Flashpoint Paradox - A Retelling

Three

Barry awoke when he was splashed with a bucket of water. His hand, still broken and his vision a blur. He heard someone grab a wooden bat.

"So, why the clothes? Why all the red? Where are you from? Better answer quick. I don't have time to waste..."

Barry panicked and said, "Why are you doing this? I'm the Flash! You know all this!" 'Batman' circled Flash as he was tied to a chair, not believing a word. "I took a sample of your blood. You're nothing special. A college graduate who lives with his mother, working at a chemical plant. No indication of meta abilities. Why the costume? And why do you insist that you know me? I've never seen you before in my life."

"Bruce...pl—"

The bat landed in stomach and made Barry wheeze. "STOP. SAYING. THAT. NAME."

'Batman' glared at Barry as he coughed up some more blood. His eyes, getting bloodshot. He tore off Barry's peeling red mask and asked again, "Where are you from?" No answer. He hissed again, "I'm not done with you yet. Wake up. Where are you from?"

Barry tried to reason with him when he could breathe again. "Please, listen to me. We're friends. I helped you with Jason. You helped me and you helped Cyborg. You helped make Justice League. With Superman. Do you not remember?"

"You live with your mother, Allen. And I never get involved with disgusting Metahumans like Cyborg. They are abominations that deserve to be eradicated. Gotham will be free of any and all metahumans as long as I'm here. You're delusional if you think otherwise."

Barry shook his head. "That's not true. My mother died when I was a kid. You knew that." But when he uttered it, a sudden influx of memories filled his mind: the taste of birthday cake, his mother's warm embrace, his graduation day and the arguments he would get into. These aren't his memories. He could also remember the day she died, the cold hospital rooms, the doctors and nurses rushing her into an ICU, and her funeral.
"Wait...she's alive? How?"

"What made you think she's dead? If you are a metahuman, you deserve to die. And what better place than Gotham city?" He unholstered his gun and pointed it at Barry's temple. "And even if you aren't one, you are still a danger to others with your delusional 'Super' stories."

"No! Stop! You never used guns!" Barry began to weep. "This isn't like you at all! You hate guns!"

"And what could you ever know about me? Huh? What can you possibly know about my life?"

Barry shouted, "I know you saw your parents get killed in an alley when you were eight years old! I know you trained harder than anyone I've ever met to prevent this sort of thing from happening ever again. It was a gun that made you into the Batman, so Batman never used it."

He yelled, "That's impossible!"
"Why is it impossible? It's the truth!"

"Because I saw my eight year old son die! Bruce Wayne is dead!"

Immediately, a flashing symbol accompanied with a siren rang throughout the dark cave they were in.
Batman threw the gun away and immediately tapped on his rusted keyboard. He mumbled, "Forget it, Allen. I've got more important things to deal with for those delusional men who talk about 'Superheroes.' I've already called the police. They'll send you to Arkham so you can be rehabilitated."

"What!" Shouted Barry. "But I'm not crazy! You are! This whole world is! What's going on? What happened to everyone?"

Batman ignored him. Out of the corner of Barry's eye he spots a familiar face on the screen. "Wait! Before you send me to Arkham, to prove that I'm not crazy, I want you to do one last thing. If this doesn't then I'll go without a fight."

"Why would I ever believe someone as manic as you?"

"You don't even need to believe me. You've got nothing to lose, Batman. Just do me this one favor."