He sat up immediately, realising that he was draped in a blanket and
propped up slightly with pillows to prevent him from getting a bad neck.
“Oh. Awake are you?” the blonde woman asked. As the blurred
vision from Wally's eyes slowly started to subside, he recognised the
semi-nude form of Karen Starr, the busty Power Girl, stood before him.
She was wearing a tight fitting T-Shirt and a pair of shorts.
“Sorry, your clothes didn't fit my...proportions.” She
smiled and set down a plate and a glass by the side of him. He
attempted to get up, but was immediately pushed down by her forceful
palm.
“Eat, drink and shut your face.”
Wally looked up at her as she put her hands on her hips, and sighed
loudly, flicking her hair from her face with a quick jolt of her neck.
“What about the city...the people...The Murder?” Wally
asked, as Karen shook her head from side to side ever-so slowly.
“You can't protect people when you're dying from starvation and
so tired you can't think straight, Wally. You're not a God.”
Wally smirked as he stabbed a sausage on the plate and jammed it into
his mouth.
“Used to be.” He shot her a wink and she pursed her lips in
mock annoyance.
“I'm serious. You'll be no good to anyone if you can't keep
yourself alive,” Karen said, with more than a little concern in
her voice as she sat down quietly next to him. He leaned backwards,
resting the plate on the palm of his hand, and shooting a sideways look
at her.
“It's more than just the city that depends on me this time.
Although, it's not like that wasn't important before...” He
trailed off as he gorged himself with bacon. “The point
is...everyone is looking to me to lead by example. I am the template
for hero now. Jay and Bart are lost somewhere, Jessie is manically
jealous, Barry is back but a shade of himself and Max is...well,
weird.”
“I know that,” she said, rolling her fingers over the top
of his and giving his hand a little squeeze, which he returned with the
contraction of his fingers. “But you're still going to need to
look after yourself. It's crazy out there.”
He swallowed loudly, as he slurped down an egg whole.
“You're telling me. The entire Speed-Force dumped itself on my
city, and it's up to me to sort it out. Worse though, the fact that
there's a murderer running around and I think, THINK, that it might be
the worst foe I've ever faced.”
Karen smiled as he kissed her hand gently.
“Not being melodramatic, but he is literally death to Speedsters.
I don't want to be the one to deal with that sort of thing.”
“You have to though, right? I mean facing your own mortality,
running as fast as you can, that's sort of your thing,” Powergirl
replied, shifting a little closer to him. He smiled and rested his head
on her shoulder.
“Yeah. That is my thing. Guess I had better get back to that
right?” He turned up to her and gave her hundreds of super-speed
kisses over her face, leaving the final one, a lingering kiss, on her
lips for a few seconds.
“Be good,” he said to her, as she reclined on the chair and
picked up the cup of coffee.
“Yeah, that'll happen.”
“It's horrible out there.” Johnny Quick stood in the
doorway of the recently reconstructed front doors of the Keystone
Meta-Human Prison facility known as Iron Heights. Jessie Quick, his
daughter and fellow Speedster, quickly stepped through the doorway with
a bound and unconscious super villain. The man known as the Top swayed
with Jessie's movements, as she dumped him down on a bench and leaned
backwards, cracking her vertebrae.
“Heavy?” Johnny quipped, as Jessie gave him a disgruntled
look.
“Don't see why you didn't help me carry the guy,” she said,
slinging down some of the technology she'd been collecting as well, and
beginning to rifle through it.
“What's all that stuff?” Johnny asked, as he directed the
policemen to take away their new guest.
“It's...I guess it's Speed-Force technology,” she
responded, looking up from her bag, with a shrug of her shoulders. She
wasn't particularly close to her father, and she wasn't really going to
let him in. They had been close when she was younger, but the
separation from her mother, and subsequent adventuring meant that since
she'd grown up, she'd barely had much to do with the man.
“Yeah?” Johnny answered, trying to get more of an answer
from her. He stood behind her, hand hovering over her shoulder for a
moment before he pulled it away.
“Jessie, look, I've been thinking...”
The young woman sighed, and let her head drop a little.
“Now isn't the time, dad. We just need to carry on with what
we're doing. Wally isn't able to cope being the leader and being the
one to tell us what to do or how it happens. He isn't that sort of
guy.” She turned around and looked him in the eyes. “It
should be me, dad. It will be me, dad.”
Johnny turned away from her and rubbed his brow gently, staring at the
floor.
“You always were head strong, Jessie, but...you can't start a
civil war with Wally. This isn't how we behave...”
“This isn't how you behave, dad. You march to his drum, or
Jay’s, or Max's. You've never been your own hero, or your own
person, always following other people around,” Jessie replied,
angrily, spinning in place to stare at him. Johnny stood quietly;
balling his fist and turning his head up to face her.
“Just proves how much like your mother you are,” Johnny
replied, turning his back on her, leaving Jessie a little shocked by
how little he responded.
“Guess that explains why you're leaving me too,” she
replied, venom dripping from her words. Johnny paused, his shoulders
hunching, before he continued towards the doorway.
“Hear that?”
“Hear what?” she responded, leaving the items in her hands
on the desk quietly. “Is it the Top again?”
Johnny shook his head and paused in the doorway.
“What is that? It sounds like...” Johnny was thrown onto
his back, as a thin, twisted figure leapt onto his form. He twisted his
head slightly to the left to avoid the frantic thrashing of the knife
towards him.
“CHRIST!” he yelled, drawing his knees up towards the back
of his attacker. They hit him with all the force of his strong legs,
sending him rocking forwards and over the top of the hero.
“Jessie! Get back!” Johnny was quickly rolling onto his
stomach and getting to his feet, as his daughter backed away from the
lunatic.
“What's he saying?” she asked, as the murmuring of the
insane man became slightly louder and more frantic.
“Who the hell is this guy?” she asked again, as Johnny
shook his head.
“Hell if I know,” he said, yanking a chair from in front of
the wall and hurling it at the man. It hit him square in the back
sending him jolting forwards, as Jessie grabbed hold of the heaviest
and thickest piece of technology she could get her hands on and swung
it upwards into his thin, almost absent jaw.
Murmur dropped his knife immediately, and fell backwards, now
completely unconscious.
“Gonna need another cell for this one,” Johnny said, with a
smirk on his face. He walked over to his daughter who offered him a
cursory check to see if he was alright, before she pinned the
unconscious man to the ground with her heel.
“Did that feel a little too easy to you?” she asked, as
Johnny stared at her with a mixture of concern and admiration.
“Just a bit,” he replied, moving out into the back of the
huge, semi-constructed building.
“We're going to need an ambulance, Jessie,” Johnny said
with a clear and calm tone. “Now.”
“Where the hell could someone so slow have got too?” Wally
asked himself, as he tore through the streets searching for his prey.
The new “Turtle”, as revealed to him by the Black Flash,
apparently no longer a source of destruction and death in his life.
As his feet pounded the soaking wet floor, his mind was cast back to
how much his life had changed over the last few days. The Speed-Force
was broken, the Flash Family had been all but destroyed with Bart and
Jay lost to them, and the remaining members without their abilities.
Flashes from across Time and Space had arrived, but not all of them.
The Tornado Twins were missing, and Wally suspected that given how huge
space was, and how many sectors and guards of the Lantern Corps there
were, that there would be more alien Flashes.
It didn't quite add up as something credible. Wally didn't think it was
something artificial, but there were elements that didn't quite add up
and didn't make a huge amount of sense. Why Keystone and not Central?
Why allow him to keep his abilities but nobody else?
Frustration began to boil his blood, as he pushed himself harder and
harder, speeding through the differently affected parts of the city.
Phasers passed through his body as though he didn't exist, people
imbued with Super-speed jetted from place to place, either elated with
the abilities or terrified beyond words. Super slow citizens were
crawling about their days, which seemed to last nearly twice as long as
a normal person – for obvious reasons.
Wally skidded to a halt, and stared up at the sky. Rain beat down on
his face as cruel winds tore through the streets, whipping him with
sodden paper and trash. He pulled his mask back and rubbed his face,
trying to work out where exactly someone with huge body armour and the
ability to drain speed from things would hide out.
He grit his teeth and set them on edge, trying to think where she might
be, when an idea literally hit him in the face. Pulling the wet and
easily torn leaflet from his face, he examined it quietly. A subway
timetable.
“Crap. How could I be so stupid...” Wally balled the pulp
in his fist, as he pulled his mask down and set off for the nearest
subway tunnel.
It was obvious. A place with plenty of energy to fuel her, but secluded
enough to prevent her from hurting someone. At least, that's what he
was hoping. He chose to believe that she wasn't directly responsible
for the death of the Victorian Flash.
Speeding down the steps towards the subway, the Flash stood for a
moment and contemplated what was going to happen when he confronted the
new Turtle. Contemplation wasn't something he was particularly adept
at, as he removed his mask and walked the remaining few steps onto the
abandoned station.
It was dark, and dank. Without an end to the water pouring from above,
it had simply given the majority of the station a stark, damp film. His
yellow boots stepped through the puddles slowly, as he glanced around
in the dim light.
“Hello?” he asked the darkness. He sighed loudly, as he
heard a noise from further down the tunnel. He leapt off the edge of
the platform and onto the track, holding his glove against the side of
the construct to give himself some sense of direction.
The damp surface under foot made him uneasy. Despite being the Flash,
and the "master" of Super Speed, he still needed something to react
against his traction, and water was hardly known for being a good
surface to run on. He had experience of it, running over it
super-speed, but that was slightly different to starting off on the
surface. There was more room for error - hydroplaning was a problem for
all things moving at speed.
As he made his way further down, he found his pace slowing
considerably, and his breath becoming harsher. He recognised this
feeling. It was the feeling of momentum being slowly stripped away from
him. He tried to compensate by speeding up not only his metabolism, but
also his movements, adding extra flourishes of super speed to ever step
to counter balance the slowing. However, it was still having a knock on
effect on him.
Little lights hung from the ceiling, apparently powered by the
electricity of the subway that now sat in silence around him. A train
hung halfway off the tracks, its wheels floating in air. Wally
suspected it would rock slightly if its momentum wasn't being drained -
a clever way to get the energy the Turtle needed to operate.
He hoped, and really hoped, that she wouldn't have turned evil, or
started off evil; that the death of the Flash was simply something that
couldn’t have been avoided, and was a terrible tragedy. He hoped
that she wasn't another "New Rogue" out to destroy his life or those
dearest too him, especially when the majority of them were without
their abilities these days.
The lights shone their energy onto the scratched wall surfaces.
Something had been scouring its way across the subway, writing details
and formula onto the stone and granite surfaces. Wally paused putting
his fingers against one of them gently, tracing their movements.
"Hmph. Never was particularly good at physics," he said, recognising
the symbol for the measurement of Newtons. He shrugged and carried on
down the long, poorly lit tunnel. He thought he recognised a brighter
source of light further down the line, but he decided to proceed with
slow caution.
"Nothing worse than having to fight a speedy turtle when your hares got
nothing left," he muttered to himself, half making a joke, slowly
walking towards the source of light.
Along the way he kept his attention on the carvings. Little things were
beginning to make him more concerned. The continued reference to "Roses
and Thawnes", and the depiction of two sets of what appeared to be
Flashes clashing together. It worried him, and sent a shiver down his
spine when he stopped to read another scouring.
"Mercury falling," he said to himself quietly. Was it a not-so-subtle
stab at Max?
He stopped to examine the markings some more. Diagrams showing the
Earth divided into quarters, and what appeared to be a map of Keystone
arrowed off from it, equally as divided into quarters. He wondered if
this New Turtle or whatever was purporting to be a Turtle knew more
about the Speed-Force storm. Surely something that co-incidental
couldn't be just random chance?
He examined the diagram a little closer, straining his eyes to try and
see what exactly was written in each of the quarters. "Weak, Strong,
Grv and EM." He puzzled for a moment, before pulling away from the wall
and towards the light. Maybe explanations could be given in person.
He continued on, wondering what it was all about. He wasn't a detective
the way Bruce was, and he wasn't about to go hurtling into the
situation the way Clark would. He wasn't subtle but he wasn't loud and
obvious. Well, most of the time he WAS loud and obvious but this time
he'd try a different tact.
"Starting to work things out?" She stood quietly, with her arms
crossed. He'd expected something thicker in the armour, something that
would really stand out and hamper her movements. It wasn't until he
stared a little closer that he realised that it probably was something
that, externally, would have slowed her down.
As it is in this instance however, the armour was slowly being
"metabolised" by her body. It was sinking through her flesh and into
her.
"What's...happening to you?" Wally asked, as he noticed patches of
burst skin and jagged metal jutting from her chest and legs.
"The oversuit’s becoming an inner suit." She smiled, gesturing
with a downward sweep her hands; "The inertia I am absorbing is slowly
becoming a part of me, as I become a part of something else."
Wally paused, sensing where this was going, as he pulled his mask back
over his face. Instantly his body language and positioning changed.
"I see where this is headed," he responded, tensing himself up, as she
seemed to almost relax at his threatened language.
"Now you're getting it!" she called, putting her hands on her hips,
"You realise that I am now your Joker; your Luthor, right?"
Wally tilted his head to the side slightly, "You don't have to be."
"I do, though, Wally," she said, a smirk creeping over her features.
"I've been trained. I am being trained. I know things now."
"What sort of things," Wally asked, though more as a statement than a
question.
"Well, your name, for one thing. I know where you live, where the other
members of your "Family" live. More importantly, I know why what's
happened has...happened." She stepped forwards, as Wally immediately
felt a pull on his body. She was sucking momentum out of everything,
even his resting heart-rate - which was slightly more elevated than it
should be.
"What is happening then?" he
asked, stepping forwards.
"It's opposites day, Wally. You've always accepted everything at face
value. When you do that, all that happens is you get a face full." She
zipped forwards, or more importantly, he zipped towards her. She'd
stolen movement.
She'd stolen his body.
He stopped just short of her, as she threw a much stronger than it
should be, hand into his throat and lifted him off the ground. He
reacted with a super-speed foot to the stomach, hitting her six or
seven times before she even reacted.
She released him and touched her flesh gently, slightly hunched over.
"Can't metabolise all the Speed yet?" he asked, back peddling at speed
to put some distance between them.
"Can't you realise you're fighting a pointless battle?" she asked, her
eyes glowing with unfiltered kinetic energy.
"I really wish you'd stop conforming to villain clichés and give
me something I can work with here."
"I am, Wally," she said, shooting forwards. He barely managed to avoid
her fist, which cracked into the wall just to the side of him. He threw
his arm out sideways, knocking her fist out of the wall, and sending a
palm into her chest, just under her ribcage.
She let loose a gush of air and attempted to suck breath down into her
lungs.
"Clearly you're not being trained to be a fighter," Wally said, as
something caught his attention further down the tunnel. A small group
of figures, watching what was happening between him and the Turtle. The
light hit the tallest man's body across his chest, revealing a yellow
costume emblazoned across the man’s chest.
Wally's brain suddenly began to connect all the dots, as the figures in
the distance moved further into the shadows.
"This isn't a coincidence is it? This is all choreographed." Wally
twisted his head to the side to avoid the punch thrown towards him. She
followed with a knee to the stomach and a twisting elbow down into his
shoulder. Wally grunted in pain and dropped low; using whatever
momentum he had left to launch himself away from her.
"This is a test. You're not a Turtle at all, are you?" Wally asked, as
realisation finally dawned on both their faces.
"You know," she said, a tiny fraction of shock creeping into her voice.
"I know." He charged forwards, spinning his palm open before him to
create a burst of wind to knock her over. She stumbled a little as he
launched into the air, delivering a super-speed flying kick to her
chest knocking her onto the floor.
Wally's feet landed either side of her chest as he dropped onto his
knees to pin her to the floor at the elbows.
"The Rival got his powers from the same formula that Jay got his
abilities from. Thawne got his from trying to replicate the same
accident that gave Barry and Me our powers and even Bart’s got a
rival from the future." Wally's eyes were wild with implications, as he
tore at the clothing that covered the woman's body.
She attempted to resist it, but his hooked fingers pulled the fabric
free.
"You're not a Turtle," he said, revealing the Red Lightning Bolt symbol
that ran jagged across her chest against the yellow background of her
costume. The jutting pieces of technology bleeped as she resisted more
against Wally. "You're not even my rival."
She sneered up at him, as he reared backwards, examining her symbol
more closely.
"You're Jessie and Johnny's rival. This suit..."
"It's not a momentum stealer, Wally," she said, a sudden burst of speed
pulling her from underneath him. She stood for a moment, before she
jetted, almost without moving, to the other side of the subway.
"It's a calculator. Johnny Quick and Jessie know a formula that gets
them into the Speed-Force, or did at least. This thing..." She gestured
down her body, "this thing is calculating you. Every time you move, and
every time they move, it
calculates. Now I know the formula, and it knows the formula."
She stood for a moment, before stepping backwards into the shadows to
rejoin the group of three men that stood in silence, watching.
"Your time will come soon enough, Wally. Oh, and check the
train...there's something very interesting there for you." She fired
him a wink, before she vanished completely. He heard the faint sounds
of feet hitting the surface of the sewers, but knew that he'd never be
able to catch up in time, or even face the four of them at his
diminished speed.
He held his side for a moment, and gingerly touched the bruises that
were starting to rise on his flesh.
Slowly, expecting a trap, he walked towards the train. The lights were
starting to flicker and go out, giving Wally an elevated sense of
urgency.
Climbing the steps up onto the train, he stopped and removed his mask.
Sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose he turned away from the
scene before him. He suspected this was the real Turtle.
A young woman, who couldn't have been that far out of her teens, lay on
the floor. Her legs had been separated from the bottom part of her
body, and her innards stretched over and around the metal framework of
the seats within the train.
It was clear that the effects of the huge, bulky suit that remained
clamped to her body had prolonged her agony, as bloody claw marks and
torn off fingernails spread away from her rigor stricken hands. Wally
took another drawn breath and closed his eyes for a moment to apologise
to her. He didn't save her, couldn't save her.
He knelt down next to her gaunt and pale face slowly pushing her
eyelids down, and muttering apologies to her.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his yellow boots slowly becoming more stained
with her blood. She appeared to die screaming, silently, in petrifying
pain.
"I promise that I’ll make them pay for what they've done to you,"
he said, standing up and pulling the mask over his slightly damp face,
clammy from his welled eyes and cold sweat of seeing a dead body.
