Post by Al David on Apr 25, 2018 18:58:29 GMT
Instead of sitting beside James, she straddled him. He tried to protest, but she shushed him quiet. Slipping her wallet out from her bra, she flashed a silver badge before he could push her off.
“James Jesse, we need to talk,” she whispered.
The wind blew soundlessly. James’ lips twisted into a frown. Suddenly, he felt the muzzle of a pistol against the back of his neck.
“What the fu—”
The Flash
#19: Rise of the Rogues Part 7
“One Long Trick”
“—Carlotta, get the hell off of him,” came a husky new voice.
James resisted the urge to scream. The newcomer was standing right behind him, her breath misting down his neckline. However, as the stench of tobacco washed over James, he felt oddly relaxed. He supposed that’s what years as a smoker would do for you.
The…passionate old woman, presumably Carlotta, sighed and slipped down beside James. She did not remove her pistol from its place against his neck. He didn’t know what was worse: the creepy breathing or the actual threat of death.
“Don’t think I moved for your yellow-belly ass, Kim. Position’s just bad for my hips,” Carlotta muttered.
“Pardon Agent Samson,” said the newcomer. “She’s just trying to relive her glory days 60 years past.”
James couldn’t make out the newcomer, what with a gun pressed to his neck. Thankfully, she came around the bend, revealing the petite form of a Chinese little person. Unlike Carlotta, she wore the tell-tale uniform of a secret agent: a classic suit and tie.
Oh my God, the Feds were after him.
“You talk smart, but you smoke like it’s still fashionable. Didn’t anybody tell you a smoking Chinaman is a stereotype?” Carlotta spat.
“You’re the reason I smoke. I’d go crazy otherwise,” Kim retorted.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re the paragon of sanity.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Excuse me,” James interjected. The women looked at him. He dry swallowed. “Am I under arrest?”
A moment passed. Then, both women erupted with laughter.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, big boy?” Carlotta snorted.
“Self-destructive idiot,” Kim added.
“What’s going on then?” James asked, doing everything in his power not to blow up on the woman with a gun to his throat.
“We’re with the DEO,” Kim explained.
“He doesn’t know what that means,” Carlotta interjected. With a flourish, she stated, “Department of Extranormal Operations,” as if that answered all his questions.
Kim flashed her own badge, emblazoned with a…was that an eagle? “We want to recruit you.”
James frowned. “So…extranormal, like you enforce parking tickets and mop regulations?”
Kim rolled her eyes. “Extranormal as in paranormal. Metahuman, alien, the likes.”
“And you want me?” James mumbled.
“You bet,” Carlotta said.
“Okay,” James said.
Kim cocked her head. “Okay as in…?”
“I’ll join,” James admitted.
“Just like that?” Carlotta wondered. “I mean, we could be assassins. Or kidnappers. You’re just trusting our word.”
“You have the badges, and seeing as I’d likely to go to jail otherwise…” James shrugged. “I do have a couple requests, though.”
“Okay,” Kim said.
“Okay as in…?” James asked.
“We’re all ears.”
James looked down at the package in his hands. Axel’s package. For the first time in a while, he felt optimistic.
Maybe he could fix this after all.
…
“Wake up, Barry. Rise and shine. Breakfast’s ready!”
Barry batted his eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light. A spotlight. And that voice…it belonged to Axel Walker.
Barry was trapped, restrained in an energy field against a wall. Worse, much worse, he was unmasked. Standing just a few feet away, Axel Walker shined the light on him and cackled like a hyena. To the criminal’s right stood Sam Scudder. Further back, in the shadows, rested Mark Mardon, the only one without a smile on his face.
Barry had been captured by the Rogues.
“It is Barry, right? As in Bartholomew Henry Allen?” Scudder teased.
“You’re in deep shit,” Axel mused.
Barry opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been beaten. That didn’t mean he would give up, but…what the hell could he do?
“Don’t fret, Barry. We aren’t going to kill you yet.” Sam stepped forward. He made a gun with his hand and ‘fired’ it at Barry. “We’re going to ruin your life, just like you ruined mine. Axel, whenever you’re ready.”
“Already got the lights.” Axel reached into his pocket and produced his cellphone. He held it up and began to film himself. “Here’s the camera. And—action!”
“Hello, world! It’s me, your resident fave supervillain, Axel Walker. I need a super name, don’t I? Shit, well, that’s for future Axel to figure out. For now, I gotta keep you on the edge of your seats, because I got a big surprise for you!” Axel danced around to Barry’s side, but only filmed his suit’s crest. His face remained out of frame. “For those who haven’t heard, I captured the Flash! And in thirty minutes—”
Sam ripped the phone out of Axel’s hands. “In thirty minutes, after we build a proper audience, we’ll unmask him to the entire world. And please, cops, feds, anyone with a decent IT staff, try to find us. This connection’s untraceable, unhackable, courtesy of a new friend of ours.”
…
“So, relax. Lean back, pop some popcorn, pour yourself a glass of wine. It’s gonna be a hell of a show,” Sam’s smile shined white through the screen. “And don’t forget—the Rogues remember.”
Just like that, the screen cut to a slideshow of pictures of the Flash and a timer counting down from thirty minutes. The song “Fourth Dimensional Transition” played over the images. Chester muttered more than a few choice curse words.
“You said you can track their tech,” Daniel urged, sitting beside Chester on his desk.
The two were situated in the main lab. For the last few minutes, until the Rogue’s video had streamed, Chester had been typing furiously away at his computer.
“I said I could try,” Chester flushed. “I mean, I did already. Back when Mardon was on a rampage, I tried to track his weather wand—my weather wand, but came up with nada. Someone’s recoded it. Built new firewalls. Whatever.” He threw his arms up in frustration. “Shit! It’s like Mirror Master—or Scudder, or whatever the heck you want to call him, said. They’re out of my reach. I’m not a hacking expert. I’m an engineer, and they—they have some stupid genius on their side!”
“So what? There’s nothing we can do?” Daniel pushed.
Chester shook his head. “Unless they decide to shoot up a flare…” He trailed off, staring into space.
Daniel frowned. “What?”
Suddenly, Chester burst up out of his seat, causing Daniel to jump.
“I’m such an idiot! Holy—” Chester pumped his fist in the air. “Mardon’s weather wand, it’s radioactive. Not, like, cancer radioactive, but—”
“Get to the point,” Daniel said.
“The wand sends up this constant radioactive flare, you feel me? And sure, there’s all sorts of radiation going on all the time around us, right, but the wand’s is unique. It’s off the grid. I didn’t even know about it until Gen was…” Chester shook himself to reality. “Never mind. Point is, I can track the radiation, so I can track the Rogues.”
“I could kiss you!” Daniel exclaimed. Chester tried to pull him into a hug, but he resisted, pointing to the computer. “No—work! Do your thing. We have less than half an hour!”
“Right, right,” Chester sat back down. “I got this. Only gotta invent a whole new way to track a brand new form of radiation and leave time to save Barry before his ID is revealed to the world. No big deal.”
“Shut up and type,” Daniel said.
“Not a big deal at all.”
…
“…don’t forget—the Rogues remember.”
Wally hated feeling powerless. He hated doing nothing, shrouded in a blanket, moping. Most of all, he hated being treated like a victim, but that’s exactly how everyone—everyone—treated him. Including…no, especially Iris.
“You’ve gone through more than most adults, and you’re only twelve,” Iris said, handing him a mug of black tea. “Honestly, Wally, you’re my superhero.”
Wally grunted in response. He wasn’t fragile. He didn’t need this bullshit.
Iris sat down beside him and took his free hand. “Do you want to go see a movie? Watch Netflix?”
Wally’s mouth moved thoughtlessly, “I want to go on a run.”
“…okay,” Iris said, “Do you want company?”
Wally shook his head, and trudged over to the kitchen. He placed the untouched cup of tea in the sink, and locked eyes with Iris.
“Could you grab a hoodie for me?” he asked.
Iris offered a gentle smile, “Of course.”
The instant she left the room, he swiped her car keys off the counter and walked quickly out of the apartment. He picked up speed as he reached the stairwell, and entered a full on sprint when he entered the parking lot. He started Iris’ car and pulled out of the lot as quickly as possible. Moreover, he didn’t bother to look back as he drove off, afraid that the sight of Iris’ anger and fear would motivate him to stop.
The instant he hit the highway, Wally put the pedal to the metal. He raced awkwardly around other vehicles, swerving, accelerating, and breathing to the beat of Kendrick Lamar.
Eventually, he caught sight of a cop car. Wally eyed his speedometer: 84 mph. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, picking up speed. Just as he passed 100 mph, he zoomed past the police cruiser. His heart raced, his breathing pounded out, and—
The cop ignored him. No lights, no siren, nothing. The cruiser remained parked in place, for whatever reason.
Wally cursed under his breath, and slowed down. He pulled to the side of the highway, and beat his hands wordlessly against the steering wheel. Allowing a sigh to escape his lips, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
In a flash of crimson lightning, someone—something—knocked Wally out, and dragged him from the car.
The sudden burst of light awoke a nearby police officer, the same one who’d slept through Wally’s reckless act of rebellion. When the cop checked on the parked vehicle, he found it abandoned, the radio sounding off:
“And I’m not sure why I’m infatuated with death.
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats,
That can come about, ’cause the tongue is mighty powerful,
And I can name a list of your favorites that probably vouch.
Maybe cause I’m a dreamer and sleep is the cousin of death.”
…
“I’m like both shit-my-pants scared, and hyped as hell,” Chester whispered, fingering his utility belt. He and Daniel inched closer to the entrance to the Rogues’ warehouse headquarters. “I suddenly get the appeal of being a cop.”
“It’s not usually like this at all,” Daniel said.
“Sure, ‘cause y’all profile instead of arresting thugs like the Rogues.”
“I’m black,” Daniel retorted.
“You pass as white,” Chess replied.
“Okay, we are not arguing racial politics right now. Heads up, we breach on three,” Daniel said.
“Can you believe the Rogues are here? This is like the most stereotypical working class criminal hideout of all time,” Chess muttered.
“Three…two…one—”
“Kumbaya, mother duckers,” Chess said.
Daniel slid the door open, and Chess tossed in a flashbang. The cop immediately reclosed the door, and cocked his pistol. Chess produced his gravity gun just as the flashbang went off. Yells echoed inside the warehouse. Daniel threw the door open.
That was when the warehouse exploded.
It wasn’t fire that overcame Chess and Daniel, but light, as a sharp ringing drowned out their screams. In the blink of an eye, their surroundings shifted, and they found themselves inside a realm of reflection: the mirror dimension.
A dozen paces ahead of them stood the Rogues. To their right hung Barry, trapped on the now-foundationless warehouse wall.
The next few moments passed in a flash. The Rogues attempted to blink away their blindness, as their assailants were forced to do the same. The warehouse began to crumble, its roof roaring like a dying giant. Barry’s force field flickered apart, and he vibrated out of his restraints. Axel tossed a plastic skull at Daniel, who quickly fired his pistol. The bullet collided with the skull, which exploded.
The whole building came down around them.
Barry tried to speed to his allies’ aid, but the explosion knocked him off his feet. Sam snagged Mark by the collar of his jacket and dragged him out of the mirror dimension. Axel zigged and zagged around falling debris, scrambling for one of the mirror gates. A chunk of the ceiling toppled toward Barry, only to stop in mid-air. Chess had his gravity gun aimed with shaking hands, barely holding the debris steady.
“Run, Barry, run—”
Barry scrambled onto his feet and snagged Daniel and Chester. He sped them out of the warehouse, then immediately went back in for Axel. The Rogue’s weak sobs caught Barry’s attention. Axel was trapped beneath a mound of rubble, unable to move. Barry vibrated the debris to dust, freeing the criminal, but he was too late. Axel’s face was covered in dirt and blood, and his right arm was a pulpy mess. He was dying.
Barry carried Axel out of the crumbling building and set him on the non-existent floor beside the others.
“Oh my God…” Chess mumbled.
“We can’t—we’re trapped,” Barry said. Nausea clung to his stomach, and he stumbled. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Eyes swelling shut, Axel laughed. His laughter faded to a coughing fit, then to sobs. None of the others knew what to say.
“You saved me. You fucking saved me,” Axel mumbled, “And the Rogues…the Rogues…”
Axel coughed once more, then fell silent.
…
Sam Scudder and Mark Mardon emerged from the mirror dimension inside the old Scudder mansion. Coughing up dust, Mark motioned back to the mirror from whence they’d arrived.
“We have to go back…” Mark choked out.
“Can’t. It’s done.” Sam leaned back against the wall. “The Flash is dead.”
The two Rogues locked eyes, the reality of their situation settling in. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but found himself at a loss. If the Flash had survived, he was trapped. He would starve, and they…the Rogues would win. They had won.
Sam began to laugh, only to stumble into a coughing fit. This, in turn, made him laugh more. Mark looked at him dumbly for a moment, before joining in.
“What a joke,” Mark muttered.
“Like we pulled some stupid trick on him,” Sam chuckled.
“You’re supposed to be on air right now. What happened?”
Sam and Mark looked over at the newcomer, a scrawny young Hispanic man in a Star War t-shirt. He was their secret weapon. Their tech genius, Cisco Ramon.
“Things went…awry,” Sam admitted. He looked in the mirror, and fixed his comb-over with his hands. “But the Flash is dead, and Axel with him.”
“What?” Cisco’s voice quivered with as much anger as surprise. “We were supposed to ruin his life before we killed him. It’s the only reason I worked with you in the first place—”
“Relax,” Sam urged, biting back his irritation. “Yeah, he’s dead. So what? We can still tarnish his legacy.”
Cisco stared at Sam for a moment, then relented with a nod.
“And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Sam muttered.
“You need to go on air right now and announce his death. Reveal his identity,” Cisco ordered.
Sam jerked up, towering over the techie. His cheeks flushed with rage. “Slow down, Ramon. I’m in charge here. We’re gonna take a break first, mourn our goddamn teammate, then we’ll talk the next step—”
“Axel was a conceited brat, just like you,” Cisco spat.
Sam grabbed Cisco’s shirt and shoved him against the wall. “Y’know what, I’m about sick of your mouth, Ramon. Axel worked with us. He may have been a little shit, but he was one of us. Far as I’m concerned, you ain’t, so don’t think I would hesitate to drop you.”
“Take a deep breath, boss,” Mark urged, stepping forward.
“Listen to sparklestick if you want to keep that hand,” Cisco growled.
Sam’s face twisted with rage. “That’s it—”
Crimson lightning flashed across the room. In the blink of an eye, Cisco stood free, while Sam’s right hand lay in a bloody puddle on the ground. Both Rogues struggled to process what had just happened until pain forced Sam onto his knees. As his boss screamed, Mark raised his weather wand, only to lose it in another flash of crimson light.
Cisco twirled the wand between his fingers, chuckling like a madman. Beside him stood Jamie Missichkone, whose body still crackled with blood red energy. Savitar’s Fallen was dressed in all black, including matching leather jacket and pants. His blank red eyes glared back at Mark, as if urging him to attack again.
“What the hell…?” Mark muttered.
“Should’ve done this from the start,” Cisco began, “But I figured, why the hell not play along? There’s something about playing second fiddle while quietly conducting the orchestra that’s…exciting to me. It’s supervillain 101. Behind the scenes manipulation is so subtle, so rich with character.”
Sam whimpered, drawing a sneer from Cisco, who kicked him across the chin. “Quiet!” The Rogue abided by the command, biting his lip so hard her drew blood.
Cisco smirked at Sam’s submission, saying, “Mirror Master…such a stupid name. Won’t age well.” He motioned to his superfast minion. “Clean Mirror Master up. I’m not done with him yet.”
The Fallen sped Sam out of the room, leaving Mark alone with Cisco, who examined him carefully.
“You’re a bit…loose cannon for my tastes, but I’m not ready to show my face—or rather, Cisco’s—just yet.” He reached into his pocket, then tossed Mark his smart phone. “You’re up. Spread the news.”
“You want me to…to…the Flash is dead?” Mark mumbled, struggling to control the voices in his head. If he stepped out of line, lost control, Cisco might consider him extraneous and…
“Oh yeah. Let the whole world know his truth, too. Barry ‘Goodie Two Shoes’ Allen. And, of course, tell them that the Gem Cities are ours,” Cisco cracked his neck. “That they belong to my Rogues.”
“The National Guard, hell, the whole US government will be after us,” Mark protested.
Cisco’s lips twisted into a sick grin. “Oh, I’m betting on it.”
…
James Jesse twitched nervously in his seat, fingering the package in his hands. He thought it would be easier, that he wouldn’t feel so…guilty. Yet here he was, in the heart of Iron Heights penitentiary, quivering in his boots at the thought of seeing his old partner…his old friend again. He’d abandoned him, left him to rot when he could have worked with the others to free him. To free…
Leonard Snart walked through the doors, his blue eyes cold with apathy. He wore his prisoner orange like a kid wore their parent’s clothes. It didn’t fit. It just looked…wrong, almost amusingly so.
Len’s escort locked his cuffs to the table, and situated himself at the back of the room.
“Please leave us be,” Agent Kim Kuan addressed the guard, who looked at her for a moment, surprised, then left.
An awkward silence fell over the room. James tapped his fingers against the desk, unable to look across the table at Len, who was staring at him. Finally—
“Whatever this is, I want no part in it,” Len stated, matter-of-fact.
“Hey to you too, buddy,” James blurted.
Len leaned forward and whispered so only James could hear. “This ain’t a trick, is it? You’re really going narc.”
“What did he say?” Kim demanded.
“He called me a narc,” James admitted.
To that, Len slipped back, his gaze even more detached. “It was good to see you, James, but respectfully go fuck yourself.”
“I haven’t even started to discuss the proposal,” James said.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Len replied.
“You’d serve the rest of your sentence working for the DEO, combating superhuman criminals,” Kim explained.
“What did I just say?” Len grunted.
James forced himself to speak up, to argue with his longtime boss and mentor. “The others, everyone but Mick, they betrayed you. Sam’s making his own Rogues without you. This is your chance to get back at him—”
“By becoming a cop?” Len interrupted, silencing James. “The whole system’s rigged. I ain’t playing a part in it.”
James’ temper slipped out from him. “You were always a part of the system, Len, just on the wrong side—”
“Screw you,” Len spat.
James took a deep breath, then begged, “Please, Mick won’t even see me without you.”
Len didn’t get the chance to respond, as Katy Perry’s “Firework” played, grabbing the attention of the room at large. It was Kim’s ringtone. Len snorted. The secret agent didn’t seem to care.
“Hello?” she answered. “Uh huh. Yeah, I’m with him…yep…you’re shitting me…I’ll break the news. Alright, bye. Screw you, too, Carlotta.”
She hung up and patted James on the head.
“What’s that for?” he muttered.
“My sympathy, Jesse. Your cousin’s dead,” Kim said plainly, as if discussing the weather or her least favorite boy band.
The whole world seemed to halt around James. His ears rang. His lips forced out, “Axel?”
He couldn’t hear Kim’s confirmation, but he understood her nod. His eyes drifted down to his hands, to the package in it, then up to Len’s chains. Without thinking, he stood up and left the room. No one followed him out, nor to the bathroom. Once there, he locked himself in a stall, and ripped the package open.
The first thing he found was a dozen or so twenties tied together with a rubber band. Next, he stumbled across a letter, though he couldn’t bring himself to read it. And last…last he found a toy. An action figure of the comic book Flash, something James had shoplifted and given to him for his ninth birthday. He hadn’t realized Axel’s parents had kept it, or, for that matter, the boy had either. Axel hated superheroes.
James’ eyes drifted to the note, but without reading it he understood. Axel had kept the toy because he looked up to him. As terrible as he could be, Axel was still family.
And he was dead.
James did not, could not cry. As much as he wanted to, his body wouldn’t let go. Luckily, he had something to distract him.
“Jesse?” came Kim’s voice from the doorway.
“Yeah,” James said.
“Snart’s joining our team.”
“What?” That didn’t make sense. Len would never…
“He said he’s gotta teach Scudder a lesson. Gotta avenge Axel, or some shit. Really, I think he’s planning on backstabbing us, but we got ways to prevent that,” Kim explained.
James took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could do this. He could succeed where Axel failed. He could make up for his sins, and avenge his cousin. He would—
“You crapping in there?” Kim called.
James sighed and flushed the toilet. “Just finished.”
…
In a location unknown, Cisco Ramon watched as Mark announced the Rogues’ rule and the Flash’s death to the world. He was slowly building up to the ultimate reveal…
KERRRANK!
“Keep it down, would you?” Cisco called back.
Twenty paces behind him, three scientists stopped work on an enormous circular machine, a Blackout Generator. The first, the elder Harrison Wells, shot Cisco a venomous glare. The second, one Darwin Elias, collapsed onto his rear, exhausted. The third, on the other hand, took a moment to wipe grease from his hands, his face masked in soft fear. This young man was the real Cisco Ramon. This young man had his identity stolen by…
“The Ghost,” Wells grumbled, “Who the hell wants to be called the Ghost? So melodramatic.”
“Extra af,” the real Cisco agreed, to which Wells just rolled his eyes.
“Quiet down, ‘less you want him to hear you,” Elias said.
“That’s the goal,” Wells replied.
To their right, The Fallen watched them with cold, dead eyes, then glanced to the center of the machine where the last captive was tied. Mumbling tearlessly, Wally West resisted the urge to cry, unable to see or speak due to his restraints.
“…last promise, the identity of the Flash. Though we can’t confirm it with actual evidence given his…condition, I can promise you what you’re about to hear is the truth,” Mardon’s voice rang out from the TV.
Faux-Cisco, The Ghost, grinned toothlessly. He stood up, his eyes glued to the screen. “Do you want to know my real name, Dr. Wells?”
Elias stepped back nervously. Cisco dug his nails into the floor. Wells, however, just muttered obscenities, and offered no real response.
Mardon continued, “The Flash was a resident of Central City. The child of a criminal. A police scientist…”
The Ghost motioned back to the Fallen, who instantly grabbed Wells and sped him to his master. In an instant, the Ghost’s fingers had wrapped around the veteran scientist’s throat, choking him into submission.
“My name is Eobard Thawne…” the Ghost began, eyes on the screen, forcing Wells to his knees.
“…whose name was Barry Allen.”
“…and I will be the Fastest Man Alive.”
TO BE CONTINUED INTHE FLASH: RISE OF THE ROGUES PART 8
THE FLASH: LEGACY OF BARRY ALLEN PART 1
“James Jesse, we need to talk,” she whispered.
The wind blew soundlessly. James’ lips twisted into a frown. Suddenly, he felt the muzzle of a pistol against the back of his neck.
“What the fu—”
The Flash
#19: Rise of the Rogues Part 7
“One Long Trick”
“—Carlotta, get the hell off of him,” came a husky new voice.
James resisted the urge to scream. The newcomer was standing right behind him, her breath misting down his neckline. However, as the stench of tobacco washed over James, he felt oddly relaxed. He supposed that’s what years as a smoker would do for you.
The…passionate old woman, presumably Carlotta, sighed and slipped down beside James. She did not remove her pistol from its place against his neck. He didn’t know what was worse: the creepy breathing or the actual threat of death.
“Don’t think I moved for your yellow-belly ass, Kim. Position’s just bad for my hips,” Carlotta muttered.
“Pardon Agent Samson,” said the newcomer. “She’s just trying to relive her glory days 60 years past.”
James couldn’t make out the newcomer, what with a gun pressed to his neck. Thankfully, she came around the bend, revealing the petite form of a Chinese little person. Unlike Carlotta, she wore the tell-tale uniform of a secret agent: a classic suit and tie.
Oh my God, the Feds were after him.
“You talk smart, but you smoke like it’s still fashionable. Didn’t anybody tell you a smoking Chinaman is a stereotype?” Carlotta spat.
“You’re the reason I smoke. I’d go crazy otherwise,” Kim retorted.
“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re the paragon of sanity.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Excuse me,” James interjected. The women looked at him. He dry swallowed. “Am I under arrest?”
A moment passed. Then, both women erupted with laughter.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, big boy?” Carlotta snorted.
“Self-destructive idiot,” Kim added.
“What’s going on then?” James asked, doing everything in his power not to blow up on the woman with a gun to his throat.
“We’re with the DEO,” Kim explained.
“He doesn’t know what that means,” Carlotta interjected. With a flourish, she stated, “Department of Extranormal Operations,” as if that answered all his questions.
Kim flashed her own badge, emblazoned with a…was that an eagle? “We want to recruit you.”
James frowned. “So…extranormal, like you enforce parking tickets and mop regulations?”
Kim rolled her eyes. “Extranormal as in paranormal. Metahuman, alien, the likes.”
“And you want me?” James mumbled.
“You bet,” Carlotta said.
“Okay,” James said.
Kim cocked her head. “Okay as in…?”
“I’ll join,” James admitted.
“Just like that?” Carlotta wondered. “I mean, we could be assassins. Or kidnappers. You’re just trusting our word.”
“You have the badges, and seeing as I’d likely to go to jail otherwise…” James shrugged. “I do have a couple requests, though.”
“Okay,” Kim said.
“Okay as in…?” James asked.
“We’re all ears.”
James looked down at the package in his hands. Axel’s package. For the first time in a while, he felt optimistic.
Maybe he could fix this after all.
…
“Wake up, Barry. Rise and shine. Breakfast’s ready!”
Barry batted his eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light. A spotlight. And that voice…it belonged to Axel Walker.
Barry was trapped, restrained in an energy field against a wall. Worse, much worse, he was unmasked. Standing just a few feet away, Axel Walker shined the light on him and cackled like a hyena. To the criminal’s right stood Sam Scudder. Further back, in the shadows, rested Mark Mardon, the only one without a smile on his face.
Barry had been captured by the Rogues.
“It is Barry, right? As in Bartholomew Henry Allen?” Scudder teased.
“You’re in deep shit,” Axel mused.
Barry opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He’d been beaten. That didn’t mean he would give up, but…what the hell could he do?
“Don’t fret, Barry. We aren’t going to kill you yet.” Sam stepped forward. He made a gun with his hand and ‘fired’ it at Barry. “We’re going to ruin your life, just like you ruined mine. Axel, whenever you’re ready.”
“Already got the lights.” Axel reached into his pocket and produced his cellphone. He held it up and began to film himself. “Here’s the camera. And—action!”
“Hello, world! It’s me, your resident fave supervillain, Axel Walker. I need a super name, don’t I? Shit, well, that’s for future Axel to figure out. For now, I gotta keep you on the edge of your seats, because I got a big surprise for you!” Axel danced around to Barry’s side, but only filmed his suit’s crest. His face remained out of frame. “For those who haven’t heard, I captured the Flash! And in thirty minutes—”
Sam ripped the phone out of Axel’s hands. “In thirty minutes, after we build a proper audience, we’ll unmask him to the entire world. And please, cops, feds, anyone with a decent IT staff, try to find us. This connection’s untraceable, unhackable, courtesy of a new friend of ours.”
…
“So, relax. Lean back, pop some popcorn, pour yourself a glass of wine. It’s gonna be a hell of a show,” Sam’s smile shined white through the screen. “And don’t forget—the Rogues remember.”
Just like that, the screen cut to a slideshow of pictures of the Flash and a timer counting down from thirty minutes. The song “Fourth Dimensional Transition” played over the images. Chester muttered more than a few choice curse words.
“You said you can track their tech,” Daniel urged, sitting beside Chester on his desk.
The two were situated in the main lab. For the last few minutes, until the Rogue’s video had streamed, Chester had been typing furiously away at his computer.
“I said I could try,” Chester flushed. “I mean, I did already. Back when Mardon was on a rampage, I tried to track his weather wand—my weather wand, but came up with nada. Someone’s recoded it. Built new firewalls. Whatever.” He threw his arms up in frustration. “Shit! It’s like Mirror Master—or Scudder, or whatever the heck you want to call him, said. They’re out of my reach. I’m not a hacking expert. I’m an engineer, and they—they have some stupid genius on their side!”
“So what? There’s nothing we can do?” Daniel pushed.
Chester shook his head. “Unless they decide to shoot up a flare…” He trailed off, staring into space.
Daniel frowned. “What?”
Suddenly, Chester burst up out of his seat, causing Daniel to jump.
“I’m such an idiot! Holy—” Chester pumped his fist in the air. “Mardon’s weather wand, it’s radioactive. Not, like, cancer radioactive, but—”
“Get to the point,” Daniel said.
“The wand sends up this constant radioactive flare, you feel me? And sure, there’s all sorts of radiation going on all the time around us, right, but the wand’s is unique. It’s off the grid. I didn’t even know about it until Gen was…” Chester shook himself to reality. “Never mind. Point is, I can track the radiation, so I can track the Rogues.”
“I could kiss you!” Daniel exclaimed. Chester tried to pull him into a hug, but he resisted, pointing to the computer. “No—work! Do your thing. We have less than half an hour!”
“Right, right,” Chester sat back down. “I got this. Only gotta invent a whole new way to track a brand new form of radiation and leave time to save Barry before his ID is revealed to the world. No big deal.”
“Shut up and type,” Daniel said.
“Not a big deal at all.”
…
“…don’t forget—the Rogues remember.”
Wally hated feeling powerless. He hated doing nothing, shrouded in a blanket, moping. Most of all, he hated being treated like a victim, but that’s exactly how everyone—everyone—treated him. Including…no, especially Iris.
“You’ve gone through more than most adults, and you’re only twelve,” Iris said, handing him a mug of black tea. “Honestly, Wally, you’re my superhero.”
Wally grunted in response. He wasn’t fragile. He didn’t need this bullshit.
Iris sat down beside him and took his free hand. “Do you want to go see a movie? Watch Netflix?”
Wally’s mouth moved thoughtlessly, “I want to go on a run.”
“…okay,” Iris said, “Do you want company?”
Wally shook his head, and trudged over to the kitchen. He placed the untouched cup of tea in the sink, and locked eyes with Iris.
“Could you grab a hoodie for me?” he asked.
Iris offered a gentle smile, “Of course.”
The instant she left the room, he swiped her car keys off the counter and walked quickly out of the apartment. He picked up speed as he reached the stairwell, and entered a full on sprint when he entered the parking lot. He started Iris’ car and pulled out of the lot as quickly as possible. Moreover, he didn’t bother to look back as he drove off, afraid that the sight of Iris’ anger and fear would motivate him to stop.
The instant he hit the highway, Wally put the pedal to the metal. He raced awkwardly around other vehicles, swerving, accelerating, and breathing to the beat of Kendrick Lamar.
Eventually, he caught sight of a cop car. Wally eyed his speedometer: 84 mph. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, picking up speed. Just as he passed 100 mph, he zoomed past the police cruiser. His heart raced, his breathing pounded out, and—
The cop ignored him. No lights, no siren, nothing. The cruiser remained parked in place, for whatever reason.
Wally cursed under his breath, and slowed down. He pulled to the side of the highway, and beat his hands wordlessly against the steering wheel. Allowing a sigh to escape his lips, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
In a flash of crimson lightning, someone—something—knocked Wally out, and dragged him from the car.
The sudden burst of light awoke a nearby police officer, the same one who’d slept through Wally’s reckless act of rebellion. When the cop checked on the parked vehicle, he found it abandoned, the radio sounding off:
“And I’m not sure why I’m infatuated with death.
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats,
That can come about, ’cause the tongue is mighty powerful,
And I can name a list of your favorites that probably vouch.
Maybe cause I’m a dreamer and sleep is the cousin of death.”
…
“I’m like both shit-my-pants scared, and hyped as hell,” Chester whispered, fingering his utility belt. He and Daniel inched closer to the entrance to the Rogues’ warehouse headquarters. “I suddenly get the appeal of being a cop.”
“It’s not usually like this at all,” Daniel said.
“Sure, ‘cause y’all profile instead of arresting thugs like the Rogues.”
“I’m black,” Daniel retorted.
“You pass as white,” Chess replied.
“Okay, we are not arguing racial politics right now. Heads up, we breach on three,” Daniel said.
“Can you believe the Rogues are here? This is like the most stereotypical working class criminal hideout of all time,” Chess muttered.
“Three…two…one—”
“Kumbaya, mother duckers,” Chess said.
Daniel slid the door open, and Chess tossed in a flashbang. The cop immediately reclosed the door, and cocked his pistol. Chess produced his gravity gun just as the flashbang went off. Yells echoed inside the warehouse. Daniel threw the door open.
That was when the warehouse exploded.
It wasn’t fire that overcame Chess and Daniel, but light, as a sharp ringing drowned out their screams. In the blink of an eye, their surroundings shifted, and they found themselves inside a realm of reflection: the mirror dimension.
A dozen paces ahead of them stood the Rogues. To their right hung Barry, trapped on the now-foundationless warehouse wall.
The next few moments passed in a flash. The Rogues attempted to blink away their blindness, as their assailants were forced to do the same. The warehouse began to crumble, its roof roaring like a dying giant. Barry’s force field flickered apart, and he vibrated out of his restraints. Axel tossed a plastic skull at Daniel, who quickly fired his pistol. The bullet collided with the skull, which exploded.
The whole building came down around them.
Barry tried to speed to his allies’ aid, but the explosion knocked him off his feet. Sam snagged Mark by the collar of his jacket and dragged him out of the mirror dimension. Axel zigged and zagged around falling debris, scrambling for one of the mirror gates. A chunk of the ceiling toppled toward Barry, only to stop in mid-air. Chess had his gravity gun aimed with shaking hands, barely holding the debris steady.
“Run, Barry, run—”
Barry scrambled onto his feet and snagged Daniel and Chester. He sped them out of the warehouse, then immediately went back in for Axel. The Rogue’s weak sobs caught Barry’s attention. Axel was trapped beneath a mound of rubble, unable to move. Barry vibrated the debris to dust, freeing the criminal, but he was too late. Axel’s face was covered in dirt and blood, and his right arm was a pulpy mess. He was dying.
Barry carried Axel out of the crumbling building and set him on the non-existent floor beside the others.
“Oh my God…” Chess mumbled.
“We can’t—we’re trapped,” Barry said. Nausea clung to his stomach, and he stumbled. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Eyes swelling shut, Axel laughed. His laughter faded to a coughing fit, then to sobs. None of the others knew what to say.
“You saved me. You fucking saved me,” Axel mumbled, “And the Rogues…the Rogues…”
Axel coughed once more, then fell silent.
…
Sam Scudder and Mark Mardon emerged from the mirror dimension inside the old Scudder mansion. Coughing up dust, Mark motioned back to the mirror from whence they’d arrived.
“We have to go back…” Mark choked out.
“Can’t. It’s done.” Sam leaned back against the wall. “The Flash is dead.”
The two Rogues locked eyes, the reality of their situation settling in. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but found himself at a loss. If the Flash had survived, he was trapped. He would starve, and they…the Rogues would win. They had won.
Sam began to laugh, only to stumble into a coughing fit. This, in turn, made him laugh more. Mark looked at him dumbly for a moment, before joining in.
“What a joke,” Mark muttered.
“Like we pulled some stupid trick on him,” Sam chuckled.
“You’re supposed to be on air right now. What happened?”
Sam and Mark looked over at the newcomer, a scrawny young Hispanic man in a Star War t-shirt. He was their secret weapon. Their tech genius, Cisco Ramon.
“Things went…awry,” Sam admitted. He looked in the mirror, and fixed his comb-over with his hands. “But the Flash is dead, and Axel with him.”
“What?” Cisco’s voice quivered with as much anger as surprise. “We were supposed to ruin his life before we killed him. It’s the only reason I worked with you in the first place—”
“Relax,” Sam urged, biting back his irritation. “Yeah, he’s dead. So what? We can still tarnish his legacy.”
Cisco stared at Sam for a moment, then relented with a nod.
“And you’re supposed to be the smart one,” Sam muttered.
“You need to go on air right now and announce his death. Reveal his identity,” Cisco ordered.
Sam jerked up, towering over the techie. His cheeks flushed with rage. “Slow down, Ramon. I’m in charge here. We’re gonna take a break first, mourn our goddamn teammate, then we’ll talk the next step—”
“Axel was a conceited brat, just like you,” Cisco spat.
Sam grabbed Cisco’s shirt and shoved him against the wall. “Y’know what, I’m about sick of your mouth, Ramon. Axel worked with us. He may have been a little shit, but he was one of us. Far as I’m concerned, you ain’t, so don’t think I would hesitate to drop you.”
“Take a deep breath, boss,” Mark urged, stepping forward.
“Listen to sparklestick if you want to keep that hand,” Cisco growled.
Sam’s face twisted with rage. “That’s it—”
Crimson lightning flashed across the room. In the blink of an eye, Cisco stood free, while Sam’s right hand lay in a bloody puddle on the ground. Both Rogues struggled to process what had just happened until pain forced Sam onto his knees. As his boss screamed, Mark raised his weather wand, only to lose it in another flash of crimson light.
Cisco twirled the wand between his fingers, chuckling like a madman. Beside him stood Jamie Missichkone, whose body still crackled with blood red energy. Savitar’s Fallen was dressed in all black, including matching leather jacket and pants. His blank red eyes glared back at Mark, as if urging him to attack again.
“What the hell…?” Mark muttered.
“Should’ve done this from the start,” Cisco began, “But I figured, why the hell not play along? There’s something about playing second fiddle while quietly conducting the orchestra that’s…exciting to me. It’s supervillain 101. Behind the scenes manipulation is so subtle, so rich with character.”
Sam whimpered, drawing a sneer from Cisco, who kicked him across the chin. “Quiet!” The Rogue abided by the command, biting his lip so hard her drew blood.
Cisco smirked at Sam’s submission, saying, “Mirror Master…such a stupid name. Won’t age well.” He motioned to his superfast minion. “Clean Mirror Master up. I’m not done with him yet.”
The Fallen sped Sam out of the room, leaving Mark alone with Cisco, who examined him carefully.
“You’re a bit…loose cannon for my tastes, but I’m not ready to show my face—or rather, Cisco’s—just yet.” He reached into his pocket, then tossed Mark his smart phone. “You’re up. Spread the news.”
“You want me to…to…the Flash is dead?” Mark mumbled, struggling to control the voices in his head. If he stepped out of line, lost control, Cisco might consider him extraneous and…
“Oh yeah. Let the whole world know his truth, too. Barry ‘Goodie Two Shoes’ Allen. And, of course, tell them that the Gem Cities are ours,” Cisco cracked his neck. “That they belong to my Rogues.”
“The National Guard, hell, the whole US government will be after us,” Mark protested.
Cisco’s lips twisted into a sick grin. “Oh, I’m betting on it.”
…
James Jesse twitched nervously in his seat, fingering the package in his hands. He thought it would be easier, that he wouldn’t feel so…guilty. Yet here he was, in the heart of Iron Heights penitentiary, quivering in his boots at the thought of seeing his old partner…his old friend again. He’d abandoned him, left him to rot when he could have worked with the others to free him. To free…
Leonard Snart walked through the doors, his blue eyes cold with apathy. He wore his prisoner orange like a kid wore their parent’s clothes. It didn’t fit. It just looked…wrong, almost amusingly so.
Len’s escort locked his cuffs to the table, and situated himself at the back of the room.
“Please leave us be,” Agent Kim Kuan addressed the guard, who looked at her for a moment, surprised, then left.
An awkward silence fell over the room. James tapped his fingers against the desk, unable to look across the table at Len, who was staring at him. Finally—
“Whatever this is, I want no part in it,” Len stated, matter-of-fact.
“Hey to you too, buddy,” James blurted.
Len leaned forward and whispered so only James could hear. “This ain’t a trick, is it? You’re really going narc.”
“What did he say?” Kim demanded.
“He called me a narc,” James admitted.
To that, Len slipped back, his gaze even more detached. “It was good to see you, James, but respectfully go fuck yourself.”
“I haven’t even started to discuss the proposal,” James said.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Len replied.
“You’d serve the rest of your sentence working for the DEO, combating superhuman criminals,” Kim explained.
“What did I just say?” Len grunted.
James forced himself to speak up, to argue with his longtime boss and mentor. “The others, everyone but Mick, they betrayed you. Sam’s making his own Rogues without you. This is your chance to get back at him—”
“By becoming a cop?” Len interrupted, silencing James. “The whole system’s rigged. I ain’t playing a part in it.”
James’ temper slipped out from him. “You were always a part of the system, Len, just on the wrong side—”
“Screw you,” Len spat.
James took a deep breath, then begged, “Please, Mick won’t even see me without you.”
Len didn’t get the chance to respond, as Katy Perry’s “Firework” played, grabbing the attention of the room at large. It was Kim’s ringtone. Len snorted. The secret agent didn’t seem to care.
“Hello?” she answered. “Uh huh. Yeah, I’m with him…yep…you’re shitting me…I’ll break the news. Alright, bye. Screw you, too, Carlotta.”
She hung up and patted James on the head.
“What’s that for?” he muttered.
“My sympathy, Jesse. Your cousin’s dead,” Kim said plainly, as if discussing the weather or her least favorite boy band.
The whole world seemed to halt around James. His ears rang. His lips forced out, “Axel?”
He couldn’t hear Kim’s confirmation, but he understood her nod. His eyes drifted down to his hands, to the package in it, then up to Len’s chains. Without thinking, he stood up and left the room. No one followed him out, nor to the bathroom. Once there, he locked himself in a stall, and ripped the package open.
The first thing he found was a dozen or so twenties tied together with a rubber band. Next, he stumbled across a letter, though he couldn’t bring himself to read it. And last…last he found a toy. An action figure of the comic book Flash, something James had shoplifted and given to him for his ninth birthday. He hadn’t realized Axel’s parents had kept it, or, for that matter, the boy had either. Axel hated superheroes.
James’ eyes drifted to the note, but without reading it he understood. Axel had kept the toy because he looked up to him. As terrible as he could be, Axel was still family.
And he was dead.
James did not, could not cry. As much as he wanted to, his body wouldn’t let go. Luckily, he had something to distract him.
“Jesse?” came Kim’s voice from the doorway.
“Yeah,” James said.
“Snart’s joining our team.”
“What?” That didn’t make sense. Len would never…
“He said he’s gotta teach Scudder a lesson. Gotta avenge Axel, or some shit. Really, I think he’s planning on backstabbing us, but we got ways to prevent that,” Kim explained.
James took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could do this. He could succeed where Axel failed. He could make up for his sins, and avenge his cousin. He would—
“You crapping in there?” Kim called.
James sighed and flushed the toilet. “Just finished.”
…
In a location unknown, Cisco Ramon watched as Mark announced the Rogues’ rule and the Flash’s death to the world. He was slowly building up to the ultimate reveal…
KERRRANK!
“Keep it down, would you?” Cisco called back.
Twenty paces behind him, three scientists stopped work on an enormous circular machine, a Blackout Generator. The first, the elder Harrison Wells, shot Cisco a venomous glare. The second, one Darwin Elias, collapsed onto his rear, exhausted. The third, on the other hand, took a moment to wipe grease from his hands, his face masked in soft fear. This young man was the real Cisco Ramon. This young man had his identity stolen by…
“The Ghost,” Wells grumbled, “Who the hell wants to be called the Ghost? So melodramatic.”
“Extra af,” the real Cisco agreed, to which Wells just rolled his eyes.
“Quiet down, ‘less you want him to hear you,” Elias said.
“That’s the goal,” Wells replied.
To their right, The Fallen watched them with cold, dead eyes, then glanced to the center of the machine where the last captive was tied. Mumbling tearlessly, Wally West resisted the urge to cry, unable to see or speak due to his restraints.
“…last promise, the identity of the Flash. Though we can’t confirm it with actual evidence given his…condition, I can promise you what you’re about to hear is the truth,” Mardon’s voice rang out from the TV.
Faux-Cisco, The Ghost, grinned toothlessly. He stood up, his eyes glued to the screen. “Do you want to know my real name, Dr. Wells?”
Elias stepped back nervously. Cisco dug his nails into the floor. Wells, however, just muttered obscenities, and offered no real response.
Mardon continued, “The Flash was a resident of Central City. The child of a criminal. A police scientist…”
The Ghost motioned back to the Fallen, who instantly grabbed Wells and sped him to his master. In an instant, the Ghost’s fingers had wrapped around the veteran scientist’s throat, choking him into submission.
“My name is Eobard Thawne…” the Ghost began, eyes on the screen, forcing Wells to his knees.
“…whose name was Barry Allen.”
“…and I will be the Fastest Man Alive.”
TO BE CONTINUED IN
THE FLASH: LEGACY OF BARRY ALLEN PART 1