#23: Flashforward

The Flash
#23: Legacy of Barry Allen Part 4
“Flashforward”

Thaddeus couldn’t see past the tears in his eyes, couldn’t hear past his own wailing. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be true—but he knew it was. He was the Reverse Flash, and the Reverse Flash was him. So many timelines, so many changes, and he became the villain in every one. It was inevitable. It was his future.

No, he couldn’t accept that.

“The Flash will save me.” Thaddeus hoped he sounded defiant, brave. His voice, however, cracked. “He’ll beat you.”

The Reverse Flash snorted. He’d already put his module back on, his appearance that of Barry Allen. His voice had shifted with the mask, recognizable but off, edged with malice, “Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic! You haven’t figured it out yet? He’s not coming. Barry Allen doesn’t care about you.”

“You’re—you’re wrong!” Thaddeus shouted. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t…

But the Reverse Flash knew just what to say, “He left you for Wally West. He’ll always leave you for Wally West. Did Barry make you his sidekick? Did he name you Kid Flash? Of course not. The Allens, the Wests, they’re obsessed with themselves. They think they’re so goddamned special.”

Some quiet part of Thaddeus agreed with him. Some stupid, angry, childish part that was disappointed by Barry Allen. ‘Don’t meet your heroes.’ No, no, Barry was a hero, that was the point. Eobard was the villain.

It was like a knife in his gut. Thaddeus broke down again.

“You’re a crybaby. A victim. It’s no surprise you were bullied,” the Reverse Flash spat. He skipped over to Thaddeus and roughly grabbed his head so they were looking eye-to-eye. Thaddeus looked into Barry’s eyes and heard, “Eobard the retard, Eobard the retard, Eobard the retard! BAD BLOOD!!”

Thaddeus head-butt him, snarling. The Reverse Flash stumbled back, hand clenching his bleeding nose. Slowly, a smile overcame him, blood trickling through his teeth.

“That’s what I’m looking for,” he cackled, “That’s the fighter pops raised.”

“I hate you,” Thaddeus said.

Something softened behind that mad smile. “I know.”

The Reverse Flash stalked forward again. Thaddeus flinched at his touch, but the villain just cradled his head, pressing it gently against his own. “He hates you, too,” he said, “Barry Allen hates you. Once he finds out what you are, what you will do, he’ll never forgive you.”

“I won’t…I won’t hurt any of them.” Thaddeus retorted, but he didn’t pull away.

“Why not?” The question caught him by surprise. It seemed so simple, so stupid, but before he could respond, the Reverse Flash continued, stepping back, “Pops was right, you know. We’re descended from the Allens. Something went wrong, Don Allen was disowned, and he took the name Thawne. Funny thing is, I think he was going for ‘Thorn’ but he had a speech impediment.” The Reverse Flash’s laughter faded as quickly as it came. His jaw tightened with still rage. “They never gave any of us a chance. They hated us. So why not hate them back, why not hurt them? You owe it to Don, to dad, to mom.”

To this day, Thaddeus had never believed his father. He liked to imagine that he had some Flash blood in him, but he knew it couldn’t be true. Barry would never disown his son; he would never leave their whole bloodline to rot, outcast and impoverished.

But if the Reverse Flash was telling the truth, that’s exactly what he did.

“Why should I trust you?” Thaddeus grumbled. The real question was why was he even asking?

“Why would I lie to you?” The Reverse Flash replied, anxiously tapping his foot. “You’ll find out eventually.”

There it was. The cycle. The end destination. The red light at the end of the tunnel. It made him sick to his stomach.

A burst of Speed Force energy, then the Reverse Flash was standing behind him. Before Thaddeus knew what was happening, his open maw was filled with something small, capsules—the speed pills. There were four, five, too many to count. No, he couldn’t swallow that many. He couldn’t—

“Sorry, I’m impatient, but you know that.” His surroundings started to quake. No, Thaddeus realized, he was the one moving, vibrating with the Reverse Flash. “It’s time to speed things up.”

Panic struck Thaddeus. He swallowed. But it was fine, he would be fine if he didn’t say the formula.

“All it takes is a spark,” the Reverse Flash whispered in his ear.

Suddenly, lightning coursed through him, through his veins, and he felt the pills explode.

Thaddeus saw red.

…

The 25th Century
Central City

Thaddeus saw the fist coming as if in slow motion. It levelled him, sending him crashing to the floor. He thought he heard his mother scream, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could make out was the blood in his ears, and his father’s coarse, slurred voice.

“Did I raise a pussy? You just let them beat on you, day in and day out. Fight back!” Harold Thawne’s spittle struck Thaddeus’ black eye, the work of his middle school tormentors. It was fine. He’d have a matching one soon enough, a domino mask fit for a hero. “You are not a victim! Thawnes are not victims!!”

“Harold, please,” his mother begged.

He backhanded her. She, too, fell to the ground. For a thin man, Harold Thawne sure knew how to hit someone.

“This is your fault!” He spat. “You spoil him, Gideon. You’ve made my son damned soft! Never again – never again!! No more books. They’re gone today.”

Everything came into sharp focus. No, he couldn’t touch them. Harold could hit him all he liked, just don’t touch his comic books.

The command came like the voice of God. “Burn them. Now.”

His mother hesitated, but when Harold raised his fist, she obliged. She knew where Thaddeus stored his comic books, so it didn’t take long for her bring them out and stack them beside the fireplace. Thaddeus stood to the side, mouth agape. He should speak up. He should stop her.

But he couldn’t.

His father lit the match, old-fashioned to the end. The fire roared to life. His mother threw the first book in, then gave Thaddeus an apologetic look. He didn’t care. He didn’t want an apology. He wanted his fragging heroes.

Thaddeus couldn’t watch the rest. He tramped upstairs, Harold laughing all the way, and slammed his bedroom door shut after him. He climbed right into bed, curling up, numb, when he felt something hard touch his foot beneath the covers. Thaddeus sat up, and searched for it. When he pulled the item out, tears flooded his eyes.

Flash Comics #1, the first appearance of Barry Allen. It was unusual in that his mother hadn’t brought it back from the drugstore with her; it had belonged to her grandpa, a first printing kept in plastic.

And she’d saved it.

She’d hidden it for him, protected it from his father. Now he just had to find a place to store it where Harold would never think to look.

He barely made it a step from his bed before he heard the screams. His mother’s screams. Thaddeus threw the comic under the covers, and ran back downstairs.

Harold was shoving his mother’s face into the fire, the flesh already liquefying, melting down her neck. She flapped around, struggling, but he was too strong for her. Half the comics were still stacked to the side. Thaddeus couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Harold looked up at him, and grimaced.

Thaddeus ran. He ran up the stairs, and managed to throw his door shut before he heard his father trample after him. Thaddeus grabbed his QComms, and pushed his body back against the door with all his might. He dialed 911. The hinges trembled as Harold slammed against it.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Open the door, Eobard! Open the goddamned door!!”

“Please, he burnt her face, burnt her entire—23 Broome Place. 23 Broome Place! Please, please, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna—”

Thaddeus slipped. Harold forced the door open, and dropped on him in an instant. He pummeled his face again and again and again. His father was cursing him, scolding him, but he couldn’t make out the words over his pleading screams.

Thaddeus’ mouth was full of blood. He coughed out teeth to the side. Lights flickered at the edge of his vision. Red, shining lights…

Blood splattered across his face.

But it wasn’t his own. His mother, bless her, bless her, had stabbed Harold in the back with a steak knife. Roaring with pain, Harold turned on her. Thaddeus looked at his mother’s monstrous face – into her kind brown eyes.

“Run, Eobard, run!”

He was on his feet, and moving again, blood thundering in his ears. Around Harold. Down the steps. Through the front door. Screams followed him outside.

His legs burning from the effort, he ran and ran and ran…

…

Thaddeus spent two days in the Flash Museum before he was recognized. He wandered in circles, reading every little detail in each display, from the weather wand to the timesphere. He spent hours just staring at the different costumes. He slept outside in the parking lot, even through a rainstorm, dreaming of a single lightning bolt that would change his future forevermore. Each day, he rose at the crack of dawn and started his journey anew. Hunger gnawed at him, so he pickpocketed cash to buy food from the vending machines. The water fountain sustained him.

There were moments when he forgot why he was there, moments when he wondered when his mother would come to pick him up. Those were the best ones, when he could ignore his reality inside a delirious dream-state.

His name and face must have been on the news, because eventually a security guard carried him off. Thaddeus didn’t fight him. He didn’t even speak to him, offering only a nod to confirm his identity.

On the way to the police station, the guard explained to him that sorry, but his mother didn’t make it. They’d arrested his father, and had been searching for him for nearly two days, fearing the worst. Thaddeus still refused to speak.

It was the comic book that broke him. They’d fished it out of his house, and brought it to him. The book was untouched, unscarred. Harold had managed to burn the others before they arrested him, but not that one.

His mother had saved it.

Sobbing, Thaddeus told them everything. Harold was convicted a month later. For his lack of remorse, he was sentenced to life in jail, no parole.

Thaddeus was given an opportunity to speak to him before they dragged him away. He had only one thing to say.

“I’m not a victim.”

Harold smiled back.

…

Thaddeus was in and out of the foster system over the next few years. He was nearly adopted on four occasions, but each time he was given up for “delinquent behavior.” He stole cash from his guardians, and got into fights at school. What the reports never included was that he almost never threw the first punch. Twice, his guardians had proven nearly as bad as his father. Once, they proved even worse. When they touched him, he broke their hands. When bullies mocked his bad blood, he broke their noses.

He carried Flash Comics #1 with him everywhere he went, a lucky charm of sorts, and reread it on more nights than he didn’t. In it, forensics scientist Barry Allen was struck by lightning and doused in chemicals. He got superspeed from that accident, and became the superhero the Flash. Reality was it was all fiction. The Flash Museum told the true story: Barry had indeed been struck by lightning, but it was the Blackout Generator that ultimately triggered his latent metahuman powers.

There were nights he considered trying to replicate the accident—the lightning and the chemicals. Construction of a Blackout Generator had been made illegal centuries ago, its secrets classified. It wouldn’t matter anyway. He’d never be able to assemble the necessary parts. But the chemicals, he could steal them from class. And the lightning? Well, schematics for a lightning rod was just a google away. He knew it wouldn’t work. But maybe, just maybe…

He went as far as building the rod, collecting the chemicals, and making his own superhero suit out of spandex and running shoes—complete with a lightning emblem on its chest. But when he set the contraption up on his high school’s rooftop, he broke down crying. It was a step too far. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take that last step. He was too weak.

He’d lied to his father.

…

This could be it. This could really be it.

Thaddeus stared at the new display, a smile slowly forming on his face. Carmine, the museum’s curator, stepped up beside him.

“My wife would’ve loved this. She was a big-time conspiracy theorist.” The old man began wistfully. After a moment, he continued, “Figured you’d appreciate this more than most. Some asshole in Germany dug up a graveyard, found this and tried to sell it. Long story short, he got caught and we got dibs.” Carmine nudged him playfully. “Turns out speedster history’s longer than we thought.” When Thaddeus failed to respond, the curator added, “Eh, Thad? Everything crash?”

Thaddeus nodded. The whole fragging mode was crashed. “Carmine…do you have any job openings?”

“For some highschool punk? No.” Just like that, Thaddeus’ dreams came crashing down around him. Carmine grinned. “But for a megafan? I’ll see what I can do.”

Thaddeus said more thank you’s in the following half hour than he had since his mother died. There it was—that spark, that hope—a previously unknown speedster and his metaphysical power pills. That discovery changed everything. Thaddeus could be a hero.

All he had to do was recount a formula.

…

Carmine brought him on as an unpaid intern over the weekends. He got to study the artifacts with the researchers, and bond with the staff over comic book trivia. He was the happiest he’d been in ages. He was also the most anxious he’d been in his life. The plan was half the battle, but even that was proving elusive. How the hell was he gonna get time alone with the pills?

Everything changed on a stormy summer night. Thaddeus was studying hologram news reports from the day of the Flash’s death when Carmine arrived with a police officer in tow. Thaddeus knew at once that whatever this was, it had to do with his father.

“Thad, can you come with me please?”

They led him to Carmine’s office, where the kindly old man locked the door behind them. The officer frowned grimly at Thaddeus as the teen settled into a chair.

“If this is about my overdue library books…who cares? Nobody reads print anymore,” Thaddeus weakly quipped.

The officer managed a half-hearted smile, and removed her cap. “Son, my name is Connie Jackson. I’m with the CCPD.”

“Shocker,” Thaddeus blurted.

The cop continued without missing a beat, “Your father disappeared last night. We believe he’s escaped from Iron Heights.”

It was like someone had weighed his heart with iron. Thaddeus couldn’t breathe. God, no, prisoners didn’t escape anymore. That was something out of a comic book. Something the Flash would have to deal with. His father couldn’t have…there must have been a mistake…

“If you want, we can place you in protective custody,” the officer offered.

That wasn’t good enough. He’d find him. Harold would find him and kill him.

“Thad, I have a house in Brookfield Heights. You can stay with me until the police find him,” Carmine added.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

Thaddeus looked up with tears in his eyes, forced himself to frown, and said, “Yes. Please, thank you. Yes to it all.”

…

Thaddeus checked his analog watch: 1:01 am. It was time. He took one last look down into his backpack—at his supersuit and his good luck charm, Flash Comics #1—then zipped it up.

It was easy enough stealing Carmine’s keys. He felt a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of the old man, but managed to ignore it for the most part. He’d spent the last few years wondering why he was the one who survived. This was nothing compared to that.

Breaking out of the house proved more difficult. The house had an alarm system, and Carmine had never bothered to tell him the code. Thankfully, the old man proved to be every bit the romantic he seemed. The passcode was his deceased wife’s birthday.

Thaddeus had to be careful leaving. Two police officers were on patrol above the house in an aircruiser. The front yard was essentially an open field, far too easy to get caught in. The back was filled with foliage, and the gate around the yard was short enough Thaddeus could hop it. However, that wasn’t accounting for the dog.

Romeo was a beagle, sweet as sugar but loud as a tornado siren. As expected, Thaddeus woke Romeo up when he left out the back door. The dog opened its snout, about to bark in greeting, when Thaddeus reached into his backpack, quieting it. He waved a treat. Romeo sat back, utterly obedient. Thaddeus tossed him the treat, and the dog immediately dived upon it.

“Good boy. Good, quiet boy. Stay jusssttt like that, and there’s more where that came from.”

By the time Romeo started barking, Thaddeus was on the other side of the fence.

…

Thaddeus thought he’d never heard a sound as sweet as the click of an undone lock. He entered the back of the Flash Museum and headed immediately for the alarm panel. This one Carmine had shared with him; the password was Barry Allen’s birthday.

The museum was eerie at night. The costumed manikins watched him with glazed eyes, while the lively chorus of tourists and documentaries was entirely absent. Instead, an uncanny buzzing filled the silence. Thaddeus had no idea where it was coming from.

Under the dim light of the costume chamber, Thaddeus dressed in his own supersuit. Green as summer grass, it stood out against the reds and yellows of the Flash Family. That was exactly the effect he wanted. Thaddeus stepped up to the glass case holding the Flash’s suit, and smiled, bittersweet. I wish I could’ve met you. You’d get it. Dead mom, bullies, the whole shebang. You’d get me.

The voice came like a sledgehammer, “Freeze! Stay where you are!”

Thaddeus cursed to himself. He shouldn’t have wasted time. He should have accounted for the guard. Turning slowly around with his hands in the air, Thaddeus felt his throat tighten.

No. Frag no. It wasn’t just any guard. This was the guy who’d found him. And, judging by the look on his face, he remembered him well enough.

“Thawne?” He lowered his taser. “Kid, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I actually work at the museum now,” Thaddeus tried.

“Yeah, Jerry let me know…but Jerry ain’t here,” the guard said, “It’s late. Really late.”

“I’m…grabbing something for him. He wanted me to bring it back to his house. I’m staying with him,” Thaddeus said.

The guard looked over his suit, frowning. It wasn’t gonna work. Thaddeus was fragged. He’d blown his one chance…

“Kid, you need to come with me—”

It happened in a flash. A scrawny hand covered the guard’s mouth, then a knife sliced across his throat. Thaddeus gasped, stumbling back.

Harold let the dying guard fall to the side, a sick smile on his face. “What he said, Eobard. You need to come with me.”

Thaddeus ran. He took off into the next chamber, his father’s voice following him, “Hey! I’m not gonna hurt you! EOBARD!!”

Thaddeus knew the museum’s layout like the back of his hand. He found the new display quickly enough, and threw the damn thing to the ground. The glass shattered at his feet, and the room’s alarm roared. Harold wandered in as Thaddeus picked up the pill bottle.

“Eobard, stop. Just stop. I’m not here to hurt you. I just…I knew you’d be here. Thought it’d be in the morning, admittedly, but…” Harold’s voice was slurred. He was drunk, and that made him even more dangerous. Thaddeus popped a pill. “I just want to talk.”

Thaddeus should have ignored him. He should’ve said the formula, and been done with it. Instead, he gave his father a chance.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Thaddeus spat.

Harold sighed. “Come on, it’s…I’m sorry, okay? I can’t express how sorry I am. Your mom just…you know how she could be. She wasn’t like us. She wasn’t a Thawne.”

“What the hell does that mean?” But he already knew the answer.

“She was a victim.” Harold grimaced, eyes darkening. “Eobard, we gotta get going. The alarm—you’ve really fragged yourself. Let’s go!” Thaddeus didn’t move. Harold stepped toward him, face red, and raised his knife. “Son, don’t make me force you.”

The words came out like thunder, booming, “3x2(9yz)4a!”

Lightning surged through Thaddeus’ veins. The world seemed to take on a new pitch, the colors starker, the sounds more striking. He could even hear the peculiar buzzing beneath the near-painfully loud alarm. Thaddeus felt his whole body begin to vibrate.

Harold continued to advance on him. “Eobard Thawne. Come with me now.” His voice drawled, black and cruel, “God, you’re just like her.”

“Better her than you,” Thaddeus replied, his voice echoing to his vibration.

Harold lunged for him, but he fell right through Thaddeus’ vibrating form. When he rose again to face him, Thaddeus reached forward, his hand crossing into Harold’s chest. His father looked down, confused. Thaddeus stilled his mind.

Harold Thawne died in a bloody heap before him.

For a moment, Eobard couldn’t process what he’d done. Then he collapsed onto his knees, and began to weep. He looked down at his glove, and the blood that had stained his lightning bolt red. With growing desperation, he wiped himself clean on his father’s coat.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Thaddeus rose, mumbling to himself, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” But the tears wouldn’t stop. He’d killed his father. He was a murderer. The cops would find him here, and he’d—he’d…he had to run. He had to go somewhere, anywhere but here.

The buzzing called to him. Thaddeus ran, nearly tripping over himself at superspeed, and found its source. The next room over was the Hall of Time. In the corner sat a large glass sphere—the timesphere—buzzing quietly to itself.

This was it. This was his way out. With the pills alone, he couldn’t run fast enough to use the cosmic treadmill, but a timesphere? He prayed it was still functional. Why the hell else would it be making that noise?

Thaddeus wandered over to the timesphere. There was no obvious opening, no way inside. He pounded his fists against it. “Open, dammit!”

Suddenly, the whole thing lit up, and a feminine voice replied, “Voice recognized. Welcome, Eobard Thawne.”

To Thaddeus’ amazement, the side split open for him. He stepped inside, and sat down before its control panel. The front door pounded down the hall as it was forced open. He sped up his mind as he tried to figure out how to work the controls.

“This is so on mode. Come on!” Thaddeus shouted, waving his hand over the panel.

“How may I help you, Eobard?” the timesphere responded.

“Get me out of here—out of this time!” Thaddeus said.

“And to when would you like to go?”

“Ummm….” Thaddeus racked his mind for the right time. The Flash. This was his chance to meet the Flash. That meant the early 21st century, but when exactly should he arrive? For his sake, it probably needed to be before Wally West. Before Kid Flash.

Thaddeus spoke the date.

Police officers stormed the Time Hall just as the ship began to shine like a beacon in the darkness, whirring. Suddenly, Thaddeus’ surroundings became a blur of images.

“I apologize, but this may take a while, Eobard,” the timesphere said, “We’ll have to bypass the traditional tachyonal pathways. The Science Police patrols all mainlines to the time before the Zero Point, which you may recall is/was/will be the invention of time travel. Pre-Zero travel is illegal under article T11-A of—”

“Yeah, I got it, I got it,” Thaddeus said, beginning to smile. “And don’t call me Eobard. My name’s Thaddeus.”

“Yes, sir.”

He felt dirty. Grief still weighed on him, but it was vastly overcome by excitement. This was better than any comic book. He was actually going to meet his hero. He was going to become a hero. He could do anything.

He could save the Flash from certain doom.

“What do I call you?” Thaddeus wondered aloud. “You need a name, ship. How ‘bout…” His smile softened. “…Gideon?”

“That is my name, yes,” the timesphere agreed.

Thaddeus brightened. “Crash.” He took off his watch and placed it on the module. “Gideon, set my watch for the time we arrive. I’m gonna catch some z’s in the meantime.”

“You’ve got it, Thaddeus.”

The young time traveler leaned his seat back, and watched as a sea of moving pictures passed above him. The colors washed out into a glazed rainbow, mixing and matching in a dazzling dance through time. It was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

This was it. This was his future. And his mother was gonna be with him all the way.

…

The 21st Century

When Thaddeus awoke, he found he was untied and alone. His palm burned as he pressed it to the ground to force himself up. Chills wracked his body. He could hardly see straight. He had a fever, but…But I’m alive.

A part of him was disappointed.

Thaddeus stumbled to the edge of the room, to a table where his pill bottle lay on its side, open. It was empty. God, no, it was empty. Without it, he’d take so long to heal. Too long.

Something red caught his eye. A mirror lay beside the bottle. He looked at his blotchy, hideous reflection; he looked into the red mask of a monster. His hair was singed, his skin a mass of burns. He looked like his mother before she died.

The Reverse Flash had done this. He’d done this. Why, why would he—

There was a note, and beneath it a pistol. On it, four simple words:

ARE YOU A VICTIM?

Thaddeus moaned, shivering. He was dying. He was going to die. He’d tried so hard to make things right, to fix everything. After all this, after all he’d suffered, here he was—beaten, broken, a monster.

He picked up the gun. The click of its hammer, and he pressed it to his forehead. Better to end this on his terms. To do what he’d been too weak to do before.

You’re nothing. You’ve always been nothing. Everyone who ever cared about you is dead, will be dead. Barry Allen doesn’t care. You got bad blood. This was always where you’d fall. Just do it. You wanna change history? DO IT!

Thaddeus whimpered, and lowered the gun. He was too weak, too weak to even take control of his own destiny. He was always going to be the victim.

No. No, that’s not right. I’m not the victim. My name is Eobard Thaddeus Thawne, and I’m destined to become the Reverse Flash.

“I’m destined to become the villain.”

There was power in that. Power to set things right. Would that future really be so bad? With those powers, he could save his mom, he could kill Harold sooner, and make everything as it should be. Anyone and everyone who ever hurt him would suffer.

“But Barry’s a hero. I can’t hurt him. I can’t…” Thaddeus looked down at the gun in his hand. His heart seemed to lighten. “But I didn’t just hurt him. I made him. I made the Flash.” When Barry’s mother died, it set him on the path to becoming a hero. “I did him a favor; I did the whole world a favor. I gave them a hero.”

“And every hero needs a villain.”

The exit was open. It led to a corridor shrouded in darkness. Thaddeus stepped toward it, then hesitated. Barry would hate him. If he continued forward, Barry would hate him forevermore.

Thaddeus felt something hot and dark ignite inside him. Why should I care what he thinks of me? He’ll never love me, not like he loves Wally.

He had been on this path since the day he was born. He’d stumbled forward for far too long, hesitated far too often.

For the first time in his life, Eobard Thaddeus Thawne ran toward his destiny.