Civic Duty Who: Doug and Cass Where: Gotham Rooftops When: Night, March 31. Easter. What: Doug comes to grips with a tough choice, and shares Easter chocolate with Cass. Rating: PG? Special Notes:Because there are some thematic elements with an old hymn recently revived by the brand new BioShock game, I wanted to share it. The Circle is Cypher's symbol of choice, and questions about the future of mutants and freedom under Luthor just fall into place here.
"One by one their seats were emptied, One by one they went away; Here the circle has been broken Will it be complete one day?"
Doug had paced and paced in his apartment until the short distance between even the farthest walls were too close for comfort. Ever since the news that people with powers would have to register had come up, he'd been preoccupied with that that might mean for him. For other mutants like the school in New York. For those heroes he looked up to.
It seemed like the right thing to do, but he would feel so very exposed, and not everyone was understanding of mutants, or that most meant and did no harm. It didn't help that he harbored other secrets. Ones that weighed on him heavily, ones he could not let go were someone to ask him more information.
SHIELD already had him on file from his dealings with the Riddler, and his help in hacking their systems. They would know if he didn't register. But it wasn't just him he worried about. His parents were off on the other coast somewhere, and anything he did might drag them back into a world they hadn't wanted any part of.
Then there was Cass, and her father and family. Doug noticed he was breathing irregularly, so he started the breathing exercise, slowing his pulse and debating what to do. It was Easter, and it was supposed to be a happy holiday. The stone rolling away from the mouth of the cave, the light of God upon the world, a promise of peace.
Doug moved to the window and slid it up, then climbed to the roof the hard way.
"Problem: Register or be in violation of the law."
He chewed his lower lip, thinking it over, then looked out at the far rooftop. Feet pounded the roof in a satisfying sound, the boots firm yet flexible on his feet and the air cold with the grip of a winter that refused to let go. Air, the dizzying sensation of freedom, then duck and spin upon impact.
Like a dance.
"Problem: If you register, you're that much closer to exposing the secrets of good people."
The problem wasn't as simple or as linear as math. Then again, math wasn't all linear. It was quadratic. It was exponential. It pushed beyond even the best minds. More complex than any social issues or obligations.
Doug ran in place, warming himself up, then dashed across the roof for another perspective on the city, as the voice of the streets opened up to him.
Eventually he came to a closed road sign. It was being turned into a cul de sac, cutting off Front from Leightner, blocking access to traffic. Sure it made people angry, but that was just the reality of things.
Doug turned to move further into the city, then paused and looked back at the road block. His brow furrowed, hands flexing into fists and open again. Pulse. Math. Speeding cars. The velocity of thought.