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crack_van2009-06-28 10:41 pm
bastet-in-april.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-06-28 10:41 pm
Doors Close But Windows Open by DevilChild
Fandom: DC COMICS
Pairing: n/a (gen)
Length: approx. 1,345 words
Author on LJ: unknown
Author Website: DevilC's Table of Contents
Why this must be read: I'm really fond of What If? fics. This story picks a specific scene from Identity Crisis and explores the possibilities of what might have happen if things had gone slightly differently when Owen Mercer arrived at the Drake home after his father's murder. It addresses the possibilities inherent in Flash finding out about Owen's speed, and his being there for Owen after his father's death, rather than the Rogues. The story does a great job of choosing a crossroads moment for a character and exploring it. The story gives me a strong sense of a beginning unfolding, without laying out exactly where this new path will ultimately take the character. I think that potentiality may be one of the things I enjoy most about this story.
In the split second before any of the agents could react, Owen jumped the blood in the doorway and zipped in to the room. "W-which one was Captain Boomerang?" he asked the man who supposedly wasn't there before that glare dried the spit in his mouth. The door filled with Suits, but they looked at Batman, waiting for their cue.
Batman looked him up and down before saying, "Doorway" in a voice like razory ice. He didn't bother to spare a glance for the agents.
"Oh." Owen said and then it him like a hammer and he staggered to the trashcan in the corner and hurked up what felt like everything he ate the in the past week, and when that was done, the heaves brought up this green slime that's the foulest stuff Owen's ever had in his mouth, and for some reason his mind flashed back to a health class he had two years ago in high school. Mr. Preminger said it was impossible to vomit bile. Yeah. Right. Owen spit as much as he could to get the taste out of his mouth, not that it helped much. Finished, he slumped down against the wall, legs like noodles, his stomach lurching every time he looked at both those outlines ... both those lakes of blood, and oh fuck this is real. This isn't a nightmare. He isn't going to wake up. His dad really did do this incredibly stupid, fucked up thing.
Read it!
Pairing: n/a (gen)
Length: approx. 1,345 words
Author on LJ: unknown
Author Website: DevilC's Table of Contents
Why this must be read: I'm really fond of What If? fics. This story picks a specific scene from Identity Crisis and explores the possibilities of what might have happen if things had gone slightly differently when Owen Mercer arrived at the Drake home after his father's murder. It addresses the possibilities inherent in Flash finding out about Owen's speed, and his being there for Owen after his father's death, rather than the Rogues. The story does a great job of choosing a crossroads moment for a character and exploring it. The story gives me a strong sense of a beginning unfolding, without laying out exactly where this new path will ultimately take the character. I think that potentiality may be one of the things I enjoy most about this story.
In the split second before any of the agents could react, Owen jumped the blood in the doorway and zipped in to the room. "W-which one was Captain Boomerang?" he asked the man who supposedly wasn't there before that glare dried the spit in his mouth. The door filled with Suits, but they looked at Batman, waiting for their cue.
Batman looked him up and down before saying, "Doorway" in a voice like razory ice. He didn't bother to spare a glance for the agents.
"Oh." Owen said and then it him like a hammer and he staggered to the trashcan in the corner and hurked up what felt like everything he ate the in the past week, and when that was done, the heaves brought up this green slime that's the foulest stuff Owen's ever had in his mouth, and for some reason his mind flashed back to a health class he had two years ago in high school. Mr. Preminger said it was impossible to vomit bile. Yeah. Right. Owen spit as much as he could to get the taste out of his mouth, not that it helped much. Finished, he slumped down against the wall, legs like noodles, his stomach lurching every time he looked at both those outlines ... both those lakes of blood, and oh fuck this is real. This isn't a nightmare. He isn't going to wake up. His dad really did do this incredibly stupid, fucked up thing.
Read it!
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