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“Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

Hollywood Luke Storm stands in a hallway, looking unsure about how he got there. No one else is around, and he seems confused by the voice we just heard.

“What?” The Icon yells out.

“Who,” a voice begins, “are you?”

Turning in a circle, Hollywood comes face to face with a man who looks an awful lot like him, even dressed identically.

It’s his stunt double.

His dead stunt double.

“You’re dead.” Storm gasps. “He killed you.”

“It should have been you.” The double retorts. “He came for Hollywood, but you weren’t really there. None of it was real.”

His body begins to show the wounds sustained from his fall. Luke looks disgusted.

“You weren’t real.”

The world around them quickly morphs into a high rise building in SoCal. Before Ole Hollywood can say a word, Zero appears from out of nowhere, throwing him out the window.

He falls, his screams echoing in the concrete valleys.

Until he lands… …in a wrestling ring?

Red Snow

“No.” Luke mutters.

“Yes,” a voice returns.

His brother’s voice. His dead brother.

“Who are you?” The painted face of Nygma greets him.

“You’re dead, too.” Luke says. “I’ve dreamed of it every night since. He killed you.”

Nygma cackles for a moment, before the lucid eyes of Edward Newton drill into Storm.

“It should have been you.” The Riddler intones. “The Sandman didn’t care about solving riddles. He only wanted to quell the Storm. He came for you, but he only saw Luke Storm. But he’s not real, is he?”

Luke rips off his jacket, trying to find some semblance of control as Nygma’s neck contorts, claw marks appearing where it was snapped.

Stepping forward, Luke finds himself dropped to a knee. As if rising from a mist behind him, the Sandman appears.

SNAP!

Darkness.

A beeping noise greets us as we find Hollywood Luke Storm alive, laying in a hospital bed with many needles plugged into him. His signature sunglasses still adorn his face.

But as he begins to awaken, he finds he’s not alone.

A woman stands above him.

“Rachel.” Luke weakly gasps. “But…”

“Who are you?” His wife asks.

His dead wife.

“This is a dream.” Luke says, trying to ignore his lost love staring at him accusingly.

“It should have been you.” Rachel says. “Lucas Newton tempted fate every day of your life, but it was me death came for.”

She slowly pulls his sunglasses off, letting them drop to the ground. Her hand then reaches for a large plug in the wall.

“You pulled the plug on me.” She says as her body begins to shrivel and grow pale. “The man who said he’d fight for me, he wasn’t real was he?”

She rips the plug from the wall, and all goes black once again.

A naked man stands in a sea of darkness, voices echoing all around him.

“Hollywood isn’t real.”

“Luke Storm isn’t real.”

“Lucas Newton isn’t real.”

Between tear-soaked eyelids, the man sees Scarlett approaching him.

His alive daughter.

He holds out his arms to embrace her, but she backs away.

“Who are you?”