Disclaimer: This is the third chapter in a story about an "other world" based on the Arrowverse, the CW shows that focus on DC superheroes. I am writing this as my way of paying homage to my fandom for the Arrowverse. The character names Supergirl, Green Arrow, The Flash, Canary and Brainiac are trademarks of DC Comics. These chapters are free to read, they will not be published in book format, nor will any revenue be generated from the chapters. If there are legal issues involved with the usage of these characters, please email me at bwmorris at mail dot com and I will cease with the writing. Critiquing of my writing is welcomed and may be left in the comments.
Night after night, I spent my time running the streets of Central City, looking for what they call petty criminals. You know, the type that people never think much about until the day they're the victim of one.
And when I say running the streets, I don't exaggerate. In fact, I can cover the whole city in just a few minutes.
That's because I'm Destiny Gardner, the fastest woman alive.
I race down one street to the next, the air pushing against my face, the buildings and surrounding areas blurring together. My eyes stay open, though, as racing at these top speeds means I must look out for anything. Learned the hard way to watch where I was going when I tested my power many months ago. The first time I raced around a track, I tripped, fell and broke my arm. Luckily, I heal fast, so it wasn't long before I was up and running again.
Moving around the corner, I feel the air rush through my ponytail, which extends through a hole in the back of my mask. The full mask pulled over my head tops the red jumpsuit I wear. Had to study up on a lot of science and technology to get the suit right, but the good thing is I always had a thirst for knowledge. That was further enhanced my mother, who was a professor. She taught me a lot about doing my research.
I tear down the streets, the memories of my father flooding my mind along, too. Dad was a doctor, so that's how I learned a few things about medicine. And I had plenty of years to read up on his studies -- he once told me you never stop learning and that, on any path you choose, there's always more to know and to apply.
If only they were here now to see what I can do.
You might think racing at top speed all the time would allow you to forget your troubles, your pain and your grief. But I've found it's easier to run from a fight than it is to run from the pain. The pain of losing my parents when I was 10 years old, spending the rest of my childhood without them, wishing they could have seen me graduate from high school, that they could help me decide where to go to college. Truth be told, I wished I could have become a CSI, but you need all the education you can get to do that. And losing my parents meant losing that chance to pursue the job of my dreams.
So I spend my nights running, tracking down every petty criminal who plagues Central City, making sure none of them can ever cause the harm that drunk driver did that fateful night.
That's when I rush past a car that appears to be swerving. I skid to a halt, sparks kicking up before me. Good thing these boots are flame retardant, as is the rest of my jumpsuit. Like I said, I do research and find the best places to get the materials I need, so I can spend my nights doing what needs to be done.
The blue sedan jerks around a corner, its tires squealing on the pavement. Swerving, speeding and failing to yield -- that driver pulled right in front of a red pickup, which screeches to a halt, the horn blaring.
Only one thing to do -- stop that driver before he hurts someone.
And so, I'm off in a flash -- just like the name that the local paper gave to me after I took down my first petty criminal. My legs kick into high gear, my arms pump back and forth, my eyes narrow and I fix my sights on the blue sedan lurching down the road. The vehicle makes a sudden right turn, down into an alley.
I know exactly how to cut this guy off.
Bypassing the alley, I race toward the next intersection, take a quick right turn, fly down the next block, then another right turn brings me toward the other end of the alley. Another right turn and I'm coming face to face with the sedan.
The sound of screeching breaks and squealing tires fills the air, followed by crunching metal as the sedan smashes into a large dumpster. I see the airbag pop out, obscuring the driver's face. Wonder if he bothered to wear his seat belt -- if he's like any other person who shouldn't be behind the wheel, I doubt he cares about his own safety, much less others.
My feet skid to a halt and I stand before the driver's door. Extending my right hand, I vibrate it, allowing me to pass my molecules through the door and disengage the lock. The door pops open and I withdraw my hand. But once I steady my molecules, my arm goes right for the driver, my fingers grasping his shirt collar. Sure enough, he's not wearing his seat belt.
The man stares at me, his eyes wide as saucers. "Whoa, please! I didn't want to hurt anybody!"
I drag him out of his seat. A trickle of blood flows from his forehead and his nose is puffy, likely broken. My gaze locks with his and I speed up my vocal chords. Not that I need to disguise it, but I find it intimidates criminals. "Did you even pay attention to what you were doing? You nearly hit that truck."
He attempts to raise his right arm but when he moves his shoulder, he winces and grunts. "I'm running late! If I don't get to Frontier Labs, Warren Hosills will have my head for this!"
My grip on his shirt collar tightens. Warren Hosills is the most influential man in Central City, but that's not what matters to me. What matters is he's the one who got that drunk driver who killed my parents off the hook. "What are you working for Hosills for?"
"Please, I've got to get Frontier Labs." The man stammers, his gaze glazed over, like he may pass out any minute.
I pull him closer and can smell his breath. No sign of alcohol, but whatever he last ate, it had onions. "Start talking about Hosills. What's so important that you had to break five traffic laws just to get to Frontier?"
"I can't say. Hosills doesn't want anyone talking about..."
That's when I raise my left arm, my hand extended straight out, the molecules vibrating rapidly. I move my fingers closer to the man's chest. Some criminals want to push their luck and you have to push back. "You start talking or my hand goes right to your heart."
He swallows, takes a breath and stammers some more. "Okay, okay. I have a delivery of special technology for Warren Hosills, who wants to use it to create an artificial intelligence."
My hand does not move. "What kind of artificial intelligence?"
He stumbles over his words. "He said it was something that could be used to pinpoint any threat on Earth. Identify such a threat before it can take action. I swear I don't know anything else, only that he'd have my hide if I didn't make this delivery soon."
"What's so important about the delivery?"
The man hesitates. I'm not waiting for him to make up his mind. My fingers draw closer to his chest until they almost touch his skin.
He raises his right hand and grimaces. "All right, I'll tell you! He's waiting to make an exchange with Intergang from Hub City, who is gathering weapons technology from another sources."
"Hub City?"
"Yeah, he's been gettings weapons they've stolen for months now and they don't like to be kept waiting for their deliveries. I swear that's all I know!"
I study his face, notice the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. My hand still vibrate before his chest.
He shakes his head and sputters. "Please... Hosills didn't tell me anything else."
My left hand relaxes and I pull it away from his chest. I release his shirt collar and push him back into the car seat. My eyes catch a metal case in the passenger seat.
He must notice me starting at the case, because he reaches his right hand toward it. Before he can touch it, I lunge inside the car, grab the case and pull it toward me.
"Wait!" A pleading look fills his eyes and his lips tremble. "Don't take that from me!"
I motion to the case. "This is the tech you're talking about?"
"Yes! Please don't..."
That's when I notice red and blue lights flashing, the sound of wailing sirens filling the air. I thrust a finger toward the man. "You can tell Hosills his delivery isn't going through. The rest, you can explain to the cops."
With that, I'm off and running. Off through Central City I go, block after block flying past, until I reach my home neighborhood. Brick row housing lines the narrow street -- housing that's seen better days. But it's a cheap place to live and the perfect spot to keep a low profile.
My home is on the far end, the one with red brick and white doors and window frames. I move up the steps and vibrate my molecules, passing through the front door. The case comes through, too -- when I do my vibration trick, I can do it with any object I'm holding or wearing, too.
Once inside, I take a deep breath and move through my tiny living room, a chair, table and television the only furniture in it. Odds and ends are scattered about the room, ranging from cloth samples from past costumes I tested to first aid materials I've used to patch up my wounds. Examining my body, it doesn't look like I'm hurt. A good thing, because my rapid regenerative powers mean a bone not set in place won't heal properly.
I push the mask up from my head. When I pull my ponytail out through the hole, I can feel the dirt and sweat in my matted hair. A shower will come later, but first, I want to see this tech.
Setting the case on the table, I find it's easy to unlatch. But when I open it, what's inside resembles no technology I've seen before. A small, black cube with yellowish, glowing marks, one which form three dots connected with lines, resembling a triangle. I pick up the cube, examine it, then scratch my head. There doesn't seem to be a button or anything to activate whatever this cube is.
My curiosity grows. I can't stop thinking about what Hosills may be planning. And the more I think about Hosills, the more I think about how he got that drunk driver off the hook. How he used his connections to protect somebody working by his side. This technology might be the key to bringing Hosills down.
I fall back into my chair and contemplate my next move. Normally, I don't venture out of Central City. At the speeds I can reach, I could leave town and be back before anybody realized I was gone. But I've always felt committed to my own turf, rather than worry about what's happening somewhere else.
But if there's is a connection between Hosills and Intergang, then a trip to Hub City is in order.
To be continued in Chapter 4.
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