Time in a bottle

Silence, Peace, Calm that is all that was left. All over the world nothing is going on children frozen mid-throw their ball floating infront of their hand. Cars stuck in an endless unmoving traffic, a man stopped with half his body hanging out the window, his mouth open but no sound coming out. Food, fresh and ready to be eaten, a forever steam coming off of it, yet no atoms move. A wave forever stuck smashing into a rock. A flying man with a red cape and blue jumpsuit, a red S on his chest, stuck saving a small child.

Sitting in a lawn chair on top of the Eiffel Tower a man sings a song while playing a guitar.

" If I could put time in a bottle....."

A smile comfortably rests on his face as he continues to sing memories of before this go through his head.

His discovery of his song based powers while singing this exact song years ago, his meeting with the Justice League as they offered him a spot on their black ops team, a group of teens, His introduction to the Team, his first mission, The time Miss Martian trapped them in a simulation, The first fight with Psymon, Up to right now as Wally West runs his life away to save the world from a threat made by aliens.

The smile on his face changes into one of sadness as he knows he can't keep this power on forever. Tears gather in his eyes and fall to the group, as he breaks out into a sob. He knows it's been too long, his mind is slipping he lost count of the time he has been doing this after 3 months and that was so long ago now. He finishes the song and instead of going off to do something again or running even farther, He starts clapping, bows and drops a rose at his feet, suddenly everything begins again. The people below cry out as they watch the heros saved the world once more, but he, he has run out of the energy to yell or cry. He instead sinks back down into the lawn chair a hollow look in his eyes as he watches, through the song Every Breath you take, one of his only and closest friends die to save these ignorant, stupid, ungrateful, hateful people below him. Rage enters him, the guitar he is holding snaps as the roars of happiest from those below reach their peak. And suddenly a lyric falls from his mouth, carried by the wind it pierces through the yells of joy and hits the ears of those all over Paris and all at once they drop, dead. Silence is once again all that's left and he sits back down, sleeping calling him, his powers strained too far. The horror of what he has done won't hit him for a while.