#12: The Man Who Saved the Gem Cities

The Flash
#12: First Steps Part 12
“The Man Who Saved the Gem Cities”

My name is Barry Allen, and I’m the Fastest Man Alive. I am the Flash.

Whoo boy, it feels good to finally say that.

…sorry for getting off track. The story was just getting good. I’d finally embraced my role as a hero, and had arrived in the present at my father’s side.

…

Two seconds. That’s all the time it took to free Gehenna from the clutches of her captors and safely incapacitate them all. Before the others could so much as react, the Flash had nabbed his father and his friend, and sped away from the church.

By the time the Flash vibrated their way into Mercy General Hospital, Gehenna finally registered what had just happened.

“Barry…” she mumbled under her breath, while the speedster looked frantically around the hall, his injured father in his arms.

“Can I get a doctor over here?!” the Flash demanded.

A nurse quickly recovered from her shock and rolled a hospital bed over to the superhero. Before the Flash could set his father on the bed, Dr. Chapel emerged from his one-time room and hurried over.

“I can handle this,” Chapel said. She paused for but a moment to give Gehenna an odd look before she asked, “Do you need assistance, too?”

“No, I’m fine,” the battered Gehenna assured her.

Chapel nodded in response, looked briefly at the nurse, and then rolled Henry away with her help.

Now alone, the Flash turned to Gehenna and said, “Stay here. Watch out for my dad.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“Gehenna!” came the voice of Elias, drawing the others’ attention.

The STAR Labs scientist ran over from Barry’s hospital room, followed quickly behind by a surprised and eager Iris West.

“Where’s Barry?” the scientist feigned concern, causing a smile to flash across the superhero’s lips.

“I moved him to a secure location. He wasn’t safe here,” the Flash explained.

“Told you the Flash took him,” Elias said to Iris, as she interjected, “Is he okay?”

“Of course. He’s stable and on the mend. Looks like he might even be able to walk again,” the Flash offered.

“What?!” Iris and Elias exclaimed in unison. The scientist then continued, “But the doctors said…”

’Nice acting,’ Flash thought, interrupting him, “I know a…gifted physician who took care of him. He’s a miracle worker.”

“Oh my God,” Iris cupped her hands over her mouth, tears of relief flooding her eyes.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a city to save,” the Flash winked at Gehenna, then zoomed away before the others could respond.

Elias looked at his injured protégé, “Why are you—”

“A story for another time,” she said. After taking a deep breath, she muttered, “Priority numero uno: coffee.”

…

Back at the Children’s church, the cultists had just begun to recover inside when they heard sirens. Someone screamed, “police,” and most of them began to panic, shoving each other out of the way to flee the area. Not even slightly concerned, The Ghost scanned the room for the head priestess, who was trying to calm everyone down. He walked with purpose over to her, drawing her gaze.

“Ghost, thank Savitar. Help me stop—”

With one punch, The Ghost knocked her clean out. In the chaos, no one bothered to help her. His gaze cold, the time traveler knelt down beside the priestess’ unconscious form and took the lightning knife from her hand.

“Sorry about that,” he offered without a hint of regret. Standing, he looked at The Fallen—who had simply stared at the thunderous sky throughout—and ordered, “Corpse. Follow me. Remove anyone who gets in my way.”

The Fallen did as he was told without hesitation, pushing aside the Children who crossed The Ghost’s path. As they neared the exit, the time traveler shed his cloak and ordered his undead companion to stop. Dressed now in a button up and suit pants, The Ghost produced handcuffs from his belt and restrained The Fallen’s hands. With nothing left to do, he calmly led The Fallen outside as CCPD cruisers encircled the building.

As Daniel West emerged from one of the vehicles, pistol drawn, The Ghost picked up speed, pushing The Fallen toward him. Upon seeing the white-haired man, Daniel’s eyes lit up with confusion, and then joy. He lowered his weapon and then moved around his car to greet The Ghost.

“Eddie! This was your undercover assignment?” Daniel wondered, embracing the man.

“Man, do I got some crazy stories for you, partner.” Eddie stepped back and motioned around to the panicked cultists, many of whom had already been apprehended by police officers. “Started this case ‘cause of rumors of human sacrifice. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“We were responding to Henry Allen’s phone call. Are these guys—”

“Behind Bloody Monday? Yes. Only stuck around as long as I did because they had me watched 24-7. Didn’t trust the ‘new guy,’” Eddie grimly explained. He opened the car door and shoved The Fallen inside. “Let’s get this creepy asshole back to the station and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Daniel shook his head. “You go on ahead. My dad’ll have my head if I go back without having taken one of these suckers down.”

Daniel tossed Eddie the car keys, leaving the man to ask, “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch a ride with my dad,” Daniel said.

“Good luck,” Eddie said, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Please. I make my own luck,” Daniel cockily shot back, drawing his pistol.

As his partner chased after an escaping cultist, Eddie pulled out of the lot. The instant he made his way onto the highway, a victorious grin crept its way onto his lips.

“I love it when a plan comes together,” he cooed, taking an exit westward toward Denver.

…

“Barry? Jesus Christ, Barry, are you okay?” Chester’s voice came through the Flash’s comms as the speedster crossed the Ruby Bridge to Keystone City.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Chess,” the Flash assured him.

“Oh, thank God. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your comm link appear,” Chester muttered. “What happened?”

“Later, man. For now...I’m going solo.”

“Wait, wha—”

The Flash shut off his comms before Chester could finish. He needed silence. He needed focus. To take down Savitar this time, he needed to go at it alone, free from distractions.

Luckily for the Flash, it appeared like he hadn’t been gone for too long. He found Savitar atop a factory, boasting about who-knows-what to the camera. That was the benefit of battling a speedster with a god complex. He liked to hear his own voice more than the average supervillain…not that Flash had much experience with supervillains.

“…so long as you surrender, I will treat you with—”

In an instant, Savitar had been taken out of the shot and out of view by the Flash. Finally settling down in an empty rural area, the Scarlet Speedster tossed the so-called god to the ground. Here, no one would be endangered by their conflict. Here, they could talk in peace.

“Flash…how…?” Savitar began, his anger mixed with confusion.

“I know why you pretend you’re a god. I know why you hate me…and I’m sorry. We can still move past this. I can help you find a better body…a home,” the Flash offered.

“Home? My home burned when the French invaded. And forgiveness? For the centuries of hell you put me through? For what you cost me? The only reason you even offer peace is because you fear for your friend,” Savitar growled.

“That’s not true. I know what I did, but you have to understand, I’m still figuring all of this hero business out. And history was set. Who knows what would have happened if—”

“SILENCE!!!” Savitar roared. “Step off your high horse, Flash. You are no hero. You are no god. You’re nothing but a wolf in sheep’s skin. Should you win here, your so-called friends will come to understand you as I do…someday…”

The Flash paused, nodding solemnly. “You’re right. There’s no excuse that’ll explain away my actions. I’m no god. I’m imperfect…but I’m trying to be better. You can too. If you just trust me—”

Savitar stepped forward, silencing him. “The only white man I trust is one who bows before me.”

The battle began in an instant, and it was one the Flash knew he couldn’t win. Racing away from Savitar, he felt a smidgen of doubt creep into his mind again. He had no history to guarantee his victory, to give him a path to take. He had no way to save Max without killing him and Savitar, and the Flash refused to murder either. There was no way to beat Savitar by running faster, by employing his knowledge of science, by going at it any way he knew how. The Flash couldn’t beat Savitar…but he knew someone who could.

His hope restored and a plan in motion, the Flash outraced Savitar until he managed to circle around him. He latched onto the armored speedster beneath his armpits, just as he had in the past. Savitar’s eyes immediately widened with panic, and his terror only grew as he discovered he couldn’t force his way out of the Flash’s grip. After all, this body was weaker than his last, and he hadn’t managed it then…

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Wouldn’t I?” the Flash maintained his speed. “I’m a demon, right? What’s some mortal to me?”

Savitar began to vibrate his body in a panic, but the Flash matched his frequency. It wasn’t all that hard, especially given the armored speedster was blinded by fear. Centuries more in a maddening hell, this time with no promise of escape, no prophecy to save him…

Savitar began to scream. His tears spun out of control at incredible speeds. He saw his mother’s mutilated corpse in his mind’s eye. His burning village. Death, so much death…something he couldn’t escape…

“This is getting boring, Ro’tacha. You’re so slow. What have you got on me?” The Flash wondered.

That’s it. The Flash had dug his own grave, Savitar realized, his mind racing. He did have a power the Scarlet Speedster didn’t…

“I REFUSE TO DIE!!” Savitar pressed his hands against what little of the Flash he could reach and felt energy overcome him.

The armored speedster’s eyes lit up with azure light, and the Flash quickly mirrored him. Both slowed to a halt in the middle of nowhere, America, as the Flash stumbled to the ground, his mind slogging back to memories better left untouched. After briefly separating, Savitar tackled the Flash and wrapped his hands around the Scarlet Speedster’s head.

“NO!” The Flash cried, but it was too late.

Savitar reactivated his telepathic power, and the two raced into the Flash’s mind…

‘This is it. My only chance to save Max…’ the Flash thought.

‘Wrong, Flash. I win. Lose yourself, as I did, in nightmares you can’t outrun,’ came Savitar’s booming voice.

Suddenly, the Flash found himself soaring through memories until he landed in—

…

Barry toppled to the ground, losing hold of his crutches after Harley Wilson, his eternal tormentor, had pushed him aside in the middle school hallway. Pre-teens all around snickered at the crippled twelve-year-old, who looked around with equal embarrassment and anger.

“Oops. Sorry, Allen. Just in a rush to get to class,” Harley spat.

Barry merely nodded in response, reaching for his crutches, as Harley’s lackeys—including the ever-reliable Daniel West—laughed at the comment. No one came to Barry’s rescue. Iris was nowhere to be seen. No teacher bothered to check out the source of the commotion.

“He thinks he can be a cop? With no legs?” Daniel chortled, only halfheartedly trying to keep Barry from hearing.

“Cop scientist, Danny. He wants to be a cop scientist…not that his nerdy dream is any more realistic,” Harley replied, and his lackeys exploded with laughter again.

Barry felt tears rush into his eyes, drawing more laughter from those around him. First, his mother, just a month ago. Now this…

He fell to the ground again and again, as his torment was repeated, the memory playing on a loop. Barry knew this wasn’t right…knew someone was doing something to him, but he’d forgotten the real villain’s name. Worse, he couldn’t escape the memory of how he felt that day: alone, humiliated, and weak.

Suddenly, in one repeat, Barry found that his childhood bully was now darker skinned, wearing nothing but a loincloth and tribal paint. Still, he couldn’t remember his name. He felt hope sink away…

“Oops. Sorry, Allen. Just in a rush to get to class,” the bully uttered, but this time added, “What? Too weak to fight back?”

That broke the chain. Barry suddenly remembered what was happening. Savitar…he’d made a mistake. His ego, his desire to lord this win over Barry had cost him his victory.

“You almost had me, Ro’tacha. I was going insane, lost in the memory of the time I felt the most alone…but you had to gloat,” Barry said, looking up from the ground.

Ro’tacha’s eyes widened as the memory continued.

“You missed something huge, too. How the memory ends,” Barry finished, smiling.

Ro’tacha’s form faded to Harley’s, who finished, “…any more realistic.”

His goons laughed, as Barry grabbed his crutches.

Hoisting himself back up, tears in his eyes, Barry called, “Harley!”

The larger boy turned around, eyes alight, ready for a fight, “You got somethin’ to say, Allen?”

Barry paused, then struggled through his tears to finish, “I’m sorry about your mom. I didn’t understand before but…losing your mom…it’s a lot. A lot of pain. I’m so sorry.”

He was full on sobbing in the middle of the hallway now. However, nobody bothered to laugh at him this time. Harley and his friends remained speechless.

Finally, without moving, Harley said, “Me too. I’m sorry about your mom…and I’m sorry I pushed you.”

With that, Harley walked away, followed quickly by his friends. The memory faded, until Barry found himself grown again, crutchless, facing Savitar in his original adult body. The self-proclaimed god shook with anger, his hands clenched into fists.

“How did you…every time, you best me—EVERY TIME!” Savitar launched himself forward, his fist raised to punch Barry. “I AM A GOD!!”

The attack sent Barry careening away, nearly into another memory. However, he quickly stabilized himself, and stood up again.

“No, you’re a man,” Barry said, rising, “And someday I hope you’ll be okay with that, Ro’tacha.”

“MY NAME IS SAVITAR!!!” The Native American warrior roared, charging Barry again.

This time, Barry was ready. This time, he caught Savitar’s punch, surprising the warrior.

“I won’t give up on you, but for now…” Barry grabbed Savitar’s head and pulled it up against his. “Max—fight back!”

At once, the blackness around them faded and was replaced by a memory. This one, however, was not Barry’s. Instead, both speedsters found themselves standing in front of a newly buried grave, the tombstone reading ‘JAMIE MISSICHKONE.’ One particular young man stood before it, staring blankly at the plot of dirt...

“Max…” Barry called to his friend, but he couldn’t hear him.

Savitar grabbed Barry’s arm and threw him onto the grave. “His body is mine, now and forevermore! Even if I can’t win—” He leaped atop Barry and began to throttle his face, “You will still lose him!”

“Max, please—” Barry screamed, already losing control, the images around him fading to that of a bloodied kitchen. “You’re the only one who can beat Savitar! You are strong enough for this, brave enough!”

“God…what the hell is wrong with you? What were you thinking?” Max glumly whispered over his brother’s grave, the memory continuing.

“I know how you feel about heroes, Max,” Barry began. Savitar was beginning to look more like a corpse…like his mother’s. The kitchen grew sharper, more defined. He struggled to continue, “But I need one right now. I need you. Please!”

“Goddammit,” Max growled, tightening his hands into fists.

Barry felt terror like never before, felt the pressure of crutches beneath his arms, and worse, the pressure in his chest as he struggled to comprehend the sight before him. His mother…broken…bleeding…

Dead.

“Goddammit!” Someone screamed. “Get off my fucking friend, you narcissistic piece of shit!”

Suddenly, Barry was in darkness again, but he wasn’t alone. Max stood over him, and offered his hand. Barry grinned and took it, allowing his friend to help him up.

Nearby, Savitar rose to his feet, rage boiling to the surface. “Mortal, you dare touch me?!” He charged at the two, fist raised. “A god?!”

Max shot Savitar a derisive look and said, “Eat shit.”

Just like that, the speed god disappeared.

…

And the Flash and Max awoke amidst the open plains, the one-time host of Savitar now in nothing but pants, the armor gone.

“Oh my God,” the Flash muttered, before reaching out to embrace his friend.

However, Max held him back, saying, “Uh uh. No hugs.”

The Flash laughed, “Yeah, that’s you alright.”

Ignoring him, Max took a moment to scan their surroundings, then said, “Let’s get out of here. Wherever the hell here is.”

The Flash rose up onto his feet at superspeed. “Race ya there?”

Max stared at him with the utmost disappointment. “You really think accessing Savitar’s powers is a good idea?”

“Right…no superspeed till we know more about your situation,” the Flash agreed, blushing.

With that said, he grabbed his friend and sped off in search of Central City.

…

Barry and Max ran into Mercy General hospital at regular speed, dressed in new civvies. Before they could get too far, Gehenna and Iris both rose to slow them down, neither one smiling despite the happy reunion all around.

“Barry, I—I’m glad you’re okay, but don’t—” Iris began, only to have the blond interrupt her.

“What? What’s wrong? Is my dad okay?” Barry wondered, panicked.

As if on cue, Dr. Chapel exited a hospital room labeled with erasable marker ‘HENRY ALLEN’ alongside police captain Joe West. Barry felt his heart sink into his chest. He pushed past Iris and hurried over to Joe and Chapel, both of whom saw him coming.

“Barry—” Joe began, but the blond had already started to speak.

“What the hell is going on?” Barry demanded.

“Your father, Barry, you saw what he could do…” Joe said.

Barry looked inside the room through the door’s window only to discover his father appeared okay…but was handcuffed to his bed.

“Superpowers aren’t sufficient evidence for a warrant,” Barry argued.

“He confessed.”

Joe’s words fell on deaf ears. Barry couldn’t have heard him correctly. He hadn’t.

“My father is innocent,” Barry stated, his ears ringing.

“Not according to him,” Joe explained, motioning to the room. “I’m sorry, Barry. I really am. I thought I knew him, but…I’m sorry.”

Joe fought back tears, motivating Iris to wrap her arms comfortingly around him. No one, not even Dr. Chapel, tried to stop Barry as he entered his father’s room, his face ghostly pale…

Meanwhile, Max leaned over to Gen and whispered, “My brother…?”

“The Children were arrested, but Captain West…he didn’t mention Jamie. I’m sorry,” Gehenna apologized.

Max shrunk back against the wall, his gaze dark, mind racing.

…

Henry greeted Barry with a somber look. Neither spoke for a while. Finally, Henry mustered the strength to answer the question he knew was on his son’s mind.

“I am guilty—”

“No, you’re not—”

“Let me finish!” Henry suddenly exploded, teary eyed.

Barry quieted. Slowly, he sat down across from his father, looking and feeling like he was about to fall apart.

“I only remember bits and pieces, but…I murdered innocent people, Barry. Yes, Savitar had control of me, but someone has to answer for his crimes. And you can’t even imagine what it’s like knowing you…” Henry looked down at his hands, which quivered. “It should be me. Not Max. Not anyone else. Me. Lord knows I’ve done enough to deserve this.”

“I can’t lose you, too,” Barry broke down crying.

“You won’t. I’ll still be around, just…away. You can visit me every day,” Henry said, trying to feign optimism, although he, too, was crying.

Barry couldn’t speak. All he could bring himself to do was go to his father’s side, hold his hand, and cry into his shoulder. With his free hand, Henry patted his son’s head, as the two let out all the pain they’d stored up inside for so long, and all the pain they knew was to come.

…

Later

Standing outside Mercy General, a reporter for CCTV was in the middle of her broadcast when she got the surprise of her life…

“…that Henry Allen—one of the superfast killers behind Bloody Monday—has confessed to his—”

“Hey, Central City.”

The reporter screamed at the sudden appearance of the Flash, who caught the mic after she dropped it.

“Not gonna hurt you. Sorry for the scare. Been told I should stop doing that,” the Flash laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “So, just want to introduce myself real quick. Hi. I’m the Flash. You might recognize me from the crazy crap that just went on. I’m a, uh…a superhero. That’s not a joke. At least, it’s not supposed to be. And the other bad speedsters—the super fast people, to clarify—they’ve been beaten and safely detained. Everything’s fine…and will be fine from now on. That’s all I’ve got. See ya tomorrow, CC. Flash out.”

With that, the Flash disappeared, tossing the mic in the air for the reporter to catch. She did, and then looked at the camera, grinning like crazy.

“You heard it here first, folks. Central City has its very own super—”

“—oh, and one more thing,” the Flash sped back into the shot, causing the reporter to scream again. “Sorry,” he muttered, before finishing, “Iris West, you get the exclusive on me tomorrow at 8 am outside the place we first met. ‘Til then.”

The Flash waved and then zoomed away, leaving the CCTV reporters to gush over their scoop (and make fun of their colleague).

…

“Any luck?” the Flash asked after speeding into STAR Labs.

Max didn’t even look up from his computer, continuing to hack rapidfire as he replied, “Nope. None of the Children of the Lightning’s files have much on Jamie. All we know is Savitar revived him during one of his mind control trips…”

“—and he creeps a lot of people out,” Chester interjected. Upon a look from every other member of Team Flash, he blushed and cluelessly protested, “What?”

The Flash continued, ignoring his blatant lack of social courtesy, “So, the Fallen is your brother?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Max agreed. “And he’s fallen off of the face of the earth.”

“We’ll find him,” the Flash promised, demasking.

“And when we do, we’ll prove your father’s innocence,” Gehenna jumped in.

“It’s just a matter of time,” Elias agreed, and Chess nodded in turn, causing the Flash to smile, albeit slightly.

“Thanks, guys,” he said.

“One more thing, Barry,” Max began. “The Children’s victims were their members.”

“What?!”

“Jefferson Cleaver, Dana Rory, Ken Landis, all Children. They only defected because they were chosen to be sacrifices. The so-called ‘power source’ for Savitar’s temp brainwashing sessions with your dad. I’ve already leaked their info to the police,” Max explained.

“You did what?! Their families, Max—haven’t they gone through enough?” Barry protested.

Max finally looked up from the computer screen, his gaze ice cold. “The Children murdered my brother, Barry. Turned him into a monster. Their families should know who the real monsters were.”

Barry’s gaze fell, and he remained silent. None of the others knew what to say. Max simply returned to his search for Jamie, although when his face was hidden behind the monitor he bit his lip, the slightest hint of regret lingering in his mind. He honestly hadn’t considered the effect the leak would have on the families of the victims…how they might suffer.

How they might react.

…

Mick shattered the beer bottle in his hand, his grip so tight it broke right through the glass. He didn’t so much as grunt at the wounds on his hand, the shards that shimmered with his blood. His gaze was locked on the TV, as a reporter read aloud the names of the Children’s victims, and their association with the organization.

“Hey, Mick, are you okay?” Tanya, the bartender, checked on him.

“I gotta go. Sorry about the mess,” Mick slurred his words.

He stumbled out of the bar, and nobody tried to stop him. It was only after the humid summer air crashed against his skin and knocked some sense back into him that he bothered to look down at his injured hand. Piece by piece, he picked out the glass, each shard a memory.

The time he and Dana had stolen money from their parents. The time Dana had cheated off of Mick to pass a chemistry final in high school. And then the fire…that shimmering, powerful flame. The sight of her small, tween form standing in the doorway of their home, matchbox in hand, as she laughed like a madwoman at the burning building, their parents trapped inside. The spark had always been there. Dana had never been the ‘good one,’ no matter what their parents had said, no matter how often she had scolded Mick about his criminal lifestyle, no matter what Mick had told himself.

“I always lied for you…” Mick drunkenly grumbled, trudging down the street, tears lining his cheeks. “Told them I did it. Told ‘em I lit the match. Told ‘em I was the bad one.”

Dana was a criminal. A murderer. Maybe the reason Mick couldn’t shake the fire in his heart.

Then again, Mick was no better, only he’d always known that. Always admitted it until recently. He wasn’t law-abiding. He wasn’t level headed. He wasn’t ordinary.

Mick Rory was a Rogue.

…

Checking in with everyone at the CCPD had been a strenuous ordeal. For starters, everyone felt the need to give Barry their condolences and explain to him that they hadn’t seen what happened with his father coming. Knowing the truth made it that much harder for Barry to carry a conversation with them. Truthfully he just wanted to get back into a routine, to get his mind off of acquitting his father until they had solid evidence to back them up. It proved virtually impossible, at least that night, given that even Singh refused to give him work.

So Barry returned home, utterly exhausted and frustrated, only to stumble across Leonard Snart—Iris’ boyfriend—who was on his way out. That naturally didn’t help his mood, at all. Still, Barry managed to play nice. After all Len didn’t seem like a bad guy.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Barry asked, mustering a smile.

“So-so. Crazy day, right?” Len replied.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Barry weakly replied, his exhaustion leaking through the cracks.

“Well, keep your chin up. Nothing and nobody controls your mood except you. Only thing stopping happiness from coming your way—”

“—is myself,” Barry finished, the slightest hint of a smile creeping over his lips.

“Exactly. Have a good night,” Len passed him by, offering him a quick pat on the back.

“You too,” Barry said, pausing for but a second to watch Len go before he continued to his apartment.

Nobody had offered him real advice all night. Nobody had actually tried to help. They just offered their condolences and politely said they could talk if need be. But Leonard Snart, a guy who barely knew him, actually knew what to say.

Barry’s more upbeat mood was quickly dampened when he entered his apartment. He immediately noticed some of the living room had been cleared out. At first, he was afraid they’d been robbed. It was only after calling Max’s name to no response and checking his room that Barry realized the truth. Max had left.

Before he could worry for too long about Savitar having taken control of his friend again, he discovered a note on Max’s stripped bed. It read:

Barry,

Sorry to leave so suddenly, but I need some time away. I need to clear my head and figure out how to move forward. My brother’s out there somewhere, and I’ve got a god trapped inside me. There’s a lot I need to process, and Central City isn’t the right place to do that. I’ll be back eventually. Watch out for the others for me til then. Stay strong.

Your friend,
Max

P.S. You still owe me rent.

Barry couldn’t help it. He chuckled. Yeah, he wished Max would have stuck around, certainly considering they had just recently bonded, but he knew he would be back. The joke at the end as good as confirmed that. Barry had friends, real friends, and that made his crazy situation that much more manageable. Better, even. Maybe he was being overly optimistic, but…nah, forget that. Forget cynicism. That just wasn’t Barry. Everything would work out in the end, he knew it.

Barry crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

Then, with a gentle smile, he whispered, “Team Flash for life.”

…

As promised, The Flash met Iris outside Mercy General the following day. However, he arrived fifteen minutes late, filling the reporter with worry.

Looking down at her watch, Iris sighed with relief, “Thank God. I’d begun to think you weren’t coming. It just seemed so surreal. Why me? Not that I’m ungrateful, of course.”

“Your friend Barry Allen recommended you, said you were someone I could trust to set my story straight,” the Flash admitted, paused, and then said, “And sorry about my tardiness, Ms. West. There was a house fire on 40th,” the Flash muttered, rubbing the back of his head with embarrassment.

“Did everyone get out okay?” Iris asked, concern overtaking her motherly scolding tone.

The Flash simply nodded in return, “Yup.”

“That’s a relief,” Iris said, as she turned on her phone’s recorder, “Well, let’s get right to it, then.”

After covering the basics of his superpowers and heroic intentions, Iris began to realize the Flash wouldn’t reveal any serious secrets to her. With that understanding, she decided to adopt a more playful route for the rest of the interview.

“Aren’t you worried about the potential legal ramifications of taking on a copyrighted name?” Iris inquired.

“Oh, sure, National Comics can sue me,” Flash winked, “If they can catch me.”

As if to prove his point, the Scarlet Speedster whirled around the beautiful brunette, whipping up a fierce wind. Iris had to hold down her skirt to keep it from flying up. The Flash noticed what he’d done, stopped, his cheeks as red as his costume, and nodded at the reporter, just as police sirens began to ring in the distance.

“Sorry, Ms. West,” his words started to blur together, “Gottarun. Haveagoodafternoon.”

Before he could receive a response, the Fastest Man Alive sped off toward the sunrise. As he raced down street after street, the sirens drawing ever nearer, he couldn’t help but smile. It felt odd. Unnatural, even…but somehow right. They’d struggled so much, lost so much, but there was still hope. There was always hope. After all, who knew what tomorrow would bring?



EPILOGUE ONE: The Return

Leonard Snart had watched the news about the speedsters with the utmost curiosity. This Flash, he was a game changer. Crime wouldn’t pay if Len kept at his normal tricks. He needed more than a plan…he needed an upgrade.

As an idea began to ruminate in the back of his mind, knocking drew Len’s attention to the door. Expecting Iris, Len ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. However, as he looked through the peephole, he discovered a notably drunken Mick was the one outside, struggling to stand.

Len opened the door, gave his longtime friend a derisive look, and said, “Looking good, Mick.”

The hotheaded ex-con shot him a pitiful look like a beaten dog, and pushed past him into his apartment.

“Yeah, come on in,” Len sarcastically muttered.

Collapsing onto the couch, Mick mumbled something Len couldn’t understand.

“What was that?” Len asked.

“My sister, she…” Mick choked on his tears.

Len didn’t so much as hesitate to sit down beside his friend and comfort him with a simple pat on his back. “What happened?”

Mick took a deep, shuddering breath and then glumly stated, “Ain’t no good in this world.”

“Mick—”

“I’m back, Snart,” Mick interrupted.

“…what?” Len felt a smile coming on.

Mick’s eyes were now full of fire as he met Len’s gaze.

“I’m back. The Rogues are back.”

…

EPILOGUE TWO: The Storm to Come

Harrison Wells had only been pulled over once at the age of sixteen right after he’d received his driver’s license. He’d run a red light on his way to school, and, after explaining the situation to the police officer who had pulled him over, he’d gotten off with a warning. From that day forward, he swore never to make the same mistake again, to be a perfect driver. Like with his work, Harrison was obsessive about living up to this vow.

So it was with the utmost rage and confusion that Harrison pulled to the side of the road after being signaled by a police cruiser behind him, having broken no law that he could think of. He took a deep breath, calming himself, and looked in his rearview mirror, first at his own reflection then the officer’s.

Harrison was well groomed, his face shaven and his gray hair slicked up stylishly. His suit was pressed to perfection and his golden bow tie looked spectacular with his black button up shirt. He looked the part of a Nobel Prize-winning scientist. One who, in fact, was on his way to another awards show.

The police officer, on the other hand, appeared disheveled. His messy, stark white hair stood out considering his youthful complexion, and his clothes were more than a little wrinkled. Odder, he freed a red-cloaked man who looked deathly ill from the back of his cruiser, and approached Harrison’s Toyota Volt with him in tow.

As the cop reached his window, Harrison handed him his driver’s license, “Excuse me, sir. You might recognize me. I’m Harrison—”

“—Wells, yes. Is there anyone else in the car?” the white-haired officer asked, scanning the inside as his gray-skinned friend stared at Harrison.

The renowned scientist dry swallowed and continued, “No. Can I ask why you pulled me over?”

“Unlock your car,” the cop said.

“Excuse me?” Harrison replied, growing progressively more suspicious.

The cop flashed him his badge—the name Eddie Thawne engraved on it—and repeated, “Unlock your car, or exit the vehicle. Your choice.”

“I have rights—”

“Dr. Wells…”

“Fine. But you’ll be hearing from my lawyer about this,” Harrison swore, unlocking the car doors.

Detective Thawne then opened the back door and motioned for his cloaked friend to enter. As Harrison began to protest, Thawne sat down inside the vehicle after his friend and shut the door.

“What the hell—”

Suddenly, Harrison discovered a knife at his throat—one with a blade shaped like a lightning bolt.

“Drive,” Thawne growled.

“Where?” Harrison wondered, panicked.

“Just drive,” Thawne demanded, and Harrison did as he was told. After they’d picked up speed and continued for a few minutes down the highway, the detective laughed coolly and said, “My dear Dr. Wells, I have such exciting plans for you…”

…

EPILOGUE THREE: The Once and Future Flash
Date: Eventually

“…and that’s it. The end of my ‘origin story,’” Barry Allen finished, leaning back on the couch.

In the years since he’d defeated Savitar, Barry’s face had wrinkled slightly, and while his hair hadn’t yet begun to gray, it had grown thinner. He now wore it short, close cropped to his head. It seemed even the Flash had to succumb to the effects of aging. On his right hand sat two rings: a wedding band and a thick circlet emblazoned with a lightning bolt.

“That’s cute, capping it with the first time I interviewed you,” Iris teased, stopping the recorder on her smart watch.

Like Barry, Iris had aged gracefully, although you wouldn’t mistake her for the young twenty-something of her early reporter days. She, too, wore her hair much shorter, and had adopted a generally more casual demeanor, the stress of youth long since gone. Iris also sported a wedding ring of her own encrusted with a diamond.

“You ready to keep going, or do you want to take a break?” Iris asked.

Before Barry could answer, someone knocked at the door. A boy’s voice rang out from the other side, “Mom! Dad! Dawn bit me!!”

Barry shot Iris a playful smile and said, “Duty calls, sweetheart. I’ll be back—”

“—don’t you dare—” Iris smirked.

“—in a flash.”

And just like that, Barry had sped out of the room to address their son’s complaint. Alone, Iris activated the holo-computer in front of her, and opened a document titled: ‘The Once and Future Flash: The Biography of the Fastest Man Alive.’ After taking a deep breath, she hit play on her watch, and typed whatever came to mind as her husband’s voice echoed out:

“My name is Barry Allen and I’m…getting ahead of myself. Before I tell you my story…”