Gravity vs. Superspeed
Wally watched, aghast at the TV.
No...
He saw Artemis' eyes flick to the camera. They bored into his soul.
No.
She was going to make the choice.
That choice. The right one.
The worst one.
But he didn't have to.
...if he started running now.
...
He stood, at the edge of his school building. Thousands were probably watching, by the looks of that news camera.
Watching, waiting for his death. The last Flying Grayson! Orphaned at an early age by mobster Tony Zucco! Rejoining his parent's legacy through same murderer! Coming full circle! What a show, what a show!
And if it were not enough, Barbara Gordon at gunpoint! Commissioner Gordon's job comes back to bite him in the form of his daughter.
He glanced over the edge.
Swallowing his snarky comment, he studied at Artemis. Decked out in full Arrowette-esque gear, she stood ready, poised with bowstring drawn.
She glared straight at the mobster. Then she looked at Dick. He could see the tears in her eyes at the recognition. She knew.
Mustering up a sad smile he gave a half nod. His eyes darted to his left, where Babs knelt, tied up and gagged.
She twitched her finger in acknowledgement.
The string snapped back into position. Silently sailing through the air, the arrow struck true-
-whacking the gun out of Zucco's hands.
Dick almost sighed. She'd made the right choice. Zucco dropped him over the edge just before she kicked him in the face, effectively knocking him out.
"Dick!"
Artemis cried, as the acrobat tumbled through the air.
Time stopped.
'I'm fine,' he wanted to reassure her. But his lips wouldn't move.
She shouted once more, something different but incoherent to the ebony.
He felt as if he were frozen, splayed out in a grotesque expression of death, even before he crashed to the ground. He was going to die and everyone knew it, so the universe decided that it wouldn't matter if he spent the last seconds of his life paralyzed.
Ironically, he couldn't even remember what his parents' fall was like now- he was too busy falling.
He didn't mind it- or so he told himself.
He would be fine.
He'd be fine.
He was fine.
He was fine.
Fine.
Fine.
Fine.
In fact, he wasn't having difficulty breathing. He wasn't zeroing in on the slab of concrete his blood would splatter.
The tears in his eyes were wind induced. The scream ripping from his throat- an attempt to communicate to Artemis, that's all.
Really.
Artemis was leaned over the edge, eyes wide.
The ground loomed as much as an inanimate object could. Each second processed slowly, like his perception had shifted to super speed.
He closed his eyes.
Down, down, down.
Ten feet.
Nine feet.
Eight feet.
Seven feet.
Six feet.
Five feet.
Four feet.
Three feet.
Two feet...
Something slammed into him with the force of a bullet.
He let out a sob of relief , but it was lost in the wind.
Wrapping trembling arms tightly around the speedster's neck, he buried his face into Wally's shoulder.
"It's okay, Dick, I got you."
...
This is an example of how I waste the short periods of time "in the bathroom", after school, during homework, and at 12 am in the morning. I feel like my style and tone of writing shifts a lot in these little drabbles- does it? This was based off a really touching picture I saw on deviantart, by malin-j. If you've seen it, you'll know it's a picture of "Kid Flash" holding a uniformed (and distressed, too I might add) Dick Grayson. I was trying to come up with a hypothetical situation for that one, and behold, thus is the fruit of my labors.
Anyway, sorry its so late, but here it is, and happy holidays for those of you who celebrate one.
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