Of Time and Deceiving

03 | Of Rescues and Escapades

Timothy frowned. He hadn't seen this coming.

His morning routine had become increasingly weird across the years, even more so after somehow becoming friends with a blind-but-not-actually-blind criminal and moving to the most crime-ridden city in the whole fucking multiverse. However, even though his everyday life was insane, he never had to deal with a panicky Roy Williams over the fact that his former best friend was in a shitty prison.

Maybe he should give a tad bit of background of the events, just to avoid confusion, you know?

A week ago he had been reading a book titled Science Through the Ages, avoiding Roy as best as he could because the man seemed to be more secretive, snappy and distracted than usual. He remembers that he was seated at the worn down sofa in the living room, a cup of coffee in one of his hands. At the moment, he had been thinking that Roy would not be back from whatever illegal activity he was getting involved with until, at least, ten or eleven o'clock. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side that day.

Roy had looked downright pissed, although Tim had been able to discern some concern in his, erm, friend's eyes. Roy wasn't talking, he wasn't growling or making any sound, which was rather scary, because Roy is loud as fuck, and him not saying anything was a bad sign. Then he talked, and Tim wished the motherfucker had stayed silent for the time to begin.

"I need your help, Tim", Roy, the little shit, said angrily. "Okay, so. My best friend who I thought was dead actually is alive. And he is in a shitty prison run by some bastards that hate me."

Tim blinked. So Roy was finally going insane?

"Don't look at me like that, bastard", Little Shit said. "The only thing you have to do is go to a max security prison— I will provide you everything you need for it, don't worry—, and break him out. Just tell him that his friend Roy sends his regards or some shit. Then you... Didn't I fucking tell you to stop looking at me like that, you asshole?"

Tim wondered why Little Shit was talking to him like that, but couldn't blame him. The man was, after all, going insane. He could only feel pity for him and follow his game.

"I understand, Roy. What is the name of this friend of yours?", he answered, unable to keep the condescending tone out of his voice.

"You think I am fucking crazy, asshat?" Little Shit looked angry. "His name is Troy Sounders, you bastard. You met him, remember?"

Oh, that's right. He met Troy, but the memory is fuzzy. He just remembers looking at the teen, his blinding smile making him grin, and even laugh. The kid had been so hopeful and happy. His words stick to him to this day, something about effort, practice, and life. He never knew what became of the kid. Now he knows somewhat. He can't help but feel bad.

The bad news is that Roy isn't going insane, which, well, what a fucking pity.

He can't help but show his distaste. Tim wasn't one for action, he was one for staying in the background, hacking his way through and making people lower their guards. He put cameras on loop to give his friend openings, he sent people fake notifications, messages or emails from their bosses to make them leave their homes, and sometimes stole information that wasn't meant for the public. That's why they became friends after all.

After this particular conversation with Roy, he became a tad bit angry. He might have stolen a pair of blasters, one small enough to be hidden inside his Matrix-like coat, and one big enough to be noticed from even 800 meters. Perfect to get into the prison and cause mass panic. He didn't want to do it, but the truth is that he owed his very punchable best friend a lot of favors so... he didn't quite have a choice.