By MegaJust 15 Comments
It won't be coming back
Atop his throne, atop his tower, atop his city, Justice waited. His gaunt form looking no better than it did weeks ago in Paris. His eyes were sunken, his once iconic smile showed no hope of returning. The bright suit he wore had been discarded for a something that fit his now small frame. He previously stood as a symbol, something more than a man. However, now he hardly looked like he could walk a mile, much less dash across the face of the earth faster than most could blink.
If someone didn't look close enough at the moment they might have thought the man was but a corpse. His looks aside he had failed to move in hours, it took a keen eye to notice that he was breathing at all. Movement, however, was not one of the things he lost in his efforts to shield France. The Ex-Exemplar of Justice's legs hadn't been crippled, but something else had been lost. He refused to move because he was waiting, waiting in vain for the power that would never come. He wanted to reach out into the world and feel the power that the people gave him. He wished to stand tall, the people's will lighting his fires and pushing him to go beyond. No matter how long he waited though, he knew it wouldn't be coming back.
His actions had corrupted the public perception he'd upheld, the one of a grandiose hero. Now he was seen as more of a villain by most, a tyrant even. While there were still those who saw him as a hero, perhaps one that took things to an extreme, it wasn't enough. He barely had enough Justice Force to keep his corporeal form, and that on its own was up to debate. He waited in vain for his strength to return, but as his hand weakly closed into a fist he knew it wasn't going to be coming back.
The world had scorned him for his act, ones that he took to help those who called for him. He fixed a city in ruins, he turned it into a pillar of advancement and peace. His deal with the world was simple, he served the people's justice, and the people would give him the power he needed. Yet here he was, betrayed by those who he gave all for. He was built to serve, and all that had done for him was leave him in ruins. As his anger started to rise a faint light began to shine behind his eyes. His clenched fist grew tighter as his nails began to draw blood, inhuman blood, the blood of a man who was not truly a man. The force that he was made up his body had betrayed him, knowing that he had no choice but to live within it only caused his rage to grow. Never before had to world given him such a large dose of clarity before. This was all a being like him could ever amount too, even for him the concept of Justice changed too fast for even him to catch up. He had been discarded, he had saved a city then was labeled its killer. No more would he wait for the world to give him back his power, no more would he let himself be controlled.
Staggering to his feet, The Ex-Exemplar of Justice rose from his throne. Walking forward, each step sturdier than the last he approached the patio overlooking the city. This was once the site he could leap from and land anywhere he chose in the city. Now it gave him a view of what he had left. Throwing his hands out to the side he let the sun wash over him, the light blinding his eyes. Even as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light, he felt as if he could see clearer than ever. The truth of the world was finally clear to him, there was no Justice. He merely followed along with what the people thought was right, not because of what he wanted but because it gave him strength. Yet all that had done was make him weaker than ever, in body, mind, and spirit. No longer would he serve the world's "Justice", he would show them his own.
His power would never return, but in return, he had gained a will and drive of his own.