I've never been a "morning person."
My mother had a saying: "Life is locomotion. If you're not moving, you're not living." She'd pull that line on me whenever I'd try to get away with laying in bed all day. Old habits die hard, I guess; even as I grew older, I never quite got the hang of mornings. If Mom were alive today, though, she'd be a proud woman. Nowadays, I usually beat my alarm to the punch, and today is no different. Just one of many tiny, life-altering side effects of being the fastest man alive: I don't need as much sleep anymore. Rising from the bed, I open the blinds and admire the city.
My city. Downtown Central City expands in every direction from my window, and just beyond the horizon lies Keystone, our sister city. This has always been home to me, but now that I've covered practically every square foot of the Gem Cities, I feel a particular connection to them.
I go about my morning routine at normal speed. In addition to the fact that I've got a roommate who'd be
very surprised to learn my secret, I simply feel no need to rush. When your morning commute is nothing more than a momentary jog, you have the privilege of taking your time. Before hopping in the shower, I put on a pot of coffee so that it'll be ready when I get out. I don't need the caffeine -- in fact, too much makes me jittery, and jittery means accidental phasing -- but like I said earlier: old habits. After the shower, I get dressed and emerge to find my roommate Vin having helped himself to the first cup from the fresh pot. In the early days of my "new" life, Vin would bust my chops about actually seeing me in the morning, but he's since adjusted to the new routine. Besides, he gets fresh coffee out of the deal sometimes, so he's pretty satisfied.
"Gonna catch some bad guys today, Officer Gonzales?" I ask as I pour myself a cup.
Moving past me to set his cup in the sink, Vin replies, "I will if you lab geeks get me my evidence."
I smile over the rim of my cup.
"We will if you uniforms don't contaminate our crime scenes."Vin claps me on the shoulder as he crosses the kitchen. "See you out there, then," he offers before grabbing his hat off the counter and making for the door.
Not long after, I see that it's time for me to head out. I want to make a quick round of Central City before settling in at the Crime Lab. Slipping the ring of Harrison Wells' design over my finger, I give the tiny button on it a press and hear the sound of escaping gas as my suit expands to full-size. Seconds later, I'm clad head-to-toe in red and ready to say good morning to my city. Starting at my apartment, I zigzag north and east, passing Mercury Labs and the
Central City Picture News building. I stop briefly to assist a motorist with a stalled engine, rubbing my hands together fast enough to build up a static charge that brings his vehicle back to life. A grateful handshake later and I'm already skirting the northern city limits. I turn south at the Missouri River and start knifing back towards the heart of downtown. A skateboarder loses his balance and nearly faceplants before I gently set him down on a nearby bench. All that leaves me just enough time to zoom past a sightseeing bus and give the folks on the upper deck a quick wave as I pass by.
After a quick change back into my civilian clothes, I approach the CCPD Central Precinct. Here, unbeknownst to everyone, the Flash plies his trade as a lowly forensic scientist. As I make my way up the steps towards the building, I notice a relative lack of loiterers. Usually, this entrance is packed with officers, both uniformed and plainclothes, coming and going. Even inside the building, the reception area is mostly vacant. I shake my head slightly at the curiosity and simply make my way to the elevators. Emerging on the third floor for the Crime Lab, I find that empty, too. Well, save for one fixture that I can always count on: James Forrest, resident DNA analyst and sailing enthusiast. He's parked behind his desk with a greasy Big Belly Burger bag on his lap.
"Hey, Forrest," I announce as I enter the lab. I head over to my desk and drape my jacket over the back of a chair.
"What gives? Where is everyone today?"Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, Forrest murmurs, "Most of 'em went to go watch the groundbreaking ceremony for the Flash Museum." He nods to a nearby television set which, while muted, shows Mayor Anthony Bellows giving a speech behind an outdoor podium. Swallowing a mouthful of patty and grease, Forrest adds, "They said the Flash is gonna be there in-person to commemorate the occasion."
My eyes widen.
"That was today, wasn't it?" I think aloud. I hastily grab my jacket off the back of my chair and check my watch.
"Actually, now that I remember it, I think I'm gonna join them. Thanks, Forrest!"Burger in mouth, Forrest gives me a confused look. As I head for the elevators, he says in muffled voice, "But you just got here!"
You'd think becoming the Flash would mean that I would
stop running late for things, but all the superpowers in the world can't change bad habits. It would've been so simple to set a reminder on my phone about today or something, but no, I trusted myself to remember. Well, it's a good thing Forrest would rather stay in and clog an artery than attend something like this, or I would've felt pretty foolish about this afterwards. I mean, when your city announces plans for a museum in your honor, it's a little ungrateful not to attend the groundbreaking ceremony!
I arrive at the ceremony not a moment too soon, as it sounds like Mayor Bellows is starting to wrap up his speech. Coming to a sudden stop behind the stage, I nearly give one of the stagehands a heart attack and send the papers on her clipboard flying. Once she gathers herself, she presses a finger to her headset and announces quietly, "He's here." Up on stage, Mayor Bellows tilts his head and glances back at us.
"Well, I'm sure you've all heard about enough of me at this point," the Mayor jokes, drawing a gentle laugh from the crowd. "Without further ado, I am proud to introduce the man without whom we wouldn't be here today, in more ways than one. Please join me in giving a warm hand for the man of the hour, our Scarlet Speedster, the Flash!"
The open area around the stage erupts in applause and more than a few yells. The Mayor himself steps back from the podium and joins in the clapping. After a deep breath, I step up onto the stage and raise an appreciative hand high. The crowd noise swells, and I feel a smile overtake my face. I zoom the length of the stage, appearing suddenly at the Mayor's side, much to the assembly's shock and delight. I shake the Mayor's hand, offer a quiet word of thanks, and take my place behind the podium. Giving the crowd a quick scan, I spot more than a few familiar faces. Captain Darryl Frye, my adoptive father figure. Roscoe Dillon, industrial and philanthropist. Tina McGee, head of Mercury Labs. Yet among all those faces, I find the one I'm looking for.
Iris. Still grinning ear to ear, I force myself to look away from her as I address the crowd,
"Thank you all, really. This reception is more than I could have ever hoped for. To be honest, when I heard that you guys were making a museum about me, I thought you were crazy." The crowd laughs.
"Seriously, it is an incredible honor, and I only hope that I'm worth it. You have my word that I'll work every day to deserve something like this."A voice cries out, "WE LOVE YOU, FLASH!" It sets off an echo of cheers.
"The feeling's mutual," I reply, leaning into the mic.
"Now, let's do this." I turn to the Mayor and give him a nod. He, in turn, is handed a shovel adorned with a big red and yellow bow. I begin to make my way across the stage towards the preordained spot, a roped-off square of dirt where the Flash Museum will one day stand. Just then, the communicator embedded in the earpiece of my cowl chirps to life.
<This is Captain Marvel to Justice League; looks like this protest is turning into a riot, feel free to you know... help. If you want. You know how the Brotherhood gets.>I maintain my cheerful appearance and take my spot next to Mayor Bellows. We each place a hand atop the shovel and drive it into the dirt in unison. The crowd applauds, and a million camera flashes go off. The Mayor shakes my hand, and we pose for a few more photographs. Finally, though, with the pomp and circumstance over, I can keep Carol waiting no longer.
"Thank you, Mr. Mayor, but I've gotta run."Just like that, I'm a streak on the wind, crossing the Van Buren Bridge into Keystone and headed west. Once I'm clear of the city limits, I kick it into the next gear, going supersonic. The resulting shockwave sends ripples across fields of wheat and corn. My surroundings disappear in a blur, and I lose track of everything but the run. Green and yellow plains melt into the oranges of the desert. As I crest the Sierra Nevada, I begin throttling back down in preparation for the more populated areas. Coast City appears on the horizon, and I follow the sounds of chaos to their source. There, Captain Marvel stands alone against mob of incensed protesters. I zoom up beside her, my limbs still vibrating and crackling with Speed Force energy.
"So. This is going well."
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