs, dogs barked irritably.

Back at the Metro Tower, the doctor confusedly stared at the open door in front of him, which had a moment ago been closed. Further down the corridor, Richards looked down in glum irritation at the dropped papers, and quickly covered himself after seeing he was suddenly only wearing his boxer shorts.

In Central City, Hunter stumbled across the sidewalk and into the building beside him, reeling from the shock.

The world was back to normal again!

Hunter grinned.

It was back to normal again!

"Hey!"

The police profiler whipped his head around to confronted by a gang of street thugs, each of them giving him a look that would have made any normal man flee.

Hunter couldn't move, still overwhelmed by the onslaught of noise and motion around him. He was almost happy to see the gang descending on him.

Almost.

"What've we got here?" said what seemed to be the leader.

Another shrugged. "Dunno, man. Looks like some kinda superhero to me."

"He does, doesn't he?" The leader grinned. "Well, let's see what makes him so super, huh?"

Hunter put up his hands defensively. "Please, I don't want any trouble. I just-"

"You just stepped into the wrong part of town."

One member of the gang put a hand on the leader's shoulder, frowning at Hunter. "Hey, man… he's lookin' a bit weird to me."

"What?"

"He looks kinda… ghosty. Don't you see it?"

"Nah, man. You're just seein' things. Now shut up and let me work." He turned back to Hunter. "Now, where were we?"

He approached Hunter, pulling a flick-knife from his sleeve. His hand came forward too fast for Hunter to avoid, and he scrunched his eyes shut, preparing for the pain which now, thanks to Amar, was all to familiar to him.

Nothing happened.

The police profiler opened one eye, then another.

The street thug was frozen in place, the very tip of his blade touching Hunter's stomach. He backed up, horrified at both the proximity of the blade and the fact that he was once again stuck in limbo.

Anger welled up in him. It wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything to deserve this. And yet, for some reason, God or Fate had decided to play a little joke on him and use him as their plaything.

He looked at the knife wielding thug before him, and took in the amused bloodlust in his eyes.

It was those kinds of people who were responsible for this. Hunter stepped around the knife, brought back his fist, and threw it into the thugs chin as hard as he could manage. He stayed in place, unmoved by the attack. Hunter continued on to the thug's jeering allies, and gave each of them a swift blow to the head, screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Tired out from the exertion, Hunter rested for a few seconds before feeling replenished, and continued on his way.

He still had to find the Flash.

In the distance, he saw a road sign pointing to the Flash Museum.

Hunter smiled. Of course! The Flash would be there. Always enjoying the fruits of his labours even if they were hardly deserved.

A half hour later, he was standing inside the Flash Museum. Out of anger that was part irritation and part frustration, Hunter had kicked the bottom of the grinning Flash statue, unheeding of the pain it would cause his leg.

Surprisingly, he barely felt a thing.

Whether by coincidence or design, Hunter found himself in the Rogue's section of the Museum.

All of these criminals. All of them alive. All of them still believing that they can do whatever they want, and still get away with it. The only one who wasn't around anymore was Gorilla Grodd, and that was because of someone else.

It disgusted Hunter. Who did the Flash think he was? A God-like figure like Superman can get away with such a thing, considering his powers. But the Flash? As he continually liked to spout to the public, he was just a normal guy with a little extra speed. He couldn't afford for such luxuries.

He remembered the incident at the prison. Appearances to the contrary, Hunter had been fully aware of what was going on, and had been feigning unconsciousness, hoping to catch Volcana off guard. Flash's arrival had prevented his interference.

Hunter had also been witness to Flash's violent attack against Volcana, and his cowardly departure from the scene.

If he became that broken up over almost killing some low rate Metahuman, then how would he be able to handle making the big decisions?

Hunter grit his teeth.

All of these criminals… and not one who feared the Flash. Not one who feared retribution. Not one that could make the Flash buckle down and become the hero he should be.

Realization struck.

Except Hunter. With the powers he had now… he would be able to show the Flash the dangers of being so complacent. And with his powers, he would be able to find out what was important to the Flash.

He would be able to find out the Flash's identity, and threaten to take from him that which he most held dear.

He would need a name. He couldn't do it as Hunter Zolomon, even with the super powers. He needed to be a symbol… something… opposite to the Flash.

Hunter began searching the Flash Museum for a particular display, his mind wandering back to a battle between the Justice League and Lex Luthor that the Flash had told him about.

Something… reverse.

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(A/N: Nothing much to say, except a big thank you to hhgbh for beta-ing.

Reviews welcome!)