An undisclosed location

[jla_extras]

Felix Faust had been enjoying his time among the Society. On the whole, Deathstroke was a pretty good employer, and he felt like he had found a steady groove he could relate to for awhile.

So really, the last thing he wanted to be doing was frantically tossing clothes into bags and running right this moment.

But he can hear the approaching

Comments

[phear_itself]

An echoing voice emerges from the room, but it's difficult to tell from exactly where.

"Packing, Mr. Faust? Why, whatever seems to be the matter?"

[jla_extras]

"You can't feel it? Of course you can't. You're not ... you wouldn't know."

He's manic, nearly out of control.

[phear_itself]

The Scarecrow emerges from the shadows.

"Your new age claptrap doesn't fool me, Faust. What seems to be... frightening you so badly?"

[jla_extras]

"New age?" he says, and his teeth are chattering. "No. Old age. Very old. He's coming here, Crane. He's coming for me."

[tx_instruments]

Faust's communicator blips. Insistently.

[jla_extras]

Faust trips on trying to explain himself to Scarecrow, and he knows he's not ready for this.

"I can't stay, Calculator."

[tx_instruments]

"Of course not. You've succumbed to irrational gibbering. Frankly, you'd be a liability while in this state. I can only wonder what protection you hope to find by running."

[jla_extras]

The insult slaps Faust hard enough to collect himself for a moment.

"You don't know. None of you know. I've seen things. Things to come. I always knew a great battle was approaching. The final battle of this magical age. Sometimes on one side of it, sometimes another."

He takes a deep breath.

"This age of magic is ending. The war's come. They're going to make me choose which side to be on and ..."

His voice trails. It's obvious he's petrified.