Malcolm & Kirk - First Meeting

[universal_charm]

Falling. He was falling, had always been falling, would never stop falling, up, down, sideways, every direction at once. Time meant nothing, a construct for another time, another place. He stopped counting it long ago, stopped counting the seconds, the minutes, guessing the hours. Years passed in the blink of an eye, seconds stretched for eons. If he reached back just a little more, perhaps he could grasp the edges and drag himself out, force himself into the fabric of the world. Was he reaching? He couldn't tell, couldn't stop himself. Breathing and his own heartbeat were the only things he controlled, the only things to keep him company and fill the terrible silence that threatened to crush him.

Roaring. Somewhere, far away, roaring. Getting close. Barreling towards him, or was he careening towards it? Nothing in him left to fight it, he simply let the rumble draw him, prayed that the pressure on his chest would simply crush him.

Crash.

Pain arching across his back, his legs - breath stolen as he impacted something hard. A floor. He was on the floor. Sky above him - starry sky, if a few scattered pinpoints of light could be called starry. Shattered glass, pieces falling down like razor edged snow, tinkling against his helmet's face mask. He thought he groaned, the sound grating at his throat, the hot sting of tears forming in the corners of his eyes, spilling over as they closed, relief to heavy a weight to bear awake any longer.

Comments

[saidyouweredead]

"That was a very expensive skylight."

That was probably very little consolation to the unconscious man on his floor. Malcolm himself had been enjoying a very well aged scotch on the rocks in front of his floor to ceiling windows when the crash had come from behind him. A knife was readily in hand as he turned, fully expecting to be facing the Vigilante instead of the battered body on his floor that was decidedly not green or hooded.

While most might have called for help or dropped to their knees to check over the body. Malcolm Merlyn did neither of those things. His drink was brought to his lips, the smoky flavor of good scotch spreading over his tongue as the body on the floor was considered. The tip of one expensive shoe nudged at Jim's shoulder. Nothing. A wistful sigh accompanied him setting his drink on one of the few side-tables free of broken glass. That was going to be a mess to neaten up. His cleaning service was sure to complain.

Especially about the dead looking body in the middle of the destruction if they had to get rid of that too.

Nudging aside enough glass to get a better look, Malcolm knelt down and began feeling along the intruder's throat for a strap to the helmet or some way to draw it back.

"If this was supposed to be a message, I can't say I understand it," he said more to himself than his impromptu visitor.