Touch Of The Past

Chapter 29

This monstrous pile of goo is stressing me out. It just doesn't slow down! I wish I had all the memories of fighting, at least. Well, if I'm wishing for stuff, I should probably wish for all my memories back. And maybe wish that I'm not crazy.

In addition to being crazy with my fictional Amo/Sam, I also was up all night with night terrors, so I'm running on an hour (if I'm lucky, which I'm not) of sleep and very little clue of how my powers even work, beyond ectoblasts and flying. And the ice thing.

With that thought, I focus my ice and use that on the beast instead of plain ectoblasts. It freezes effectively enough, but the beast just sheds the frozen part and replaces it with more. I frown.

Aqualad swirls water around it, trying to dilute the ectoplasm, while M'gann floats, eyes white, hand extended. I can't tell what she's doing, telekinesis or telepathy, but it doesn't matter. It's not working.

Then there's Superboy, who's opting to punch it. Not really helping, but whatever. Zatanna throws spells at it. Some fire, some ice, some unbinding. All unhelpful.

I manage to hold a shield against an attack the thing sends at the floating M'gann, and then again against Zatanna. I also pull out Superboy when he almost gets sucked in.

Come on, memories, memories...

Holding my hand up, green energy surrounding the rake in front of me. It moves. As a plus, it moves where I actually wanted it to! The ghost I'd given it to gives me an annoyed look, but grabs it. I bite a sandwich.

I shake my head. That was the weirdest out-of-context memory ever.

Alright. Give me another.

Tucker and I are playing video games, hands a blur on a joystick and computer keyboard. I notice my hands are ungloved, not glowing. Fingernails, skin and natural tan lines. That's not my ghost hand.

We're playing some game, and my memory self is completely absorbed in the graphics. Our avatars jump and flip, shooting guns and placing bombs. We dive into a store, hiding from a foe much greater than both of us. Safe. Until a grenade rolls in and we both dissolve in a burst of light.

These aren't helping!

And neither am I, which means the memories slow to a stop.

I fly towards the top of the monster, shoving a shield out of me, trying to trap the entire thing. To my ultimate surprise, it works. The thing is trapped, at least for now. It roars, crashing against the dome. I grit my teeth, my power straining against the onslaught.

You okay? Superboy asks from the ground.

Yeah, I respond, pushing more energy into the shield as it rears for another attack. Quick, figure something out. This isn't going to last much longer.

Fenton Thermos, Tucker announces.

Got it, Wally continues a moment later. En route to the big blob contained with the shield.

My power rushes out of me in a torrent, but it's kind of like pouring a watering can. A steady stream, not many hitches, but the water's running out. I grunt as the blob desperately tries to escape my shield, pushing up against all sides.

The stream of power shudders and pours out of me faster, too fast. Ugh, hurry, KF! Don't you have super speed? Isn't that your thing?

Memories rush through me, past me, and I try to focus on them and the shield at the same time.

I've had two nightmares, maybe. I almost spiraled out of control once. I'm imagining a Sam ghost thing. But that's the extent of the scars I've maintained from my time with the GIW. My scars are fading rapidly, and you can barely see the ragged marks on my back or the burns around my neck, wrists and ankles anymore. The incisions on my torso are still an angry red/pink, but still, the stitches are already removed.