My name is Barry Allen, and I’m the fastest man alive.
That used to mean something to me. It used to fill me with confidence, make me want to be better, to use my powers to help people. I would wake up every morning with refuelled optimism, thinking that whatever went wrong, wherever I went, I could fix it-- that I would fix it. That I’d care enough to make a difference. To stand for something.
But that was before.
That was before Zoom.
The house was empty. Dark shadows everywhere, the only light above the kitchen bench; a phone. Not mine. Not Iris’. I heard her voice, a desperate cry for help.
“Barry!” She was in trouble. But where--? I searched for her, my head turning, sharp movements. Panic seized me. Fear clouded my thoughts. “Iris?!” I called.
“Iris?!” Where was she? What was happening to her?
Where was she?“Iris?”
Nothing.
Only the insistent ringing of the phone.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Click.“Hello? Iris?”
“No, Barry. Zoom.”
Chapter Three
Monday, 21st March, 2005
4:05am
I woke with a start. Heavy breaths, skin clammy. The bed sheets damp with my sweat. Beside me, someone stirred. I exhaled in relief, breath shaky. Iris. She was safe.
“Barry?” she asked, touching a hand to my cheek, “Are you okay?”
"Yeah," I said between gulps for air, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Just had a bad dream."
"Do you want to talk about it?”
I looked at her, meeting her sympathetic, worried gaze. “No. No, it’s okay. You should go back to sleep.”
“No, come on,” she patted me on the chest, “I’ll go make some hot cocoa.”
Tuesday, 22nd March, 2005
12:00pm
That’s when it started.
When time froze. When people stood motionless, as unmoving as statues; when sound, loud and quiet, failed to reach my ears; when every insect, every bird, every animal failed to move; when light seemed to stop in its tracks; when the Earth itself stood still. I could see every particle, every speck, every grain. I could see everything, and everyone. All because Digger Harkness threw a boomerang at my wife.
The Rogues’ token Australian, Digger quit the group a few months back over a disagreement with their captain, Cold. Before he joined up with them, he worked as a mercenary. Anyone that needed a job done, they hired him, because as stupid as Captain Boomerang sounds, he was efficient-- lethally so. And when he left the Rogues, he did just what his boomerangs did. He came back. A mercenary once more.
He was back in town for a job. Whoever hired him wanted him to rob a man called Francis Flashman, known to his associates as Funky, and beat the hell out him while he did it. In another world, I wouldn’t have minded. Flashman was a scumbag, known for being a con man from Hell, scamming all who dared to be his clients. Being a public relations officer, that could only spell bad things for his customers, for both their finances and reputations. But I was the Flash, and as far as I was concerned, Harkness was my responsibility. No matter who he was hired to hurt.
I found him at Flashman’s building, a small office on lease in downtown Central. It was an ugly thing, all faded paint and cracked plaster, its entrance a disgusting, vomit-yellow door, as if I needed any more reasons to dislike the guy. I heard a scream-- Flashman-- before the door, with a satisfying crash, flew off its hinges, Francis right behind it.
“Get away from me-- get away-- ” A boomerang skimmed past his face, turning in midair before flying back into Captain Boomerang’s hand. Blood trickled from two symmetrical cuts on Flashman’s greedy little cheeks.
“‘Fraid I can’t do that, mate,” said Harkness, a toothpick wedged between his teeth. “A job is a job, and this one just so happens to be one where you get the everlivin’ crap hit outta you. Lucky for you, it won’t make much of a difference. Face looks like a kicked-in shitcan, anyway.”
With a flick of his wrist, he threw the boomerang again, sending it spinning through the air at Flashman, cowering on the ground as he steeled himself for contact--
--that never came. Having intercepted the projectile, I turned on my heels, running back to take Flashman to safety. With him out of the way, I ran back to Harkness, who, in the predictable fashion of a Rogue, threw a boomerang in my direction; one that I ducked without difficulty. An audible “Oof,” escaped his lips as I barged into him, arm outstretched in a haymaker. He hung like a coat for a brief second, my momentum not allowing him movement, and I pushed him off, sending him rolling along the road before he came to a stop.
Then, a laugh. But not Digger’s. Not mine. Someone else’s. A disembodied voice, coming from every direction, all at once.
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” And all of a sudden, faster than even I could register, we weren’t in downtown Central. We were at the park. Green grass, tall trees, picnic tables… and people. People like Iris. Iris… and her nephew.
Wally.
He’s a great kid. At sixteen years old, he was the mirror image of Iris’ dad, Joe. If they were seen together (if Joe was still alive), I don’t doubt that people would’ve thought that he was Iris’ younger brother. Red hair, green eyes, a smile almost always on his face-- yeah. He was a West. No doubt about it.
Iris hadn’t told me that he was in town. I’d met him before; whenever he had a disagreement with his dad, Rudy, his parents would send him down to stay with us. I liked him, and I like to think that he liked me. We never had a dull moment when he was around.
But someone he liked more was the Flash. Every visit, he asked the same questions: Did you see him? Were you there when he stopped the Rogues? Can he really do all the things they say he can?
So when he said, “Is that… the Flash?” It wasn't much of a shock. Not as much as it was arriving at the park with Harkness in tow, faster than
my eye could see. And as I stood there, disbelieving and disoriented, he decided to take advantage of the situation. He threw a boomerang. An
explosive boomerang.
Right at my family.
And just like that, time stopped moving. And everything changed.
“Hello, Barry. Long time no see.”
Member
Dion
Simple Unicycle
Half Pint
Supermaxx
Morden Man
An Outsider
Lord Wraith