Momentum | The Flash | Ezra Miller|

13

13| Not Fast Enough

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Unbelievably groggy and sore, Willow began to quietly stir. She could taste the bitter hint of blood in the back of her throat and felt hungover. It took her a few minutes before she could gain her composure, she tried to move, but her wrists were bound tightly by a frayed rope. Her head was killing her, and she was disoriented, but she pushed through, hearing voices around her and remembering what had just happened.

She'd been kidnapped.

The thought alone made her heart jump into her throat, throwing her body into overdrive as she suddenly burst awake and stared at the scene before her. There were henchmen lining the roof, some had masks on, while others were dressed simply, holding guns and walking around the extended skyline. One group was on patrol, while others looked less stable, passing the time by throwing bottles, garbage or anything else they could grab. Eight other hostages were there with her, and each was tied and bound to a chair like her. They all looked around frightened, hoping someone out there was going to save them.

Willow was no different.

The gag that had been in her mouth and tied around her head, had fallen down, allowing her to speak if she wanted to. The woman a few yards from her looked around frantically, a piece of torn cloth around her mouth, hindering her from speaking to Willow. She was around her age, late twenties, with dark hair and round blue eyes. She looked at Willow, noticing she was up. Immediately she began to strain herself shuffling her own hands that were restrained and trying to communicate with the young woman.

There was a hard, chilly wind that flooded across the rooftop, a breeze so strong it shook Willow and the chair she was in. Her eyes widened in distress, realizing that she wasn't just on a roof of a building in Gotham, she was multiple stories up. If she screamed there was a small chance someone might hear her, but there was a better chance someone would toss her off the roof and to her death.

Willow's temple had a small gash on it, and the blood had run down the side of her face, most of it was dried, but some glimmered in the soft night lighting of the city. She swallowed hard, ignoring the growing pains in her body to try and get some information on what was going on.

" A-are we-"

Willow tried to speak in a whisper, but her low voice strained and out came an uneven croak. She cleared her voice, quietly leaning in some to the other woman.

" Are we in Gotham? "

Willow kept her voice low, trying her best to not get any attention from anyone around her. To her surprise, the woman had remained relatively calm and weakly nodded to Willow's question.

There was a small commotion across the roof and Willow watched as two familiar faces appeared. The Asian woman and her tall, rough-looking companion had arrived. They weren't pleasant to the staff on the roof, not caring for the attitude of the men around her, Willow and the others watched as a man mouthed off to her, and she casually tossed the grown thug off the roof of the building. Willow was terrified but also curious if this person was a metahuman, like Barry. She threw the grown man at least ten yards and to his death without breaking a sweat.