Heatwave is sitting on the end of an old well worn couch drinking steaming coffee from an oversized Flash mug. "Why the hell are we doing this again?"
A voice comes from behind the camera, "'Cause Piper's all sad from the stupid press people talking bad about him. So we're gonna make him feel better."
"And we aren't just cheering him up to his face why?"
You could hear the eye roll in the tone of voice. "Because making other people feel better is the quickest way to make Piper feel better, and because he keeps slamming the door in my face and blaring Beethoven." Heatwave rolls his face, and presumably his eyes, in response. "And because this way of making him feel better doesn't mean giving anyone your cash."
"Right, right." He shifts a little bit awkwardly on the couch.
"I'm not gay or bisexual or none of that," he starts, "but back in high school I got bullied a lot. Wasn't what you called a 'normal' kid."
"No shit, right? Normal don't end up here." He rubs at the back of his head with one hand.
"So we go on this field trip one day, lamest fucking field trip in the world, and this bully comes up. One of the regular douches. He starts fuckin' with me, and I fight back a bit. Next thing I know he's thrown me inside a walk in freezer, and he's locking me in." A shiver runs over his body and he takes a long gulp from his mug.
"Was plenty warm out that day so I don't have a jacket or anything, and I'm in there for at least a good three hours. I'm thinking no one knows I'm missing, let alone fuckin' cares, and I'm gonna freeze to death like a side of beef. Only reason they even did notice is 'cause they did that stupid little head count thing when everyone got on the bus."
"Then, well, I ain't exactly a role model, I'm guessing my response ain't the one you should follow." He laughs. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about it, ya?"
"Things got better though. That's what this whole thing's supposed to be about, right? Now-a-days that shit ain't gonna happen. Even if I did get stuck in a damn meat locker, I know somebody'll come and get me. Even if it is the damn Flash."
"So, there you go, shit gets better."
The camera moves suddenly, motion blurring shapes and colors across the screen, and comes to rest on a polk-a-dotted shoulder and the check of a smiling face. "We love you too Heatwave!"
"Get off me you demented leech!"
A new voice joins in, "What the hell is all this racket about!" Captain Cold comes into view over the shoulder. "Trickster! What the fuck are you doing with a video camera in the hideout? Put that damn thing away."
"Sir, yes sir!"
The next shot is of the world turned into an Escher drawing of mirrors.
"Why, exactly, do you have a video camera?" asks an exasperated voice. The camera pans a bit to reveal the owner as Mirror Master. "Is this part of that blooper reel you're making?"
"No," says the Trickster, "I get those off security cameras and stuff. This is for the Trevor Project thing. Cold said I'm not allowed to film at headquarters."
Mirror Master glances over his shoulder as he starts walking. "So you're doing it when we're on a job?"
"And you want me to say something now?"
"Do I have to say a lot?"
Mirror Master stops, sighs, and turns around. He looks into to video camera as seriously as possible. "It gets better. Whatever you're going through, wherever you are, it gets better."
A beat. A pause.
"Yes. Now move it will you. " He falls through a mirror to his right and calls back through. "I'm not waiting forever you know!"
The Trickster steps through and into the high security of Iron Heights. Mirror Master is several feet ahead, and the camera swings in a jogging motion as the Trickster catches up. Guards are dispatched with his mirror gun, and soon they approach Captain Boomerang's jail cell. Mirror Master turns back to Trickster and
"What the, why is that stupid thing still on."
"I need to get Boomer on it."
"Bloody well right you need to get me. Open the damn door you lousy gits."
One of Tricksters hands reaches forward and sprays a green substance on the door which dissolves the lock.
"About bloody time you," Captain Boomerang looks straight into the camera his face contorting impressively. "Have you started some sort of reality T.V. thing? You know how I feel about reality T.V."
Mirror Master pulls a bag out of one of his mirrors and hands it over to Captain Boomerang. He starts changing clothes into his villain costume, adjusting a few boomerangs here and there on his person.
"I'm making one of those videos that KF showed Piper. The one that made you cry when you saw them." They start back down to where they entered, Mirror Master leading the way.
"I was not crying. I was cutting up onions for dinner. Can't blame a man for a bodily reaction."
Mirror Master snorts. "Sure thing Boomer. Whatever you say."
"Bloody well right whatever I say. Look here you," he says shaking one of his boomerangs at the camera, "When I tell you this you better know it's damn well true 'cause I don't give a shit for none of you so, I got no reason to sugar coat the truth. Shit gets bad, shit gets worse, but if you hang in there it gets better too. It's like a boomerang that way."
"Oh come on, how is that like a boomerang? Like the mirror world maybe, that I'd buy, but whose going to go for that crap metaphor."
"It's a simile you idiot. Metaphors don't use like. Besides, what's that saying about throwing stones when you live in a house of mirrors?"
The next image is of the Flash tying up what appears to be almost every member of his Rogues.
"Flash! Flash!" calls the Trickster, "Over here! I'm making an It Gets Better video to cheer up Piper. You should say something."
The Flash appears to be checking out the camera for any discrepancies. Seemingly finding none he comes to a stop in front it. "How is he?"
"He switched from Beethoven to Queen last night, and he only ever plays Queen when he's really upset. Are you gonna say something?"
"Sure thing," He says. Over his shoulder Captain Cold begins to make his way to the captured Rogues. "I know a lot of you are having problems. That there are people out there that will tell you that who you are is wrong. It isn't. You are wonderful person and you have it inside yourself to be a hero. Even if the only life you save is your own by hanging in there. Because it does get better."
One by one the Rogues file past the Flash's shoulder until at last Weather Wizard passed with thumbs up at the camera.
"That was perfect! Thanks Flash. Gotta go!"
The camera starts pulling away keeping in focus on the Flash just long enough to see him realize that the Rogues are leaving through a mirror and, upon trying to stop them, activating a small marble like device by his feet that balloons into a quick setting pink substance.
The Trickster laughs.
The image is once again of an old beat up couch, but this time the Top and Weather Wizard are seated on it.
"And we're just supposed to tell them all that it gets better, and that's supposed to stop them?" asks the Top.
"That's the short of it. They got other things to, hotlines and whatnot," Boomer says from off camera.
"It's on!" says Trickster, "You can start now."
"Well hold on a second. How are we supposed to know things'll get better?" asks Weather Wizard. "I've had some pretty bad times myself, and sometimes that's just shit."
"Bad times? Like worse than what you got going on now?" asks Trickster innocently.
"Hell of a lot worse," he assures.
"Than if used to be worse, before, and it's not worse, now, somewhere in between things got better!"
He frowns. "Well I guess, when you put it that way."
"What the Hell is going on in here?" says Cold. The camera swings around catching glimpses of Boomer and Mirror Master before stopping on Cold. "I thought I told you not make videos in the Hideout. How the hell do you expect this place to be a secret when you're posting it all over the internet?"
"But it's for Piper! We're making an It Gets Better video!"
"Fine," Colds face is firm beneath his glasses as he addresses the camera, "Look here, if a bunch of low-lives like us can find others to fit in with there's no reason that a sap like you can't find a place too. Now turn that damn thing off before you end up with lookout duty for a year."
"But you have to say it!"
"I swear if you make me count to three"
The screen goes to black.
Rustling can be heard and a flashlight is turned on, revealing the Trickster in a fuzzy night cap underneath a patchwork quilt. He smiles bright, infectious, and so big it seems a second away from cracking him in half.
"It gets better. I promise."
Off camera Colds voice floats up one last time. "Trickster! Get your sorry behind down here and brush your teeth. You too Boomer. Job doesn't come with a damn dental plan you know!"
"Gotta go! Bye!"