What am I doing, WHAT AM I DOING, WHAT AM I DOING!?
The thought screamed in my mind over and over, my feet hitting the pavement in a similar frantic rhythm as I tried to run from the source of all of this. My already aching chest felt like it was on fire as my lungs desperately tried to regulate my pace.
My body screamed as loudly as my mind.
I passed through the crowds with seemingly unnatural grace, every step taken in the exact moment needed to carry me through at full tilt without hitting anyone. Screams and shouts rang out around me as people scrambled to get out of the way of my sudden lunacy.
Even that chaos wasn't enough to throw off my escape. The crowd was probably the only reason I was able to get away from Barbara. Surely she saw the state I was in, the sheer panic ringing through me. Someone like her wouldn't let sleeping dogs lie.
So escaping her grasp was a near miracle in itself, one I was very thankful for.
Eventually, my aching body gave out and I collapsed near a wall, some forgotten corner of this massive academy at least, I hoped it was forgotten. For a moment, relief washed over me, but it vanished quickly. With my mind slipping out of its sheer state of flight, I was left alone with my thoughts again.
The same question echoed through my very being, just as it had the moment I confessed to Barbara. Those words, that warmth, the weight of my gaze, none of it had been an act. None of it had been the sweet words I'd prepared for today. None of it had been part of my plan at all.
Instead, it was what I truly felt in that moment. A simple, heartfelt connection. A longing for something I had never seen in this godforsaken city. That raw want terrified me far more than the chaos and madness this place embodied.
Barbara was a target. Someone I was committed to using. A thing that should have been nothing more than amusing for her usefulness to me, not a living, breathing example of everything I wasn't.
She was likable. She was passionate. She was driven. She was skilled. Above all else, she was kind, so kind it hurt to even think about what I was doing.
My plans to pull and twist her emotions, to keep us in a perpetual state of close but never close enough, crumbled apart. The cold rationality I thrived on shattered in the face of the warmth that girl was capable of.
That twisting ache in my chest felt all-consuming, and I hated it. I knew exactly why her words and actions hurt, and I hated that this part of me still existed.
That little boy in the orphanage, dreaming of a family. Dreaming of a full table of people laughing and talking as hot food was served as if it would never end. The boy who still believed in the goodness of people. The boy who waited for just one person to extend a helping hand.
I thought that boy was dead.
He should have died the day I saw a girl dragged out of the orphanage in the middle of the night, screaming and begging for help tears streaming down her face. He should have died the day his only friend went out to beg for coins and never returned. God, that boy should have been gone and buried long before I decided that being an Arsonist/Killer was a reasonable choice.
That boy was dead.
Except he wasn't. That small ember of hope never truly went out. It was just waiting for a helping hand…..but it was too late now. That hand might as well have been cursed to strike me at my most soft spot.
Barbara might have been everything that boy was searching for, but I was no longer someone Barbara could accept. She was reaching out to a dumb, sweet boy, the kind who wanted nothing more than to scream his feelings to the world. She was reaching toward my mask, not the man Aster Moore truly was.
I could lie to myself. I could say she'd never find out the truth, that I could take her hand and live happily ever after. But I was learning quickly that lying to myself wasn't so convincing anymore.
I could hide behind the mask for a while, but the real me would slip through eventually. I was too ruthless. Too vile. I might not be the worst this city had to offer, but I was part of what dragged it into hell.
That bitter thought burned through me with clarity as cold as the detachment I wish I were feeling.
So I couldn't let myself dream like that little boy. I needed to be who I was, not that naïve brat. I just needed space from Barbara. Time to collect myself. Time to truly bury that boy and make sure he stays dead.
It might cost me some daily rewards if I failed to confess to her, but I had time. My Tinker abilities would let me do what I wanted without much issue. It was only my greed pushing me to take more from Barbara. I knew eventually that greed would bring me back to her, but right now, the thought hurt too much to face.
Distance was the last shield I could wield. It was the correct decision.
I didn't expect that decision to make the ache in my chest worse, but I should have known better. Control of that had long since slipped from me.
I ran my hands through my hair, trying to bring myself back into working order. My mind flashed back to my escape, and I found myself questioning how I'd managed it. I was in poor condition at the best of times, and I was far from my best now. Yet I'd glided through that crowd like a ghost.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the system I'd shoved to the back of my mind chimed again, a screen appearing before me.
[Congratulations on confessing your heartfelt feelings to target Barbara Gordon! Your confession may have failed, but with enough sincerity, you will win Target Barbara Gordon over! For now, please accept this consolation prize.]
[God-Speed Impulse automatically accepted as Host's state of mind desires nothing more than escape.]
I froze. The wording felt like another slap to the face, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it, for now. I hadn't thought the System could automatically grant rewards, but apparently desperation was enough to force its hand. As I examined the reward, I realized exactly what had changed.
I froze again, struggling to process my feelings. I was both overwhelmed and underwhelmed.
The ability wasn't as grand as its name implied, but it was undeniably superhuman. On average, a person reacts within 250 milliseconds. Even professional athletes only cut that down to around 140 milliseconds. God-Speed Impulse dropped my reaction time to under 100 milliseconds. With training, it could go even lower.
That didn't make me physically faster, but it meant I could weave through crowds and cut through space like a ghost, reacting to stimuli almost instantly. I was baffled. I wanted more, but I held myself back. My greed hadn't completely devoured my feelings yet.
After finally collecting myself, I left the alcove. My body ached even more than before, but I couldn't stay there all day. I planned to head back to my apartment, to put distance between myself and Barbara, to occupy my mind.
The only reason I'd ever bothered with this school was Barbara, and thoughts of her were better left buried for now.
As I walked through the halls, a chant reached my ears, prompting an eye roll.
"NO MORE CAGES! NO MORE PAIN!" A girl's voice rang out with enough intensity to draw attention. Normally, I'd ignore her entirely, but the irritation she inspired was preferable to the thoughts swirling in my head.
I glanced out the window and saw exactly who I expected.
Another redhead, long hair hanging loose, blocky black glasses perched on her face. Pale skin, freckles scattered across her cheeks. Cute in a dorky way normally. Right now, she was shouting with every ounce of passion she had.
Pamela Isley. The resident eco-friendly mega-protester.
She held demonstrations constantly, spewing her rhetoric to anyone who would listen. I understood her stance, pollution bad, animal cruelty worse, but that was where my interest ended. Normally, I avoided her like the plague. Hell, this was probably the first time I'd actually seen her instead of just hearing her from afar.
"STOP THE TESTING! BREAK THE CHAINS!"
She shouted again, eyes blazing with passion and a hint of anger. She could tell the crowd was ignoring her, or worse, mocking her, but that wasn't enough to stop her.
It was honestly admirable, putting yourself out there like that despite the world laughing at you.
I still didn't care enough to get involved.
I tore my gaze away, ready to head home, when a familiar pang rang through my head.
[Target Found: Pamela Isley (???)]
[Go out and confess your feelings, young man!]
I twisted back, staring at the suddenly very important girl. I'd already resigned myself to staring longingly at lost daily rewards as I distanced myself from Barbara, but now my greed had found a new, acceptable target.
Pamela Isley.
You have never been more attractive to me, you annoying, annoying girl