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Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Arrowverse 'Other World' Chapter 9 - Canary

Disclaimer: This is the ninth 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 These chapters are free to read, they will not be published in book format, nor will any revenue be generated from the chapters.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.



I've gotten used to this routine I call "the morning after." As in, the morning after I've been out dealing with Intergang or whoever else is causing trouble in my city, I feel the pain -- pain from whatever battle scars I may have accumulated. You know, like the other night when I took a knife to the gut, my partner had to stitch me up.

It seems every morning after like this, my partner has to tend to my wounds. I've received a black eye, twisted my ankle, scraped my elbows -- one time I got a concussion. No broken bones so far, and believe me, my partner has been warning me that better not happen.

But after my latest confrontation with Intergang, I'm doing all right. The person I met the other night, though, wasn't in good shape.

I'm looking at her right now. She's lying in the bed, still wearing that red outfit, though we took off one of her boots and figured out how to raise a pant leg. It's still pushed up past her right knee and her leg is elevated -- we propped it up on a couple of pillows and my partner gave her a sedative to calm her down. When I brought this woman into the condo late last night, my partner didn't expect he'd have to fix up somebody other than myself. But like he does in the emergency room, he got right to work, found the bullet wedged in the back of her leg and got it out.

Approaching the bed, I notice the bandages wrapped around her right leg, close to the knee. My partner told me I better check them this morning and see if she's healing. He's working the morning shift at the hospital, but he taught me a few things about what to look for when it comes to certain types of wounds. Guess he figured I better know that stuff, given that I've had more than my fair share of bumps, bruises and cuts.

When I reach toward the bandaged leg, I notice movement. Looking up, I see the woman pushing herself up. A mask covers most of her head, though I can see her brown eyes through the holes in it. Her black hair remains in the ponytail that sticks out of the back of the mask. The way her eyes stare at me, it's like I better not think about touching her.

I take a step back and hold up my hands. "Hey, easy does it. I was just making sure you're all right."

Her eyes remained fixed upon on me. "I'm fine." She reaches down to the bandages. "I don't need these any longer."

"Wait a minute, my partner had to dig deep to get that bullet out. You sure you should be doing that?"

The woman tears at the gauze and tape. "I said I don't need these any longer."

I'm about to reach toward her, get her to stop messing with her injury, when I notice her pull the gauze away. Though it's red with dried blood, there's no scabbing anywhere on her brown skin. Not even a scar that I can make out. It's like that bullet in the back of her leg was a figment of my imagination.

"Whoa," I say. "How did you do that?"

She pulls the pant leg back down. "I heal fast."

"Yeah, but how? I've never seen anything like that before."

She swings her legs to the side of the bed. "It's an effect of the Speed Force on my cellular structure."

Speed Force. Sounds like a football team. "What's that all about?"

She doesn't answer the question. Instead, she glances at the floor. "Where's my boot?"

I gesture to a chair in the corner. "Over there. If you want, I can get it for you."

She waves me off. "I can get it myself." Standing up, she walks toward the chair, grabs the boot and shoves it over her foot. Sure seems like she's in a hurry. Like she can't wait to get out of here.

That's how she acted the night before, too, when I brought her back to my condominum to treat that wound. But my partner tried to explain to her that, because the bullet had been buried under her skin for a while, he needed to be sure she didn't have an infection. Told her it was why he used plenty of iodine to clean the wound and injected her with a drug of some kind. And then there was the sedative -- we had to find a way to calm her down, given that she seemed ready to run off at a moment's notice.

She looks fine now -- I still can't believe that wound already healed. But I'm not prepared to let her take off. Got plenty of questions for her and, when I've got questions, I want to find those answers. "Hey, hold up. You don't need to leave so soon. Why don't you talk to me for a while?"

Her eyes fix upon me. Even with that mask obscuring the rest of her face, it feels like she's staring bullets at me. "Why are you so interested in me?"

"Well, you showed up in my hometown and took on Intergang." I lean against the dresser. "First time I've seen somebody like you. Wondering what brought you here."

Her mouth forms a frown. "I work alone. You shouldn't have been there."

I don't understand why she's so abrasive. Not that I'm without my faults, but I always believed in being open and kind to everyone, unless they showed they didn't deserve it. Intergang, they're the bad guys, they deserve no kindness. But this speedster, I can tell she's not one of the bad guys. "Look, I live here and I've been dealing with Intergang for months. If I find out where they're at, you can bet I'll show up. And, yeah, I work alone when I deal with them. But that doesn't mean I'll turn away help. Just didn't know of anyone who could help me -- until I met up with you, that is."

She takes a step toward me. "I need to leave now."

The way she talked, I can tell she means it. But I don't want her to go flying out the door without a few more answers. "Look, at least me get you some breakfast before you go."

She puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head, like she's making up her mind if she should accept my generous offer. "Fine." She sighs. "You're just lucky I'm hungry right now."

"Well, come with me." I motion for her to follow me out of the room. Down the hallway I go, past the large living room and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, I pull out two cups of blueberry yogurt. When I place them on the counter, I notice her standing at the entryway. I get spoons out of the drawer and hand one to her, along with a yogurt. "Here you are -- we got some muffins, too. Banana -- I like to cook and I think you'll enjoy them."

I turn my back to her grab a large plate on another counter. It has ten muffins piled high and plastic wrap placed over them. "You want me to heat one up for you?" I glance back and notice that she already opened her yogurt cup and finished it off. Wow, that was quick.

She shakes her head. "That's not necessary." She gestures to the plate. "You better give me as many as you can."

I can feel my brow furrow. "You got a big appetite or what?"

"My metabolism is high. I burn a lot of calories when I run."

"Well, that makes sense." I reach underneath the plate and pull one muffin out, then hand the plate over to her. "Take whatever you want, then."  I reach into a cabinet to grab another, smaller plate.

She reaches underneath the plastic wrap and takes a muffin. "I suppose I should thank you."

I place my muffin on the smaller plate and give a quick nod in her direction. "Hey, just trying to be friendly." I pull the lid off my yogurt, dip the spoon in and stir. "So may I ask what your name is?"

She finishes a bite of muffin. "The Flash."

I'm not sure if I should ask my next question, but figure it doesn't hurt to ask. "I mean, are you okay telling me your real name?" I eat a spoonful of yogurt, enjoying the sweetness of blueberries. "I mean, I go by Canary, but my real name is Carl. Carl Kanigher."

She's eaten half that muffin already. Yeah, she wasn't kidding when she said she was hungry. "I'd rather not."

I can guess there's one answer I'm not going to get. "Fair enough." I take a bite of muffin. Nothing is better than bananas and nuts mixed in sweet bread. "So how did you get those powers? I mean, I can tell you first. My powers come from the artifact I wear around my neck, and yeah, I never imagined I could do anything like that." I gesture toward her. "But what you can do, that superspeed -- I'm in awe."

She's finished off her first muffin and grabs a second. "If you must know, I got struck by some kind of lightning bolt when I was checking out Frontier Labs."

I had picked up my spoon, but upon hearing that remark, it falls from my grasp and clatters on the counter. "Struck by lightning? How did you survive that?"

"Don't know. Got the wind knocked out of me, but next thing I knew, I felt my body vibrating." She's already finished off her second muffin. "I started moving and realized that I could go at fast speeds."

I'm no longer touching my food. The more I hear about this woman's story, the more I want to know. "Did you notice anything strange about the lightning? Like -- I don't know, was it a certain color? I mean, I've heard a few stories before about people who survived lightning strikes, but never in a way like you experienced."

She's halfway through her third muffin, when she stops, sets the plate aside on another counter and fixes her eyes on me. Again, it's like she has had enough. "Why are you so interested in me? What's it matter to you?"

I lean back. "Just want to get to know you, that's all." The corners of my mouth turn up. "Besides, those powers you have and that outfit you wear -- I think they are pretty cool."

She keeps her eyes fixed upon me. It's like she should feel flattered, but doesn't want to admit it. "Well, thank you for breakfast, but I need to get going."

I step toward her, thinking about grabbing her by the shoulder, not wanting her to leave so soon. But I manage to keep my hands to my side. "Wait a minute -- we found out that Intergang was targeting Mark Gregory."

"Yeah, what about it?"

I clasp my hands and raise them to my chin. "Did you consider coming back here when Mark visits? I want to make sure he's safe and I could use your help."

She doesn't respond right away. Instead, she takes several bites of muffin and studies me. Could I be getting through to her? Might she even want to trust me? "Mark Gregory's been talking to Warren Hosills, hasn't he?"

I shrug. "That's what the news reports say. Doesn't sound like Mark cares for him much, though."

"I want to know what he knows about Hosills."

"May I ask why?"

She finishes off the last of her muffin. "It's personal. I'm not telling you more than that."

I hold up my hands. "Fair enough. You don't have to chew me out." I reach over to grab my yogurt. "But, look, if you help me protect Mark Gregory from Intergang, maybe he can do you a favor and help you with whatever issues you have with Warren Hosills."

She shakes her head. "I plan to be there tomorrow. Now, I know this your town, so I expect you'll be there. But don't think I'm there because I'm working with you. I'm there to do what I need to do and that's all I plan to do. You understand?"

I try to be patient with people, but I have to admit that she's testing me more than anyone else I've met. And I don't understand why she has to be this way. "All right, I get it. But you don't have to push me away. I really would like to be friends with you."

She stares at me again. This time, though, it doesn't seem like she's mad at me. More like she didn't expect me to offer my friendship. It makes me wonder if she has any friends -- if the reason why she works alone is because she's always alone. And I don't want her to feel she has to be alone. But even as her posture changes, I still have this feeling that she's not ready to open up.

"I'll show myself out." She gestures to the plate of muffins on the counter. "But thank you for breakfast." With that, she takes off, kicking up a gust of air that pushes me a step back and sends the plastic wrap into the air.

I take a moment to gather myself. "No kidding she showed herself out." Yeah, that's not a good one-liner. Wish I was better with them.

More importantly, I wish I knew more about this woman who calls herself The Flash. Because the more I think about what happened last night, the more I think The Flash and I have some things in common -- that perhaps we could both accomplish what we want to achieve if we worked as a team.

To be continued in Chapter 10.

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