This is my new one-shot, comments appreciated.
I'm on a writer's block with Last Hero... it'll be up soon... i think... just... read this instead.
To wake up confused, was not surprising. I was often woken up confused, but usually made assessment of the situation very quickly-- captured por Joker, being held for ransom, in the infirmary because a villain (namely Chelsea) had shot me, or broken a limb, or ruptured something and made me internally bleed. But this, this was very strange. I was in a room full of mirrors, literally, made of mirrors. There were five mirrors surrounding me, no visible way out, and the floor was a large mirror as well. The ceiling was a blank white, slightly translucent to let in the light source.
I looked in the first mirror, with Infinity, Fin, staring straight back. A perfect copy of me, from the mess of charcoal that was my hair to the sparkling bronze gold spandex, elastano mini-dress, to the ebony boots that wrapped up to my knees. The image, however, was standing, staring blankly at me, while I sat on the floor in shock. A sneering voice snapped into my ears, but it wasn’t her mouth that moved, and she looked to the left.
“Are you going to just sit there and whine?” the seguinte image said, and I nearly screamed at the sight. A mini-dress still graced the figure, but the figure was thinner, and her hair was even messier than mine, but a deep crimson brown. Her dress was shoulderless, black on one side and laranja on another, and thin metal sheets lined her legs and arms. But this mirror of me had one difference than I would have almost a ano ago-- she was wearing a sneer, her brows arched angrily. “Come on. You’re so lame now, you should have stayed with him. You’d be so much stronger.”
A girly cackle interrupted her, and I turned to see another me. My god, what is up with all my personalities? This was me in my civvies, my rosa, -de-rosa sweater hanging loosely on my still too-thin body, my shorts small enough to fit a young child. The sequins on her fedora sparkled in the light, as did her shoes. A lopsided grin (or smirk, I couldn’t tell) hung on her face, along with the sunglasses that were slipping off to the side, and she pushed them back up. “Stop being so hard on her, lighten up!”
Slade Fin (as I dubbed her) growled menacingly at Civvie Fin, and Hero Fin simply stared blankly at the both of them. Great poker face going on. I watched them all curiously, getting up and dusting myself up, as they both argued. I suddenly realized I was arguing with myself, and giggled at the metaphor, but heard another soft cough. All three turned and I didn’t do anything but feel my eyes widen. How much mais crazy could this get?
A girl with her hair braided neatly, clear-lensed glasses perched on the edge of her nose and sparkling sapphire eyes glistening behind them stared back at me. The soft pastel as cores on her camisa only helped her blend into the pale background, her white saia flowing softly around her knees. Kyra Grayson shyly glanced away, her quiet demeanor, my false masquerade, hiding her away. Civvie Fin began to cackle again, messing around with her hair. “I wonder what’s wrong with her...” Civvie remarked aloud.
Hero stared at her pointedly. “She doesn’t understand. She wants to get out.”
I only glared at the Hero version, beginning to slam myself against the floor, against the other reflections. None of the mirrors broke or shattered, none showed any cracks.
Evil (because I refused to called her Slade) chuckled darkly. “That’s not going to do anything to help you. You’re useless.”
I glared at all four of them, then at the floor and ceilings. “Where am I?” I demanded. “What is this?”
They looked at each other and laughed, the eerie cackles, dark chuckle, and soft giggle combining and echoing on them all. “What? What is this? I’m serious!”
Kyra let a small smile come to her face. “It’s a mirror room.”
“No shit, Sherlock!”
Evil chuckled again. “It shows who you really are, who you could be if you wanted to dedicate to one life.”
I stared at her, twitching. “But there are four of you...”
Hero now. “Actually, there’s one more, one that you already are.”
“Then where is she?”
Civvies flipped her hair, pointed to the floor, and began to disappear. The last thing I heard:
“Not she. It.”
I stared at the floor, dark, bloody shadows swirling around in an uncertain way. “What-what are you?”
The thing spoke, its mouth in a permanent insincere grin. “I’m you, everything you are, all your secrets, your regrets, your insecurities.
“I know how you knew you were still in partial control when you killed those lab assistants, how you could have stopped the phoenix in you, but you didn’t. You murdered them.
I know that in your future you’ll become that phoenix again, but the phoenix will turn black, it’s wings will fall and turn to ashes, you’ll be a demon. But you’ll kill, and you won’t stop a soul. Your friends, family, everyone will die at your hand. Everyone you’ve ever loved. You’ll grow stronger, because your secrets and regrets are your power.”
“Shut up,” I managed to whisper.
The shadow figure materialized, surrounding me on the mirrors and filling up the floor. “Your parent’s blood is on your fingers. You were dating the son of your parents murderer. You knew he’d kill them, didn’t you? Yet you did nothing.” it hissed, almost leaning into my ear.
“You’re not just the phoenix, you’re the infinite, the one who could kill the League. You’re destined to take them down, along with the rest of the world. You are a traitor. It is your fate. You can do nothing, nothing to stop it, because you are proud of it. You’re proud that you can take them down alone, aren’t you.”
“Sh-shut up!” I started to shake with sobs, falling to my knees.
“Bruce doesn’t care. Dick was upset that he found you. Slade was glad you were gone. Ryan never loved you. Adrian will never amor you. Danna and Devin don’t care, to them you’re just another useless person. Aisling only hangs around you because she feels sorry for you. You are nothing to them, you will always be nothing to them, until you are the true threat.
“Shut up.. shut...” I finally became quiet, my whispers of protest dying on my lips, as I curled up into a ball and sobbed hard. It was true, a voice in me believed, and though at first it had been small, now it was loud and clear.
So I cried in the room with my mirror image.