|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
Flash
Times Past, "1961"
The Forgotten Rogueby mcmaenza
In the Central City police laboratory where he worked as a research scientist, Barry Allen had just returned from lunch. The man removed his hat, placing it on top of the coat rack. Talking with some of the guys at lunch got me thinking, he thought to himself. I've really encountered an interesting set of opponents since I began my career as the Flash. He ticked them off one-by-one on his hand. The Turtle. Mazdan. Captain Cold. Mr. Element / Dr. Alchemy. Mirror Master. Gorilla Grodd. The Pied Piper. The Weather Wizard. And most recently the Trickster. He ran his hand through his short-cropped blond hair. Quite a rogues gallery I'm starting to have.
Barry then removed his green sports coat and hung that on the rack. He reached for his white lab coat. Makes me wonder what kind of weird or wacky foe I'm going to face next.
"Ah well, enough daydreaming," the police scientist said as he slipped his arms into the lab coat sleeves. "I'd better get back to analyzing that evidence from the Connors' accident."
Suddenly, the police intercom that he kept turned on in the lab sprang to life with an announcement. "A robbery has just been reported at the Second National Bank on Fairfax."
Barry raised his eyebrow. A bank robbery, eh? he thought to himself. I think the Connors evidence will have to wait a little while longer. Glancing around quickly, he insured that no one could catch him off guard.
He then pressed the secret button on the ring he wore, which opened the cover. A small, compressed red item popped forth from the ring's hidden compartment and began to expand like an inflatable raft would. In an instant, the familiar scarlet and gold costume of the Flash reached its maximum size, allowing Barry Allen to change into his famous alter-ego at super-speed.
In a second, the Flash was moving faster than the human eye could perceive as he darted out the back of Police Headquarters. He made a sharp left onto Sixth Street, then a quick left onto Broadway and then another right onto Chandler Drive. It took him less than twenty seconds to arrive at the Second National Bank.
The alarms were still sounding, and the patrons were still in a bit of panic. Flash zipped through them as if they were standing still. As Barry Allen, I bank here, the hero thought to himself. So I recognize the manager, Carl Weinburg. He picked the man out of the crowd and then slowed himself down to a more human pace.
Carl was a man in his early forties, slightly balding. He wore a dark suit and tie. When he noticed the costumed hero's arrival, his expression changed from concern to relief. "Flash, thank heavens you have arrived."
The Scarlet Speedster nodded. "I understand you've had a robbery," the Flash said. "Have anything I can go on to find the thief?"
Mr. Weinburg frowned. "I was just trying to get some information myself," he said. "I was in my office when the alarm was sounded. I rushed out here only to find the customers and the tellers totally perplexed."
"Perplexed? How so?"
"When I asked the tellers to describe the thief, they could not! They could not tell me if it was a single person or a gang, man or woman, or even how much money had been taken."
"That's strange," the Flash replied. "How about the customers? Surely someone has something to go on."
"I only asked one or two, but got the same bewildered response from them as I did the tellers," Weinburg replied. "Feel free to ask for yourself."
The Flash nodded and proceeded a quick, random sampling of the citizens in the building. Much to his dismay, he found the same thing -- not a single person could recall anything about the person or persons behind the robbery.
The Flash returned to Carl Weinburg, shaking his head. "I had no luck either," the hero said. "But I have another idea." He glanced up to one corner of the ceiling, spying a security camera. "Any chance we can take a look at the security tapes?"
"Of course!" the manager replied. "I had forgotten about those."
"Let's go to the tape!" the Flash said, and the two men returned to the manager's office.
After a few minutes, they were watching the film of what had transpired earlier that afternoon in the bank. Everything seemed normal until one particular customer came to the counter. He had black hair, slicked back to the side, and was dressed in a gray suit with a white shirt and gray tie. "Seems normal enough to me," the Flash said.
On the tape, the man then pulled a gun and shot it once in the air to get everyone's attention. The tellers then quickly emptied their tills into two sacks he provided, and the man started to leave. The man turned as he reached the door, faced the entire room, then nodded before departing. "Surely it is plain to see what happened," said Mr. Weinburg upon reviewing the incident. "Why could we not get these details from the tellers or the people?"
"I'm not sure," the Flash replied. "But anyone bold enough to commit a robbery in broad daylight in Central City will no doubt turn up again real soon. And when he does, I'll be ready for him." The Scarlet Speedster bid the manager good day and returned to his work.
***
Barry Allen was still adjusting his black bow tie as he crossed the parking lot of the Towers Hotel. One of these days I'm not going to get so caught up in my work that I'm late for my personal business, he thought as he entered the hotel lobby. Hopefully it won't be the topic of conversation all night.
"There you are," a stern female voice said. Dressed in a blue gown with tasteful cleavage and a hem line just below the knee, a young woman with her brown hair pinned up approached him. "I should know better by now, Barry Allen. You always show up late."
"I'm really sorry, Iris," the police scientist apologized. "By the time I finished in the lab and swung back to my place to change into my tux, time slipped away from me."
Iris West, ace reporter, just shook her head. "You'll be late for your own funeral, mister," she said. She handed him a rather large leather bag. "You're just lucky this isn't a real date."
Barry took the familiar bag that held her camera and equipment. "So, what's Picture News got you covering tonight?" he said as they crossed the lobby to the elevator.
"Just a society page piece," Iris replied. "Its a black-tie charity auction." She pressed the button to call the elevator car. "But don't worry, you can mingle and sample the food while I work." She smiled. "It shouldn't be all that exciting, so you'll fit right in." She gently poked him in the rib with her elbow.
"Ha ha," Barry laughed flatly as the doors opened. He hooked his arm under her elbow and gently escorted Iris into the elevator.
While Iris West took some photos of Central City's movers and shakers, Barry Allen sat at a small table to the side drumming his fingers in boredom. It took him a second to realize he was drumming them rather quickly, almost at eye-blurring speed. He placed his other hand on top of the one, stopping the nervous habit. Iris was sure right, he thought. This party is dull.
Glancing around the room, Barry desperately searched for a familiar face with whom to engage conversation. He recognized the mayor and some local television personalities, as well as faces he'd seen on the society pages of the paper. There was also Fred Pearson, noted for his local theater work.
Just then out of the corner of his eye, Barry noticed a man entering the large room. The newcomer had dark hair slicked back to the side and was dressed in a gray tuxedo. It only took a second for the person to register with the police scientist. That's him! Barry thought. That's the guy from the bank surveillance video! Now to do some investigative work.
Barry Allen rose from his seat and made his way across the room, on an intersecting path with the man. The two ended up at the bar. "Scotch on the rocks, neat," the man in gray requested of the bartender. After getting his drink, he turned to find the blond man right behind him. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"No problem," Barry replied. "Some swanky function, eh?"
The man pleasantly nodded in agreement.
Barry continued. "You come to stuff like this often? Big charity auctions, I mean?"
The man realized he would have to say something. "Yes, I do," he replied.
Not much of a talker. Barry glanced around. "Well, I hope it gets more lively than this."
The man began to grin. "Oh, I'm sure it will." He then excused himself and wandered off to look at the items up for bid.
Barry watched him go silently. Oh, I'm sure it will too, he thought to himself. I've got my eye on you, mister. The police scientist refreshed his club soda and made his way back through the room.
It wasn't more than twenty minutes before the man in gray made his move. Taking the stage during the start of the auction, he pulled a gun from inside his tuxedo jacket and took Mrs. Vandemeer hostage. The older woman who was serving as the hostess of the auction screamed, "What is the meaning of this?"
"You, be quiet, and no one gets hurt!" the man stated. He tossed a large sack to one of the people in the crowd before the stage. "Now, if you all would be so kind to circulate this sack among you and deposit your valuables, I will have little reason to escalate this situation further."
Barry Allen was in the back of the crowd and was thus able to slip away unnoticed. That's my queue to get into action, he thought. With all eyes glued on the man with the gun, he was able to slip into his costume unnoticed.
In a moment, he was able to race back into the room as the Flash. "Okay, buddy, that's far enough!" he said as he rushed the stage.
"The Flash!" the man exclaimed. Before he could even consider his next move, the gun and the hostage had been plucked from his hands. The Flash now stood with the quite shaken Mrs. Vandemeer amongst the crowd.
The man in gray merely smiled. "If you think it is that easy to stop me," he said as he stooped down and snatched the sack full of cash and jewelry, "you can forget about it." The man bolted toward the balcony doors.
The crowd was surprised as the Flash just stood perfectly still. Iris West approached the hero. "Flash. Flash!" she called out. "Aren't you going to go after that guy?"
The Flash's eyes appeared slightly glossed over, but he blinked twice when he heard his name. He shook his head firmly, like trying to clear his head. "Whoa! What just came over me there?" he said. In another second, he realized where he was and what was going on. He saw the thief head out to the balcony area.
"Not so fast, you!" the Flash said as he zigzagged through the crowd and went after him.
"All right, mister," the Flash said as he raced out onto the large patio. "You can't escape from me here. You might as well surrender."
The man smiled as he prepared to hop over the rail. "Don't be so formal, Flash," he said. "You can call me the Fog, because I am as elusive as that weather condition."
"The Fog? That's not very flashy, if you'll pardon my pun." The Scarlet Speedster lunged for him.
"I'll forget the bad joke if you'll simply forget that we're twenty stories up," the Fog said. He dropped over the railing and disappeared out of sight.
"Hey, what a minute!" the Flash exclaimed and leapt over the railing after the man. His momentum carried him out past the ledge of the building, causing the hero to tumble in the air and drop.
The Fog, who had safely landed on a window washing platform, laughed as the hero fell. "That's one landing he won't forget, if he survives." The thief popped open a window on the floor below the patio and slipped inside, leaving the hero to plummet to his death.
"How could I forget we were this high up?" the Flash asked himself. "I underestimated the Fog." He righted himself with a somersault in the air so that his feet were falling first. "Time to do something before I'm a mark on the pavement below."
The Flash realized he had drifted too far away from the building, so he had no surface to run down. He would have to try another trick. The hero began to pump his legs up and down as if he were marching in place. Moving at a blinding speed, the Flash was able to create a cushion of air to control his descent. "This worked before when I battled those cloud creatures, so it should work now." He soon was back on solid ground.
"Now to find the Fog!" The Flash then raced up the side of the building to return to the patio area, but his opponent was no where in sight. "He must have slipped away when I was saving myself. He could be anywhere right now." The Scarlet Speedster noticed the people from the auction coming out to see what was going on, including Iris.
"Don't worry, folks," the Flash said, trying to sound encouraging in his voice. "I'll track down the criminal and get back your valuables." The hero then began to race away to where he could change out of his costume safely. "But it might just have to be Barry Allen that continues to investigate this case." After donning his tuxedo, he returned to the auction and his date.
***
Very early the next morning, Barry Allen was at Iris West's door. "My, to what do I owe this visit?" she asked. "It's barely past eight."
"Have you developed those pictures from last night yet?" Barry asked.
"No, not yet," Iris replied. "Why?"
"Could you do it now?" Barry insisted. "There might be a clue to the robbery at the auction last night in those pictures. I need to have a look at them before you turn them over to Picture News."
Iris realized what her boyfriend was getting at, so the two adjourned to the makeshift developing studio that Iris had set up in her spare bathroom. About fifteen minutes later, the pictures were hanging to dry. Under the red light, one drew Barry's attention. "Can I have a copy of this one, Iris?" he asked.
It was a picture of Barry standing next to another man near the bar. "Of course, take that one and I'll make another copy," she said. "I was going to keep that one for myself, just cropping it some. It's a very nice picture of you."
Barry half blushed. It was in fact the part of the picture that showed the other man's face that he wanted. "Say, Iris, you see a lot of faces in your line of work. Does this guy ring any bells with you?"
The brown haired reporter looked at the picture for a good, long time. "Hmm, he does look familiar," she finally said. "I don't think I've met him in person, so I don't know his name. But, I'm pretty sure I saw his photo in the Picture News within the last few months or so."
Barry took the picture and gave Iris a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the picture," he said. "I have an idea on how to track this guy down. Maybe, just maybe, it might prove helpful to the police or the Flash in capturing this man."
***
Barry Allen's next stop was the Central City library. Upon seeing his police identification, the head librarian let him into the building before it opened. "What can I help with, Mr. Allen?" the woman asked.
"You keep copies of the local papers on microfiche, correct?" the police scientist asked. The woman nodded. "Excellent. I'd like to look through those if I may."
"Of course," the young blonde woman said. She showed him over to one of the microfiche viewers and then retrieved for him a number of boxes of tapes. "Take all the time you need." She then left him to his work while she re-shelved some returned books.
Barry picked up the box labeled with the most recent Picture News issues. He thread the machine with the tape and attached the wheels to their spindles. Pulling out the picture he had gotten from Iris, he placed that on the table in front of him.
He began to turn the wheel of the viewer, and the black and white photo copies of the newspaper pages began to pass before his eyes. Because of his unique abilities, he was able to go through the images at a faster than normal rate. He would periodically glance back and forth between the picture on the table and the images on the viewing screen, trying to find a match of the man. Within three minutes of high speed reading, he had covered every page of every edition of the Picture News for the last six months.
Barry stopped then on one particular article. The headline from page twenty-two of this particular issue announced the arrival of a new psychology professor at the local university. The man's picture in the paper matched that of the one on the table. His name was Thomas Will. "Bingo!" Barry said. "Looks like the Fog isn't as elusive as he thought."
Packing up the tapes quickly, he returned them all to the front desk. "Thank you," Barry told the librarian as he headed for the door.
The woman looked at him slightly perplexed as he left. "Done? So soon?" She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her work.
***
Professor Thomas Will walked out of one of the Central City University buildings and began to cross the grassy lawn. It was a bright, sunny morning so many of the undergraduates were enjoying the nice weather. There were at least twenty-five students in the quad area.
"Not so fast, Professor," a male voice called from behind him.
The dark haired man turned quickly and saw who was standing against one of the trees with arms crossed. "The Flash!" Will exclaimed.
The super-hero smiled. "Since when does the Fog come out on a sunny day?" he said jokingly. "The game is over, mister. I know all about you."
"So, you figured out my true identity," Will stated. "If you know who I am, you also know about my background in psychology. My doctorate work was on the subject of bad habits and how with simple hypnosis a person can be made to overcome them, forget them. With lots of study and practice, I found the perfect pitch and resonance within my own voice -- which enabled me to plant hypnotic suggestions in a person's mind with just a few simple words."
The Flash nodded. "So after helping so many people, you decided to help yourself," the hero said. "You figured it would be quicker to get rich by robbing banks and rich socialites."
The villain said, "Exactly! And I would have gotten away with it all too, had you not been so persistent in trailing me. But I think I can rectify that situation right now." He began to smile.
"Uh uh uh," the Scarlet Speedster said, wagging a finger at him. "Even if you play your forget-me-now trick on me, there are plenty of witnesses right here that can just refresh my memory." The Flash gestured to the crowd of students that had started to form. "Whatever you try, it will only be a temporary measure. I'll be back on your trail before you can make another move."
Professor Will laughed. "Oh, you think so, Flash! Well, I have a solution to that situation as well..."
Professor Will hopped up onto one of the nearby cement benches, so that he would be visible to all those in the quad. "Attention, everyone who can hear my voice. Your attention please."
Students and even some passing by faculty stopped and turned their heads toward the voice.
The man glanced over at the Flash who stood by rather unconcerned. The villain gritted his teeth, infuriated by the hero's smug attitude. He would show the Flash who was the more cunning of the two.
"Everyone who can hear my voice," Will stated, "you will have no choice but to forget everything you know about me. You will forget who I am and what I am able to do. The name 'the Fog' will mean nothing to you." The Professor turned back towards the tree, but there was no one leaning against it.
"Where did...?" the man started to ask but stopped in mid-sentnce. He paused a moment, perplexed.
"What... what was I going to just say?" he said. The man looked down at his feet. "Why am I standing here on this concrete bench?"
Suddenly, a scarlet blur approached him. It was the Flash. "Here, Professor, let me help you down," he offered.
As he escorted the man inside, the Flash couldn't help but smile. I wasn't sure if that would actually work, he thought to himself, but I was hoping I could trick the Fog into turning his own power on himself. Just before he could utter his hypnotic suggestion, I darted safely away and put plenty of distance between myself and the sound of his voice.
The hero looked at the bewildered Thomas Will and frowned. It almost doesn't seem right to turn him over to the police now that he no longer remembers who he is and what he's capable of doing, the Flash thought. But I have to do that anyway. Maybe I can help him recall enough of his past, leaving out the parts about his special abilities and his guise as the Fog. The Scarlet Speedster shook his head sadly. This one will just have to be the forgotten rogue.