Broken(DC)

Suddenly waking up, I felt strange, as if I had been plunged into a nightmare. Images flashed before me at a dizzying speed—I saw countless people and myself, but in the form of a monster spewing flames. In that moment, I felt a connection to it, as if it were me. Gradually, I began to see fragments of another life. Much of it was incomprehensible, the images blurred and distorted, yet I understood that it was far from simple. The fragmented memories stopped flashing, the darkness receded, and a bright white light began to approach me.

It was unbearably cold. I tried moving my fingers and slowly opened my eyes. Frost clung to my eyelashes, and I realized I was in a confined space. "A coffin?" I thought. But the walls were metallic, and the icy temperature around me clearly indicated I was in a morgue's refrigeration chamber.

Raising my hand to my face, I noticed my skin was pale but unscarred. Could my regeneration have returned? Examining my body, I found no burns at all. I distinctly remembered the excruciating pain of burning alive. My leg no longer hurt; the joint moved freely. My muscles felt strong, as if I had spent years in restless sleep and now awakened fully restored and brimming with energy. With a sudden motion, I struck upwards and tore the door off, flinging it across the room and leaving a dent in the far wall.

A smile crept onto my face. I had waited so long for this—so long. Emotions overwhelmed me, and I almost cried, but I held back the tears. There would be time to celebrate later. Climbing out of the refrigerator, my suspicions were confirmed—it was indeed a morgue. Black body bags were scattered around the room. Scanning the area, I noticed an unzipped bag and saw a charred corpse inside.

"I won't forgive you for this. I'll find you personally, and you'll pay for all these lives." My fingers gripped the metal stretcher so tightly it bent under the pressure, leaving a hand-shaped imprint.

Now was not the time to give in to anger—I needed to clean up any evidence. Fixing the broken door was out of the question, as was undoing the fingerprints on the metal, but I could erase other traces of DNA and inspect the documentation. Had they already identified me? My refrigerator unit was labeled 45. There had to be a case log around here somewhere. Finding the right one, I saw my number. According to the records, the body was unidentified, but another blood analysis was pending. I got lucky—the samples hadn't been collected yet, including mine.

After erasing all possible evidence, I found a lab coat—there was no way I was walking out into the street bare-bottomed. Once the cleanup was complete, I opened the morgue door. A dim hospital corridor greeted me, its flickering lights straight out of a low-budget horror movie. Walking through it, I quickly recognized the city hospital. That meant I wasn't far from my apartment.

Ascending from the basement, I reached the lobby. The guard at the reception desk was fast asleep, his snores echoing through the space. Carefully, I slipped past him and made my way outside. Once on the street, I got my bearings and headed straight for my apartment. The priority now was avoiding the police. The last thing I needed was to get stopped wearing nothing but a lab coat.

I reached my apartment without incident, fortunate to have avoided running into anyone. My place was modest—I had moved out of concern for Elizabeth and Alice, fearing that my life might endanger them. I kept my distance from them as much as possible.

After a long shower to wash off the grime, I dressed in proper clothes. Retrieving my phone, I immediately contacted my people to inform them I was alive and in hiding, determined to uncover who had tried to kill me. I needed information. Where could the arsonist be hiding? If they discovered I had survived, they might attack again, and I couldn't let that happen. There was one person in the city who knew everything—The Nameless One. He guarded his identity with extreme care, and for good reason. The information he possessed was so dangerous that many would kill him for it.

Pulling up my phone and recalling his number, I dialed without hesitation. After a few rings, he answered.

"Good to hear from an old friend. To what do I owe the pleasure, Brian?" asked The Nameless One. No matter what phone I used, he always immediately knew it was me calling. I could never understand how—how could he recognize me from an entirely unknown number?

"How do you always know it's me calling?" I asked again, already knowing he wouldn't answer.

"Magic, my friend. Just magic," he replied. Maybe magic really does exist? I had no other explanation for his uncanny awareness.

"I need information," I said.

"I assume this is about the man who attacked you earlier today? A pitiful display of one man's folly and madness," he said. He already knew what I needed and had all the information at hand.

"Yes, exactly. I want to know where he might be hiding," I asked.

"Deprived of power, he longs to once again behold its strength. I will tell you what I know of him. A mind, ravaged by torment, now worships the only thing left in his life—the fire that disfigured his face and took his freedom. Garfield Lynns is currently holed up in one of the abandoned houses. Wounded by your actions, he is attempting to recover. I've sent the address to you in a message. Show the world your flame that defies death," said The Nameless One before abruptly hanging up.

"Defies death?" The phrase flickered through my mind, but it vanished just as quickly. I hated calling him. His words always cut through my thoughts, like he was deliberately choosing them to reveal things I didn't yet know. It irritated me more than anything. Still, the information he provided was always worth it. Though now, I owed him a hundred thousand dollars for his services.

With the address in hand, I started to prepare. Opening a small hidden compartment, I retrieved a bulletproof vest, a metallic mask, weapons, and a few other gadgets. I began equipping myself. Before heading out, I glanced at myself in the mirror: "Where did these muscles come from?" My body was no longer lanky. Oddly enough, in the shower earlier, I had looked just the same as usual. Could it be from eating? Right, I even forgot—my body needed a lot of food now.

I didn't want to leave enemies behind me, so I had to deal with him as quickly as possible. Donning all the gear, I prepared to leave.

[image]

Perhaps my bulletproof vest and gear were useless against fire, but I had no way to acquire fire-resistant equipment in such a short time. Something like the suits used for volcano research or by firefighters handling hazardous chemicals would be ideal. Instead, I gambled on the possibility that he had exhausted his weapons and didn't have a backup. And besides, a bulletproof vest is never a bad idea.

Getting into my old car, which should have been scrapped long ago, I inserted the key and turned it with hope. The engine sputtered but eventually gave in and roared to life. I shifted gears and pulled out, only to stall almost immediately. I admit—I'm not great at driving. I've had little practice. This car was meant for emergencies, disposable and untraceable, so it was always parked near my place. No one in their right mind would bother stealing it—it was more trouble than it was worth. Finally, I got it moving and headed toward the address I'd been given.

When I arrived at the indicated house, I stepped out to survey the surroundings. Places like this often became shelters for drug addicts and the homeless. This one, however, seemed deserted. Entering through the slightly ajar door, I felt no sign that anyone was watching me. I moved boldly, knowing my regeneration would save me from any injury and my sixth sense would warn me of any threats.

Inside, there was soot everywhere—he had clearly burned more than a few unsuspecting people who had wandered in. I touched the residue with my fingers and brought it to my nose. It was the same scent. This was definitely his base. Finding the entrance to the basement, I began to descend.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A sense of danger clung to me. I scanned my surroundings and spotted a thin wire stretched across the floor. A tripwire—my intuition was a lifesaver once again. Stepping over it, I saw a grenade attached to the end. It seemed anyone who accidentally stumbled in here would die in flames, their remains adding to the soot on the doorframes.

I encountered several more tripwires along the way, disabling them all and marking the path in case I needed to retreat quickly.

Finally, after navigating the labyrinth, I entered a room filled with tools and a torn suit. It looked like he hadn't escaped the explosion unscathed. Garfield Lynns himself was lying on a bed. He was breathing heavily, with an IV attached to his arm. He was bandaged, and his one visible eye glared at me with hatred.

"You found me. I've lost. Again," he said. How did he know it was me? I kept my weapon trained on him, cautiously stepping closer.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Who else could it be? You've healed, unlike me. Your body was completely burned, yet here you stand, whole. Your shot was flawless—no doubt about that. Cough, cough," he said, ending his words with a fit of coughing. "But you know what? I knew you'd come. So, I made one more gamble," he added after clearing his throat.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His hand slowly rose, holding a remote with a timer that showed only a few seconds remaining. I stayed calm, despite the looming threat.

"You think this will kill me?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I've rigged explosives all over this house. If it doesn't kill you, it'll bury you alive," he said.

"Why did you choose the path of vengeance? I was only defending myself, while you sought to destroy the innocent," I asked him one last time.

"I couldn't accept losing to some kid. You ruined my entire life. I'm a monster. My face, my career—it's all gone," he said, closing his eyes.

Explosions erupted from all sides, and the room was engulfed in flames. Despite the danger, I didn't feel like it was the end. Strangely enough, why didn't I? The fire didn't inspire fear in me. I could see the flames creeping closer, but they didn't burn me. On the contrary, they felt… familiar.

As the flames approached, they seemed to stop as if hitting an invisible barrier, then began wrapping around me like a protective shroud. They didn't consume anything I wore or touched. My body felt no pain—only a strange warmth and a sense of peace. The fire, instead of destroying me, seemed to embrace me as one of its own.

[image]

Garfield Lynns opened his eyes, feeling heat but not the pain of burning. He saw before him the master of fire. The only thing that had kept him from completely losing his mind in Arkham was a small box of matches and his desire for revenge. When it became unbearable, he would strike a match and watch the flame, calming himself.

The flames in the room quickly receded, drawn into me. How did I gain the ability to control fire? Staring at my open palm, where the flame danced gracefully, I realized my newfound power. With a mere thought, the fire surrounding me disappeared.

"I'll give you a chance to atone for your sins—for all the pain you've inflicted on innocent people," I said. I still needed someone capable of fighting crime, and Lynns was perfect for the job, though he remained a murderer of many. "In return, I'll heal all the burns on your body and restore your former appearance."

"I accept," he replied, a submissive look in his eyes. His thirst for vengeance had turned to reverence.

"But if you ever harm another innocent person, I'll make sure you suffer for eternity," I warned menacingly. I believed in destroying evil with evil. The law wasn't always reliable—every judge had a family, just like the jurors. Targeting them wouldn't be difficult, and the outcome might not align with my goals.

End of Memory

That's how I gained Garfield Lynns as an ally. He became indispensable, and together, we significantly diminished the influence of many gangs. The world had changed drastically. With Superman's emergence, more and more superhumans began appearing. Individuals with abilities beyond ordinary humans started infiltrating even the criminal world.

News about the Man of Steel saving the world from various threats became routine. Perhaps he was a sort of trigger, activating a survival mechanism in all living beings—a drive to adapt at any cost. Otherwise, it was hard to explain the sudden rise of so many powered individuals. Even from a medical standpoint, scientists shrugged, unable to comprehend the phenomenon.

Returning to my assistant: Garfield Lynns, equipped with gear and weapons capable of taking down almost any superhuman—unless they were invincible like Superman—became the Firefly. He was a wanted criminal across all states, and the number of victims at his hands was uncountable. But I ensured they were all guilty.

I wanted to end all the evil I had brought into this world. Even the pharmaceutical company I had built—a company that developed numerous medicines and cured countless people—failed to bring peace to my heart. That's why I resolved to eliminate "The Cripple" from the business world once and for all.

"Are you ready, Firefly?" I asked.

"Yes, boss. The main bosses are meeting tonight. We can take them all out at once and dismantle their entire network," Garfield Lynns replied. His voice was softer now; I had kept my promise to nearly restore his body.

"It took three years to reach this point," I said, reflecting on the journey that had brought me here.

Although Green Arrow was quite effective and fought crime tirelessly, he was still just an ordinary man with exceptional skills. One mistake in battle could cost him his life. While Green Arrow's team was busy chasing down the criminal network, I bided my time, waiting for the perfect moment to eliminate its leaders.

"Let's move," I ordered.

He grabbed hold of me and activated his jet propulsion, lifting us into the air.

As for my powers, I had complete control over fire, though I couldn't quite understand where this strength came from. Occasionally, fragmented memories of a battle with a flaming-headed demon would surface, but I couldn't recall them clearly. My body was nearly invulnerable—any injuries healed flawlessly. But what I discovered was that my regeneration no longer required food. The energy came from an unknown source, making it impossible to kill me.