Thawne

Chapter 1: Blood Will Run

Author's note: '{}' Shows a foreign language being spoken translated to English.

[May 1st, 2465]

"{My name is Eobard Thawne}."

Eobard shivered as he sat inside of the teepee. A wool blanket was draped over his shoulders, the teepee was large but dark, held together by wooden poles. He could see that the inner linings of it were made out of buffalo skins. The only heat came from a small flame in the center. He warmed his hands by the flame. Slowly he could feel the blood circulating again, his cheeks and palms warming. Wind heavily scraped against the outside of the teepee, the poles swaying every so often. He sniffled, his hair was soaking wet, the result of an unexpected plunge into the icy waters along the trek. Despite his runny nose, he could faintly smell the aroma of food. As a result his stomach began to grumble, he shuffled embarrassedly. Beside him was his translatron, a revolutionary gadget capable of translating every known language with ease and then some. It was one which demolished the limits of the known language barrier. It certainly went a long way here in the outskirts of Nyarl-Amen. For months Eobard had been anticipating this moment, counting the days until he would be able to meet the villagers and study their culture. The fishmen of Nyarl-Amen, their bodies were an oddity.  A curious bewilderment. Some of their heads were a slimy shade of green, others were a fiery orange. Some were as pale as the ice under his feet. Yet their eyes were all like dark pits, Eobard couldn't tell if they were happy he had arrived, or seething with rage that he did. He couldn't read them and that fact scared him. Yet he still sat equally amazed by them, like their name implied, these men and women had the bodies of humans and yet the heads of fishes. It was a wonderfully gross juxtaposition of physiology and anatomy and yet it worked ever so smoothly.

"{We are pleased to meet you}."

Said Vexus, the leader of the tribe. Eobard smiled, he was out of the metaphorical woods now. His heart thumped with excitement, knowing that he could go on with the work which he was meant to do. Eobard reached for his duffel bag, pulling it to his side, he rummaged through it before pulling out an ever-so thin glass tablet, lighting up as he held it.

"{I was sent here by the Department of Cultural Studies at the Metro-Polis Academy. I believe you had spoken with my professor about this already, but I'm the ethnographer assigned to your tribe. I am looking very forward to living with you all until the harvest.}"

Vexus simply nodded his head, the dozens of other fishmen had crowded behind him, Eobard could tell that they were enamored by this conversation. He was an outsider looking in. Following Vexus' nod of the head, Eobard tapped a button on his tablet, and suddenly a digipen materialized, this action caused several of the fishmen to stumble back in sheer surprise. He couldn't help but smile, these indigenous people were so unaware of the most simple and common technological advances. They would be no less shocked by a plastic bag. He clicked the digipen and pressed it to the glass surface of his tablet, still smiling as he looked at Vexus.

"{I think we have a lot of work to do.}"

***

[January 28th, 2471]

Central City was alive, a bustling city of commerce and movement, the city was fast-paced and its citizens expected no less. Mega-corporations stood tall one after the other. Towering monuments littered the corners. Central City was an industrial behemoth. The sky was a rich bright blue, hardly any clouds to be seen. Several pedestrians flocked to the streets, walking down every sidewalk and corner. Some went for work, others for a jog. Some went to the bakeries and others to the park. From the bottom to the top, Central City was beautiful. Hanging from the city like vines was the massive monorail. An interconnected network of transportation systems meeting the accommodations of the many citizens. Hundreds of people flocked day in and day out into the hypertrain. Whether they had to go to work or to school was irrelevant. No matter the cause they all packed into the hypertrain every day like sardines. This day was to be no different. Atleast that was the plan.