#metahuman reader

Your fingertips flew across the keyboard at your desk, mind split between your current task and the feeling of someone's eyes on the back of your head. Someone that was surely Bruce Wayne. It takes three minutes of staring before Bruce to open the door to his office, looking at you with a bashful smile and a phone tucked into the crook of his neck, muffled by a hand.

"Can you - - sorry," he smiled, looking at you with pleading blue eyes that made countless women and men melt. "Things go so well when you talk to them. Can you help? This one's particularly reluctant and we really need a deal."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," you nod, pushing yourself out of your chair. He motions you into his office, granting you a seat across from him. He takes his usual chair and hands you his phone while he crosses his legs, resting his hands on his thighs. He watches you curiously as you speak into the device, plastering a smile onto your face and already introducing yourself in a cheerful tone.

It takes five minutes, and you hang up with a sweet goodbye and a smug smile towards Bruce's direction. You hand him back his phone. Bruce takes it with a huffing laugh, wiping his raven hair back along his head. "I've been trying to get him to seal that deal for three days."

"Guess you just needed your lucky charm." You grin. Bruce considers you with an expression of great intrigue.

"Might I ask how you did that?" He tilts his head, brows furrowing minutely when you dismissively shrug.

"I guess I've always been lucky, Mr. Wayne." You wave him off, already standing up to continue your actual job. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Wayne..? Coffee?"

"Bruce," he corrects softly. "Just Bruce, and no, thank you. That'll be all."

As you return to your desk, you feel his eyes on you the whole way.

On Friday, you work the day without issue or much conversation. When the night rolls around and everyone begins to pack up to clock out, the front door chimes open.

Followed by a gunshot right into the ceiling. People shriek, panic, and duck for cover as Wayne Enterprises is taken over by a hostile gang. Twenty-five men with guns, rifles, and bombs. The security guards don't really stand a chance, as soon as they try to fight back, they're shot and left eerily quiet in puddles of their own blood on the tiled floor.

They ask for Bruce Wayne, but today of all days he's nowhere to be seen. They take you instead, shoving you to your knees in the middle of the lobby, an assault rifle pressed to the back of your head. You raise your shaking hands into the air, trying to steady your uneven breathing. Trying to focus.

"Bruce Wayne has five minutes to get here, or else we're blowing this place sky high," the masked man with iron pressed to the back of your head growls, shoving the end of the gun against the crown of your head to reinforce his promise. Behind him, three men plant a bomb on the elevator, and two more venture further into the upper levels to plant more.

One minute passes. Three people are killed. Two minutes pass, and three turns to six. You hear the men speaking of just destroying the building without waiting for Bruce, but the apparent leader makes a gesture with his gun and says to wait.

Another minute pass. The bomb beeps.

It's not Bruce Wayne that shows his face, but Batman. Batman, who drops through the window and directly onto the shoulders of a nearby gang-member, pinning him to the ground under his weight. With a kick to the head, the man's unconscious in under thirty seconds. He's so fast that you barely get a good look at him, he's a blur of shadow incarnate, his cape billowing behind him as he ruthlessly pummels each armed man to unconsciousness, bullets bouncing off of his armor with hardly a flinch from the dark vigilante.

One by one, the armed men go down. Beaten, bloody, and unconscious with more than a few broken bones to keep them from any repeat behavior. The man who held a gun to your head earlier returns with a vengeance, rifle pressing against your skull with enough force to bruise.

"I'll kill them! Their death will be on your hands, Bats!" The man grins, voice shaking with adrenaline.

It is a terrifying sight to see the Dark Knight dig his boots into the floor and sprint full speed in your direction while pulling a Bat-arang out of his utility belt. The man holding his gun to your head finds it an equally terrifying sight.

Terrifying enough to pull the trigger.

The gun clicks.

"Wh - what?!" The man's had no issue from this gun all night.

He pulls the trigger again. Batman gets closer.

Click. Click Click. Nothing.

"God damn it!" He cries out, only to be immediately pummeled to the floor by an armored fist around the side of his head. Only then do you sigh in relief, head hanging. One punch from Batman was enough to knock him clean out, which left the Dark Knights attention on you.

Squirming under just the feeling of his attention, you chance a look up to see him at your side, a dark shadow looming over you, lips pursed with what seemed to be confusion, the most emotion you had ever heard of him showing.

"How." He said roughly, offering a hand to help you up. He didn't ask, he demanded an answer.

"What?" You ask, hand trembling as you take his hand. Clawed gloves curl around your hand, swallowing it whole as he helps you up.

Batman's head twists from your trembling figure to the gun on the floor, knocked out of the unconscious mans grasp when he fell. "The gun had no issues from the time he entered to the time he held you at gunpoint. Only when he pulled the trigger it jammed." He held onto your hand a few moments longer to examine you like a bug under a microscope, the weight of his gaze a physical pressure on your shoulders.

"I'm just.. lucky, I guess."

He hums and releases your hand. "Go home. Stay safe." The words are dismissive, his attention already turning towards the other hostages.

"Wait - - the.. the bombs - -"

"Handled." He curtly replies, his rough tone already cutting you off. He's walking towards a sobbing woman on the ground when you speak again.

You pause, hesitant. "Is Bruce okay?"

Batman stops in place, and the only sign of him shifting his posture is the slight flutter of his cape, he turns his head over his shoulder with the unnatural smoothness of an owl, the white slits of his mask's eyes boring into you.

"He's alright. Go home."

You nod, walking towards the door. "Thank you, Batman." Somehow, you feel his eyes on you all the way to your front door.

He's been up for almost twenty-four hours, now, and called most flight-capable contacts at his and his father's disposal to no avail. Nobody is available for your extraction, and Damian can't let you, an undocumented and uncategorized meta, go off by yourself lest you either get recaptured or end up committing a villainous act without supervision.

So you're stuck in the cave for a full day, until everyone comes together for patrol in the evening to clear the rogues out the metahuman outpost and get you safely moved out of Gotham.

Damian spins in the seat and looks at where you're balled up on the floor. Or, rather, he's looking at your wings, fully extended and wrapped around you like a cocoon. He watches the puddle of feathers gently and silently rising and falling with your dozing breaths after you refused a bed and curled up like this three hours ago.

Cute, he thinks, standing up and stepping quietly around your figure. He slips his fingers underneath the domino mask to rub the grit from his eyes, then messages Alfred requesting two breakfast trays be brought to the cave whenever he has the time. They're delivered half an hour later, the quiet rattling of the butler's cart rousing you again.

"Sorry to disturb you, dear," Alfred says, watching your head poke out and you blink groggily at the food. Damian takes the trays from him with a nod of thanks. "Might either of you require anything else whilst I'm here? I'm happy to check on your stitches."

You shake your wings out as you stand and then carefully tuck them against your back, glancing at your shoulder. The bandages are slightly stained gold, the wound disturbed from how hard you'd shoved Jason back earlier.

You look to Robin for guidance. He gives the bandage a similar once-over, then clicks his tongue.

"That might be wise. Agent A won't hurt you," he promises. "You can trust him."

Alfred bows and offers his hand for you to shake. You grasp it a touch too firmly and just hold it in place for a few seconds, but he just smiles and excuses himself to fetch some supplies from the med bay. While he's gone, Damian carries both trays to the table near the center of the room, placing them down and taking a seat.

"You can come eat," he says. You sit and look at your offerings — buttered wheat toast, two poached eggs, a couple strips of turkey bacon, and a glass of orange juice — with no change of expression. "Something wrong?"

"No," you say, "I just... can't eat this."

"If it's a matter of diet, we can find you something else —"

"I apologize," you gently interrupt, "I mean to say, I don't eat. I don't need to."

Damian pulls the notepad, crinkled from the earlier confrontation with Jason, out of his pocket and jots that down.

"How do you get energy, then?" He asks. You shrug.

"I rest. Other than that, I need nothing."

"That is a shame," Alfred says, returning with some fresh bandages and a small bottle of saline to keep the wound clean. You don't protest when he asks to remove the old gauze. "Should you find yourself curious to try a nibble, I hope it might please you. I am also available for anything else you might require — new clothes, perhaps."

You perk up at that. You dislike the gaping tear in your sleeve, so a replacement robe would be nice.

"Yes," you reply. "Please. What do you require in exchange?"

"Nothing but your measurements, so I can make sure it fits correctly."

You nod, acquiescing to whatever is needed. Alfred pulls out a tape measure and, with your consent, notes your size and approximately how much fabric space you'll need on your back to accommodate your wings. Damian finishes eating by then, so he retrieves the trays and leaves with another bow and a promise to be back in a couple of hours with new clothes.

"Robin," you say, when Damian gets up to go back to the computer. He looks at you intently. "I know I cannot leave this place, but is there somewhere...bigger that I can fly?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "The cave system is mostly long, not wide. It doesn't get much bigger than the part we're standing in."

Damian turns and points to his left, to a dark corridor just beyond the Batcomputer.

"If you don't break anything and keep away from the bats, you can fly around as long as you want. The pathways split off in different sections and levels, but they all lead back here to the center of the cave."

He looks at you again, hand on his hip.

"Does that suffice?"

Well. It's not open air where the breeze can rush through your wings and you can admire the sky overhead, but it's something and you are restless. It'll have to do.

Wordlessly you extend your wings, feathers shaking themselves out as you stretch the limbs, and you take off.

Damian sinks into the chair in front of the computer again, pressing a couple buttons to reawaken the screens. He glances at the roster of available allies and feels his headache intensify when there's no change. Still no help for now. Still stuck in the cave, watching over you and not getting any sleep.

He leans back and rubs his eyes under the mask again, lids drooping. Damian can't hear any wing flapping, which indicates you're likely long gone in the elaborate cave system. He can switch the cameras on the computer from key observation points around the city to the different levels of the cave itself, but the idea of subjecting his corneas to the harsh screens again is nearly unbearable.

You're likely going to be occupied for a while, and you already know not to leave the cave.

Damian could just...can just...

When Clark slowly woke up to the most delicious omega scent and warmth against him, his alpha had him nuzzle against the back of the omega’s neck. He rumbled quietly and placed a gentle kiss into their hair. He was so relaxed and calm. He didn’t want to move, but knew he couldn’t stay. He wanted to go by the fortress and scan Goslyn and research her necklace. He knew just what to do.

—

Thankfully, Goslyn had this weekend off so they were allowed to sleep in. Inhaling such a wonderful smell, so alpha but different—ozone, petrichor, and warmth, a warm, summer rain storm. They rolled over, suddenly noticing the lack of the warm body and one of their warm, softer comforters over them. Slowly, they opened their eyes with a heavy sigh. They buried their head into the pillow that still smelled much like him, falling back asleep.

They don’t notice their necklace is gone, replaced by another with a handwritten note underneath.

—

Meanwhile in the fortress of solitude, Clark was waiting for the results of the testing on Goslyn’s hair and gem stone. Kelex was also researching the words in the kryptonian library.

He paced, unable to stop mimicking his alpha. He huffed.

“Are you okay? It seems your heart rate has been high since you arrived when it usually calms down,” Kelex observed.

“I think…I met…my mate,” he explained.

“Congratulations,” the robot stated. Clark hummed in reply.

“You do not appear happy about this.” Kelex was observing the computer system as he spoke.

“I’m Superman and they’re…brave and compassionate and trusting. They’re magic. I mean do magic but it’s math?” He began to explain.

“Ah, you should get to your mate-to-be,” Kelex recommended.

“I plan to but first I need to understand a few things she doesn’t seem to know,” Clark explained and walked up next to Kelex.

“Perhaps you can go visit her and get to know her while the analyses process?” Kelex offered.

“Them. They only know me as Superman and Kal. They don't know Clark Kent.” Clark leaned on the computer and thinned his lips as he thought.

“If you found your destined mate, they should know then who you are in all aspects of your life,” Kelex observed, having taken in much of human tv, movies, and a large variety of news sources to learn about Earth and its population.

“I know,” Clark somberly replied. He stared at the large computer screen before him as it flipped through kryptonian data. “I didn’t expect to find a mate, Kelex, especially not a human one.”

“From what you have told me about Goslyn and with what you brought, it is possible that a kryptonian outpost occurred within a nearby galaxy that was lost and kryptonians have been on Earth before. She could be a descendant but the likelihood is very low from the data available,” Kelex apprised.

“I know, Kelex.” Clark placed his hand on the robot’s approximate shoulder and smiled at him. “You are right though. Perhaps I should get to know them better. I am unsure about revealing my true identity yet.”

“Trust your instincts, Kal-el.” Kelex was looking at him, gave a single nod before returning to the computer. Clark walked out of the fortress and flew back towards Metropolis.

—

“Bitch, wake the fuck up! Bitch, wake the fuck up! Bitch, wake the f—!” Goslyn’s ringtone for one of the two owners, the wife, Aditi, of the coffee shop they work at.

“Shit. Fuck,” they grumbles, quickly rolling over, sitting up, and answering their phone.

“Hello, Aditi,” Goslyn greeted her with a smile on their face.

“Hi, sweetie. I am so sorry, Goslyn, but we need you to come in to fix one of the espresso machines,” Aditi informed.

“It’s the older one, isn’t it?” They queried.

“Yes,” Aditi sighed heavily.

“Please tell me Arjun is looking to replace it, Aditi?” Goslyn begged, getting up from the bed and going through their drawers.

When Aditi didn’t immediately respond, they knew the answer was no. Arjun is a wonderful person but prefers used equipment to brand new with a warranty. This frustrates Goslyn since their natural mechanical inclination allows them to jury rig repairs until it breaks again.

“I can’t keep fixing it. Eventually, it will need a replacement part or be replaced. Make sure he understands that, Aditi. I’m not having him get angry when I can’t fix something and fires me only to call me the next morning apologizing and begging me to come back with a fifty cent raise. I’m worth more than that and you know it,” Goslyn told their boundaries.

“I know, dear. I know. I will,” Aditi hesitantly agrees.

“Promise?” Goslyn pushes.

Aditi takes a few seconds to answer but does, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Goslyn said sincerely. “It’s gonna be an hour or so. Need to take the bus.”

“Ok, see you then, Goslyn.” Aditi hangs up.

—-

When Clark returns to Goslyn’s fire escape still in his suit, he finds them not there. He also looks into their bedroom to see the necklace is gone too. He stands there and tries to figure out what to do. He flies home and changes into jeans, boots, a shirt, and flannel over it with his glasses on. He heads out and heads to Goslyn’s job, hoping they’re there. He really needs to get their phone number.

When Clark arrives at The Coffee Shoppe, it’s mid-morning on a Saturday, which means it’s busy. He stands in line, deciding to order his usual here. He listens as he does, hearing Goslyn mumble to themself.

“How the fuck am I supposed to fix a machine that I can’t even get the damn broke piece off?” They grunt and whine as they strain. He lowers his glasses and looks through the store to find them elbow deep in a partially taken apart espresso machine. They look very unhappy, standing in front of it with their hands on their hips, glaring daggers at the machine. Clark smiles seeing their frustration, finding their scrunched nose and freckles adorable.

With a heavy sigh, Goslyn drinks ice water from a clear cup and goes to wash their hands. As they do, they holler out, “I’M TAKIN’ A BREAK!”

“Is it fixed yet?” Asked an exasperated Indian man who is leaning around a concrete corner of the building with raised, expectant eyebrows at them.

They just glare daggers at him before eying the espresso machine.

The man rolls his eyes and go back around the corner before waving his hand at them.

Goslyn takes off the apron, tossing it over the espresso machine. Taking a deep cleansing breath, they smile, lighting up their eyes. “Now, where are you Kal?” Clark’s heart races at the mention of him from Goslyn’s lips and gets out line, looking for a way to them.

Clark finds an employee-only door and waits. He grins widely when Goslyn exits. They’re sweaty, hair wet with random curls here and there despite the ponytail. They’re in a blue company polo which seems to compliment the necklace he gave her—a simple necklace with a thin chain holding a blue moonstone pendant that he gave to his Mother when he was a kid—and jeans and sneakers with eye glasses on.

Clark warms at the sight but says nothing. He notices how it compliments them well. His alpha is pleased at the (courting) gift.

Their smile widens and keeps walking to him, wrapping their arms around his neck. “Hi. I hope you’d realize I was here. We really need to exchange phone numbers or something,” they chuckled, pulling back enough to see him, still smiling at him.

“I was thinking that too.” He tilted his head, looking down at them. “Need help?” He offered.

Their brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe, I have to see if I can get you in the back without being yelled at. Arjun can be antsy about non-employees in the back.

“I am a journalist,” he pointed out. Goslyn looked up at him, and seemed to be examining him, truly. They leaned forward and their eyes widened. “You’re Clark Kent!” They whisper-yelled excitedly. “You and Lois Lane write the best articles.” Goslyn was giving a wide, toothy and gummy grin as they began jumping up and down on the balls of their feet, excitedly.

Clark’s eyebrows rose into his dark hair, surprised at their reaction. They stop suddenly, taking his hand and pulling him towards the front. “Let me make you your usual coffee,” they advised. Once at the counter, they let go of his hand and went to the back starting to make his usual order. They’re right back out with a large hot to-go cup with a lid. “House blend, black, extra hot,” Goslyn recites with a smug grin. “You’re a regular.”

Clark’s questioning face speaks loudly, asking how Goslyn didn't realize Clark was Superman before without saying the words.

They lace their fingers into his free hand and pull him to the backdoor in the alleyway with the dumpster. Making sure the door is closed, they walk a few feet away from the door before they quietly reply, so only he can hear, “I can ignore it unless it’s intense or strong. Superman always makes intense ripples, like throwing a rock in a lake. It depends on how much strength you use or how high you are determines how big the ripples become. Clark, however, while noticeable because you’re you, isn’t usually intense. Mild ripples. I notice you. With Lois, it can depend on what you two are doing that day. Lois Lane can make just as intense ripples as Superman.”

Clark remained quiet as Goslyn spoke, intensely listening as he scented and watched their body language, still not fully understanding their abilities but now comprehends how they can track them to Superman and other dangerous events.

“So,” he begins. “A dangerous event is about to happen. It sends out a ripple in the universe and you feel it. You can track that back to the epicenter of the event,” he clarifies.

“That sounds right. I sense the ripple the event causes in…no idea what the medium the ripples occur in. I assume it’s the energy of the universe. It’s an awareness of some kind.” They shrug.

The two fell silent for a few seconds to Goslyn changed the subject. “I’m glad you came,” they smiled. “You’re prettier like this.” Their hands rub across his. “You’re much more relaxed and comfortable,” they observed. Clark smiled, enjoying the affection and sipped the coffee.

“Thank you,” he quietly stated, his cheeks beginning to blush. Goslyn notices but says nothing. They wrap their arms around his torso. Clark instantly wraps his around them as they nuzzle into his chest, relaxing against him. He places his cheek on their head and they stand there like that for a few minutes. The silence is calming, comfortable, and easy between them.

“I have to go back and see if I can fix the damned espresso machine he should have replaced two years ago,” they said against his chest frustratedly.

“You said I might be able to help,” he reminded.

“Do I call you Clark or Kal?” They inquired. “What do you prefer?”

Clark chewed on his lower lip. “Ma and Pa named me Clark,” he apprised.

“Clark, it is then,” they smiled and stood on the balls of their feet, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Come on, boyfriend, let’s go fix that damned machine. Maybe you can weld it so it lives another day.” They pull out of his arms, lace their fingers in his, and lead him back inside. Clark felt his face warm at the declaration and shyly smiled. His chest warmed further and alpha rumbled happily.

As it turns out once Goslyn mentioned that Clark was their boyfriend and came to see if he could help, Arjun accepted his presence and help. Clark did use his powers to reshape pieces and weld a few spots. Goslyn advised him that with these repairs, it should last for quite a while. If one of the seams he repaired fails, it will probably finally die. They already have a solution for that which Aditi agreed works for their budget and should make Arjun happy. They clean it up, sanitize it, and Clark returns it out front for them. The feminine employees are all excited to have both espresso machines working again, thanking him profusely with little touches and giggling.

Goslyn and their omega rear their head, giving a quiet warning growl at the fangirling. Clark and his alpha secretly enjoyed the warning growl his girlfriend gave to the others. It was sexy.

The employees return to work, eyeing Clark as Goslyn makes their favorite coffee—a Snow Day: an iced white chocolate mocha peppermint, double espresso shots, a splash of vanilla topped with whipped cream. They clock out, saying farewell to everyone, and walk out with their hand holding Clark sipping their coffee.

Clark is deeply enjoying himself and getting to know his eventual mate. They spend the afternoon together, eating and walking around Metropolis just talking. It was so easy to talk to each other and the physical affection came very comfortably.

August, Year 2

You gotta look good to fit in and to look big, you know.

The words echo in your mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror in your beat up studio apartment on the third floor, examining your outfit. Black slacks with a black suit jacket and underneath is a red Hawaiian shirt with a white floral pattern. You nod. Yeah, this looks good. Perfectly acceptable.

You exited your apartment complex, and hailed a cab to the Iceberg Lounge, home to big criminals and gangsters, bigger than you can ever imagine. You closed your eyes, thinking about the things you’ll say, what makes you a valuable asset, and where you see yourself five years from now.

“We’re here,” the driver said gruffly, alerting you from your thoughts, “that’ll be $23.”

“Thanks,” you forked over the cash, and exited the vehicle. You felt the ocean breeze on your face, and you took a deep breath in and out. You jumped around a little bit before getting in line to enter the lounge. You whispered some of your speech underneath your breath until you were let in. The calming blue lights of the space, the scent of alcohol, and smooth jazz hit your senses. You gaze swept across the lounge, spotting them in a dark corner. Okay. Perfect. It was all coming together.

You fiddled with your hands a bit, maybe you should get some liquid courage before going there. You went up to the bar.

“Can I have a whiskey highball?” You asked as you took a seat.

“Coming right up,” she nodded, and headed off to mix the drink. You sighed, trying to shake off the nerves eating you up. Before you knew it, two men took a seat, sandwiching you. You side-eyed them, the suits were split straight in the middle, one black and one white. Two-Face men, and they seemed tipsy, which makes them think it’s okay to just start touching your jacket and putting an arm around you. 

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here all by yourself? Ain’t seen your face before in here” One of them whispered in your ear.

“Haha, I’m just hanging out,” you lied stiffly, the weight of the guy’s arm around you was heavy and uncomfortable. It took a conscious effort to be calm and not lose it, “love the atmosphere of this place. Heard it was great.”

“What’s with this fucking getup? Looks fucking stupid,” the other muttered underneath his breath, fumbling with the buttons on your shirt.

Something snapped in your mind. You grabbed the guy who called your outfit ‘stupid’ by the collar before he could react and hurled him across the room. His body crashed into the wall, rattling the lounge. The talking stopped, but the jazz music still kept going on. 

“Don’t fucking call my outfit stupid, when you’re the stupid one,” you muttered, just for yourself to hear. The other guy leapt off you, pulling out a gun from his pocket. You see his wide eyes as he is staring you down, the tremble as he holds the gun.

“Boo,” you said boredly, as he screams and opens fire. The goon shot until he squeezed the trigger on an empty magazine, you grabbed the gun by the barrel and squeezed it to where the barrel is shut. Your fingers were pressed deeply in the metal, “nice toy. Too bad I can’t play with ‘em.”

The goon is wide-eyed staring at you, looking like he was going to wet himself at any moment.You grab him by the back of the collar, dragging him across the floor. You barely feel him struggle. The people were getting out of your way as you walked towards the man you threw into the wall. You picked him up by the scruff of his collar, as easily as you were picking up a kitten. Irritation becomes courage as you walk towards your goal, the three men staring you down from the darkness: one man in a nice green attire staring at you with interest, another split in half down the middle frowning, and a short man with a large nose glaring at you for the damage.

“You need to teach your boys some manners, Two-Face,” you addressed, holding the two goons up by the collar, “they’re lucky I was holding back or they would’ve died.”

Two-Face stares at you, the way that you were holding his boys up with ease, the damage on the gun, and damage on the wall.

“Well, ain’t that embarrassing. You guys got tossed around by someone half your size,” he shoots a glare at them. Two-Face’s good side smirked, “maybe they did need a lesson in manners.”

“It’s pretty embarrassing,” you agreed, dropping them onto the floor, “if you want some better muscle, I’m available. The name’s Goliath, it’s a pleasure.”

You walk away. People are still quiet and you feel awkward as hell. Was that a success? You feel like you fucked up. Your palms begin to sweat as you exited the Iceberg Lounge. Did you just mess up? Immediately after exiting, you realized that you should’ve waited for an answer. Should you go back? Absolutely not. If you went back in right now, you’d look like a total tool.

Walking quickly and looking around, you hastily find an alley nearby the Lounge, feeling the anxiety in your stomach. You grabbed a basic lighter and a cigarette pack from your pocket. You put it in your mouth and struggle to start the lighter, your hand shaking from earlier. After a couple of tries, you get it to light and bring it to your cigarette, taking a drag and letting it go. 

“Man,” you scratch the back of your head, “I really fucked that up. Nobody’s gonna hire me now. I’m a loser. No prospect, no job, no climbing up, just a loser.”

“An interesting conclusion,” a nasally voice, punchable even, full of confidence starts, surprised you, making you cough in surprise and drop your cigarette, “personally, I would say it went rather well.”

Standing at the alleyway was the man in the sharp green suit with a bowler hat, the one who looked like you were interesting. His gold cane tapped once against the concrete ground.

“It’s rare to watch someone impress Gotham’s criminal elite, and then run away before an answer.”

Oh my god, it was the one of the guys at the table! He was, uh, um… What was his name again? You thought you looked into all the big criminals. Maybe he was new? No, he couldn’t be! His face looked way too smug and confident to be new.

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?”

“Uh, nothing,” you lied, trying to desperately remember who this guy was. The outfit looks good, surely something can jog your memory. The question marks, the green, the cane, the… FUCK. It was the Riddler.

“I forgot the Riddler!” You exclaim out loud, much to both of your displeasures.

“You forgot the Riddler,” you can feel the distaste rolling off his tongue, more of a statement than a question, “you are somehow more moronic than I can ever envision. Hm.”

He adjusts his glasses, examining you under a microscope.

“Now, I’m not entirely sure if I want to work with someone as incompetent as you. You can’t even remember the name of the best villain in Gotham.”

You can feel the heat rush to your face, close to tearing up at your inadequacy, failing yet again when someone important comes up to talk to you.

“Well, yeah, I’m fucking stupid, I dropped out of school,” you admit, looking dead at him with your teary eyes, “but I’m not useless, I got street smarts and I’m strong. I can probably level the city if you give me a day.”

“A day?”

“Is that really the detail you focus on?” You wipe away the tears from your eyes.

“Gotham city has a lot of infrastructure, you can’t possibly destroy it in a day.”

“Watch me,” you smirk. The Riddler leans forward on his cane, looking less annoyed and more thoughtful.

“That’s quite the interesting boast for someone on the verge of tears a few moments ago,” he insulted, “still, I suppose it’s possible that you’re more than a demolition crew.”

“I mean, you already called me stupid, whaddya want me to do?” you shrug, feeling a surge of hope. 

“Preferably, surprise me?” His lips curled into a faint smile. Your brain short-circuited. You already punched those people in the Iceberg Lounge, was he not surprised by that? “Don’t think too hard. I can already see the steam pouring out of your ears.”

How did he know? Actually, it doesn’t matter.

You look up to the clouded sky, trying to identify something. Your eyes lock onto a skyscraper nearby. You grin, mischievously, a dangerous idea in your head. The Riddler tilted his head.

“Surprisingly, it appears you thought of something.”

“Hell yeah I did,” your tone was smug, walking towards him, “you better be holding onto your stuff real tight.”

For the first time during the conversation, he looked confused. Good. You got one up on him.

“What are you-”

You lifted him, carried him bridal style, he was light as air as you squatted with him.

“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU- OHH!”

You jumped high, holding onto him tight as both of you soared through the air. You laughed, as you began to land on a building. A step closer to your planned destination.

“Are you surprised yet?” You laughed at his reaction. The Riddler’s hands were tight on his glasses and cane, but his glasses were skewed. “We got a couple of more jumps to go though.”

“For fuck’s sa- AHH!”

You kept laughing as you heard his screams as you jumped from building to building. Eventually, you landed on top of a flat part of the skyscraper, putting him down.

“Y-You are going to get me down from here correct?” He was heaving. You crossed your arms.

“Geez and you called me stupid,” you frowned, the Riddler looked like he was about to protest, but you cut him off, “look. It’s Gotham City.”

The Riddler indeed looks. From the vantage point of the skyscraper, you could see almost everything in Gotham, each building, every light, the factories spitting out smoke, the hustle and bustle of it all, and of course, the blackened sky, only the moon was partially visible due to the pollution and rot in the city.

“I’ll give it to you,” you pledged, “if you hire me. I want this city to change. Too many corrupt businesses, cops, and people. It needs to change, but…” you trailed off, “it’s easy to break things, it’s like breathing. But knowing how to fix them is the hard part.”

The Riddler looks at you, like really looks at you. He’s clearly thinking about something, but you can’t help yourself.

“...So did I surprise you?”

“That was one word for it, but yes, yes you did,” the Riddler looks off into the distance, into your dream, “I suppose the first order of business for you is to get me off this building.”

You grinned, feeling light on your feet. The idea of success makes you feel like you can make a difference, to change things.

Harley Quinn was a masterpiece, in your humble opinion. She was a former doctor, so she was a genius, she was a little crazy (she made brief mention of her loser ex, who was either literally or metaphorically a clown, you couldn’t tell based on context), and she was beautiful. She was also very friendly and disclosed that she also had superhuman agility. She was in and out of prison and worked for Task Force X occasionally. Apparently it was led by some colonel and Amanda Waller (who it turns out was the woman who first checked you in). Her life sounded like a movie. You were more than a little jealous. You were just a regular teenage girl until that fateful car crash, and then after that you were studying and hiding and constantly afraid.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Harley pulled out a phone and tucked two earbuds into her ears.

“Is that allowed?” You wondered, and she smirked.

“I know a guy.”

“What are you listening to?” You asked and she nodded for you to join her.

“I know a guy who works here, who shall remain unnamed,” she whispered that part. “Who lets me use his old phone and his Spotify account. Here, have a listen,” she pulled one earbud out and you tucked it into your ear before sitting next to her on her bed.

“When we broke up you told me to go and find myself so I found myself in someone else’s bed-” You listened for a moment before interrupting.

“I know this song. Dirty Ickes right?” You asked and Harley nodded.

“This is a playlist he follows called ‘anxiety attack at 4 am.’ I listen to it sometimes when my mind is going too fast,” Harley confided and you looked at her strangely. “What? Something in my teeth?” She bared her teeth and you and you shook your head.

“No, I just used to have a playlist called that. When I had a phone,” you sighed and handed the earbud back before laying on your side on your bunk.

Harley hummed and shrugged before going back to her music. But your mind was racing.

You hadn’t had a phone on you when you got to town so you didn’t have one now. But the coincidence of the playlist was nagging you. Oh well, you thought. No use dwelling.

You hadn’t seen the familiar guard for several days and you were starting to worry you’d be stuck here. Picking at the mushy food on your plate, Harley nudged you with her elbow.

“What’s wrong, Bunny?” She wondered and you sighed. You hadn’t told her much about yourself, hoping to get out of here soon.

“I didn’t commit any crimes and I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck here with no hope of getting out,” you mumbled and she looked down at you with a soft smile.

“Don’t you worry, you’ll get out. Even if you join the Task Force, they take years off your sentence just for participating,” she shrugged. “The mortality rate is incredibly high but you have powers so it shouldn’t be too bad,” she ended with a smile and you frowned. The mortality rate is incredibly high? That’s concerning.

You were lost in your own thoughts and bumped into a woman when you stood up to clean off your tray. You didn’t get any food on her, but she was larger than you and was looking down at you with disdain.

“Watch where you’re going, punk,” she growled and you backed up, placing your hands out placatingly.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, and she backed down, walking away. However, in your haste to get away you backed right into another woman, this one not so keen to stay out of a fight. She wordlessly turned and glowered down at you. With one swing of her meaty arm you were thrown several feet away, your metal collar knocking against a table and (thankfully) protecting your neck from what was likely a bone-breaking blow.

What happened next appeared as if in slow motion. The monstrously large and intimidating woman stormed over to you and picked you up by your shirt, hoisting you off of the ground and bringing you to eye level with her.

Several guards were rushing over but it seemed like it would take too long, and the beast of a woman headbutted you. You wince before it happened so she didn’t break your nose, but it did cause her to hit you right on your hairline, and when the guards pulled her away from you you fell to your feet and swayed, hand clutching your head.

“Fuck,” you muttered and Harley caught you by the elbow.

“Come on,” she whispered and ushered you away, only to run face first into a wall of muscle.

“Harley, it’s not like you to run from the scene of the crime,” the voice was familiar but the fond amusement was not. You looked up into that incredibly familiar face and couldn’t place where you’d seen him. It was the guard from before and his name was on the tip of your tongue…

“Look Ricky, Bunny here just got a monster whack on her dome, and I wanted to get her out of here before she passes out,” Harley’s voice was loud and you looked from her back to the man. Ricky? It couldn’t be… You looked back up at him right as he looked down at you with confusion whirling in his eyes.

“Bunny?”

“Isn’t that a cute nickname? Rick, this is Bunny. Bunny, this is Rick,” Harley introduced you and you frowned.

“Rick Flag?”

You felt like you were having an out of body experience, your head throbbing as you looked at Rick, and Rick looked at you, and Harley looked between the two of you.

“You know each other?” She asked suspiciously and Rick turned to the energetic blonde.

“We knew each other in high school…” He trailed off. “How the hell did you end up here?” He aimed the question at you, and you waved your hand in a sort of ‘who knows’ gesture.

“You know,” you let out a tight laugh as your memories of high school and the following years crashed into the forefront of your mind. “I found out I was a metahuman, my parents panicked and sent me to boarding school in New York. I lost all contact with everyone I used to know. I stole my parents' money and ran away for like…” You counted on your fingers. “Three-ish years. But they basically put a bounty on my head and told the government I was dangerous so I’ve been hiding for a while.”

Rick let out a low whistle and leaned back against the wall he’d been standing near when Harley had tried to escort you out.

“Doesn’t sound like you should be in here, darlin’,” Harley nodded her head towards the hallway and the three of you started slowly walking towards your bunks.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you people,” you groaned and rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands. You were so fucking tired of this.

“I’m inclined to agree, but there’s not much I can do. I’m no lawyer,” Rick sounded genuine but you didn’t really care. You were a long way away from a blushing sophomore and his stupidly handsome face couldn’t wash away your worries anymore.

“I’ll just rot in here. Better than hiding in the real world,” you grumbled as you approached your room. You were done talking though. You left Harley and Rick at the door, laid down on your bunk and faced the wall so your back was to your companions.

… some minutes later, down the hallway …

“Rick, I think we gotta get her out of here,” Harley was whispering, her usual flamboyant personality shrouded in seriousness and concern. “She’s not supposed to be here, but she’s got powers that Waller will want to exploit.”

“I don’t even know where to start, Harls,” the man in question rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “I haven’t seen her in… seven? Eight years? When she disappeared nobody knew what happened to her. There was no word and her best friend wouldn’t say anything. And now she’s disillusioned and afraid and she’s in trouble with the law.”

“But you know she doesn’t belong here. She’s wrongly in trouble with the law. Look into the report her parents put out for her. It would have been three years ago. See if it’s legit or some anti-metahuman propaganda,” Harley was generally carefree and a little off kilter, but she was focused on this and Rick could tell she wouldn’t drop it. Sometimes he wondered if the crazy was all an act, she did have a PhD after all. But then he remembered all of the rest of his interactions with her… The crazy was definitely not an act.

Rick was soon left alone to his devices, Harley went off to harass someone probably. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. He’d already taken care of the little boy you’d left in town, Rick had made sure he was found, taken care of, and returned to his community. But that was all… well it was the least he could do after he’d seen you beaten down and bloodied, screaming for him to help. But could he actively work against his boss to help get you out of prison?

When he went home that night he pulled out his high school yearbook from senior year. Flipping through the glossy pages, he finally found your photo. You looked the same, it was a wonder he didn’t recognize you immediately. With a sigh, Rick closed the book and turned on his speaker. He needed to relax.

“Alexa, play my Spotify,” he called into the room and sure enough, your ‘sports, go sports!’ playlist was the last thing he’d been listening to. He grabbed a beer as Mr Loverman began to play and sat down on his couch.

“Time to do some recon,” he muttered and slid his phone out of his pocket. He searched for hours as the TV played in the background. He searched for the year you went missing, your full name, your parents names, the state of Mississippi, New York, Louisiana. Around ten in the evening he moved to his desk chair and opened his laptop to search easier.

It took him hours of searching to finally realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight, but as he was going to close his laptop a PDF finally loaded and popped up. It was a newspaper article from three years ago in some town in upstate New York.

“Metahuman on the Loose: Y/N Y/L/N. Report to the police if you see this metahuman. Do not engage.” It was followed by a photo of you from what must have been around that time, you were older than he remembered from school but younger than you were now. It was also followed by a contact number for the investigator on the case.

Rick’s lips straightened into a grim line. He was determined to get you out of prison. Even if all he had to go on was a phone number from three years ago.

Taglist:

When you finally starter to really meet each other, Lena realized there was so much she didn't know about you. Your life seemed like a mystery, full of blank spaces she tried to fill with whatever little clues she could gather about you. She knew there had been an accident when you were younger, one that had took most of the things you loved and left you instead marked by tragedy. Which explained most of your personality and your mannerisms. For most people, at first sight, you were a cold person. You remained calm and collected, always in control of your own emotions, as if you didn't want to be bothered by the rest of the world, and you didn't speak that much unless it was required.But Lena knew what it was to go through tragedy too and she could see it was only a facade to what laid beneath the surface.

You had in fact one of the gentlest personalities she had ever encountered and she had been, inevitably, drawn to you. It was your shy and little smiles and sneaky jokes only the closest people got to see, the few but always true words that came from you when someone needed them, and your soothing presence that always brought a sense of ease to her, like the flame of a bonfire illuminating and warming up the night. She wondered how it was when you truly opened up.

"(Y/N), I'm serious. I can clean this in the morning." Lena had told you, picking up plates and glasses after everyone else was gone.

"It's alright. Besides I'm partially responsible for this mess as I'm the one that suggested we played this." You said picking up loose pieces of monopoly someone had tossed in a tantrum.

"Well, now I know why this game was banned in the Danvers family. I just never imagined Alex was this competitive." Lena walked to the kitchen counter, leaving the plates for later but discovering a little silver car in a plate. She picked it and walked back towards you to return it. "Here."

You looked up from the floor from where you had been searching for any other missing pieces to find the little car in her hand. You pushed yourself up and took it, brushing your fingers against Lena's palm as careful as it was possible for you. Lena noticed it enough for her heart to skip a beat.

"You don't want to see her when she really loses it." She saw you smile fondly. "She can be scary."

"I can imagine, but I do wonder if you ever get like that." She smirked. "I actually think I have never seen you other than really ...zen."

"That's by design." She saw your expression briefly change to a small frown and then look at the car in your hand.

"What do you mean?" She couldn't help but wonder if she had inadvertently changed the course of the conversation as she felt this wasn't just about board games anymore.

"If I get like that people can get hurt and I don't want to hurt anyone." She watched as you looked back at her with an expression that told her you had said more than intended.

Lena figured that was maybe the closest she would get to an opportunity to see you finally open up. She wanted to know you and decided to take the chance.

"How could you hurt anyone?" She asked stepping closer to you. You fidgeted with the little car, the proximity of your bodies making you nervous for a moment.

You could also sense what was happening at that moment. Without meaning to, you had opened a little breach on the delicate crafted mystery you had surrounded yourself with and it wasn't that you didn't want to tell Lena all about you, that had been the first thing you may have ever wanted to do when you met her, but it was complicated. Because you weren't ready to bring back the memories, because you were afraid she would be scared, because you knew Lena didn't get along well with secrets.

"I wish I could tell." You breathed in, trying to calm yourself but knowing if she asked you couldn't deny her anything.

"So you never lose control, (Y/N)?" She asked searching again for your eyes.

"You don't want me to, Lena." You said looking back.

"What if I want exactly that?"

The little silver car found itself a new place on the floor after you felt Lena's lips move over yours. Your hands couldn't keep holding it as they wrapped around Lena's body. She could feel your initial hesitation. The way your hands moved with just and enough pressure that she was sure you were holding back but were unable to stop yourself.

Lena had wanted to ask much more about you that she didn't think even for a second to stop what happened next. She had wanted to unravel the truths you held under yourself but she hadn't imagined the desire to unravel just you was going to be stronger.

Now, as she felt the morning getting colder, she imagined she had crossed a line you hadn't been ready to and cursed before getting up. She tried to call you but after the second unanswered call she gave up. It was clear for her what had happened. So she decided to go on with her day. She had a busy schedule, enough to keep her thoughts away from you. She could deal with her messy feelings later.

"I never thought I would say this but, Hellfire, uh, hold your fire." You heard Supergirl call from above you after you swept a line of fire to keep the aliens at bay. "We don't want to make them kebabs."

"Maybe we should." You replied with a hint of a grunt. "We could end this faster."

Kara could hear the annoyance in your voice. "That would be a bad example."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to hurry up!" You said launching a small fireball to an alien that was coming directly for you.

Almost an hour had passed already and you weren't done fighting. It didn't help that Lena had called and you had been unable to answer. Suddenly, you also felt about to lose your temper.

Your morning had started as a dream, better even, as you woke to the most beautiful woman you had ever met. Then it was all ruined when you received an emergency call from the DEO. There was an attack from an alien group right downtown and you were required as a back up under Alex's direct orders. You knew you couldn't say no. The threat seemed serious enough and while you had wanted to wait till late morning in the Lena's bed, your fair conscience wouldn't let you leave your friends alone. You had spent one of the most incredible nights of your life, and you were stuck fighting aliens. Mostly, you were afraid this was the beginning and the end of your relationship with Lena.

"Why are there so many?" You grunted as you finally landed a punch who knocked one of those aliens.

"(Y/N), focus. Your fire may spread." Kara said and you realized a couple of your fireballs had hit a couple of small vending carts.

The flames around you were getting bigger, and you had to stop for a second to take a few deep breaths to lessen them. You also didn't want to cause more collateral damage with your powers.

"Alright then, let's finish this before you do decide to carbonize them." She joked.

"Good." It was all you said before continuing the fight.

Finally, you managed to end the fight. All aliens were taken to the DEO and while Alex and Kara had wanted you to accompany them to fill the reports you told them you had an emergency somewhere else. So you burned and used your flames to propel yourself into the sky.

Lena was taking a small break after finishing a meeting, watching the news a bout the alien attack downtown when her phone started to ring. She recognized your number and frowned for a moment before deciding to answer.

"I'm sorry." She heard you say and it wasn't something she had expected to hear first on this conversation.

"You don't need to apologize, (Y/N)." Lena responded with a coldness that made you wince on the other side of the line. "I'm sure you had something more important to do this morning."

"N-no. Yes." You rushed and Lena was left confused for a moment. You never stuttered. "I mean that I... I didn't mean to leave like that. I want to tell you what happened."

"You don't need to explain."

"I do." You replied with more confidence. "Meet me in the rooftop."

That left Lena startled and the fact that you mentioned the rooftop got her even more nervous. So she hurried, leaving a call for her assistant to cancel the rest of her appointments, and headed to the company's rooftop.

She couldn't start to imagine why you were there or how you had managed to even get there in the first place, it seemed so out of yourself that she almost feared she really pushed your buttons last night. Whatever you were planning, she was going to make sure you didn't do anything more reckless.

She pushed the door to the rooftop and found you pacing in the middle at the base of the helipad. She could hear the whole city from up there and the wind rushing in her ears.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" She said as she approached you.

You walked towards her and stopped a few steps away. "I'm sorry."

"I know but why don't we talk about this somewhere else?"

"I figured your office had fire alarms." You said.

"Fire alarms?" Lena tried to take another step towards you and you had to take a step back. "(Y/N), I don't understand what's happening."

"Do you remember what we talked about last night?" You saw Lena frown a bit in confusion. "About me never losing control because that would get people hurt?"

"Yes." Lena watched you with attention, noticing the subtle hesitation behind your eyes and your words.

"It's just that..." You shook your head and then took a deep breath before raising your arm. "It's hard to look at."

"(Y/N), you don't need to-" She saw the exact moment your arm began to catch fire. You held your hand at eye level and watched it as it started to burn.

She opened her mouth in shock and surprise as it finally clicked in her brain. The news about the alien attack were pretty much excited to have a better look at National City's new hero known as Hellfire and while looking at you she thought the name was fitting. You had been right, it wasn't something easy to look at. Soon enough it wasn't just your arm but your whole body burning. The flames made their way consuming you and she could see your burning flesh through them. Skin, muscle and bone was burning the way she would expect some piece of carbon to do so. Then it was your eyes, glowing like molten lava.

You let Lena watch for a moment before meeting her eye. After seeing the shock in her face you decided it was enough for a show. You took a deep breath once again and let the flames die, leaving your scorched skin exposed but it healed so fast that it was barely noticeable what had happened.

"When I was younger, the building I lived in with my family burned. It was night and we woke up to late to escape the fire. I was caught in the fire, and I burned...and burned, and burned, and burned." You remembered the night it had happened, still fresh in your memory and as painful as ever. "I was found in that same building during the night. I had no burns, no wounds, no scars, and no one that could explain how that was possible. They took me to the hospital and when they told me I had been the only survivor, I got so angry and desperate that I started a new fire right there."

Lena went back to the night before, the way you seemed to hold yourself, the way your hands touched her body almost methodically, the air becoming hotter with each heavy breath. She had imagined you were about to burst, and she had no idea how literal that could have been.

This time when she approached you she was glad you didn't step back again. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because I was afraid of a lot of things. Because you ignite something in me, Lena, something I have no real control over." You swallowed, her closeness making you nervous once again.

"Last night you were pretty much under control." She moved closer and closer towards you. There was certain relief in her words. All her fears and doubts had been erased as she realized you wanted this as much as her.

"That's because the thing I'm most afraid of is hurting you. I would go mad if that ever happened." You lifted a hand up to her face and traced the line of her jaw with your fingertips. "I can't lose you."

"You won't." She said before she pulled you in for another kiss.

You were running so long that you thought you'd never reach your desired destination. You were running so long you didn't think you could care for someone like you cared for him. You were running so long you didn't you know if you could stop. But for him, you'd do anything. Even die if it meant he lived.

You were supposed to be a hero yet all you ever wanted to do was run. He didn’t even know that you knew who he was. To him you were just the person who remembered what drink he liked. To him you only knew him as Mick.

You had ran here from Gotham. The laugh following you everywhere you went. That laugh of a man who only wanted chaos. A shiver runs down your spine as you eye your suit in the room behind your closet.

You told yourself you'd live a normal life here. The Bat had even wished you luck in finding peace. Yet you had to work at a bar that he liked to visit. 

You were supposed to be a hero, yet the man you served was anything but a hero. At least when you first met him. He flirted, you didn't. You were interested in him, yes. But you weren't ready yet.

The Joker had messed with your head. When didn't he? But as you got to leave that life mostly behind, the laughter began to die out.

Until someone made you laugh. Your laugh had changed. Bat told you that much. The fact you even called him the Bat showed how much the Joker influenced you. Before the Bat it had been Bruce. A very dear friend of yours. 

"You ever crack a smile?" 

You roll your eyes at the comment, trying not to react. He wanted a reaction. He just didn’t know what a comment like that would have gotten him before. But something was off about him. His usual companion wasn't with him either. Then you saw his eyes, and your breathing almost stopped. You knew that expression. You'd seen it in the mirror. In Gotham you'd lost more than a few people you cared for. Hell, you counted your past self among them.

You handed him a shot of whiskey. "I know you didn’t ask for this, but it's on the house." That was your way of showing your condolences. No other way without explaining a few things. No other way to do it in a more comfortable manner for the man. 

The grateful but slightly stiff nod said he understood the meaning. For which you was grateful. Maybe one day he'd tell you what happened, just like maybe one day you'd wear the suit again.

It was gone pretty quickly. Getting some money out you put it in the till, and gave him the bottle. You’d seen him drink much more before. Sure you probably shouldn’t have given it to him but it was the same method you had used to grieve. If it helped numb the edge for today then so be it. If he came in again tomorrow you would try to make sure he didn’t drink too much. And the day after that and the day after that. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at his gruff gratitude. 

“No problem.” You then went on to serve some others, keeping an eye on Mick as you worked. 

And he did. Come back that is. Not every day but most days. You grew concerned for the man, and kept to the promise you made yourself of not serving him too much. 

The thing with Mick was, that he had this vibe. The one that in your previous life would have had you don your cape and stake him out. Now? It just made you curious what he was doing and why.

Then one day as you were heading home, you heard a scream. That life was behind you, but the instinct to protect was not. So without second thought you were running down the sidewalk not noticing someone had spotted your reaction and was following.

You know what they say about muscle memory? You wondered whether that included instinct. Because as you got down that alley your body went into full cape mode. Minus the cape. That thief stood no chance against you, as you twisted your body this way and that, before the shadows began to respond to you as the guy got a hit in, your eyes turning their instinctively black colour, your hair following soon after. Black veins creeping across your face as the shadows protected the victim and you went even more at the thief. 

When he was on the ground knocked out there was another instinct. To keep going. But you squashed that down, that instinct was one the Joker instilled in you. There was a flash of light and then the very man you knew protected Central City was in front of you.

You waved a hand and the shadows were gone, the victim was shaking. But otherwise unharmed. The shadows probably didn’t help but you hoped they realised you had been protecting them.

With the very thing you had avoided using for quite some time now. You were always this way, you weren’t a meta. Though they’d probably still call you that.

The Bat…. Bruce had helped you get control of that side. The Joker had wanted to use it.

The Flash was trying to gauge the situation until, “They’re with me.”

That voice you definitely recognised, you spun to find Mick. Considering you believed he was up to no good, made you wonder if him saying that was good or not. A frown pulled at your face but as you were about to speak you were interrupted.

“You’re the Shadow.” Blinking at the fan like awed voice you now spun to the Flash.

“You know who I am?”

“Well, yes I mean you’re a hero in Gotham. And you know Batman.”

A roll of the eyes, it always ended up with that line. You know Batman. “Know the Joker too but you don’t see me bragging about that.”

He winced, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that was a bad topic.”

You shrug, “No one does.” You glance back at Mick, “You know him?” Thumb over your shoulder indicating who you meant.

“Yeah, busted me a few times.” You laugh but wince as you do, the laugh coming to an abrupt stop. You knew both of them were giving you looks because of that. “You’re special, and the team I’m on could do with your help.”

You look at him, “Team of…?” It was Flash’s turn to laugh. You glance at him with a smile before facing Mick again. “Sorry, its just you sometimes give good guy vibe, others bad guy and then sometimes I don’t know what.”

“A team of legends.”

“Yeah that still doesn’t answer my question.”