I remember when I was a kid playing with an Erector Set during one of my many trips over to Aunt Iris' house. Uncle Barry walked in from a day of working in the police lab, and his face said it all - he was tired to the bone.

But I was just a little kid, and I didn't understand how an office job could drain the living daylights out of you. And, I didn't know about Uncle Barry being The Flash yet, and I didn't know how THAT job could sap your strength, too.

So, I looked into his tired face, and smiled. He smiled back. I asked him if he wanted to help me build a walking robot with the Erector Set.

Uncle Barry smiled (one of his weaker smiles, I now realize) and said "I think I've had enough of playing with robots for one day," and headed to his bedroom.

Aunt Iris told me that Uncle Barry just needed to rest after his hard day at work, that there would be plenty of time for him to play with me later.

Funny the things you remember when you're running for your life.

Right now, I've got a nine foot tall robot called "Amazo" chasing after me at about 270 miles per hour. He's matching me step for step, and if he catches me, well, let's just say I don't like my chances.

Faux DC presents
The Adventures of Wally West - The Fastest Man Alive


Issue Six:
"Me... and My Shadow"
Plot by Clay Arceneaux
Script by NEW Ongoing Writer, Doc

My new running suit glows bright red as I run,* and strangely enough, I see that Amazo is glowing red, too. On a hunch, I slow down to about 200 mph. Amazo does the same thing.

*see last issue for details.

Then the new suit goes haywire again, and I'm boosted up to 315 mph. The unexpected acceleration catches me off guard, and I feel some whiplash pain shoot across my lower back. The Amazo robot takes no time making the adjustment, and keeps up with me at 315 - 340 - 375 - 390 mph.

I take a 45 degree turn and head north. The robot should have a tough time with that maneuver, but I turn my head, and there he is, matching me stride for stride.

The robot doesn't speak. He doesn't change facial expressions, either. In fact, he isn't even looking at me - he's just running alongside me, almost as if...

... almost as if he's trying to gauge the limits of my speed.

I stop on a dime as I reach 415 mph, and utter a silent "thank you" that the suit doesn't do anything to make me land on my face.

I glance over.
Amazo has come to a stop, also. I hear the turbines and computer clicks in his body slowing down. I guess the robot is cooling off. He's not glowing red anymore, and one glance at my black-gloved hand tells me I'm not glowing anymore, either.

We stare at each other like gunfighters in some old Western, waiting for the other to twitch and make the first move.

I don't get it. This robot has fought Superman to nearly a standstill... given my problems with my speed, this thing should be ready to eat my lunch. What is it waiting for?

Amazo opens its mouth, and words come out. Like most "speaking" robots I've seen, the lip-synch is way off, and they come across like poorly-dubbed Japanese action movies.

"Amazo:Target/Flash/--replaced. Replacement/chromatics differ/--textiles altered. Analyze symbols/Egyptian/recording/--saved. Downloading."

What's this all about? An Amazo robot usually comes with an overbearing, braggart personality, not this - this - computer speak. And normally, he'd be trying to crush my skull, not wasting time trying to check out my new uniform.

I decide to take the battle to him, and cold-sprint a right fist at 475 mph into - no, THROUGH - his jaw.

It went right through him, as though he were air!

I counter with a 420 mph gutbuster to his midsection. Again, it makes no contact, and the effort nearly causes me to lose balance.

More words from the robot: "Amazo:Structural illusion/:compromised/download status:complete/course of action/--shutdown."

And then, right before my eyes, Amazo disappears - like I'm shutting off the television, his image condenses to a small point of light and fades away.

I spin like a drunken top for a few seconds, making sure he doesn't come back right behind me and drop me with a haymaker. After a few moments, I'm satisfied and head back to the bank Amazo was breaking into at a leisurely 90 mph, not wanting to tempt fate with the suit, but not quite sure how to keep it from suddenly accelerating again, either.

I look around, and lap the bank several times.

Nothing.

No damage to the bank wall, no bricks strewn every which way, no big hole in the side of the bank with lots of smoke coming out of it - nothing out of place at all.

I stand on the sidewalk and scratch my head. What is going on around here, and why do parts of this seem so familiar?

Familiar....

I walk up to the glass door of the bank. I see my own reflection, and look up and down the new suit. Aha! There it is!

I peel a quarter-sized disk off the back of my left boot. It's some type of sophisticated electronic gizmo, all right. As if reading my thoughts, I hear a voice transmit through the slots on the front:

"Well, well, looks like your running isn't the only thing that's slowed, West. I thought you'd have found this by now."

I know the voice, and suddenly it all clicks. Why I couldn't outrun Amazo, and why he wouldn't outrun me when I slowed down. Why my fist went through his jaw rather than recycling him.

He was a hologram, projected from this little disk attached to my boot. A hologram this advanced means only one man is playing games with me, the same man whose voice is talking with me now.

"Hello, Mirror Master," I say. "What's the game THIS time?"

"If I told you that, it would spoil my fun, West. Actually, I don't care how fast you can or can't run, but my employer is VERY interested in that information," Mirror Master responds through the transmitter.

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me who you're working for?" I ask, already knowing the answer. If I were at top speed, I could trace the radio waves... seriously, I could DO stuff like that... but Mirror Master probably has them bouncing off countless satellites. It could take days.

And - this is the kicker - since no bank was destroyed, I can't exactly arrest Mirror Master for making me attempt to outrun a hologram.

I hear his laughter over the tiny transmitter. Mirror Master isn't even the real threat here - it's whoever he's working for, whoever is paying him to find out how fast I am.

Or, to be more accurate, how fast I am NOT.

"I'd like to stick around for the party, West, but there isn't much of a profit in it. Don't get me wrong, seeing you pounded into oatmeal next week sounds like a great way to spend my time, but I learned a long time ago not to mix business with pleasure," Mirror Master says, and then I hear the transmission disconnect.

Mirror Master didn't tell me much, but he did do me one favor. Whoever is gunning for me might not be coming my way until next week, unless he was being paid to lie about that.

I head back to the S.T.A.R. laboratory to meet with Jay and Dr. Fate at 400 mph. We have to find a way to restore my full speed, and as with everything in my crazy life -

- we have to do it fast.

---

Next Issue:
Can Jay Garrick, the golden age Flash, and the Immortal Doctor Fate find a way to return Wally to top speed? Who was the Mirror Master working for? Plus, we learn some new details about "the speed force."

---

Author's Notes:
Not much to say here - only that starting with the next issue, you can pretty much chunk out most of what you think you know about the Flash and the "speed force." I've got a few ideas I've been toying with since I learned I had a shot at this title, and starting next issue, I'm going to use them.

Thanks for the kind words I've received with Flash # 5. This issue is sort of a "transition issue" for me, as I begin to leave behind everything the previous writer and our fearless EiC had placed on the title, and begin to take it in a direction I want to go with issue # 7.

Believe me when I say that I plan to make FLASH one of the "must-read titles" of FDC starting with the next issue.