Well Fu-

If I'm A Mask, What's Underneath?

Static was worried.

He knew he shouldn't have been. That you had already reassured him the night before, but he just couldn't help it.

This city wasn't what he thought it was. Going on a tour with the Titans during their first day here, and then staying at a suspiciously nice hotel for the next two days was nice.

It was obvious that wasn't the true face of Gotham, but he didn't realize how ugly it truly was.

Maybe that's why he's sitting on a chair in one of the Asylum's balcony, the same one where he had that talk with Y/N. Maybe that's why he just can't seem to get any proper sleep lately. Or maybe that's why he had yet to go meet Freeze in person since the night he was taken down.

He was scared. Of what he wasn't really sure. Scared of facing the thing he nearly killed that night? Scared at the idea that maybe asking you to hold back would end up with you hurt? Or maybe it was himself.

Static, more than anyone, understood his powers. Hell, it was because of this deep understanding he had recently found new ways to use them that he wouldn't even dream about that night when he became a Bang Baby.

That meant he knew just how simple it was to snuff out the life of someone using them.

"They weren't human"

Your words served as a reassurance to Static. He could still see his panic as he desperately tried to push the Talons away, anywhere else as long as it wasn't near him. Their heads falling to the ground were the result of that desperation.

"They're weren't people"

'That's right' Attempting to calm himself, Static repeated the phrase.

But, if what you said were actually true, why could he still see their faces when he dreamed? Why did they seem to be apart of every shadow he walked by? Lurking, as if to remind him of what he's done.

The smell of smoke that occasionally breezed by Static had increased since then. Every time he woke up it was so intense to the point he felt as if he were suffocating.

'It's fine. It's just my mind messing with me. Just imagine a barbecue instead of'-

Static paused.

'Instead of what?'

The former? Hero grabbed his head, a migraine like a rock in his brain settling into the back of his head, weighing it down.

'I already put that behind me'

'Then why do I keep seeing flames?'

Questions littered the silence he was stuck in, a busy array of thoughts that all seemed to hold the same principal.

'What am I scared of'

There was no longer a question, rather a statement. And that was because Static knew the answer. Knew what that answer led to. And knew what would have to be done once he came to that conclusion.

Electricity danced in his hand, moving from finger to finger in a bright display of power. It was something he did unconsciously that helped him initially control his powers, but now served as something stable. Something he could control.

That's what the basis of his new theories on his powers were all about right? Control. Control to heal himself. Control to manifest objects. Control to turn his body's power internal. So why would this be different?

Static looked behind him, to the empty hallway that led back into the Asylum.

He thought of the Lord down there, and what would happen if he came to the conclusion he was so close to coming to. Of what he was scared of.