The Whoosh

>You’re out on your morning reconnaissance routine.
>You hate it.
>You hate everything about the situation you’re in.
>As you jog through ruins of the once magnificent city, you are reminded of your mistakes. The destruction you’ve caused, the lives lost because of your errors.
>You see where there once was a park, with a bench and a fountain.
>Now, there is only dust. No sign of what once was.
>You decide to stop and look at the hollow reconstructions your mind has given you.
>You decide to move on, trying not to linger on the lost souls.
>As you kick off the dust, it floats there, almost motionless as you vacate area.
>As you continue your jog you start to see that which you dread most, in a clearing just beyond.
>Soldiers, those belonging to the other side.
>As you approach the frozen figures you place yourself in front of them and stop your speed.
>They jump as they notice you, immediately pointing their projectors at you.
“Please run.”
>You say in a defeated tone, knowing they won’t listen.
“If you run, I don’t have to kill you.”
>Before you can finish your sentence, one fires.
>You step to the side and watch the little, negative mass ball hurtle past you at a snail's pace.
>As you watch, you harden yourself in preparation for your next action.
>You walk behind the fanatical soldier, take out your plasma dagger, as sever his skull diagonally, from the base of his neck to his forehead.
>You do the same to the others, already having fired their weapons now simply at a wall with a hole in it.
>After they have fallen, you stand there, etching their faces into your mind to make sure they are at least remembered by someone.
>After this, you happen to look at their weapons and remember yet another failure.
>The technology you had sworn, in your infinite hubris, would never be weaponized.
>As you continue on your path only a few minutes later, barely a second in real time, you see something you once thought impossible, something you would come to despair in time.
>A man, running, with yellow lightning coursing through his body.
>You immediately speed up, determined to investigate.
>Once you reach within 50 metres of the man, clearly very young, his pace quickens, obviously having see you.
>The chase continues in seemingly random directions all over the ruined metropolis for almost an hour before you finally realize where his most probable end point is.
>Your home base. The one with all the refugees and soldiers in it. The one with all your secrets and supplies.
>Then more things start slotting into place.
>The youngling had been shunting far more energy than he should, even for a beginner, this was something that you had dismissed originally because it didn’t lead you anywhere.
>But now it made much more sense.
>He was planning to use a black hole detonation right on top of your home.
>At this realisation you desperately try to shout to the youngster of the danger and foolishness of what he planned to do.
>He didn’t listen.
>You repeated the warning in every language you knew, all 15.
>He didn’t even look at you.
>You had to act fast, but what could you do?
>If you caught him then you would only add to his energy making the blast even more destructive.
>You couldn’t throw lightning at him, you would lose too much ground during the charge.
>Which left only one alternative.
>Redirect the energy into something else.
>Which would almost certainly kill you.
>You have made peace with your own death many times before, this would be no different.
>You, of course, had regrets, at your age it was impossible not to.
>But if it meant stopping this misguided youngster then so be it.
>However, for anything to happen, you had to get close enough.
>As you gained speed far beyond safe limits, the youth noticed, panic on his face as he desperately tried to outrun you.
>But you were far more experienced and knew the darker secrets of the speedforce. The techniques that no sane person would ever use.
>You soon catch up to him, grim determination on your face and fear on his.
>You grab him to redirect his flow to you and concentrate on making a breach, just somewhere for the energy to go.
>The youth, struggling the entire time, seems to realize what you’re doing as anger moves to his face as you enter the breach.




>You remember light, burning, a sense of peace.
>Those are gone now, replaced by fearful screams, shouting, and the smell of powdered concrete.
>You open your eyes and see little other than blurry grey.
>As your eyes adjust, you see rubble all around you.
>You are lying on your right side and when you look, you see a backwards, broken, and dislocated right arm.
>When you look to you left, up relative to the ground, you see a shapely woman in red and blue, web patterned spandex approaching you.
>You use your left arm and your abdominal muscles to prop yourself up, at which the woman seems alarmed and runs over to you.
>”Whoa there mister, you should be careful. Your arm doesn’t look to good.”
>When you look at them your legs seem fine, relatively speaking, but the plates on your armor are practically pulverized.
>”Mister, can you stand?”
>The woman, having reached you, is now crouching in front of you, a worried expression showing through her mask.
>The language she spoke and her dialect where strange, in context.
>The language was English but the dialect sounded ancient, as if she was from almost two thousand years ago.
>However, you ignored that little detail for now and adapted.
“Do not worry about me miss, I will be perfectly fine.
>As you stand up, the woman looks shocked.
>”No you won’t, not until we get you to the hospital! You arm looks shattered!”
“Again, I will be fine miss, no hospitals required.”
>As you say this you activate your suits BRP(Body Reconstruction Protocol).
*SHLORP* *CRACK* *CRACK*
>Almost immediately, your arm is relocated with a disconcerting sucking sound and your humerus and radius bones are all put back in their place and riveted together with a, surprisingly loud, cracking sounds.
>The woman looks horrified at this. She puts her hand to her mouth, turns around, lifts her mask half up and vomits.
“Miss, are you alright.”
>You say, concern evident in your voice.
>As she recovers you look around yourself, only to little other than rubble and pain, and start to wonder.
“What happened here?”
>The woman looks back at you, having recovered from her fit of cleansing, some emotion on her face you can’t quite identify.
>”Hey, you do not get to just gloss over what just happened! How did you do that?!”
“My suit reconstructed my bone after I told it to. Now what happened here?”
>Uhh- bwuu- Okay- um- we were fighting Dr Octopus and The Lizard when suddenly a bunch of lightning showed up out of nowhere, but it didn’t electrocute anyone, but then there was this HUGE explosion that just about flattened everything.”
“Alright, I have many more questions but two will have to suffice for now; Where and when am I?”