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Faux DC presents

The Adventures of Wally West, The Fastest Man Alive

#10
Chasing Shadows Pt. 2

by Jonah Rite

My name is Wally West. I'm the Flash. The fastest man alive.

The thought doesn't give me much comfort. Not many things will when you're just one step ahead of a lightspeed aneurysm. It's the frustration. I'm a super hero by nature. Born and raised. I like to do things and solve problems. See a problem, fix it. That's me. I don't do frustration.

A few weeks from now I'm probably going to look back on this and think "Hm, that's interesting." Because it is interesting. It's interesting that right now, sitting as I am on top of a huge crisis that is about to completely knock me on my butt, it's the tiniest frustrations that get to me the most.

Right now, I'm kind of in Keystone City. Kind of. Keystone City is my home and it's the place I've lived for so many years that I know it like the back of my hand. I'm intimately familiar with every street, alley, and subway, because I've run it a million times. I'm it's protector and guardian and as such, my shiny yellow boots have stepped over every inch of this city in the name of keeping it safe. I could run it blind, and would if I weren't afraid of exploding pedestrians. It's that familiarity that's killing me right now.

I'm only kind of in Keystone City. A Keystone. Not mine. I've had a very, very rough past couple of weeks. No slowing down, no breathers... it should be natural to me, but it's not. Every new twist or turn has been piled on top of the next. Crazily enough, it started in a boat with my girlfriend. Linda was abducted and I was forced to play ping-pong with the demon Neron in the Realm of Death for her soul. Whatever, right? But the fun didn't stop there. As soon as I blinked I'd been transported to some other dimension where I met a guy named The Zep, who claimed to be the Speed Force, the energy that struck me like a lightning bolt, giving me my powers and making me the Flash. The kicker was, though, that he said he wasn't my Speed Force. So not only is the energy that gives speedsters their speed a person, it's people! And that's if I wasn't just having some insane dream caused by some... bad Taco Bell-trip, or something.

Then I was home. Back on my Earth. For all of, about ten seconds. Long enough for me to realize my speed powers were almost completely gone, help get my friends, the Titans, out of a jam with Brother Blood, and catch the Hawkman/Hawkwoman wedding. Then, with the help of my friends Jay Garrick and Dr. Fate, I got my speed back. They hooked me up to a machine and told me to run, and now...

*Huff...huff... Carefully recounting (wheeze...) the events of FDC's The Flash #1-9 and New Titans #132-135

I'm knee deep in the mess of a lifetime.

Somehow I've been transferred to an alternate reality. An almost symmetrical mirror-version of my own. The only difference is, upon arrival, I've discovered a small outbreak of a drug called Zoom, bearing the emblem of one of my most dangerous foes, Dr. Eobard Thawne, Professor Zoom. Who is supposed to be dead. This drug gives its user super speed akin to my own, with a few big drawbacks. Drawbacks like heightened aggression and a sudden, painful dying effect occurring soon after injection.

I'm in the middle of a threat and I'm very, very far from home, with very few leads to go on. Luckily, the one I do have is one of the most obvious. The keyword in my current location is mirror-reality. Mirror. And where there be mirrors, there must also be the Mirror Master.

Alternate reality. Superspeed drug. Two supervillains, one apparently not to comfortable with his grave situation...

And what is it that really gets to me about it all? The fact that on this side of the universe, my lefts and rights are completely backwards! I scan the street signs as I beat the street, racing for Keystone Police HQ. I take a right on Hollywood and zip down to the corner of Fifth and Avatea, where I stop, scaring the hell out of some poor, black guy in a suit, innocently reading his paper. He spills his coffee, no doubt shocked by the out-of-the-blue appearance of a red-and-gold garbed man stopping dead center next to a street post, just to curse and slap himself in the face, before disappearing, hurtling off in the opposite direction.

I've had to stop some fifty times to get my bearings.

I fly down the streets before glancing at another street sign and stopping completely, right in the middle of an intersection. Traffic surges and upsets around me, and some terrified dog barks at me, but all I can do is beat my fist against the air and mutter, for the hundredth time...

"Right is left and left is right. Right is left and left is right."

Then I disappear again.

Finally, I arrive at my destination. Police HQ. A somewhat tall building in the middle of town, it's a dull gray-blue color, sticking up out of the ground right across from the library, the fire department, and a Kinko's. I need information on this universe's Mirror Master, and the fastest way I'm going to get it is here.

But not by asking.

If there's any more of that speed drug than what I found, then it's going to blow up somewhere soon and I need answers now. Warm air-conditioning assaults my body as I push through the glass doors and enter the front lobby. Cops, clerks, and random people plod along, doing their work, completely oblivious to me. It's one of my most useful tricks. I vibrate my body at super speed, accelerating my molecules to fast for anyone to see me. I'm a ghost now. A blur that they think they notice out of the corner of their eye. Just a passing breeze.

I blow on through another set of doors, making my way to the stairwell. Generally important things are not on the first floor. It's a stupid rule I've picked up, but it works often enough. I dodge and weave through underpaid civil servants on my way up to the second floor.

I've nearly become a master at this. Sometimes I've slipped and people see me but

today... as I sidestep cops and poke my invisible head through doors, no one gives my intrusion any notice.

Office. No.

Office. No.

Conference room. No.

Janitor's closet. No. Should've read the sign on the door.

I run through another door. 3rd floor. Nicer carpeting than the one below.

Office. No.

Another conference room. No.

Locked room with a bunch of file-cabinets. Perfect.

I need the criminal records for Evan McCulloch and although it would likely be much easier to sit down at a computer terminal in an empty office, I don't have time to track down all of the fifty passwords and I.D. numbers I'd probably have to enter in. However, considering how many zit-faced, megalomaniac fifteen year-olds there are out there, ready to crash the world's systems with computer viruses, every important piece of information on a computer has to also be in a hard copy.

I vibrate my way through the door and search the dark room for a light. Finding a chain from the ceiling, I click it on and check out my surrounds. Rows upon rows of file cabinets, all packed into one cramped little room. The dust tells me this place hasn't been cleaned or even visited for a while. Good. I relax with the whole hyper-vibration thing and lean against the wall for a second, enjoying the respite. I use the trick a lot, but I can't do it for very long unless I have to. It takes a lot out of you. I try the first cabinet. Locked.

I reach my hand out to apply another of my favorite tricks. I spread my red fingers out like jazz-hands, placing my palm over the lock on the cabinets. Then I vibrate my hand at super speed, jiggling the lock mechanism until it pops open. I do the same for every cabinet in the room. Now, the fun part.

I pull open every drawer and start to go through the stacks of manila folders.

Abernathy. Bransman. Caldwell.... no.

Guermos. Guinness. Hall... no.

Ah, there it is.

Evan McCulloch. Alias: The Mirror Master. Base of Operations: Keystone City, Global. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Blue. Status:

....Deceased?

My name's Bart Allen, Impulse. The fastest man alive.

Wally would tell you he is, but don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Has he ever raced me? Ever clocked his speeds? Noooooo... but I guess when you wear the Flash costume and you come up with a cool moniker, that's the final word. P-sheah, right... Some people.

Wally's not my favorite person in the world. That's why it's kind of funny that right now, when I really, really need to find him, he's nowhere in sight. I squint to keep the daytime sun out of my eyes as I streak through the back lots of Keystone City. The wind that travels behind me, licking at my body, knocks off pedestrian's hats as it trails behind me. Most of them are to surprised to even register it until a few moments later. I'm nothing more than a red and white bolt of lightning to their eyes.

I got here this morning after I found a web report on Yahoo! Police in Keystone just discovered some kind of super-speed inducing chemical called Zoom. I guess it kills it's users, so there's no way to track it, trace it, or learn anything at all about it. Now that they're sure this stuff is out there though, they've attributed it to a string of rapidly-growing deaths over the course of the past two weeks. I don't really know. I printed off the article and gave it to Max once I got bored. He figured the Flash would need our help containing this. No, duh...

I'm kind of scared though. I recognize the name and the logo attached to the bottle. Professor Zoom, the Reverse-Flash. One of my grandpa, Barry Allen's, most dangerous enemies. We have no idea how far this thing reaches, but if the Professor's attached, it's probably big.

And Wally West is absolutely nowhere!

At the furthest corner of my vision, Keystone City High School rests, surrounded by a large park. Bright green trees decorate the front so well that you barely even notice all the discarded coffee cups and soda bottles. The building's tall, about two or three floors, with this sandy-yellow color to it. It looks nice, like just about everything else in Keystone. I snuff out some joints that two stoners with black fingernails were smoking as I pass. Losers. Actually, the girl was kind of hot, but she looked like she could eat me.

Could Wally be at the school for some reason? Sure, why not? I've tried everywhere else.

Actually, no I didn't. I split it up with Max. He was supposed to cover the libraries and observatory and stuff. Whatever. Like anything huge is going to happen there.

I circle around behind to the athletic field, and it's a whole ten seconds before I notice something is up.

Some tall kid is zipping around the track really fast. I assume he's the star athlete-guy. Then I notice that he's going a little too fast. And throwing off sparks as he does so. Thirteen laps in the time it takes most people to breathe. I try to move in closer for a better look and I'm sorry I did. The kid looks seriously messed up. He's really tall and skinny, with some heavy Asian features. But his body is drenched in sweat, every muscle on his body is taught, sick little veins poking out everywhere... it's gross.

But what's worst is the wild look in his eyes. I've seen it on one or two kids as the school cop busts them doing drugs behind the bleachers. He doesn't even know where he is.

Some old coach in little shorts hustles up to him with a concerned look on his face. He has no idea what's going on, so I jerk, ready to stop him at a moment's notice. But I never get the moment. The kids twitches and moves so fast that even I barely register it. Before anyone knows what's happening the coach is lying a few feet away, clutching at his chest.

No! I can't believe I missed that! Stupid! God only knows if that old guy can handle a hit like that. I should check to make sure he's okay, but I can't. I need to make sure this kid is put down. Maybe I can help both of them, if I'm lucky.

My feet press against the ground and I move like nothing, zipping through the crowd of confused teenagers, desperately locked onto my target. But he see's me coming. The second I'm on him, he freaks out, reaching out with a backhand traced in red lightning bolts. The air sizzles and cracks, searing my face, but I dodge it. But I can't dodge the other fist following behind and pounding into my back, like a bullet train to the kidney. I keel over, hacking and coughing as I desperately try to blink away the pain.

At that moment, I finally, officially reveal myself to the kids around me. They stare, shocked. One points his finger. "Hey! That's Impulse!"

The recognition doesn't help my bride at all as a fist comes barreling down on the back of my head. For a few seconds all I see is stars, until I look up, and the kid is standing on top of me, looking even worse than before with the blood drained completely from his face as he grits his teeth. He tightens his fist and I realize that whoever this kid is, right now, he would like nothing more than to kill me.

Which is why I feel really, insanely good about kicking out my legs in a swinging arc, and sweeping him right out from beneath himself as I smash his calves with a low roundhouse. Robin taught me that one. He collapses on the ground, all the air leaving his body. And it sounds really painful. The crowd of kids start to move in on me, but I motion them back.

"Stay away! And someone check on that coach!," I yell, gesturing as hard as I can to the guy groaning on the ground.

I turn back to the kid, ready to renew the fight. To my surprise, he doesn't look interested. He's lying on the ground, completely rigid. Little specks of drool dot his lips and his eyes are wide and dilated, staring straight up past me to the blue sky.

His body jerks as he tries to speak. "*Kkkk....Impulse.... Sorry, I'm.... s-so s-orry..."

Oh my god. I don't know how to deal with this.

I get down on my knees next to him and try to push on his shoulders to keep him down. He spasms underneath my grasp. "Shhh... hey, uh.... it's fine. Everything's fine, okay. I'll get you to a hospital-"

His eyes search the sky, trying to focus in on my voice. "Mr. Rulogh. Is h-h...he okay?"

I glance back over my shoulder. "What? Him? Yeah, he's fine. Don't worry about it. What happened to you?"

He coughs loudly and I struggle as he spasms once, worse than before. "Zoom... I took some Zoom. Was just curious. Told me it could help my-my game."

Oh, man. This stuff is heavy. "Alright, just rest. I'm going to run you to a hospital."

"No! Don't bother. Just make sure Mr. Rulogh's okay.... God, I didn't mean to hit him, I.... I don't have that long anyway, I think. I heard this s-stuff makes you expire really fast. Stup-Stupid. Took it anyway."

"Look, who gave it to you? Maybe I can help stop this from getting out to other kids."

He makes this sound like he's trying to laugh, but it just turns into a fit of jerks and spasms. "Too late. It's already out of the b-bag. My friend, Jake gave it to me. But he got it from his friend. And that friend got it from a dealer who's been coming by the school. Stuff's so cheap, they're practically giving it away. Half of the school's got some by now. And I don't even know about outside of school..."

That's when it hits me. This stuff's been around Keystone for weeks now. Most people have been sitting on their hands about it. But it's dangerous. It's a powder keg and someone's already lit the match.

"Just... just.... I-," he tries to speak, but his arms start flailing wildly and I can't hold him down anymore. He jerks and kicks as his eyes go off center and his muscles pulse wildly. Finally, I hear a slight, muted pop from within his chest and his whole body slackens. I wait a few minutes to be sure, then I stand up, and let the head role back onto the grass.

Oh, my God. I'm in way over my head here.

Where's Wally?

Keystone City starts at the intersection between North Junction and I-42. Tourists and natives alike are greeted every day by "Welcome to Keystone City, Home of the Flash" sign that sticks up out of the green grown. It's got a nice picture of my uncle, in the original costume, with a big, goofy grin on his face inviting everyone to his home. Most of the times I come here, I like it. I like anything that reminds me I'm protecting the same home my uncle did.

But right now, it's a different kind of reminder. The kind that sticks in my gut and won't let go. A lightning bolt struck Barry Allen as a young man, making him incredibly fast, faster than anyone. His powers are what separated him from being just an average guy, though. They weren't the only thing that made him the Flash, but it's true that he couldn't have been the same hero without them.

A long time ago, I found out that all speedsters had the ability to tap into the "Speed Force." I still can't really explain it. It's just supposed to be some powerful force, like gravity or electricity, that reaches out and empowers champions with the ability to move faster than the world around them. It chose me. It chose Barry before me.

I think… I mean, I've never really been sure on what it is, I've just kind of… accepted it. I've had to act on a kind of reverse-where, where I get to see it, touch it, taste it, and experience, but I still have no idea what it is or wants. Or if it wants.

That's the problem. I've used the Speed Force for so long… it's a part of me. I trust it. I believe in it. I believe I had a part to play in destiny and that bolt of lightning which gave me my powers was the catalyst that made me who I am. The Flash. I believe in the Speed Force, to some extent. I trust it. But if it can be used to lace a simple drug. If it can be manufactured, mass-produced, and sold like cheap Japanese toys to pushers, addicts, and kids…

I've got two options. I don't like either, but at least one I can accept. My first fear is that it's all just arbitrary. The Speed Force is just random, natural occurrences. I inherited the Flash legacy by chance, not divine intervention. The thought saddens me, but it's something I can get past. I know that I'm the Flash now, and that's all that matters.

My second fear is worse though. Maybe the Speed Force really is a malevolent entity, like I assumed before. But it's not the good kind. If the Force can be used to addict, empower, and then burn people out, then this thing I've put all my trust in, which gave me the powers that I base my identity on… is manipulating me. Maybe there is some great purpose to all the speedsters being granted their powers… and it's not a good thing. How am I supposed to know?

It's funny. Sometimes, in my life especially, it seems like the longer the moment of introspective silence lasts, the greater the pain of the shock that follow soon after, just to mess you up…

What I mean is… one minute I'm looking at the smiling face of this city's original defender, and the next, I'm face down in the dirt with a wringing headache, and my favorite sign has a big hole in it.

What a pleasant surprise. I couldn't track down the man responsible for all this, so he found me.

Standing above me is a thin, wiry figured garbed a gold, chrome costume. Lightning-bolt patterns the color of red blood wrap around his calves and forearms. A red streak of lightning pierces a black circle on his chest. And a long, thin smile cuts across his face. Professor Zoom has arrived.

I roll onto my back, my brain still pounding in my skull from the punch he just delivered to me.

"Eobard, you're dead. Did someone forget to tell you?"

He cocks his head at an awkward angle and smiles even wider. "No… nononono... Not Eobard Thawne. Thawne was a hack. He didn't have the stones it took to kill the Flash. I'm the new guy. The new Professor Zoom. And I'm going to use you to make a name for myself, Wallace West. You and all the other you's."

"Am I supposed to know you?"

"We've met," he teases as he licks lips. Then a red boot reaches up and I feel his swift kick to my stomach. My whole body tingles as the air escapes my body. It hurts.

He gets in a good two more before I can comprehend what's hitting me. I roll and try to grab at his ankle but it's gone. Like it was never there in the first place. Way faster than I expected. I roll again and push myself to my feet. This new Zoom got the drop on me, and he's already gained more of an advantage than I would like. I just need to create some breathing room and then I'm ready to go.

My muscles tighten like springs and I shoot off. I don't even feel the wind as it brushes over my face and I don't look back to check on Zoom. I just need space. My feet pound the ground madly as I race forward, watching the green valley expose itself before me. Once I'm sure I must be a few miles away I crane my neck to look behind me. And there, hot on my heels, is Zoom. He matches my pace, beat for beat, following completely in my footsteps. At one point I image I can feel his breath on my back.

We both hear the wind crack as I twist on a dime, trying to manipulate his velocity and close line him. It's a technique that I've used before on super-speed foes. Most, once they start running, let it go, and don't have the sense to stop. I've fought enough of such foes that I've pretty much mastered the ins and outs of fighting with them. By simple probability alone, I should be sending this guy flying. Instead he ducks under my arm, continues on his path unobstructed, and just grabs me along for the ride. He picks me up in firm, wiry arms and flips me into the ground before us. When I open my eyes again, my descent has made a big, smoking crater in the dirt.

I try to kick my legs up, but in a second I feel a weight on my chest, and I realize it's him. All I can see is gold flashes as he pushes down on me with his knee and delivers punch after punch to my neck, face, and chest. I raise up my arms at a feeble attempt to block, but he bats them away in mid-punch, as though he had an extra set of arms or something.

"That's it. Just lay down and die little Flash," he taunts as he rains punches on my body. "I couldn't get their respect when I was playing their little game, but now... When I hold them down like you and beat the life out of them. That look in their eyes will be the same as yours. Fear, loathing.... and respect. There'll be no more Flashman to laugh at now! Now I'm Zoom! Professor Zoom! The Reverse-Flash, and..."

His words trail off and blurr in my mind as my senses grown dull. I can't even see his face anymore. All I can feel are the constant, constant attacks on my face, and the moving and crunching of things within. I feel something wet on my lip and assume it's blood. All I can see now is random pattern of colors. Red...Black....Gold....Black.... Gold....Gold... Red, again, then black... And no matter how much I try to fight it, I just feel slow. My senses are dull and dragging, like quicksand.

His voice is a low buzz when I notice that it's stopped. I feel the weight lift from my chest and a cool breeze stinging my face. I should check it out, but I'm too tired... and besides, I'm probably dead already anyway. I let my eyes shut all the way and relax...

And when I wake, I'm propped up against a tree, with some kid waving his hands in front of my face. My eyes roll under their own power and I have to blink a few times to right them.... Oh, no.... Not "some kid." Impulse. This world's Impulse.

I can't believe Bart saved me. If this gets out...

"Hey, man! You awake, or what? Because we can't wait for you to sleep this long. I mean, we've got big trouble. I mean really big trouble. I mean, I thought it was just the drugs- do you know about the drugs yet?- but I guess Zoom's involved too since I just knocked him off of you. I mean, I knew Zoom was involved already, actuallyitwasMaxthatdidn'tbelelieveme..."

Everyone of his non-Ritalin tempered words beats against me like a hammer. I really don't need this on top of a headache. "Wait! Wait, Bart, hold on. Now, did you say you knocked Zoom off of me?"

"Yeah, he's right over...," he starts, gesturing to a spot a few feet away. An empty green spot. "...there. Shoot."

"What are you doing here, Bart?"

"I'm here with Max to help you out. This Zoom-drug thing is about to get really ugly."

I nod, and let him hoist me up.

"We'd better get moving then."

I'm getting too old. Too sentimental.

It makes sense, as I've been alive longer than most senior-citizens. Although, I'm proud to say I'm in such good shape that you probably wouldn't be able to tell. It's my values. My perceptions. When I look around at the debilitating effects of the "Zoom" drug outbreak, all I see is perversion. I don't like drugs, or society's acceptance of them. I think they encourage people not to deal with life. But what's worse is the perversion of the Speed Force.

As the crime fighter, Max Mercury, the Speed Force has allowed me to bounce back and forth through time. From the old west, to World War II, to today... always with a purpose. Always with a mission. Or so I've believed. But people shooting it up just to get a high... using it for their personal pleasure. It makes me sick. Something so sacred being so... abused.

I just got down Merrs Street in time to see chaos erupt. People are running, hiding, and screaming all the way. Bullet holes are everywhere. The glass is shot out looking into Mell's coffee, which looks like it got hit by a bomb. I like Mell's coffee. I go to drink there whenever I'm in town and I get the chance.

I had to stop for a moment to take it all. I need to process information so that I can better react to it. It keeps me from making mistakes, as I'm not as fast as Wally. All around me, two rivals gangs (gangs color-coordinate themselves for ease... I love that) have taken up positions behind abandoned cars, corners, whatever they can find... and are shooting at each other. I estimate at least twenty men. Early twenties or less.

But the only difference between this and your average, every day gang scrimmage? The punks are throwing off sparks as they run. And they're running. Very fast. This is exactly what I feared when Bart read me the report this morning. A violent outbreak exaggerated by Zoom.

A poorly aimed bullet zips by my head and I take off like a light, running as fast as I can down the street. Two small children are hiding behind a green dumpster, right in the middle of the war zone as I run by. I pick them up by them hem of their shirts, mentally apologizing because I can't be more gentle. Their eyes blink in confusion as I cradle their bodies against me. Their a bit older, making us a bit more heavy. I just hope to God I can get them far enough in time.

I deposit the kids behind a line of yellow police tape with an officer who is trying to keep the crowd under control until back-up arrives. A woman... I'm guessing their mother, runs up to hug them as they look around, bleary eyed. It's nice. I wish I could stay longer.

But with one, solid push I'm back in the action. Scanning the scene around me, a plan starts to develop on it's own. Of all the twenty guys, at least five are staying stationary, preffering to just shoot at each other from behind some makeshift barricades. Lord... trench warfare. You can run light years away from World War II and it's all still basically the same.

I make a mad dash, desperate to pick up a large amount of velocity in a short amount of time. I want to pick off the non-moving targets first, to make my life easier, but this trick has to be precise. Breathe deep... focus... control...

I stretch my legs as far as they'll go to make the high jump over a tilted, green Chevy. My target is poking his head out the passenger side window, popping off bullets from a black Tec-9 shotgun. He yelps in fear as I pull him out by the scruff of his neck, dragging him the ground with me. The world moves in slow motion as we both hit the ground. I land with practiced grace, bending my knees to provide a strong spring for myself. He lands with a thud.

I close my eyes just long enough so that I can hear everything that's going on. Two bullets pop as they're fired in my direction, and a machine gun pigeonholes some masonry in the background. Glass is crashing. Sirens howl, but they're very, very far away. I open my eyes and twist my body, letting the spring carry me up into the air again. I twist, doing a perfect one-eighty in the air, and I get just high enough to land solidly on the hood of the other car. I grab one man's shooting hand and give it a pleasant twists as I kick the other in the face. One yells. One yells and falls. I follow them to the ground, punching each in the head, doing my best the knock them unconscious. The last two leap out from above me.

I reach out my arm and deck one, soundly on the chin as he's descended. Four down. Then the last one turns on the speed. He lands far enough away from him that I can't touch him and we square off, eyes locked. I crack first. It takes on blink, and I feel a crushing fist against my jaw, and then cold, screaming air as I fly off of my feet. My masked head shakes the cobwebs away as I pull myself out of a huge dent in the hood of the car.

His face jewelry jangles, and glints off the sun as he jumps on top of me. I can see him begin to vibrate his hand at super speed, warming up for a killer bunch. Neat trick. One that most speedsters take a while to learn. What he hasn't learned though, is that he needs to cover himself. I rock upwards and his eyes go wide as two legs kick out and nail him in the pit of his stomach.

Enjoy.

I hear a rush of wind and throw myself from the car as fast as I can. The sound of a deafening crash my ears and I turn to find one of the rookie speedsters sprawled out in a crevice in the middle of the car, unable to stop himself. Two more or rushing at me just the same however. I dodge to the side, but not quick enough. A tight fist lances out and strikes me in the ribs. I grab two kids in a headlock, trying to buy time, but I know that I don't have much to work with.

"Hey! Hey, It's the Flash-guy," a gunman shouts, waving over his gang-buddies towards my direction. "Max Mercury!"

I take two fists each on either side of my stomach before letting the two kids go. One swings the butt of his gun, aiming for my head, but a precisely placed chop to the elbow stops that and relieves him of his weapon. I stand and launch and uppercut into the kid's face, but then I feel boots connect with my back and I crumble, along with the unconscious gang member I was holding.

The other kids with the boots whips around me in a tornado, chopping, bunching, and kicking, all in the same area. Up and down my back. I fall to the ground, defeated every time I try to stand. This one knows how to hurt people. My eyes search crazily, longing for an opening. But all I can see is members of both of the gangs converging on me in a frenzy of wind and lightning.

I hear another shot, watch the gun flash bright yellow, and then my thigh explodes. They did it. One of these druggies actually managed to shoot me.

"AIGH!"

I close my eyes, focusing only on the pain. Trying to push it down. Submerge it.

That's why I miss all the action. I hear five subsequent shots. All from further above me. There's one long, loud "whoosh" and I hear a lot of impact, cracking, and shattering. Some of it sounds like scenery being destroyed. Some of it sounds like people. When I open my eyes, five of the nearest gangsters are dead, with gaping bullets wounds in some part of their bodies. The rest of the gang-members are scattered around them, pretty beaten up.

I'm hoisted to my feet by a black guy in red shades. As my addled head looks around at my saviors, it looks like they're all dressed the same. Four other guys. One woman. All in impeccable black suits, white shirts, and yellow ties, with the black and red Professor Zoom insignia. Red or black shades on all except the girl.

The man behind me puts me in a headlock, and a short man with beard reached out and punches me in the stomach. Using super speed. At about this time, I decide these people aren't really my saviors.

One of the suits pulls a gun and points it at a terrified woman holding a news camera. I try to move, but they jerk my arm. It doesn't matter. Between my beaten head and the missing chunk in my leg, I'm no good to anybody. I close my eyes in anticipation as the butt of a gun slaps across the side of my head.

It takes a good, solid minute for the world to fade to black.

"...*Crackle*- This is Sheila Sanders from KCN news, Channel 15. It... it appears that I've been taken hostage to provide a special message for the leader of a group calling themselves "The Speed Force." These people have just broken up an outbreak of gang-violence in downtown Keystone, that seems to be linked to the spread of the Zoom, speed-enhancing drug epidemic. It's unsure how many our dead-"

"Shut up!," a man in red shades with a gun yells. A scared blonde reporter, ducks her head and the camera points up at the man. "You're not here to report. We just want to make a message."

"This, Keystone City, is Max Mercury..."

As he says this, the camera points down at an unconsious man with a battered face, garbed in a white and blue costume. "He's one of your lauded protectors. And look how easy it was to break him. But he's not the one we want. We want your hero, The Flash. We'll let this pathetic old man live if you give him to us. If the Flash is not delivered here at this square to the Speed Force, then this man dies, and the unleashing of the Zoom drug onto your city will get ten times worse. No money. No games. Bring us the Flash."

The screen crackles again and turns into gray fuzz. On his couch at his home on the outskirts of Keystone City, Jay Garrick, the original Flash, shakes his head and turns off the blaring TV. He's very afraid.

"Time to rally the troops, then..."

Speed Reading

Well, here it is. It took me a long time to write it and get it out to you guys, but now that the issue is finished and sitting in front of your computer-screen at home, I'm proud to call myself the writer of The Flash for the next twelve issues. I hope everyone reading can enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it, because The Flash is one of my favorite characters. A staple in DC lore, the character is one of the best examples of pure superhero out there, and I really want to show that in my writing. I've loved reading and researching the FDC run of the title by the three different, but talented writer's who've handled it. I'm planning to incorporate a little of everything from their three runs in the conclusion to the four part "Chasing Shadows," and after that?… The name of the game is fun. Prepare to see new characters, new villains, and, hopefully, a lot of examples of my love for this character. So if you enjoy this at all, or (and this is just as good) you can't stand it, drop me a line at jonah_rite@hotmail.com. I'd love to hear even the shortest of praise, comments, or criticisms. And if you don't feel like having your voice heard, that's fine… I guess I'll just have to marry Wally West and Gorilla Grodd with impunity, and pretend everyone is enjoying it. Ah, the evils of power…

With that, have fun, stay cool, and I'll be back…

Peace,

Jonah Rite

P.S. If you're bored and need more FDC-style entertainment, there's a title called The Spectre somewhere around here that you may enjoy