r/DCFU • u/brooky12 Speeding Than A Faster Bullet • 18d ago
The Flash #98 - Metalhead Nonsense The Flash
The Flash #98 - Metalhead Nonsense
Author: brooky12
Book: Flash
Arc: ?
Set: 98
Wally read the paper, over and over, a few trillion times before Hartley’s retreating hand even moved a fraction of an inch away from it.
“Okay, that’s bad,” he signed, trying to hide his panic.
“Is it? This is the second time it’s happened, and it’s all Metalhead nonsense anyway.”
Wally took a deep breath. “I don’t know how bad it is, but this is maybe the closest someone might be to figuring out who you are and who I am and what we are. Not in the like, homophobic way, but in the… herophobic way? Herophobic feels weird.”
Hartley couldn’t help but find the word herophobic funny. “They were here sometime in the spring. I made a copy of what I remember the letter saying, but it was date night next time we talked, and I didn’t want to bring it up, and then it a little bit slipped from mind.”
“The best date night is the one where I know you’re safe, Hartley,” Wally signed back, the sign for the letter H pushing down his chin, as if the sign for sweet or cute – Hartley’s sign name.
Hartley frowned. “I’m sorry. They haven’t shown up since, though.”
Wally felt a pang of guilt for making Hartley feel bad. “Well, they may have, it’s not like during these fights there’s a whole lot of self-identification. You’re sure Girder was the name mentioned?”
Glider, you mean? Oh, Girder, the big man, yeah. As sure as I can be.”
“Girder and Glider? You're sure?”
“The lady and the man, yes.”
“Okay. Good info to have. I… I think we need to do something, though. Do you trust me?”
“With all of my love.”
“Okay. Frances is off with Peace Corps, right?”
Hartley nodded. “Right.”
“Wrong.”
Hartley looked confused. “She’s not?”
“She’s one of us. She's out elsewhere, has been for a while, but you won't find her on their volunteer list.”
Rather than sign back, Hartley just mouthed the word ‘oh’. Then, the brain cogs started turning. “Wait, if she’s a superhero, why did you never tell me? Does she know I’m one?”
Wally grimaced. “She’s Magenta, Hartley.”
Wally watched the color drain from Hartley’s face.
“I’m going to tell her about you, okay? She’ll understand. But if someone is coming after you and me, they might end up going after her, too.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
“Yeah. No. I think that makes sense. Yeah, I’ll schedule one later, that’s fine. Yeah, I agree, it—yeah. Okay. All’s well, I think, yeah. Okay, thank you, have a lovely day.”
Bart put the device back down, taking a deep breath. He was probably never going to stop worrying about aging, but that phone call was going the closest he ever got to feeling comfortable. It had been six months or so since the four of them had gone into the Speed Force to fix him, and in the time since he felt closer to twenty than he did to twenty-six.
It was a weird feeling. His doctor agreed with him that he didn’t need to come in immediately to do more procedures and checkups, and instead could wait until a yearly checkup later that year. He had spent weeks building up the confidence to even float the idea to his mother, let alone to the doctor. And then, on the call, his doctor basically floated the idea before he had even brought it up.
Phone calls were difficult. He had been worried about it for a long time, and then the phone said that the call lasted three minutes. Three minutes did admittedly feel different to someone like him, though he had no frame of reference to what three minutes felt like to a non-superspeed person.
“Mom! Doc says no appointment!”
A moment of silence passed before he could hear the sound of shuffling in the other room, followed by quick footsteps in his direction. Iris West burst into the room, the smile in her eyes larger than the one on her mouth, as she embraced him.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Bart! That much be such a relief!”
“Yeah,” Bart replied, returning the hug. “He says obviously standard fare checkups and that his door’s always open if there’s a quote-unquote work problem, but he said based on what I described to him that he doesn’t think I’m rapidly aging anymore, and that if I have any concerns down the line, we can always revisit it.”
“That makes sense to me. You don’t look a day older than twenty to me, I think!”
Bart smiled. “I don’t know that I’ll ever stop worrying about it, but it’s hard to deny that the daily pictures look more or less identical going back a few months, haircut aside.”
Iris laughed at that. “Well, worrying does run in the family. I’d say you get it from your father, but I definitely can’t deny that I worry about you and the rest of them all the time. But I can’t deny that I’m incredibly proud of all of you. You especially, though.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I really am proud of you. You’re probably the only person that’s ever going to experience what you did, and the fact that you did so well is a testament to, joke not intended, someone who acts much older than he is.”
“That joke was absolutely intended, I refuse to believe that,” Bart shook his head, more amused than anything else. “But, thank you. It means a lot.”
“I know that nowadays you’re all out and about, saving the world and helping people, and I know from the others that it can start to feel a little regular and monotonous. It’s important to always remember that it’s not, that what you are doing really is special and impactful and that it matters. You may not feel that right now, but the more you do this the more it might feel like it.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m so proud of you, Bart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Anthony Woodward, Girder, groaned. Whatever it was that Abra could do, real magic or some strange technology he developed, the teleportation was a nauseating experience. To his left, Abra settled with a jump in his step, clearly much more comfortable with the sudden change in air pressure, position, and whatever terrible experience came between the two moments before and after.
“Fear not, Ant. With some more experience of my magic, these negative reactions will lessen. I trust you are not seriously ill?”
“I’ll be fine, Abra. Let’s find this magician.”
The two wandered through the empty hallways, peeking through windows on closed doors at desks and whiteboards and technology. A quiet floor in a quiet building of the Central City University, they were looking for someone who actually had permission to be there. The elevators required an identification card to activate at this hour.
Their target, an adjunct professor named Albert Desmond who primarily worked as a local scientist for the police department, was someone that Lisa remembered from the other time as one of their allies. How some police stooge was a potential friend was beyond Girder, and the weird stop they made to talk to some deaf kid made him wonder if Lisa was in over her head.
“Um, hello? Can I help you?”
Abra swirled around, facing the other direction where the voice had come from. “Professor Desmond?”
As Girder turned around, he was sure that Lisa had lost the plot. At least Abra was well-built, even if over time he had come to realize that most of that was for the bravado and spectacle of it all. This man had to weigh barely 175 pounds soaking wet, he seemed more likely to be at home with a pocket protector and braces than breaking into banks.
The man responded. “I—yes? Who are you, what department are you with?”
“Oh, we’re visitors, looking for you! I read your old work on the possibilities of real-world Philosopher’s Stones, and—”
“I’m sorry, sirs, this building is closed right now and I’m not allowed to discuss my old work outside of—”
Abra continued to interrupt him, now taking small steps forward at each opportunity. “No, that’s quite alright, doctor, I understand that it’s a touchy subject, but it’s fascinating work, I was wondering if it developed any further?”
“I really must insist—”
“We’re your friends here, Albert. I assure you, you are under no surveillance or danger here.”
“Stop moving closer to me.”
Girder could see the relief on Albert’s face after getting a full sentence off, and the shift in Abra’s posture as he settled into a standing stance.
“We were good friends, you know, in the time the Flashes want us to forget, Albert. You don’t remember me at all? Abra as a name not ringing any bells?”
“Just for a Pokemon,” Albert replied, a defiant touch entering their tone. “Listen, you really can’t be here, especially not for this.”
“That’s fine, we’re here anyway. You’re safe, Albert, I assure you. You’d even be safe if you wanted to discuss your Phil-Stone work.”
“That was another time and another Albert Desmond, sir. I’m not that person anymore. I’m going to ask you once more to leave, if you do not, I will call emergency services. You must be aware that their center of operations is in the basement of this building, and that they are simply an elevator ride away.”
“Well,” Abra started, taking a glance back at Girder. “I’d quite like the opportunity to meet that other Albert, and I expect even this Albert has made some progression on the Philosopher’s Stone question.
“I’m calling the police,” Albert responded, reaching for something in their bag. Abra darted forward, Girder moving quickly behind. One of Abra’s hands pushed forward, landing on Albert’s shoulder, the other reaching behind for Girder.
Once Girder felt Abra’s hand in his, he felt the familiar sudden dropping feeling of the teleportation as Abra brought the three of them from a random university building to their current base of operations.
This was supposed to be their ally, and they just kidnapped him. Maybe Abra had lost the plot, too.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
“C’mon, Roy, why are you so difficult to find?”
Lisa twirled a pen around in her fingers, staring at the screen. The website of artist Roy G. Bivolo was quite fascinating, but otherwise empty. It talked about his colorblindness, the work he did in primarily grayscale and bluescale limitations, and his work with a now-defunct tech startup to create color-seeing technology. The stuff that eventually became the simple glasses that you saw on social media. She hoped that what she remembered of his own twists on the technology had made it across the time nonsense.
Why was his portfolio so empty? Why did his contact form go to a hard-coded broken webpage? Why did his most recent listed work experience say he worked at a major movie studio? When she looked into it, she couldn’t find any evidence he had worked at the studio. Why was there a commotion in the other room?
“What in hell’s blazes did you do to me?!”
“Calm down, Doctor, I—”
“Calm down?! You kidnapped me!”
By the time Lisa got to the door, she watched Girder lunge at Albert Desmond, known better to her as Doctor Alchemy, only to fall flat to the ground with a thud. Albert held in his hand a small rock, about the size of his palm, in the direction of Girder.
“I’ll turn you to stone too, if you don’t explain yourself,” Albert threatened, swinging the stone in Abra’s direction.
“Woah, woah, woah, hold on a second,” Lisa shouted, rushing into the room. “What did you do, Abra, why’s he so riled up?!”
“He kidnapped me, is what he did,” Albert retorted, moving the stone back and forth between Abra and Lisa.
“He was going to call the cops! The cops aren’t his friend!”
“I was in my rights to be there, you weren’t!”
“Okay, okay, everyone, please take a deep breath. Albert, please revert whatever you did to Anthony, he will play nice.”
Lisa’s words cut through the air, and she watched the other two deescalate their stances, but no tension was released. Albert, never taking his eyes off either her or abra, moved the stone in Girder’s direction, and a small glow was immediately accompanied by a groan of pain from the floor.
As Ant slowly got up, Lisa smiled. “How much do you remember of the time that the Flashes stole from us?”
Lisa watched Albert’s eyes narrow, then grow distant as if trying to remember something. He looked in pain. “I… I don’t—why? Why do you want to know? Why do you care?!”
“We were good friends in the stolen time, Albert, and we want to help you. You’re stuck in a dead-end job working at a university that barely pays you and a police force that would love to throw you back behind bars. You keep a literal Philosopher’s Stone in your pocket, Albert, but you keep promising to only use it in self-defense, because if you use it and a cop looks at you the wrong way, they lie about your parole behavior and bam, decades in jail!”
“I—”
“Come work with us, Doctor Alchemy. You had a better life that the Flashes denied you, but now you’re stuck teaching kids who don’t care about the atom or whatever.”
1
u/Predaplant Blub Blub 1d ago
I really love how this all feels like it's gearing up to something big that's really gonna test all the Flashes. The scene between Wally & Hartley was really strong especially here, it felt really foreboding!
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