Original Author's Note

a real short one today. following the letter of the prompts more than the spirit.

Prompts

“Mayday, mayday!” | cave in | rusty nail

Chapter 12: what could go wrong?

“Mayday, mayday!”

The voices haunt him. 

“We need help down here!”

It doesn’t matter what he sees. Images can be faked. Images can pass over and through him. Dick has seen enough horrors to last the rest of his life; he knows how to tuck them away and forget. But the voices—

“I’ve got people trapped on Mayberry and Fifth—oh, God—please!”

Dick could look away. Close his eyes. Tear them out. The voices would still ring in his head. He would never escape. 

“Is this what you want?” Owlman’s voice grates in his ear. Clawed fingers dig into Dick’s scalp. Holding his head up. Holding him in place. “Your mask is gone. Everyone knows who you are. Do you really want to go back to that?”

It would be better than this, Dick wants to say, and at the same time, Leave them alone, they haven’t done anything, it’s me you want, just hurt me—

He doesn’t say it. Not because he has any pride left—if it would save those people, in Gotham, Blüdhaven, Chicago—if it would stop this, he would cave in an instant. He would say anything. 

But nothing will stop this. Nothing can save them. They run and cry for help and countless rogues, the worst of the worst, hunt them down. Buildings fall. Tunnels collapse. Whole cities burn to the ground.

And the dying scream. 

Owlman grips his hair, holding him in place, striking him if he closes his eyes. He shouldn’t bother, Dick thinks, hysterical. The images on the screen are just that: images. Faraway. Unreal. They don’t matter. But the voices reach him. The voices pour from the screens and drown him. 

He can’t escape.