Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies. 

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

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WOLF EAT SHEEP

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Aeaea was the name of the island. You’d never find it on a map, because it doesn’t exist on —any normal— one. To get to it, you needed to have knowledge of the place, and a means to detect its magical signature. The nth metal mace and the cloak of souls were my detectors. The speed force allowed me to roam the oceans, honing onto the signature until it led me right to the island. 

So here I was walking up bone littered marble steps, searching for a witch. Was it offensive to call females that even if they were one? Witch, heh, it’s probably going to be soon, well back on my world that is. 

While I was busy pondering the finer details of political correctness and being thankful for the lack of twitter extremists on this new world—and whether the hand that brought me here could withstand the effects of cancelation— I reached the very last step. 

Beauty is relative. This world isn’t short of flawless people. But for the lady that sat reclined on the highly polished stone throne, beauty was too unrefined a word. She was alluring charm made flesh. I wonder how she resists herself in the mirror. She came with the standardized godly package; flawless skin, lithe figure, gleaming eyes, and an irresistible aura for that extra oomph. 

If she was so beautiful, why wasn’t I spilling the spaghetti in my pockets then? Well for one, I had a healthy dose of common sense, restraint and prioritization. Two, she wasn’t thicc enough, but don’t let that stop you from thinking that she had no effect on me. 

I had to get her talking for now. 

“Who are you?” She asks, her voice as silky as the linen she was adorned in, yet smoother and disinterested.

I’m Batman. Shut up brain. “I am just a man with a preposition.” I assumed her disinterest was feigned. This place was deserted to the core, it was easy to tell from the unmaintained state of her residence, for someone as prideful as her that was unacceptable. 

No matter the mental fortitude of people, humans were social creatures at heart, so it must have been torturous to stay this long without any foreign contact whatsoever, that and being unable to set foot off the island without losing her powers and life made it all the more terrible for her. 

And since I got here using the speed force, she obviously didn’t have time to clean. Making feigning disinterest the most effective method of conducting oneself, in such a situation/negotiation.

“All I see is a willful boy.”

“Well looks can be deceiving.”

“Indeed, they can, perhaps your true form is that of a cat’s”

Her mask slipped, a sadistic smile cracked across her face as she sat up and began stretching her arm outwards. A dangerous tinge was added to her allure, it was almost fatal.

“I’d advise you not to make me an enemy. We both have much to gain from my preposition, should you listen to it of course.” I said, arms raised, trying to ease her from using what was obviously magic. 

The herb won’t work. You fucked up and you’re going to die here. My heart cried. Calm the fuck down. My mind interfered. If the herb fails, I still have a backup.

“Hmm,” She relaxed her posture and rubbed on her chin, I knew what choice she’d made when her eyes sparkled. “I would hear what you have to say after taming you child.” She lashed her arm forward and made gestures…

Nothing happened. To me that is. 

“Impossible!” She yelled, anger smeared on her features as she stood from her throne, pointed both arms at me and gestured with her fingers. Taken out of context, she looked like the perfect image of someone suffering from a seizure. 

It would’ve been nice to stand there and gloat and tell her how little I thought of her actions. But I wasn’t dumb enough to do that, I’m dealing with magic here, the tables could be turned back at any moment. 

I dashed for her, surprising her and myself at the burst of speed and agility—perhaps a temporary after-effect of being exposed to the speed force, and upon that, the enhancements gained from the Dionysium bath and the cloak. 

I utilized my momentum to quickly draw the promethium blade and slice through her outstretched arms. She recoiled at the pain, causing her to fall back into her throne. Her expression was one of odd inconvenience instead of the suffering one would face from such crippling injuries. 

She had a backup too. Her magic enhanced damage rejection or whatever the wizards called it. Her arms flew back to affix themselves into the still fresh stumps. 

Unexpected but not surprising. I still had the attack momentum and initiative. I threw the sword at her chest, nailing it through her heart. A nicely placed boot to the handle pushed the blade clean through her heart and the marble throne. 

She cried in agony and fury, blood pouring down her lush lips, staining the pristine canvas that was her skin. Obstinately she continued her gesturing at me. A slight tingle began to envelope my body, causing me to shiver and recognize that the efficacy of the herb was running out. She knew it too judging from how wide her bloodied smile grew.

I was glad at being able to cause her to focus her magic on me instead of the environment, it meant she had no way of disrupting my attacks using objects around us. 

The sword kept her in place for what came next. I unlatched the Nth metal mace, took a quiet breath to silence not only the shivering and shaking that increased in intensity with each passing moment, but also the voices of doubt.

I raised it over my head, my eyes on hers—those beautiful red rings, taking every bit of emotion and action she expressed. From the widening of her eyes in fear, to the frantic gesturing, and the manic unacceptance of what was to be.

I felt no pity. No elation. No hate or love. I felt nothing at all. Guess the hypnotic beauty wasn’t enough of a plot armor. No, guess I was nothing but an unfeeling husk of a person at some moments.

The mace fell, the metal spike parted her lavender hair and crunching through her skull and digging into her brain. Magic nullified magic. The nth metal negated whatever enchantments she had.

The shivering stopped.

I never knew the colors of flesh and blood like this. Again, and again, I raised the mace and brought it down. Ash, white, grey, red, purple and pieces of brown stained my mace and fingers as flesh and blood ran along the dismantled and mauled remains of a…her head. 

I wiped my hands on her silk clothing. “Take her soul.” I ordered. The cloak on my back extended outwards and encased her body. It was a harrowing thing to watch; the taking of a soul. There are some screams that physical bodies cannot express. It was outside the audible spectrum yet clearly pronounced to the soul. 

The cloak left her a husk, that was what it became, sapped of vitality and the soul within, beauty enough to rival that of gods became vanity. The remains of the once renowned and beauty of beauties, Circe, one and only queen of Aeaea and Colchis, turned to dust. 

I closed my eyes and focused, easily locating her struggling soul held within the cloak because it was the only one there in the vast darkness. It was diminishing every time she fought the restraint and compulsion of the cloak. 

‘YOU MONGREL!’ She cursed as I appeared before her. I wasn’t here to coax her or even convince her, I didn’t need her, I just needed the information in her head. 

Tendrils from the darkness wrapped around her light and fed me what she knew. She fought back, mixing as much irrelevant information as she could into the feed, making the process exponentially harder. It took a while, but I got what I came for—well most of it and some. 

“You can consume the rest.” I told the suit. Which eagerly went at her soul, absorbing and assimilating her soul to heal itself and gain sustenance. Like I said before, the suit of souls only feeds on the souls of the corrupt and evil. 

Call me what you want, but for it to so readily feed on her soul should say something. 

My suit was returned to a pristine state, the mace still had bits of grey matter and purple hair strands on it. The cloak wiped it off easily enough. I pulled the promethium sword out of the stone, which made me the new ruler of the island even though I put it there in the first place. I’m joking.

I walked behind the throne and checked pushed, revealing an underground passage hidden beneath it. I walked down into it, reaching the deepest parts of her inner quarters. That’s what she said. Shut it brain.

Lined along the walls of the fire lit cave were various precious minerals and magical items, ranging from silver and gold, to powerful artefacts, mystical gems and deadly weapons. I honed in on the item that inspired my trip to this island, a luminescent, crimson gem stone the size of a first gen Ipod—if you know, you know.

It was the Alicut star ruby; a very convenient item with a singular convenient use, nothing noteworthy, but when applied correctly would make all the difference in the world. You’ll learn of that use soon, if you don’t already know that is. 

I reached for the gem and withdrew it from the casing on the wall, admiring the craftsmanship that went into cutting it. My action of taking the gem caused a reaction, the treasure trove of precious metals and magical items still hung on the cave walls began to vanish into thin air one after the other.

Even in death, the witch still remained unreasonable. 

I reached for a simple looking artefact, prying it off the wall before it could disappear. It wasn’t as convenient as the Alicut ruby would be, but it was nevertheless useful, very much so. 

I stored both items in my utility belt and exited the cave. Pulling out my (bat)phone, I sent the island’s accurate coordinates to Thomas and Flash for pickup. With that done, I went about surveying the island and wiping away all traces of battle. The flash was a forensic genius, I couldn’t leave clues behind for him to pick apart, and with the skills of the world’s most prolific detective at my beck and call, I went to work manipulating evidence. 

With that done, I went to the island’s shore and waited. Eliminating the need for the flash to head further into the island in the first place as added insurance. I know, I know, paranoid much and all that jazz, but I’m just covering my bases. 

Didn’t need the man and his feelings getting in the way of my survival.

I closed my eyes and ran through my plans. Reverberating within the space of my head was the wet sound of metal going through flesh. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. The phantom scent of blood mixed with sweet perfume lingered in my nostrils.The ground beneath my feet trembled like the last vibrations of a dying heart.

"I'm not sorry" I said. Giving my best smile.

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