Post by HoM on Feb 18, 2010 19:07:10 GMT -5
The Flash
Issue Thirty-Seven: “Game Plan”
Written by Pat Owen
Cover by Dody Eka
Edited by House Of Mystery
Saying that times have been rough lately is an understatement.
Recently, I’ve been put to the test on both my skills as a protector of the world along with my strength as a human being. I’ve been being stretched like a rubber band at the breaking point and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to loosen anytime soon.
My name is Barry Allen. Though just about everyone on the planet knows me by my other name now-- The Flash, the Fastest Man Alive.
And today-- the rubber band snaps.
* * * * *
A tingle moves through my body while my heels clap against the newly paved streets of Central City. I zigzag in and out of traffic, speeding by cars but making sure to wave to each and every face I see. Some of my colleagues might say that I’m a bit too out there, in the public. But honestly, I see it more as good manners.
And no one should be complaining about me being too public.
It wasn’t my choice to have my secret identity splashed all over the media for everyone to see.
I pass by thousands of pedestrians, each hurriedly making their way to work or hopefully something else that would justify such a rush. Or maybe the rush is just me. It’s hard to tell. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a chubby middle aged man with a phone held tightly up to his ear, stepping onto the incredibly busy road, not even noticing the oncoming automobiles.
The man blinks and he finds himself across the street on the sidewalk, lowering his phone in surprise while I take a quick moment to let him notice me standing in front of him. I still get a small chuckle after seeing their faces when they realize they’ve been rescued.
“May want to be a bit more careful with the jay-walking, sir.” I give him a small nod before I vanish from his sight, already over a mile away.
Passing by countless more faces, each of them blurred in my perception, thoughts begin to prick against the back of my brain. Thoughts I had really been struggling to not think about. Is all of this, what I’m doing, showing respect and courtesy to these citizens, just a way for me to get over what happened?
A glimpse of my father and then of little baby Carrie, my little girl, zips through my mind in an instant before vanishing.
My identity may have been leaked to the entire world but I had suffered through far worse than that. Eobard Thawne, the Reverse-Flash, had been responsible for murdering my father and sending the Twin Cities into utter chaos. Many people died and many more were left broken, including me.
However, that was still only the tip of the iceberg of what I had endured.
My daughter, my beautiful Carrie, had been lost in time thanks to Thawne and it was there in the future that she grew up and it was there that I had to watch it all unfold in front of my eyes.
Not only had she grown up-- she had grown up without me.
I take in a deep breath, bringing my attention back to my usual run through Central City. Usually, I would enjoy a nice morning ‘jog’ through both Central and Keystone City but the latter has been marked an anti-speedster zone due to the recently elected Kansas governor, Gregory Wolfe, former warden of Iron Heights and a Grade A scumbag. And it seems like Central City is on course to do the same.
I was once praised for my popularity amongst my city’s citizens but now, everything has completely flipped.
It’s been more than a month since I had almost lost it all.
My father, my city, my daughter, and even myself.
My wounds are deep and I know that. But like my father always used to say, “No matter how bad the wound, it can always be healed if you work hard enough to mend it.”
I’m trying, Dad. I really am.
* * * * *
“After wha’ happened with yer sister, no one blames ye for being a wee bit shaken up, Cold.”
The Rogues were each scattered around their hideout, each up to their own business.
Captain Cold, ever the leader, sat at the table, fidgeting with his cold gun while Mirror Master took a sip of his beer while standing nearby. Captain Boomerang was further away, enjoying a quiet session of throwing darts while Weather Wizard and Heatwave stared silently at the TV from their chairs.
“I’m not shaken up, McCulloch. I never am.” Said Cold, glaring through his visor at his comrade.
“And neither am I.” Weather Wizard said, his eyes focused on the television screen but his mouth curled into a passive expression. “I just want to know what she did with my kid.”
Mirror Master looked from Cold to Weather Wizard, confusion pasted on his masked face.
“How can ye guys be so calm? Flasher tells ye Piper’s dead an’ believes that we’re the ones responsible, which we’re not. An’ now Candyman is movin’ even further in on our territory. Thin’s are turnin’ topsy turvy.”
“Aye. But no worries about Candyman. Give me a chance and I could get that bloke right between the eyes, no problem.” Boomerang said assuredly, sinking a bullseye with a dart.
“Yeah, what are we going to do about him?” Heatwave questioned from his seat, twiddling his thumbs. “He thinks he can just waltz in and mess with us. That’ll get him burned in the end.”
“Damn right it will.” Cold said, his voice hoarse and his jaw clenched. “It’s time we showed everyone what the Rogues can really do. Like I said before. This is our turf. And no one’s going to take that away from us.”
* * * * *
“What time is my meeting with those speedsters scheduled for, Margaret?” Governor Wolfe asked his secretary, his demeanor cool and collected. “I want to make sure I’m fully prepared on how I speak with them.”
“It’s at three o’clock, Governor.” Margaret said with a smile but Wolfe just acknowledged with a subtle bow to the head.
“Good.” Wolfe straightened his scarlet tie, peering into a nearby mirror. “Make sure to hold all of my calls during the meeting. I don’t want anything to interrupt this particular conversation.”
“Will do, sir.”
Margaret left his office and closed the door, leaving Wolfe to admire his own reflection, staring into his dark bearded jaw and ruby red pupils. He straightened out his entire outfit, consisting of a navy business suit and a crimson tie, brushing off some hairs and dust off before examining his reflection one last time.
“And now comes the time when gods must turn to men.” Wolfe said to himself. “And men will not let such an opportunity pass them by.”
* * * * *
My suit crackles with electricity and I begin to slow down my sprint, seeing Jay and Joan’s street coming into view. I bring myself to a halt, sliding a few feet across the road in front of the house before I fully stop.
I take a breath and in an instant my crimson suit has been fit neatly back into the ring on my right hand. I always tell Clark that it’s a whole lot more comfortable than wearing the outfit beneath your clothing but he keeps telling me that it’d be too much of a pain to keep putting it in and out of the ring. This coming from the guy who has to keep throwing on that suit and those glasses every time he gets back to work.
Poor guy doesn’t have a clue.
I look over Jay’s house and a sigh accidentally leaves my mouth. I appreciate everything my predecessor has done for me and Iris, giving us a place to stay since I was let go from the Keystone Police Department after my identity went public. But I know deep down it’s not the same.
I take what feels like only a step or two and I’m suddenly in the Garrick’s living room, where Iris is still sound asleep. Bart had been crying all night again; something he’s been doing since…since he lost his sister. He’s far too young to know what happened to her but sure he knows something’s wrong.
“…Barry…?”
Iris mutters my name and I lean up to her, placing a light kiss on her brow and wiping some stray hair out of her face.
“I’m just stopping by, hun. Get some sleep.”
I’ve seen so much hurt in her lately but she was the one who got back on her feet first. I never thought I’d lose in a race but I did; a race of recovery.
“Hey, son.” Jay says, approaching me with his usual warmth about him. “Holding up, okay?”
“Been better, Jay.”
“Well, you know what they say, Barry-- ”
In a blur of blue and brown, the color of shirt and vest, a chair appears behind me and Jay is back to standing before me, motioning to sit. I looked down at the seat with hesitance (sitting is definitely one of my least favorite things, right up there with dentist appointments and Olympic curling).
“-- talking it over is one of the best remedies.”
I give one last spiteful look at the chair before lowering myself onto it and then giving my attention back to Jay who has always sat down.
“Well, son?”
Son.
Jay’s always taken to calling me that and I’ve never really minded. But to hear that now, now that the only other man to call me that is gone, it’s not quite the same.
He continues to stare at me with a strangely patient raise of his eyebrow and I finally fess up to what has been continuing to weigh down on me lately.
“With everything that’s happened, with everything we’ve all been through, it’s just hard. Hard to protect people that have so much anger toward me, so much hate.”
“They’ve been convinced to think that way by Wolfe, Barry. That’s all. They’re looking at the negatives of what happened instead of the positives. You saved so many people that day but they don’t even acknowledge that.”
“I know but I think in this case, the negatives are outweighing the positives. Thawne just caused so much damage that-- “
“We’ve both been pushed to our limits by our opposites, Barry. You with Thawne and me with Clariss, remember? We both survived and have grown stronger because of it though and that’s the important thing. We don’t let them win.”
“You’re right, Jay. You’re right.”
My vision wanders to my feet and I suddenly feel very relieved to have let a lot of this out but at the same time, I feel worse. It’s odd but it’s as if everything Jay just said was coming from my father’s mouth. I always idolized Jay and I’ve told him that but still, I never realized just how big of a role he plays in my life.
No one can replace my dad but Jay, he’s pretty damn close.
BBBBRRRING. BBRRING.
The phone on the counter closeby rings and in a heartbeat, Jay is standing at the table, picking up the phone and putting it up to his ear.
“Hello?” Jay greets happily.
I watch my friend’s expression suddenly darken and he makes a very fast glance over at me, and then back at the table in front of him and for a moment, I could have sworn he was wishing that I hadn’t caught his eye.
“Yes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jay hangs up his phone and marches back to where I’m sitting, looking at the floor with each step he takes, avoiding my gaze. And suddenly, as quickly as his face had darkened before, it brightens, and a smile forms across his lips.
“Sorry, Barry but something just came up.” Jay tells me but I can see in his eyes that something is up. “Joan should be home soon with the groceries.”
I want to say something, to ask him what’s going on but in the end, I keep my mouth shut and simply nod while Jay jets away from his home. I could easily chase after him and find out what’s going on but like I said, in the end-- it’s not my business.
* * * * *
Governor Gregory Wolfe sat at his desk, his watch reading 2:58.
For the last hour, he had been mentally preparing himself for any kind of confrontation with the speedsters, taking into account dozens of different scenarios that may happen. He was unaware of why that had demanded a meeting with him in the first place and had only agreed to speaking with them if they excluded Barry Allen from the discussion.
Talking to The Flash was the last thing Wolfe had any intention of doing any time soon.
His phone-line beeped and he pressed the button, and Margaret’s voice spoke up through the receiver.
“Your guests have arrived, governor.”
“Thank you, Margaret. Send them in.”
Wolfe waits in silent anticipation, his expression cold and stern, his thoughts cycling through his multiple scenarios one last time when finally the door creaks open and three men step inside.
Jay Garrick, Johnny Chambers, and Max Mercury.
“Hello, gentlemen. I believe you wished to talk?”
* * * * *
James Jesse was all out of tricks.
The ultimate cat had been let out of the bag when he had taken the liberty to tell the whole wide world The Flash’s real name and now life was just-- no fun.
James stood in the middle of the pranks aisle of Cobalt Joke Shop, looking over the usual; whoopee cushions, itching powder, hand buzzers, and of course, fake poop. Paradise for James but an absolute joke to everyone else.
Nowadays however, these once cherished devices of his had lost all of their charm. They’d lost that brilliant glow that they used to shine. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, what he did to The Flash was definitely a huge part of it. He didn’t feel sorry. Guilt wasn’t exactly his thing but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t laugh quite as hard as he used to anymore.
James had lost his nerve-- and had sat on his last whoopee cushion.
Then, he heard a very foreign sound from outside.
Gunshots.
* * * * *
I guess just don’t have the attention span for television.
I flip through the channels faster than the TV can even keep up with, bored with the millisecond of each and everything I see. Too many of the same cop shows, too many hospital dramas, and wayyyy too many Disney Channel singers.
While I’m mindlessly going from channel to channel, I start to think about what just happened with Jay. Why had he been trying to hide something from me? Was it really so bad that he couldn’t confide in me like I’d just done with him? And after him telling me that talk is the best medicine, shouldn’t he have opened up a bit?
I shouldn’t be thinking like this.
Jay’s my friend.
He knows what’s best for him and for me.
Doesn’t he?
An image on the screen suddenly catches my attention and I’m staring at a live recording of some sort of shootout in downtown Central. I press the off button on the remote and then I’m on my feet, in costume, and already halfway to the scene by the time the TV screen has gone black.
I let my perception go free, with all of my surroundings transforming into misshapen blurs while I run. In mere moments, I’m at the shootout. When I arrive, I immediately kick my perception in the opposite direction, everything around me slowing to a halt.
There are a few bullets floating in mid-air and I rush to one that is en route to making contact with a police officer’s forehead. I carefully catch it in between my thumb and index finger, knowing that if I made even a small miscalculation, my finger could get shot off. My skin isn’t invulnerable, after all.
I do the same with the other bullets, carefully transporting a blond man out of the doorway of Cobalt Joke Shop and then take a bullet that is beginning to press into a rather attractive woman’s shoulder away. It takes me a relative two and half minutes(to everyone else, it’s less than seconds) to snatch the all of them out of the air. With the handful of bullets held tightly in my grasp, I move onto the gunmen. I zip past them, throwing a flurry of punches that knocks them out with ease. And I even take the time to tie them up because I’m just that nice of a guy.
I decelerate and find the group of patrolmen all looking up from behind their cruisers, surprise written on their faces. I wave to them, static still dissipating from my body while a crowd of people starts to form on the sidewalks, all stunned by what had just happened, and none of them looking all too happy about it.
I force a smile, hoping that maybe it’s just me who’s feeling a bit bleak but no one else has any sign of happiness on their faces.
“Oh so you’ll save these cops, huh? Why not all of the ones who died against those gorillas a while back? Or the ones who were killed by those nut jobs who attacked that hospital!?” One middle aged man in the crowd roared.
I have no answer for him but I can tell his feelings are definitely mutual with the other citizens’. I scan all of the faces, all of the spiteful and sad faces, each of their eyes coldly glaring into my very soul.
“Why even wear that mask anymore, Allen? It’s no secret anymore!” Shouted another.
I bite my lip while the mob start to scream at me now, each person seemingly fueling more and more rage off whoever was next to them.
I peer over at the police officers I rescued who are even adding their own support to the shouts.
“Yeah, we don’t want you here!”
I try to speak but my attempts are interrupted the moment I open my mouth.
“Go back to Keystone!”
“You going to get all of us killed, too!?”
I kick into speed mode and all of them freeze instantly when I open my eyes and examine all of them. Their faces red and their eyes alit with anger. I think I’ve even rescued some of these men and women before…but that really doesn’t seem to matter to them anymore.
I continue to look over all of their still bodies, locked in various poses from raising their fists at me to giving me the finger. I knew I was now not the most liked hero but this-- was unexpected to say the least.
And then--
I see something…haunting.
A young boy is standing in the crowd, his head only reaching the hip of the man next to him. He couldn’t be any older than five or six years old but his expression matches that of every adult around him. His eyes are big and his mouth open wide and tears are flooding down his cheeks in anger.
I can’t bear it anymore.
Ever since I’ve had this speed, I’ve run. I’ve run headfirst into battle, against the worst odds, against the most dangerous enemies.
But today, I do something I swore I’d never do with these abilities.
I run away.
* * * * *
James Jesse seemed to be the only one in the crowd who wasn’t completely taken aback by The Flash’s fast rescues and even quicker escape. It was all just second nature to him-- to all the of Rogues.
“Good riddance, I say! He causes more damage than good anyway!” A rather heavy balding man assured the crowd loudly. “Keystone’s got the right idea of kicking that bastard out!”
The people in the mob cheered in agreement-- everyone but James.
The Trickster reached into his coat pocket and felt the familiar grainy touch of itching powder. He casually walked by the chubby man and when he was within inches from the back of the man’s head, he put his hand up to his own face and let out a great big sneeze, the now almost invisible powder, spreading all over the back of the man’s head and clothing.
The yelling man turned around curiously, a bit of annoyance plastered on his face but James just greeted him with an embarrassed smile.
“Excuse me.”
* * * * *
The doors to Governor Wolfe’s office swung open and the three men all stepped out, all of them quiet and bearing grave expressions on their faces.
Despite their mood, Jay gave Margaret the secretary a tip of his metal hat when they pass by while Max and Johnny seemed to be too focused with their own thoughts to notice her. They left the building and immediately broke out into a sprint, three lines cutting across the landscape at incredible speeds.
As the three men ran shoulder to shoulder across Kansas, Jay finally broke the silence between them all.
“We’re doing the right thing, right?”
Max Mercury didn’t respond for a few seconds but then nodded grudgingly.
“I would prefer it if we were able to at least tell Barry what we’re doing. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Agreed. But there’s no other choice right now.” Johnny Chambers replied. “Wolfe said Barry can’t know about this because he’s compromised at the moment with everyone and anyone knowing his identity.”
“I’d like to believe Wolfe has Barry’s best interests at heart but let’s be honest with ourselves. Wolfe absolutely hates Barry-- “
“He hates us too.” Johnny interrupted.
“I know. But nothing even near to the level of resentment that he toward Barry. Excluding Barry from this has nothing to do with our friend being compromised. It’s just another small victory against Flash for Wolfe to cherish.” Jay said.
Max nodded slightly while he ran.
“Very true, Jay, though I’m going to have to agree with Johnny on this. We don’t have a much of a choice. Turning the people of Keystone against the speedsters was a huge gambit for Wolfe. Not having any of us there to protect the city leaves it open to a surge of criminal activities. But the governor, as much as I don’t like him, is not stupid. He knew this would happen. And he knew we’d be forced to strike a deal with him in order for us to operate there.”
“So, it was all just a ploy to get us on a leash?” Johnny questioned, looking both flustered and mad.
“Precisely.”
“Well, it looks like his plan worked then…” Johnny said, a frown twisting onto his masked face.
Jay and Max looked over to each other and then Jay exhaled a deep breath.
“I guess so.”
* * * * *
“Where the hell’s McCulloch run off to?”
The Rogues, sans Mirror Master, all sat around a small table, cards held in their hands and spread out in front of them.
“Said he had something to pick up.” Said Heatwave to which the others all looked at him uncertainly. “Didn’t give me any specifics.”
As if on cue, the bathroom, which was only a short distance away, lit up and Evan McCulloch emerged from the mirror with a mysterious figure in tow.
“I told ye it wouldn’t be too bad of a trip. And ye didn’ believe me.”
Captain Cold peered from behind his strange looking shades, his hand of cards still clutched in his grasp, as Mirror Master stepped in with his guest. Weather Wizard and Captain Boomerang seemed on edge once they noticed the stranger in the room, each reaching for their respective weapons while Heatwave couldn’t seem to care less, staring intently at the lit candle at the center of their table.
“Hey, lads.” Mirror Master greeted while the new man walked closely on his side. “You how we’ve been talkin’ about Candyman buildin’ up his own forces. Well, I got to thinkin’ and I thought maybe we could start building up our own so I-- “
“Who’s your friend?”
Cold’s voice echoed through the room, his breath clearly visible from beneath his parka hood. The room fell dead silent and even Heatwave’s attention was drawn back to the conversation. Mirror Master seemed to be at a loss for words for a brief moment before regaining his thoughts.
“Right, to help us with this whol’ Candyman situation, I picked up this champ right here from one of those mirror dimensions. Lad, introduce yerself.”
The man stepped up.
His entire face was hidden by a plain gray mask of cloth which had a crescent shaped piece of metal near his forehead. He wore thick layers of body armor, all different shades of blue, with a navy sleeveless trench coat draped over his shoulders. The man’s belt was lined with multiple different types of grenades and pistols while he carried an M-16 in his fingers, perching it up against his shoulder with his right hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you Rogues. I’ve heard you’re all pretty good. But I also have heard you’ve got a problem to deal with. And if you have a problem that needs sorting…I’m just the guy to fix it.”
There was a smugness about the man, something Cold couldn’t quite place. And that voice-- there was something oddly familiar.
“You can call me Plunder.”
* * * * *
A chill passes through the soles of my golden boots while I dash across the Atlantic, desperately hoping to just get away from it all.
Why do I even protect these people?
They’re too caught up in looking for someone to throw under the bus, that they’ve lost all common sense. This whole anti-Flash movement is spreading like a plague and its’ really starting to tick me off.
Don’t they realize that I may be the Fastest Man Alive but I’m still-- just one man.
I hear the doorbell ring and before I finish my next thought, I’m at the door. I could easily open the door, check who it is and see if it’s someone I wish to talk to before they even have a chance to blink, but sometimes I just prefer to do things the good old fashioned way.
I put my fingers on the cool metal of the doorknob and then slowly, I twist it open and what I see is something that makes both my body and mind come to a complete stop.
The man who destroyed my secret identity.
James Jesse.
The Trickster.
Standing on my porch.
“Hiyah, Flasher. Bygones?”