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Flash
All Flash And Image
My name is Wally West, but everyone knows me as the Flash. I'm the fastest man alive on Earth. Okay, maybe Superman could give me a really good run for the money. We've never raced before. But he's a Kryptonian, so I guess he doesn't quite count.
In any case, its in situations like this that time seems to be practically standing still. Normally, I'm used to that and can take advantage of it. This time, however, I cannot. I'm stuck.
Dressed in a red, skin tight costume with yellow boots and yellow lightning bolt trim, the Flash sat behind a large table in the Central City Convention Center. One man, in his early thirties sat next to the hero, smiling, as he looked at the line of people snaking around the booth. The man leaned in close and said softly, "we really appreciate your appearance. The attendance records are the highest to date."
The Flash nodded as he accepted an autograph book and signed it at super-speed. "Anything for charity," he said. Then he looked back at the little boy as a mother took a quick snapshot of her child meeting the city's hero. With his red gloved hand, he gently mussed the child's hair. "There you go, sport!"
The Scarlet Speedster had actually been contacted by the event organizers a few months back. They had come to the Flash Museum and asked its curator, Dexter Miles, to pass the invitation along to the hero. Seeing that a portion of the attendance proceeds would go to the charity of his choice, Wally felt it was the least he could do. He would be the special guest at this year's Central City ComicCon, now on its seventh year.
The next person up was a young girl with dark hair in pigtails. She appeared to be about eleven or twelve. "Hi," the Flash said with a smile. He glanced at her badge. "What can I do for you, Regina?"
The girl smiled back as she plopped a thick binder full of paper on the table. "Hi, Flash," she said. "This is some fan fiction I've been writing. It's about me and my sister who find this chunk of rock that gives us amazing superpowers! In the stories, we fight evil like you do, and we even joined the Justice League, though our mom doesn't think that's wise. I though maybe you could read it and tell me what you think!"
"Oh," Flash said with a curious look. He picked up the binder and began to thumb through the pages. They were hand written stories, done in pencil on regular notebook paper. He nodded, quickly read through the entire weighty tome at super-speed, then handed it carefully back to the girl. "Not bad, honey," he said as politely as possible. "You need to keep working on it, especially the spelling and grammar and stuff. And keep dreaming too."
Regina beamed as she took the binder and ran back to her family.
Nice, kid, the Flash thought, but she needs to get a bit of a life. He continued the meet and greet with the guests for his allotted time, then made a nice exit so he could change clothes.
***
Dressed in jeans and a long sleeve, yellow buttoned shirt, the red haired Wally West crossed the busy hall. "Thanks so much for this," he said as he gave kiss on the cheek to a tall, blonde woman dressed in a white sweater and a gray skirt.
"Why not, blue eyes," Frances Kane said. "I can't think of a better way to spend a gorgeous Saturday afternoon than inside with row upon row of boxes of musty magazines."
"Oh, c'mon now, honey," Wally said as he took her arm. "Think of it as an adventure. A journey into the unknown searching for treasure. I can't tell you how often I'd spend hours over at my Uncle Barry's, helping him catalog his collection. He had all the classics from the golden age. Kept 'em in great shape too. He used to get so excited when he'd locate an issue he was missing to fill in the holes in his collection."
"Well," Frances said, "that's nice and all. But I think your uncle was probably the exception to the rule." She wrinkled her nose as a couple big guys, probably in their late thirties, wearing faded T-shirts two sizes too small walked past. "I'm betting some of these guys are too obsessed with their hobby to remember to shower."
"Oh, you're wicked!" Wally said, trying not to laugh. He glanced ahead of them where the row upon row of dealers ended and a bunch of tables without boxes were set up.
"Speaking of Uncle Barry," Wally said, "there's someone I promised to stop in and see. C'mon." The two ventured down to the section designated as Artists' Alley, the place that artists could sell their returned artwork or could do sketches for a price.
As they worked their way down the tables, slowly due to the crowds, a couple paintings displayed behind one of the tables caught Frances' eye. "Wally!" she said, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Check those out!"
The red haired young man turned to see three foot by five foot oil paintings done of folks very familiar to him. One was of a brunette's back, her head turned over her right shoulder with a seductive look. She wore only fishnet stockings, a bow tie and a magician's hat cocked to one side. She covered her bare upper torso with her arms. The other painting was of a dark skinned woman in a similar pose, but this brunette only wore a pair of blue panties with white stars.
"Wow," Wally said softly, his eyes wide. "Boy, Zatanna and Nubia would so not like that." Still, he couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful artwork.
Frances grabbed him by the arm and tugged him along. "That's enough of that!" she said. "I'm so glad I've decided to stay out of the business! Who needs to be the object of a male, adolescent fantasy?"
Wally put his arm around her, giving the woman a reassuring hug. "Oh, so I guess I shouldn't share with you my fantasies about you and I , right?"
"That's different." Frances shrugged his arm off of her shoulder. "Let's just find your friend and say hello before you get in any more hot water, mister."
They approached table 15A and waited for the young man to finish collecting his payment for a sketch. After the customer left, the couple approached the young man with brown hair and brown eyes.
"Barney?" Wally asked. "Is that you all grown up?"
The just-turned eighteen year old turned around and recognized the man who approached him. "Hey, Wally!" he said. "How are you? God, I haven't seen you in years."
"I know," West replied as he shook Barney's offered hand. "I think the last time I saw you was before the Allens moved from their old neighborhood."
The young man smiled. "Yeah, I miss them," Barney said. "I didn't know you were into comics that much."
Wally nodded. "Yeah, I kind of have Uncle Barry to thank for that." He then heard an 'ahem' sound to his side. "Oh, sorry. Frances Kane, meet Barney Sands. Barney, this is my girlfriend."
"Nice to meet you," Frances said, shaking the youth's hands.
"Same here," Barney replied.
Wally looked through a couple of the sketch books on the table. "Wow, Barney, your stuff is looking really good," he said.
"Thanks," Barney said. "Though a couple of these aren't mine. They belong to a pen-pal of mine, Nick Stevens. He lives all the way up in Fairfax, Maine. I've known him for awhile now via an artists APA we both belong to."
"A what-a?" Frances asked.
"An APA," Barney explained. "An amateur press association. Basically, every couple months writers and artists from all over the country submit photo copies of stuff to one member who acts as a central mailer. He or she collates the submissions, binds them, and redistributes the final stuff back to all the members. Its a good way to share ideas and such with friends all over. That's how I know Nick."
"Well, you're both pretty good," Wally said again. "You thinking of going pro?"
"I'm hoping too," Barney said. "I graduate from high school next month, and it would be really cool to go to work for one of the big comic companies. That's why I came to the Con - to network a bit, get my portfolio seen and possibly get a foot in the door. That, and sell some stuff to get a little extra cash."
One particular picture caught Wally's eye. It was a full color sketch done of the first Flash, his uncle. "Say, I like this one a lot," he said. "How's about thirty for it?"
The price was easily more than the boy would have asked. "Sold," Barney said with a smile.
After visiting a while longer, Wally and Frances were ready to depart Artists' Alley. "Okay, Wally," the young woman said, "you've had a chance to buy something today, so now it's my turn. Broome's is having a big shoe sale. If we hurry, I can still get my hands on some sling-backs."
"Shoes," Wally said in a less than enthusiastic way. "Oh boy."
The couple started to walk when they noticed some folks pass by in costumes. One was dressed in a familiar green costume and would have been a dead ringer for his foe, the Weather Wizard, if not for a rather huge gut under the tightly stretched green shirt. The other was a young red haired woman dressed in a homemade version of the Golden Glider's skating outfit. "Maybe you're right about heading out, Frances," Wally agreed. "Looks like some folks are breaking out the costumes."
As they rounded the end of the row, they were startled to see a powerful figure striding down the aisle. "Check that one out," Frances said.
It was a man with white hair in a rather elaborate cyborg costume. Even the weapons attached to the bandolier and the large gun he had in one hand looked authentic. The man stopped, turned his head and flashed an electronic eye about the room.
"Wow," Wally said. "That one looks like it took a lot of effort." The young man started to approach the cyborg to pay a compliment. "Hey, fella, nice costu..."
"Back, savage!" The cyborg took a swing at Wally with his metallic left fist. Wally's reflexes were just fast enough to avoid being hit by the blow, but he could tell that there was incredible power behind the swing.
"Whoa!" Wally said as he tumbled backwards. "Someone's touchy."
"The timeline is severly damaged," the cyborg muttered to himself. The man-machine raised his weapon to the air, let out a loud battle cry and began to open fire. A plasma beam shot straight upwards, getting the attention of everyone in the room. The cyborg howled once more, causing a panic in the crowd.
"Wally?" Frances was about to say when she realized that the tube with his purchased artwork was suddenly in her hand. She glanced around quickly, but her boyfriend was no where in sight. She knew what would happen next. She hurried back towards Artists' Alley to be safe.
Moving as super-speed, Wally had ducked under a table covered with a draping cloth. Out of the view of others, he was able to change quickly into the scarlet costume he kept compressed in his special ring. "That cyborg's the real McCoy," he said to himself as he rolled out from under the table as the Flash. "So, I guess it's time for a little super-speed takedown before things get out of hand!"
The Flash zigzagged between the aisles and the people, working his way towards the metallic man. "Hey, one-eye!" the Flash called. "How's about we take this outside?"
The speedster hurried past a couple teenage boys. "Say, Rob, isn't that...?" one started to ask.
"Yeah," replied the dirty blonde in Levi's 501 jeans, "that cyborg guy's one of mi...!"
The cyborg aimed his weapon at the speedster and fired a plasma blast. The crimson discharge of energy seared through the air, heading straight for the hero.
I could dodge that easily enough, the Scarlet Speedster thought, but anyone caught in the path of that thing would get burned up bad! The Flash instead began to whirl his arms in front of him in a circular motion. Not to mention how fast this place would go up in flames if the fire hit all these comic books!
The plasma blast hit the funnel of air that the hero had created, and its course started to alter. The faster the Flash whirled his arms, the sharper the angle became. The column of air redirected the plasma burst high up towards the ceiling and through the skylight above. Good thing that was intense heat, the Flash thought. When the burst hit the glass and broke it, it also fused the shards into harmless droplets.
"Now to take care of the walking arsenal!" The Flash charged towards his opponent.
The cyborg discarded his plasma blaster and reached for another weapon on his bandolier. "Back off, evil mutant!" Before he could take aim, the weapon was knocked away.
"No, no, Mr. Roboto!" the Flash said in a scolding tone. "We can't have you playing cyber-cowboy around here! No, how's about you just give up?"
The cyborg, whose head looked small to the rest of his body, scowled at the hero and dove towards him. "I'll tear you apart with my bare hands!" His metallic fists punched at the Flash.
"I'd get your vision checked, partner!" the hero joked as he dodged one punch after another. "When you've only got one good eye, your depth perception's shot. Makes it hard to see where things really are." The Flash knew he had the troublemaker focused on him, so now it was time to finish the job. "Here, let me show you how it's done!"
Moving in a blur, the Flash began to circle the cyborg at great speed. His fists moved at super-speed too, allowing him to nail the man-machine with hundreds of punches in a single second. While each one alone was not enough to do considerable damage, together they added up to a nonstop barrage of attacks. Kind of like a jackhammer would tear up a piece of concrete. After a few moments, the cyborg collapsed on the ground.
The Flash stopped moving and stood with his hands on his hips. "Lesson over," he said. "You can take a recess nap now."
Suddenly, the cyborg's whole body was showered over in a sparkling display of light. As the twinkling started to subside, the man was gone.
"Whoa!" said the Flash. "Must've had some kind of fail-safe escape plan in case of defeat!"
Then, suddenly, the Flash felt a punch to his jaw. His head rolled to the side, only to be hit from the other direction by another unseen attack.
"What the...?" the Flash exclaimed, just before another unseen punch hit him.
Instinctively, the hero started to move. "Did that cyborg go invisible on me or what?" he wondered. The Flash turned his head back and was surprised by what he saw. "What's that?"
Moving at a speed matched by the hero, a pink blur of a figure rocketed past the hero and attacked as it passed. The super-speed attack caught the hero off guard, causing him to stumble forward. The Flash dove into a roll to avoid an uncontrolled crash and then sprang to his feet moving once more.
"Whoa! Who else moves that fast but me?" the Flash asked himself. "Professor Zoom, perhaps, but he's never had a beef with me."
The hero made a quick circuit back around, using his eyes to search for his elusive attacker. Everyone else in the convention center seemed to be practically standing still. This was just one of the side effects Flash experienced while moving at super-speed. The rest of the world appeared totally out of sync with him. Everyone, of course, except the other speedster.
The pink blur was caught in the corner of his eye. "Gotcha now!" The Flash darted after him.
The race was on as the two figures wound their way in and out of the crowded convention floor. They cut sharp angles left, then right, then doubled back around themselves. Each one trying to stay one step ahead of the other while at the same time boxing that one in.
It was a super-speed game of cat and mouse, though the Flash truly hoped he'd end up the former. Whoever this guy is, he's good! he thought as he ran. But not good enough!
Suddenly, the Flash altered his course, cutting back to the left quickly. His scarlet form cut across the other's path and nailed the figure with a fast right hook. The pink blur skidded across the way and slammed into a wall behind one of the displays. The Flash quickly ran after him.
"Didn't take too long to realize this guy was sticking to a pattern," the hero said. "Once I figured that out, it gave me the edge to snag him." The Flash stepped to behind the display, finding there an unconscious red haired young man. The surprising part is, the guy was naked. "What the...? Some kind of super-streaker or something?"
The Flash started to reach for the young speedster but was too late. A similar light effect danced over his opponent. "Hey, get back here!" The Flash's hand passed right through the fading form of a man. "Nuts! He's gone too!"
***
Frances Kane, meanwhile, had run smack dab into a concerned Barney Sands. "Frances, run!" the brown haired youth said in a panic.
"Why?" the blonde woman asked. "The threat's back that way." She gestured to where the Flash was off battling the cyborg.
"Wrong," Barney replied. He then dove onto Frances, knocking her to the ground. "Duck!" The two tumbled behind one of the tables.
Frances pushed the young man off of her. "What's going on? Why'd you do that?"
A gleaming sword blade sliced through the table next to them, sawing it clean in half with one cleave. "That's why!" Barney said. "C'mon, run!"
The two scampered to their feet and started to run. "What's going on here?" she asked. "What are we running from?"
A figured whipped through the air over them, landing in their path. Standing before them was a well-built, muscular woman. Her long black hair was tied back into a single ponytail. Her body was only slightly covered by a few pieces of black metal armor which had less material than one of Frances two-piece bathing suits. In the woman's hand was a long, gleaming metal sword. She stood poised, ready to strike.
"Not what," Barney said. "Who!"
"You know this woman?" Frances asked.
"Know her," Barney replied. "I created her. She's called Blade-Babe!"
Frances let those words wash over her. "Blade-Babe?" she asked. "No wonder she looks so pissed. Between the name, the lack of wardrobe and the burden of carrying around such a large chest, I'd be mad too!"
"Quiet, cowards, and prepare to die!" Blade-Babe raised her weapon high above her head and let out a bloodcurdling scream. She flexed her muscles and prepared to bring the weapon down hard.
Instinctively, Frances pushed Barney away and gestured with her free hand. A wave of magnetic energy hit the oncoming sword, sending it hurtling backwards. The warrior woman held fast to the hilt, and thus she too tumbled backwards. Frances didn't like using her powers, but the situation seemed to warrant it. She felt, however, a slight twinge of pain when she did so. This was something new to her, but she didn't have time to worry about it.
Frances grabbed Barney's hand. "We've got to run, now!" Her first thought was to get the young man to safety, if nothing else than to allow her time to ask him how one of his creations from ink and paper had actually come to life.
As they ran, Frances used her powers to cause some of the metal tables they passed to turn over. Papers, books and such showered into the air as the tables became an obstacle course to slow down the sword wielding siren. With each use of her powers, the twinge was there.
"Barney, you said you created Blade-Babe," she said. "How is it she's come to life?"
"I honestly don't know," the youth said. "But this isn't the first time this has happened to me."
"It's not?" Frances asked in surprise.
"Nope," Barney said. "Something like this happened about six years ago. One of my earlier creations, a bald powerhouse by the name of Master Villain, suddenly showed up in Central City. The creep was terrorizing the town, making trouble. Even the Flash, the first one, had a hard time stopping MV's wide array of powers.
"I racked my brain trying to figure out how that drawing had come to life, but I came up with nothing. In desperation, I whipped up another drawing of a character called Super-Hero in hopes that the same thing would happen again, and there'd be an equally fantastic good guy to battle my bad creation. To my surprise, Super-Hero did end up showing up alive and cleaned the floor with MV. Then, as quickly as they appeared, both vanished. Since then, none of my other drawings have come to life."
"Until today," Frances concluded, "with Blade-Babe?"
"Right," Barney said. "I can't believe this is happening! It's all my fault!"
Frances gave Barney a hug. "Maybe it's not your doing, Barney," she said, trying to calm his panic. "We just gotta let this play out, then we'll straighten it out. Flash will help. Trust me." Frances couldn't help but think about the time her own powers had gotten out of hand, and Wally and the rest of the Titans had helped her get them under control. If, if, Barney was behind any of this, she knew there'd be help for him.
Suddenly, a sword blade plunged into the floor inches from their feet! "There you dogs are!" Blade-Babe leapt upon the table before them, pulling two small daggers from the sheathes in her boots. "Die!" With a yelp and a flick of her wrists, the dark haired woman flung the weapons directly at the two people.
"No!" Frances yelled, and instinctively she lashed out with her powers. The magnetic burst caught the daggers wide air, spun them around and sent them plunging back into Blade-Babe's rather pronounced chest. The woman screamed out in anguish, fell to the table and then faded in twinkling lights.
"Is she...?" Barney started to ask.
"Gone," Frances said. "C'mon! We've got to see if we can find the Flash!"
***
Flash ran around in a tight circle, creating a mini tornado that whipped into the air.
Within the fast moving funnel of air, a muscle-bound white haired man dressed in silver with a red cape struggled against the sheer force of the wind. "Unhand me!" the man bellowed through a grimaced face. "I am Supremo!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Flash said as he adjusted his speed, allowing the man to drop very quickly into the funnel. Flash then reached up, grabbed the end of the cape and began to spin the attacker round and round. "You look like a Superman-wannabe to me."
After a sufficient number of rotations, the speedster timed his release of the cape. The speed and the angle made the man called Supremo slingshot through the air only to slam directly into a large, green muscle-bound man with a large fin on his head. Both were buried deep into the wall and then vanished from view.
The crowds, who watched from the sidelines, cheered.
The Flash gave a brief nod. "I guess they think this part of the show or something," he said to himself, "though the place is getting tore up big time." He started to rub his chin. "I wonder, though, with how quickly these guys are coming and going, if all of this is related."
Suddenly, there was a great whine in the air. Flash barely turned when an incredibly long chain whipped around his body. The chain wrapped around him a dozen times, and the surprise attack knocked him to the floor. "What now?" Flash asked as he looked up.
Above him floated a costumed figure in a macabre black and red costume. His face was covered with an ornate skull-patterned mask with green eyes. Chains much like those that bound the hero wrapped around his body, and an incredibly long red cape flowed about the figure in the air. "Hold fast, demon!" the figure bellowed in an eerie voice. "For it is the curse of fates that forces me to hunt your kind down, returning you to the foul bowels of Hades! For I am the Hellspawn!"
"Oh, give me a break," the Flash said, fed up with these weird characters. He began to vibrate his body at super-speed, making his very molecules unstable enough to allow himself to pass easily through the chains around him.
"Impossible!" Hellspawn roared. "No one is able to escape my mighty, enchanted weapons!"
"Yeah?" Flash said. "I'd get your money back if I were you." The speedster picked up the chain that was around him, began to whip it around like a lariat and wrapped it around the latest attacker. "Here, let's see if you can get out of them, Houdini!"
With a quick jerk of the one end of the chain, the Flash brought the character crashing down to the ground.
As the latest attacker vanished like the previous ones had, Flash looked about quickly. "Where are these guys coming from?" he asked himself. "And why do they disappear so quickly after I beat them?"
Glancing up, the Flash thought he saw a figure moving up near the roof by the broken skylight. He didn't get a good look at the person in shadows, but it was definitely someone who had been spying on the events below. Ah ha! the speedster thought. Let's just have a quick look see.
The Flash raced out of the convention center doors, down the street, then cut back. With the extra build up of speed, he was easily able to run up the side of the large building to reach the roof.
Sure enough, by the broken skylight, the Flash came upon a very small figure of a person. "Ahem!" he said, drawing attention to his arrival by tapping the figure on the shoulder.
"Aaaaah!" the figure jumped with surprise. But instead of coming down, he hovered there in the air.
It was a small person, perhaps no more than three feet tall in size. He wore a very familiar gray body suit with blue-black gloves, boots, cowl and a cape. On his chest was a black bat insignia in a yellow oval. Even a yellow utility belt of sorts hung loosely from his waist. He looked like a large Kewpie doll in a costume "What'd you do that for? Scaring me and everything!" the person squeaked in a high pitched voice.
"Given what you've been doing," the Flash said, "I think you deserve it. Now, who are you?"
"Who am I?" the costumed imp parroted. "Who am I? You don't recognize me?"
"I know the costume," the Flash said, "but not you. Enlighten me."
"I am Bat-Mite!" the imp said proudly.
"Bat-Mite," Flash repeated. "Riiiight."
The speedster recalled the occasional comment from Dick Grayson, who mentioned that he, back when he was Robin, and Batman encountered a being with the same name. Dick had said this Bat-Mite was a magical imp that used to cause them tons of trouble. Wally had laughed it off as one of Dick's jokes. That would teach him to doubt his old friend.
"So," Flash said, addressing the being once more who was now floating in the air with his legs crossed, "I take all that stuff down there was your handy work?"
The imp smiled a big smile, wide as his whole chubby face. "Of course! Who else could make all of that marvelous fun?"
Flash rubbed his temples. He felt a headache coming on. "Okay, Mite," he said. "Care to tell me why?"
Bat-Mite began to slowly turn around in the air, head over heels. "Sure thing! When you finished your autographs and such, all the little kiddies seemed so disappointed. I figured if some menaces showed up, you'd come back. And I was right!"
"So you whipped up the cyborg, and the streaker, Supremo, the dragon man and Hellspawn just so I'd be running around the Con again?" Flash asked. "You have a twisted imagination, you know that?"
"Why thank you," the imp said, "but I can't take credit for those guys. I only brought them to life from the pictures by the young artists down there. It's their images, and my magic. Hee hee hee."
"Why me?" the Flash said as he rubbed his face with his hand.
"What?" asked the Bat-Mite.
The Flash shook his head. "Why me? Why here? I thought you were a Batman fan."
"Oh, I am!" the imp squealed. "See the costume?" He tugged at his tunic. "I am now and will always be a Bat-fan." The Flash just stared at him with a wondering look. "Oh, so I guess you want to know why I came here."
"Uh, yeah," Flash said, trying his best not to lose his patience..
"Okay, here's the scoop," Bat-Mite said. "A few years back, I had the chance to bop over to one of the other Earths, the one you all called Earth-Prime. There I dropped into the offices of DC Comics and approached editor Al Milgrom about an idea of putting me in one of their books. After bringing in a writer, artist and such, Milgrom agreed to give me a feature. I was pleased as punch. True to his word, he put me in the comics they made.
"Well, I decided that maybe it was time for me to make another appearance, so I tried to go over there again. Much to my dismay, something blocked my access to the parallel Earth. That made me sad, real sad. So, the only way I could stay close to comics was to start hanging out at ComicCons on this Earth. Sadly, there don't seem to be any in Gotham City, so I ended up here."
Flash let out a deep sigh. "Well, luckily no one got hurt," he said.
The imp started to smile.
"But..."
The imp began to pout. There always was a 'but'.
"... thanks to your shenanigans, there's a huge mess down there. So, how's about you wiggle that nose of yours or something and straighten things out? If you do, I'm willing to forget the incident and let bygones be bygones. Agreed?" The speedster held out his hand as a good will gesture.
Bat-Mite beamed again. "Agreed," he said, shaking the hero's hand. "You're a real sport, Flasheroo!"
"And," Flash said looking the imp straight in the eye, "next time you think about stopping in Central City, do me a favor and pass right on through. Okay?"
Bat-Mite giggled. "Agreed."