Chapter Text
It's an hour past his bedtime, and Wally is doing his very best to stay quiet. Curled into the far corner of the sofa, hidden under the soft covers of a blanket, he makes sure to keep still, eyes flickering ever so often from the TV to his parents. He's not sure they'd notice him even if he did make a fuss, but better to be safe than sorry, as his Uncle Barry sometimes says.
They've been watching the same news broadcast for two and a half hours, and the evening has long ago turned into nightfall. Now, the only thing illuminating their small living room is the glowing TV screen.
"I told you it was only a matter of time," his dad, who is clutching his beer, knuckles white around the glass bottle, says.
Mary hums in response. Her expression is drawn in a deep frown as she watches the flickering images of fires, police, and people protesting flash by.
"They should have rounded the freaks up months ago," Rudolph continues, pointing a finger at the screen. The sudden movement causes some beer to spill onto his lap, but the man doesn't seem to notice the liquid any more than his still awake son.
"At least they're finally doing something about it," Mary says, wincing as the broadcast shows a young woman getting beaten to the ground by a police officer.
"It's what they deserve," Rudolph says, pointing yet another finger at the TV. Some more beer spills onto his lap, and Wally thinks that at this rate his father's pants will be soaked before the broadcast is over.
Mary sighs, dragging a hand over her face. "I can't believe they let it get this far."
"It's what they always do," Rudolph mutters, taking a large gulp out of his beer, "ignore the problem until they can't ignore it anymore. Fucking politicians," the man shakes his head.
"What do you think will happen to them?" Mary asks, throwing a glance at her husband.
"Contain them where they can't hurt anyone," Rudolph answers. "That's what Freddy told me. His sister works for the government, and she told him that it's been the plan all along. Ever since that particle accelerator exploded. They just didn't have enough reasons to do it, some human rights bullshit," the man scoffs, "not that they're human."
"So the government knew all along? They knew that this would eventually happen?"
"Of course the government knew, Mary. They can't be cured, and with their power comes evil."
On screen, the camera zooms in on one of the protestors being restrained. It's an old man, whose white beard has been colored crimson with blood. He doesn't look evil, Wally thinks. He looks scared and in pain and desperate.
"Anyways, when that freak blew up the school, they finally got the go to set the plan in motion," Rudolph continues, unfazed by the brutal images in front of him. "These riots will do nothing but further prove what we've known all along. Metahumans are evil and need to be locked up."
Mary shudders, as does Wally. He knows exactly what his father is referring to. Two days ago, a school not far from his had been blown up. Apparently, a kid, who had been unaware that he was a metahuman, had lost control in the middle of class. Ninety-eight students and seven teachers had died in the initial explosion, the metahuman included, and another fifty-six had succumbed to their injuries at the hospital.
Metahumans had been a sore subject ever since they first appeared. People feared them because they were different, and even though most metahumans used their powers for good, if not at all, that fear never quite went away.
Then the school blew up, and all hell broke loose.
"It's a shame they can't just kill them," Rudolph says, finishing the last of his beer in one sweep and slamming the bottle down on the table.
"I'm sure they'll die out eventually," says Mary.
In front of Wally, images of blood, screaming protestors, and police in riot gear are still filling the broadcast. Like a never-ending horror movie, with no happy ending in sight. He clears his throat, shifting under the thick blanket. "Mom, I'm kind of tired."
"Wally!" Mary exclaims, her head swinging around to look at her son. "I can't believe you're still awake," she glances at the clock hung on the wall. "It's an hour past your bedtime."
"Oh," Wally rubs the back of his neck, trying to appear innocent. "I hadn't noticed."
"Up to bed with you," Rudolph orders, in that rumbling voice of his.
"Yes, dad," Wally mumbles, rising from the sofa.
"Goodnight, sweetie," says Mary, catching Wally's arm as he walks past her and leaning over to stroke his cheek. "I love you."
"Love you too, mom," Wally smiles. Behind him, the sound of screams can still be heard from the news broadcast.
***
That night, Wally falls asleep with images of protestors getting beaten to the ground flashing before his eyes.
When morning comes, it's with the official announcement that all metahumans are hereby required by law to be registered by the government. It's the beginning of the end, though Wally doesn't know this yet.