Chapter 4 - Glass

…
...

A whole day had passed, not a peep from Central City's scarlet speedster.

Batman was not one to claim concern easily or readily but even he knew that the expression on his ridged face would be starting to give him away. Perhaps it was Clark's insistence that he play the roll of a protective big brother and check up on the other hero, or maybe it was the sense of unease curling in his gut like a familiar infestation.

Of course he'd been keeping track of Central City, Bats kept loose tabs on every known city with a hero – Gotham was his priority but Batman didn't necessarily intend to leave the rest of the world to burn. Regardless of if he liked it or not, being part of the Justice League made him responsible for the whole earth, every corrupt inch of it and beyond that Bats had other obligations to fulfill.

Promises he made, words he gave – things that, left unattended, would result in him becoming a dishonest man. True enough Batman had deceit in his bones and Bruce Wayne had secrets in abundance – but Thomas Wayne's son had not been raised to have a word worth less than trash. Batman had to keep the promises he made to the best of his ability.

That was why the silence from Barry Allen had started to disturb him deeply. Bruce had a hand in Central City that he was required to play even if he would have preferred to keep well out of it. He'd trusted Barry to look after one brother, and the other was a difficult situation no matter which angle Batman looked at it. But even now he withheld judgment of the younger Monochrome boy – many things he was but a killer? Bruce wasn't sold on the idea.

This thought occupied his mind as he sat hunched over the work desk he'd been stationed at for the past two shifts at the watchtower. He could be accused of being over zealous and perhaps a little too ready to dig into areas that could be considered completely coincidental rather than intentional.

But as Batman sat there, looking between the screen in front of him and the physical papers he'd gathered on the strange deaths occurring in Central City – he couldn't help but find his faith in coincidence lacking.

"Still here Bats?" He tried not to show his frustration show, not allowing himself the weakness to wince when he heard the Lantern approaching him. Sometimes it could be hard to pinpoint the man's arrival when he spent more time floating than he did walking but Batman had made a point to never let Hal Jordan sneak up on him. Clark said it was pride, Bruce said it was necessity.

Gently the Green Lantern landed, his footfalls surprisingly soft for a man as brash as the ace. If only his words could be kept so subdued. "Meeting ended two hours ago." He noted, pointing out the obvious as though it was of importance. "Shouldn't you be back in your cave?"

Comments like that could be perceived as rude but Batman didn't detect any spite in the man's tone, more curiosity than anything else. Curiosity and great amounts of weariness. Hal didn't say it but he must have been aching all over. His troubles off planet had been growing to a state of emergency, and yet he'd still made it back to the home land to attend a standard League meeting. Bruce theorized there was a better reason behind that besides simple duty, Jordan was not known to stick to rules and regulations closely after all.

"I have work to do here." Batman replied stonily while quietly and subtly reaching to change the monitor over to something related to Gotham. He was not keeping secrets, this was simply a precaution. Jordan and Allen were close – closer than Bruce sometimes thought was wise, but it meant neither would fail to go to the aid of the other. The last thing Bruce wanted was to rile up Hal – especially when his plights in the other sectors of space seemed genuinely important.

From what little Hal said and what Bruce could dig up, there was some sort of political issues being carried out on Oa. Something about a rouge lantern or even some sort of uprising – all to do with colour no less. Were he a less disciplined man, Bruce might have made a joke out of the underlining racist feel to the idea. Obviously he was not so childish as to dumb down dangerous situations to schoolyard jokes – still, one did wonder why yellow lanterns were so loathed by the green. Perhaps there was something in there – but Bruce highly doubted it.

Thankfully Jordan noticed nothing and seemed more occupied fidgeting with his uniform. Bruce was content to say nothing more but it only took a few seconds for Hal's real question to come tumbling out.

"Hey, where is Flash?"

Momentarily Batman paused, fingers lingering over the keys he'd intended to punch in for a few seconds. The answer to that question was one that Bruce would have very much liked to have. But as it was he didn't know.

"He wasn't in the meeting today?" Hal continued slowly, as if more prompting would get the dark knight talking. "I mean…he's tardy but he must have called you ahead of time or you'd be livid right now right?"

Jordan had first hand experience on just how 'livid' Bats could be when someone skipped out on important meetings. Standard or not, it was important members attend when called unless they were busy doing something just as important. Sometimes Hal had good excuses, like an old friend and mentor turning into a criminal and trying to kill him, other times he had substandard answers – like a faulty alarm clock.

Barry Allen could and was frequently late, but to miss a whole meeting without so much as a peep? It was unusual and it was beginning to crawl up Bruce's spine in a disconcerting way.

Of course batman had promptly tried to get in contact with the Flash. He'd used the League summons first, when that failed he'd moved onto the private number they shared – that was just as fruitless. More times passed and Batman resorted to the civilian number Barry had given him when he first took in Noire – the number he used to call when his parenting skills fell flat. Nothing there either.

Bruce had, perhaps a little hastily, tried Barry's landline and even phoned into his place of work under the guise of an old friend. Neither were successful and the call into the police department revealed he hadn't been seen since he ran out in a rush the day before – shouting something about a lead as he went. The office had named the time as only five minutes before Flash's encounter with Monochrome White.

Clark's request for him to check on the two Central City boys the day earlier had rung hollow in his head, a small frustrating guilt he refused to dwell on but could never fully shake. Bruce had decided to get to Barry through a third party, he tried to contact Noire. This was a more difficult endeavor simply because the boy didn't have a phone on him. Noire didn't seem to like the devices and even though Barry worried about him not having a way to call, the boy refused them. Bruce decided that petty behavior would soon be taught out of the boy once he had the chance.

Still Bruce tried, contacting Noire's place of work and education. His place of work said he wasn't around and wouldn't be on shift until the following weekend, the school bore slightly more success. A lovely young girl at the reception desk had told Bruce a little too easily about Noire's recent whereabouts. According to her he'd shown up at the school briefly that day, but had promptly been sent home because he was 'sickly'.

Try as he might not to, Bruce had been concerned when he heard this. His rational mind suggested that the fight with his little brother had left him weakened and sick as it so often did, but the rest of him was beginning to wonder why he had a hero missing and another in a injured state and somehow was still left with no answers.

"Haven't you tried to contact him?" Bruce replied finally, tone flat and without a hint of accusation in it and yet Hal still reacted as if he'd been struck by the innocent question.

"Of course I have!" Hal snarled, a little too defensive for Bruce not to take notice. "I…I've been off planet, so I haven't been able to take his calls in a while – that's all."

Oh, that explained a lot. Barry had been mentioning for a while now that Hal seemed to be avoiding his calls and texts but Bruce hadn't realized that the lantern was aware of his own behavior. That did agitate the dark knight a little. They were not children; there was no need for this petty argument.

Swiveling abruptly in his chair to face the startled League member, Batman fixed him with a familiar scowl and noted how Hal tensed under it. Guilt was perhaps the worst emotion for Hal to feel, seeing as there was no one left to blame, no excuse to hide behind and should he try to smother the blame under some flimsy words, he'd still feel guilt clinging to his back like a curse. Batman knew that feeling and he knew men would ark up and fight against it, no one wanted to be in the wrong. Hal Jordan was no exception.

"If you had – you'd know why he is not here." The wording made it seem like Batman had answers he didn't but Bruce didn't bother to amend the implication – leaving it hanging in the air as a true accusation. "Lantern, you've been off planet for a number of weeks now. Contact with you has been impossible, the Flash has been keeping an eye on your home, where you should be guarding. All this could be forgiven if you'd just enlighten us to your situation."

"Oh, like you're so sharing spooky!" Hal shot back furiously, Bruce could practically see the anger causing his fists to clench and tremble. "You never tell us anything but you expect me to unload everything onto you!?"

"We are your team mates! If you're not clean with us you could jeopardize a mission." Batman's voice became harsher, more a growl than anything else as he stood from his seat, approaching the uneasy lantern. Hal almost looked like he intended to defend himself against an attack that would never come – although no one would put it past Batman to strike the troublesome lantern.

"When have you ever been honest with any of us?" Is Hal knew he'd hit a sore spot or not Bruce wasn't sure, but the man barreled on ahead regardless. This was giving him frustrating flashbacks to his char with Clark. "You just go on your own merry way, keeping everything to yourself until it suits you. Where do you get off lecturing me about dishonesty?"

"I do not go running off planet and cut off all possible source of contact." Bruce retorted soundly, only to have Hal get in his face and make a valiant effort to smother the notion.

"Bullshit you don't, Spooky! You retreat back into that cesspool of a city and ban any of us from coming in or disturbing you from your work, all the god damn time."

Batman really hated it when others had a point in an argument, however after having lived with a number of robins in his time and constantly having Alfred's firm, level headed counter arguments – he'd learnt to deal with it.

"The Joker-" He began only to have Hal rudely cut across him as he so often would.

"Yeah I get it. Gotham has a lot of dangerous lunatics, but you know what? I have my share of that as well – you think I want to tell Barry all about Sinestro, huh? Tell him about how dangerous and god damn painful it is to fight the man that was my friend? You think I want to involve anyone with my problems?"

It was one of those truly rare moments when Bruce realized his own feelings might just be mirrored in one of his teammates. Despite Hal's instance he didn't want to burden anyone with his troubles as a lantern, Bruce couldn't help but think Hal desperately wanted to seek out the help of his team – of his friends. To confide in them, just to let off steam – something to make the burden seem less unbearable.

To share it between the team.

Bruce sometimes wanted that to, but it was a luxury neither could afford. That moment of selfishness could leave a heavy burden on their colleagues, both knew that was not an option. Briefly Clark flashed through Bruce's mind, his readiness to share any troubles Bruce might have, to give a hand where needed and then in the same turn he to didn't want to trouble Bruce.

It only really hit the Batman right then and there, with a green lantern caught between rage and sadness in front of him, that every single one of them had the same problem. They were all willing to help, more than happy to do what they could for the others – but no one wanted to trouble the others. They all stood happily ready to help but no one would ever ask.

Because heroes should not need saving – that was their mentality.
But sometimes everyone needed some saving.

Finally, after having been stuck on his choice for hours, Bruce knew that he had to go and find Barry himself. If the trouble Barry had found was going to hurt civilians he would have contacted them – called out in order to protect others. But if Barry had run into trouble that only hurt him – he'd fight it alone. Because it was in their nature to bear all their troubles in silence, to protect others.

Even now, Bruce planned to seek out Barry alone – without telling anyone else of the potential trouble. Realizing that he was feeding into a concept that made no sense, Bruce stepped away from Hal – a very clear back down. For his part the lantern looked shocked to see the withdrawal from the fight – not accustomed to Bruce stepping down first, or at all.

"Green Lantern." Batman began slowly, tone steady and quiet. "The Flash has not contacted anyone since yesterday after he disappeared during a fight with one of his villains." Hal tensed but said nothing, knowing to remain silent when Batman's information tone was in use. "We haven't heard from him, no one has seen him – Monochrome Black has not been heard from either after their scuffle with White. It is likely that there is a problem."

"Now this could be as simple as the Flash licking his wounds at home or having been greatly injured, however I feel as though he would have made contact with us and if he did not – his ward would have. As such…" Bruce paused, feeling himself about to go against his ingrained instincts. The urge to lock lantern out, to do this one his own was great but when he thought about where that'd gotten them so far – Bruce pushed past it.

"I would like you to accompany me to Central City to locate him."

The shock on Hal's face said it all, no mask or cowl could hide that massive change in expression. During Bruce's little spiel he'd shown anger, concern and maybe some fear – he worried for Barry, but ultimately surprise won out over all else. When Hal said nothing, still at a loss for words, Bruce spoke again and for once it was not the intimidating rumble of Batman speaking – it was the man under the mask, or at least what was left of him.

"The difference between your problems and our problems is nothing more than a choice Lantern. Perhaps we all need to think about that from time to time."

When it was genuinely a relief to see Hal's shit eating grin return, Bruce internally groaned. Glad to see a familiar expression but frustrated to deal with the onslaught of comments it would bring with it.

"You inviting me to go with you? So what you're saying Spooky…is that I am right?" Hal's grin grew impossibly wider at the notion.

"Not even close Lantern."

"Aw, come on Spooks! Admit it, I made a good point didn't I? Come on, just say it and I'll leave you alone." Bruce had already started to stalk away when Hal followed after him with more mocking comments on hand. He hadn't said yes or not to coming to Central City but Batman knew that Green Lantern would come.

Because for a little while at least this small problem that might belong solely to Barry Allen, would become their problem as well.

"Don't push your luck."

…

…

When Barry hit the ground, he hit hard.

Considerably harder than he had when entering the first stage, Barry liked to think this rough handling had more to do with CM getting frustrated with his progress as opposed to gravity doing its job. Always nice to know you were under the enemies skin.

That didn't help to ease his burning face after having landed flat on his stomach. From where he lay flat ont eh ground like a miserable Barry shaped pancake, the speedster let out a long suffering groan. Just as the wretched sound slipped from his lips, a gentle pressure landed atop his head and without need to look he knew it'd be another message.

Reaching up with one hand Barry snatched the paper off his head before heaving his whole body onto his back with an accompanying sound of discomfort. When he thought he had enough air in his lungs and strength in his arms, Barry lifted the paper up to his face.

'Congratulations Barry Allen – you successfully passed stage one.'

"Lucky me." Barry mumbled dryly, twirling his finger in the air in mock celebration. He half expected the note to end there but it had an unexpected add on.

'But I do wonder – why didn't you kill the fake?' –CM

Briefly Barry paused on the question, it seemed like it was obvious enough – heroes do not kill. Superman stood by that ideology, as did their own dark knight – so why would the Flash be any different?

Slowly Barry righted himself, trying to fend off the impending headache that came with such a painful drop. He dreaded seeing more doors, more endless hours of searching through dead ends – instead the sight caused his breath to catch in his throat. Barry was staring into the familiar streets of Central City.

He was staring through glass, but that was definitely his city, his home. Almost in awe Barry pressed his hands flat against the glass that separated him from the city he loved so dearly. Distantly he thought of his family and friends out there, thought of their day and the little things they'd be doing. Barry wondered if they'd be mad that he'd been gone without a word for so long.

His captain would certainly have his ass for the stunt he pulled at the station yesterday. Patty would tease but only after she was positive that he was safe and sound – maybe Iris would come looking for him? Maybe Noire was out there to, would he be worried about Barry or would he be pleased to have him gone after their argument?

As these thoughts swarmed through his head, Barry became distinctly aware of someone else in the room. The soft sounds of footsteps and light breathing tipped him off and Barry half expected to find another fake Hal ready to tear him in two when he turned to face them. So for a moment, a single stupid, self indulgent moment – Barry didn't turn.

Instead he looked out at his city and thought of everyone in it. The friends and family he knew so well, the rouges and other criminals that kept popping up to cause trouble but still called Central City home with a similar fondness that Barry did. Sometimes Barry wondered if they would protect it like he did should an outsider attack – the rouges did have the strangest codes and mentalities.

Thinking whatever monster CM had sent this time would respond for the man, Barry spoke in a curious tone. "You asked why I didn't kill the fake – that's obvious right? I'm a hero, I'm the Flash – I do not kill. Fake or otherwise, that's a life I won't take. Do you understand that concept Crooked-"

But as Barry turned to face whatever creature the man had sent, he found himself staring up at a familiar face. His logical reason screamed it was another fake but the shock alone kept Barry from obeying that little voice. Standing in front of him, separated by another wall of glass – was Captain Cold.

And as Barry stared at the familiar figure in horror, Cold looked right back at him with a similar expression, except there was a touch of something softer – something sadder and more desolate. A few seconds passed without a single sound, and then slowly, unhurriedly – Cold moved.

Calmly he stepped up the rest of the way to the glass wall and placed his palms flat against it. The man did not look like the Cold Barry knew. He still had the same clothes, face and hair – his voice was probably and the same and his mannerisms would match, but this man in front of him looked crushed. Like something inside of him had been entirely snuffed out in one fell swoop.

"Flash." Then came his voice, breaking and muffled behind the glass. Momentarily Captain Cold's gaze and head was bowed, fixated on the ground as he took a few calming breaths. When he looked back up at Barry he was smiling a terribly disjointed, miserable smile – an expression the real Cold would never wear.

"Hi Barry."

For a moment Barry's blood ran cold – no pun intended although he still mentally scolded himself for it – when Leonard Snart spoke his name. He had no reasonable doubt that this man was another fake put up by CM but even so to hear his long-standing enemy utter his name in a tone so quiet and miserable still sent a chill down his spine. Damn it, he'd accidently made a pun again hadn't he?

For a moment longer Snart held Barry's gaze before it gradually fell to the ground again and the man shook his head like he was confused. "No…that's not right." He muttered in frustration. "Not my lines…damn it!" The snarl that left Snart's mouth sounded much more like the criminal he knew but that wasn't exactly a comforting notion.

"Riddle…" He breathed suddenly as if the thought had struck him abruptly. "Did he give it to you? Do you have the riddle?"

It took Barry's mind a few seconds to catch back up before he realized what Snart was after and with frustration he realized that, no, he did not have the riddle. Breathing a soft chuckle at Barry's reaction, Snart shook his head with an amused sigh.

"That's my answer right there, I suppose." Then Len sat down, folding his legs neatly as he made himself comfortable. Barry could only watch in mute confusion as the man did this. It was only when Snart turned familiar sharp eyes on him that Barry realized he'd been simply staring. "Well?" Snart demanded hotly. "What are you doing just standing there? Find it. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not exactly going to have any luck finding anything."

After taking a moment to properly take in their current situation, Barry saw exactly what the man meant. They were both separated by a glass wall but Barry had a considerably larger amount of room, it looked like he was on the top floor of some expensive pent house – leaving a few areas to be explored. The number of doors he could see was three, and Barry comforted himself know that if only one opened he wouldn't be looking long this time.

Besides the other doors there was a lounge room with leather furniture and a bar set up that Snart might or might not have been eyeing enviously. For Snart's part however, his movement was much more restricted. Left smack, bang in the middle of the room was a large glass box with nothing inside of it and no way out that Barry could see besides a few slots for air.

Knowing that Barry had finally been clued in to his predicament, Snart snorted in derision before leaning lazily back against one of the walls of his transparent cage. "I'm not going anywhere, kid." Snart said with a flippant wave of his hand, words soaked in condescension – just like what Barry was use to. "Better getting going quick or I might just die of boredom."

Barry did start to look around because one way or another he needed that riddle just as bad as Snart did, but as he moved cautiously around the room he tried to figure out what game this was. For what reason would CM lock up a fake in a glass cage like this? It could very simply be another trick like the one with Hal in that little room but this one seemed like a bad idea from step one.

It would have helped is Snart kept his thoughts to himself while Barry thought over the angle of this approach – but the man did so love the sound of his own damn voice.

"So he caught you, huh? I'm almost jealous – looking at you now kid I never would have guessed you were the Flash. You look slower than my grandmother right now. Would have killed to have you in this position for me."

"You're not helping." Slipped the retort before Barry could help it. Talking to the fake probably wasn't a good idea.

"Look, I just need you to be my hands here. Can't get out of this box till stitches up there gets his stupid riddle solved. That's the gist of it anyway, do a man a favour?" Barry could not roll his eyes any harder at that comment and turned to toss a dirty look at Snart, as always the man seemed to thrive under his heated stare. He could wriggle his way under Barry's skin in a way no other criminal had managed.

"And why would I ever want to do a favor for you Snart?" Barry demanded, stalking right back up to the cage, arms crossed with a scowl plastered on his face. For some reason Snart seemed to find his angry expressions endearing more than concerning.

"Hey now, what are heroes good for if not helping out a damsel?" If Barry didn't know Snart was so at ease with being a 'damsel' he would have used that a teasing fodder, but as it stood Snart could care less what he was currently called.

Despite all that pride and cunning, Snart was not a man ruled by his ego although it certainly had a strong hand in all he did. When he was in a tight spot he knew it and when he needed help he would find it. His rouges usually provided enough but right now it was just the two of them and Snart knew he needed Barry to escape – so he'd set aside his pride for a moment and focused on that.

Barry had to admit it was admirable. In many respects it was a trait that kept him a step ahead of the other rouges. Trying to imagine Heat Wave asking for help and even having a jab at his own expense with a smile was neigh impossible – but Snart could keep himself cool and collected. Barry cursed himself for the ever constant stream of unintentional cold jokes and was ever thankful for Snart lack of access to his thoughts.

"Don't try to buy my assistance with the hero card." Barry snapped back irritably but none the less returned to his work searching for some sort of clue as to where the riddle might be or some way to free Len. All in the name of progress through this wretched game. "If you want me to help you, you'll keep quiet and let me work."

"Don't mind me." Snart replied smugly. "I'm just over here chilling." Barry could practically feel the man smirk when he groaned at the lame pun.

Snart rest his head back against the glass, falling silent for a few seconds while Barry searched through the living room where he was still in the man's line of sight. Neither willing to let the other slip away for even a few seconds just yet.

"Not sure how he got me." Barry really could do without the running commentary and he decided not to respond while rummaging through the empty draws left around. This placed was all decked out like someone lived in it but there was not a single sign of actual life in it. It was like some sort of set, a doll house if ever Barry saw one. But that meant he'd quickly find anything that didn't fit in.

"Maybe he always had me." There was a distant note to Snart's tone that caught Barry's attention and without meaning to he looked over at the familiar enemy with a puzzled expression. Rather than answering Barry's unasked question, Snart shook his head as if he was chasing off nasty thoughts and gestured over to one of the three doors.

"Try that one." He ordered calmly. "I heard him ratting around in it before you showed up – how exactly did you manage to fall through the ceiling exactly?"

"Magic? Portals or a rip in time and space – at this point I'd believe anything you throw at me." Barry answered dryly, not entirely sure himself but at this point it was the best answer he had.

Rightfully skeptical of Cold's assistance, fake or not, Barry didn't immediately jump at his suggestion and instead made a show of opening a different door first. Cold just rolled his eyes and distracted himself with adjusting the hood of his jacket instead of arguing with his enemy.

The first room was a bit of a disappointment, Barry searched high and low for anything of interest but found no riddle or usable item. He almost gave up on the room when he noticed a sneakily hidden note plastered to the ceiling. For a good few seconds Barry did nothing but stare at the paper with an frustrated scowl. When he finally decided to reach for it, Barry had to drag up a chair and balance on his tippy toes just to brush his fingers against the scrap of paper. Why were the ceilings so damn high?

Barry made a sound of triumph when he managed to grab a firm hold of the paper, just as the chair's balance was lost and came tumbling down, Barry and all. The racket of the chair clattering to the ground and Barry following after it with a heavy thud must had reached Snart from outside.

"Flash?" He called, not quite sounding concerned so much as threatening. "If you're dead I'm going to be livid." He warned but when Barry found himself too sore and humiliated by the tumble to immediately call back, some of the anger faded and was replaced with genuine worry. "Flash? Hey, answer me kid!"

Still a little winded from the experience, Barry could only stumble his way to the doorway and wave around the scrap piece of paper that had done him in. Seeing Barry in one piece – bruised but definitely in one – Cold relaxed against the walls of his prison and smirked. "Have a little tumble did we kid?" Barry scowled in response but kept his words to himself – he needed the air.

Finally taking note of the paper Barry had clutched like a prize, Snart sat up a little straighter and gestured for Barry to come over. Which he did, cautiously of course. Once he was a few steps away from the glass box, Snart tossed him a frustrated look but given their history there was nothing he could say that would reassure Barry of his good intentions, instead he just demanded to see the paper.

"Is it the riddle?"

"No." Barry replied, disappointment saturating the single word heavily. "It looks like a news article. Sorta old too."

"Hmpf, not what we want…leave it there anyway." Cold directed, pointing to a place outside of his prison. "It might not be the riddle but maybe it's still useful for something."

That was the Snart Barry knew, cunning and willing to use anything to get a hand up in a fight – anything besides killing that way. Obeying wordlessly Barry laid the worn paper down in front of Snart's room, leaving the man to his study. The criminal was so quickly engrossed in his study that Barry got away without a single scathing comment.

Approaching the second door, the one not pointed out by Snart, Barry tried to push it open only to find that it was locked and would not wield to his pushes. "Well that's bloody familiar." Barry muttered under his breath in frustration. After having spent so long being disappointed by doors, Barry did not dwell on this one.

Finally he approached the final door and hesitated in front of it. Snart had singled this out as the place to go and even if he wasn't a fake, there was every change the man was out to get him anyway. Still Barry was short on options and he had to progress one way or another, and so with a deep breath Barry grabbed hold of the door and threw it open, prepared for anything.

So when nothing happened he was almost disappointed. He stood at the ready for a few more seconds, expecting some sort of surprise attack. Only when he heard Snart scoffing behind him did Barry decide he looked silly for long enough and stepped inside. The room was actually more of 'nothing' than Barry could have expected. No windows, no furniture or other doorways – it was like one big empty box and for a moment Barry felt cheated.

That was until his eye caught the gleam of metal reflected in the light steaming in from the doorway. Then Barry's sense of being wronged dropped into a cold weight at the bottom of his stomach.

Knowing there was no other choice but forward, Barry stepped inside, sticking to the path of light made by the open door as he approached the only object in the room. When his feet were almost touching the metal object, Barry slowly dropped to his knees and gingerly reached forward to grab the piece of paper neatly left atop the item.

On one side Barry found what he'd wanted – the riddle.

'What answer can you never honestly say 'yes' to?'

For a few seconds Barry felt relieved after having found the riddle with such each but the feeling lasted all of five seconds. As on the underhand side, Barry found a message and wished he hadn't, because the Crooked Man's meaning was so painfully obvious.

'I asked and you said it was obvious, so I'll tell you something obvious. This is a game made for one.' – CM.

As Barry read the final line – the shine of the gun before him seemed to gleam brighter still.