|
#1
SEP 12 |
 |
“So Little Time”
His name was Wally West, the Flash, the fastest man alive – not that it meant anything. Even for a man who could move beyond than the speed of light there was always something to eat up his time.
At 9:01 am he circled Keystone City, stopped a purse snatcher, saved a woman from spilling her coffee, helped an old man fix a flat, stopped a driver from skidding off the road, walked some children across the street on their way to school, pulled a jumper from the path of a train and demonstrated to a litterbug that trash does not belong on the pavement. Then the clock struck 9:02.
The responsibilities were endless but that was part of being a superhero, right? He was the Flash. Having a packed schedule wasn’t a problem...except for the fact that he was going to be a father soon. Juggling dad-hood and derring-do – now that was a challenge!
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOOOOOOOOM!
Unfortunately for Flash that challenge would have to wait. A gang of...creatures! Mutants like something out of a Mad Max nightmare were tearing up midtown. Where they came from was anybody’s guess, but so long as they were setting off chains of explosives where innocent people might get caught in the crossfire they were his problem.
He weaved between blasts, snatching up pedestrians and setting them down in an awkward pile. They might have been disorientated, but at least that was the worst thing that was going to happen to them that day.
Racing to the first creature, the scarlet speedster was blasted with a cloud of smoke. That wasn’t going to stop either him or the speeding fist on a collision course with the goon’s green jaw. THWACK! One high-velocity punch was all he needed; with any luck the rest would fall just as easy.
“Man, you’re ugly,” he sneered. “Didn’t guys like you go out of fashion in the nineties?”
As much as he loved being the hero it was also frustrating; really, Wally would have preferred it if the city didn’t need him at all. Keystone was a great place to live and people would stay there if weird stuff didn’t pop up every other day. Though he supposed it could be worse – he could be living in Gotham.
One of the freaks leaped to the top of a bus and flexed. Spines popped from her skin by the hundreds, indiscriminately shooting into the crowd.
No sooner had he set down a woman and her baby than the hero threw himself back into action. Between the ticks of seconds he had to grab a broad object, a chair, a table from a café, an office desk, anything to swat the projectiles from the air. The spines were deadlier than bullets – their surface was serrated and grabbing them meant shredding his hands. At least the brick wall he beat them toward didn’t feel any pain.
It wasn’t the first time the Flash had faced this crew…it was, what, the third time that month? The fourth? They were the kind of new wave serial pest that made him look stupid, that had the media asking ‘has the Flash met his match?’ The thought made the hero groan. There seemed no greater humiliation than being bested by bozos like these, yet they always managed to get away.
The mutants fled. Even with their numbers they couldn’t take down the fastest man alive, but that didn’t seem to be their goal. Grabbing whomever they could they broke into a sprint, not daring to look back at the crimson blur headed right for them.
Suddenly the Flash buckled. Pain wrenched his skull, screaming until his brain was liquefied. It was the sting of a psychic assault, mind over matter taken to the extreme. He could barely contain the furious pulsing – he had to fight through it! Force of will was the only way to overcome! People were counting on him! He had to beat it!
Then it stopped.
From where he lay there was a lot of confusion. Had he passed out? His vision was still hazy. What just happened? It felt like someone had attempted to give him a lobotomy with a baseball bat – not exactly the nicest sensation in the world.
He pulled himself to his feet. No sign of the mutants anywhere. Meanwhile people were scared to approach him.
“Whasgoin’on,” he muttered. “’Sere something on my face?”
Through the ringing in his ears there was crying. He turned to see a woman on the ground, several others had gathered around her – some strangers were kind when given the chance. She was muttering something about her wife and how she’d been taken. The mutants had run and disappeared with the love of her life. Needless to say she was terrified. What were those monsters going to do with her? She might soon be dead, or worse.
More than anything Wally wanted to go and comfort her, but he had no right. It was his job to save everybody and he’d failed. Suddenly he felt like a jerk for wallowing in his own humiliation – there were more important things on the line.
The Flash darted from the scene with his tail between his legs. Somehow he would make this right.
Every city has its problems and Keystone is no exception. Away from the suburbs and beyond the docks, the faces of a failed economy have pooled. Where there are no jobs whole families seek refuge, littering the landscape with the tents that have become their homes.
On most days Wally avoided this part of town. Once upon a time he might have told these ‘bums’ to get a job, but it isn’t as simple as that anymore. Now they just made him uncomfortable for reasons he would rather not explore. It was only out of necessity that he ever visited.
The Flash forced himself to slow as he reached what he supposed was the town square. He had to be careful in these parts, the gusts created in his wake could tear these homes down and these people had lost enough.
A handful of the destitute came out to see him. The kids especially were excited by his arrival. Though he smiled and waved he was still racked with guilt; even though he wasn’t responsible for their situation he still felt he wasn’t doing enough to help. That there were people living this way, right in his backyard, was unthinkable.
Then somebody called to him. “What ho, friend Flash!”
Wally turned to the familiar voice to see an unwashed man in a green cloak with a bird’s nest where his hair should have been. Despite his condition his smile beamed with the radiance of the high sun, spreading mirth to the masses as he marched through the makeshift thoroughfare. With the Flash making a rare appearance he was more merry than usual.
“Let me guess,” Wally quipped, pulling his friend into an embrace, “you’re practicing for a low-budget version of ‘Shakespeare in the Park’.”
The former villain known as ‘Piper’ tapped his nose. “We have to do something to raise spirits around here,” he said, “and a little culture never hurt anybody. We may be at the bottom of the ninety-nine percent, but we still have taste.”
Piper had a way about him that put everyone at ease, even Wally. Despite having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth he was a man of the people, and did more for the dignity of the underclass than the Flash ever could. Their philosophies may have clashed at times, but the Piper was a good guy at heart, one of the best really.
“What can I do for you today, Wally?” he smiled, slinging a garbage sack over his shoulder. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”
Wally frowned. There was that guilt again. “There was another attack this morning. Several more people went missing. I was wondering if you’d heard anything.”
“I’m afraid not,” the Piper shrugged. “Whoever you’re after they seem to have no interest in the local gangs or the unwashed masses. I’m sorry, my friend; I wish I had something to tell you.”
The Flash ran his fingers across over his face and cowl. “It’s okay,” he muttered in frustration. “I tell you, Piper, I’ve got no leads on this one. Who are these guys? Where did they come from? Where do they go? They show up and they steal people away without a trace, and then you see the ones who’ve been left behind...”
“In a harsh world all we have is each other,” Piper told him. “Just look at this place. It’s full of families who refuse to be taken apart because it’s all they have left. Believe me, I understand your grief.”
Unfortunately for Wally, understanding wasn’t going to bring people’s loved ones back.
Piper stopped a moment, smiled, and offered his friend the sack from his shoulder. “Here. You can help me hand out bread. Thanks to you nobody will have to go hungry.”
He thought about it and accepted. At least he could do some good that day. “That’s a lot of bread,” Flash noted.
“We have a lot of mouths to feed,” Piper retorted.
“Where did you get it all?”
“You would be surprised the number of bakeries and other establishments who are willing to give away day old food to those in need,” Piper said. “On the days we fall short I use what’s left of my trust fund. None of these items were gained illicitly, I promise you.”
Even if they were Flash would have probably looked the other way. After all, where was the justice in letting children starve?
As they moved through the town the two friends seemed to disagree on the best method of distribution – Piper wanted for the Flash to slow down and get to know people, while Wally wanted to deliver all the food in less than five seconds.
The speedster’s ankles itched, he was too restless for anything other than his own way. Still, people got a kick out of seeing the red blur go by, then stopping to wave to them all from the end of the street. That much seemed to give them hope that they hadn’t been forgotten.
It soothed the Flash’s spirit as well, even if only a little bit.
“You know there’s a million and one things here that you can do,” Piper offered him in the hope that some feel good would bring him back.
Wally looked to his watch. 10:29…he had to be across town in thirty seconds. “Maybe some other time...”
“You know, every night we have a community cookout in the town square,” Piper went on. “You should come along, and bring Linda too! We actually make some pretty good food. Way better than rat and boot stew.”
“Next time, Piper, I promise.” The Flash smiled and readied himself for a sprint. “And...thanks.”
Rather than linger in an awkward moment the fastest man alive disappeared, kicking up dust and wind as he went. Maybe he would go back, or maybe not – for the time being, however, he had problems closer to home he needed to take care of.
The argument could be made that Wally West did not lead a conventional life. Running around in tights, fighting crime, saving the world – these were not the pastimes of most mere mortals. Yet as fast as the Flash could run he still couldn’t escape conventional problems, like finding a source of income.
Sitting in the third story office he fiddled with his tie, flapping it back and forth, whipping the air. It seemed funny that regular clothes felt more like a costume to him than his usual spandex. Most people would laugh to know that, but not Stacey Jackson – not if it could cost a client potential employment.
Shivers ran up his spine as she eyed his resume. He knew it was bare bones, not unless he wanted to fill it with things like ‘evacuated the population of Beijing in the wake a nuclear strike’ or ‘faced Darkseid without peeing pants’. These things didn’t mean anything to employers, or so Stacey had told him; what he apparently needed was a work history, with references, that demonstrated practical ability.
“You could always go back to college,” the woman told him. “You used to study...physics, was it? I’m sure there’d be a long list of institutions glad to take on someone of your profile.”
It was the same suggestions over and over. “Thanks, but I’m looking to make some money,” Wally retorted. “College is great for a career in ten, fifteen years down the track, but my wife and I have a baby on the way. Don’t get me wrong, Linda’s flexible and all, but I can’t see junior getting by on cup ramen.”
Stacey huffed and lowered her glasses. She was a hard woman, and she didn’t seem to like it when her suggestions were blown off. “I’m telling you this because you’re still a young man,” she continued. “Sure, you could wait until the kids have grown up to get an education, but by the time it gets you anywhere you’ll be ready for retirement. This is an opportunity, Mr. West. The alternative is skipping from income to meager income for the rest of your life.”
“What a cheery picture that is,” Wally groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Ever consider a career in the greeting card industry?”
“It’s my job to push you, Mr. West – not to sugar-coat the hard truths of the world.”
Wally hated these appointments. Each one would drag on forever then end in a stalemate. He’d signed on in the hopes that an employment representative might have some greater insight, but it was the same story wherever he went. “Everybody knows who you are,” they’d said, “but you have no qualifications.” Again, and again and again.
“You could always apply to work for the city,” she pressed, but Wally was quick to wave her off.
“I tried that, but they said no. Turns out a well known superhero who traditionally works for free asking the city for a pay rise is a big no-no,” he scoffed. “Besides, the liability insurance rates that come with having me on staff would break the city’s budget. Not to mention that the police union would have a fit.”
Stacey dwelt on the problem for another brief eternity. “What about corporate sponsorship? Everyone knows the Flash. Why not monetize his image?”
He had to admit that it was a fair question and it was one that he’d sat with for a while, but each time he’d come to the same conclusion. Wally scratched his head and leaned forward. “No, I...look, Stacey, I don’t know if you know much about my history, but I’m not the first Flash. I inherited this mantle from a great man and he inherited it from another great man before him. It’s mine now, but I can’t cheapen it by becoming a corporate shill. I’m sorry.”
“No, Mr. West, I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’ve tried my best and I’ll keep on trying, but as things are right now I just don’t know how to help you.”
That was the cherry on the proverbial cake. Nothing else was going his way, what was one more problem to add to the pile?
The adage was never truer than it was at the end of a difficult day – there’s no place like home.
Racing through the suburbs and to his porch Wally West entered the front door at an approximate velocity of Mach Two. He paused for a thousandth of a millisecond to taste the aroma wafting through the air – chicken parmigiana, his favorite food next to coco bombs.
Slowing his pace and sauntering to the kitchen at six hundred miles per hour he found his wife, Linda, frozen in time over the bench with a pair of salad tongs in hand. Though she’d kicked off her high heels and pulled her hair back she was still dressed for work in her teal blouse and sensible black trousers.
She was a vision, as always, and no matter how much the world brought Wally down it was worth it to come back to her each night.
Before the wind could catch him the hero had flipped off his cowl and he’d scooped up his partner, bringing himself back to normal time so she could see his boyish smirk. He waited the full split-second it took for Linda to register his arrival and was ready for her to clasp his neck in place of her stolen balance.
“Wally!” she gasped, as if it would be anyone else.
He waggled his brow at her. “Hey there, beautiful.” In some circles it would be considered charming in a goofy sort of way.
Fortunately for him Linda had become a sucker for it. “Hey yourself,” she grinned and pulled herself upright.
Grabbing the tongs from her hand, Wally gave her a mock frown. “Why are you cooking for me?” he teased. “You should be taking it easy.”
Linda snatched them back and returned to her task. “I’m only two months pregnant, Wally. I’m not an invalid...yet.” She gave him a playful nudge with her hip. “Besides, Piper called. He said you were having a tough morning. I thought I’d give you something nice to come home to, seeing as I’m the most amazing wife in the history of all human civilization.”
“But I already have you to come home to,” he said. “Not even your amazing cooking can improve on that.”
She laughed and winked at him. “Careful, Romeo…flattery will get you everywhere.”
Like clockwork the pair separated to do chores – Linda was assigned the task of serving the food while Wally set the table, dusted the banisters and windowsills, wiped down the tables, fluffed the cushions, folded the clean laundry and alphabetized the movies on the blu-ray shelf. Some might have argued that the tasks weren’t evenly split, but such was the way of things when one partner bored easily between the ticks of seconds.
“You know,” Linda smiled as she set down the plates, “all we’d have to do is put you in a frilly dress and we could pimp you out as the ‘world’s fastest maid.’”
“Very funny.”
“We’d make a fortune!”
Wally struggled not to look amused but the mental image got the better of him. “You know it’d be the best career path I’ve considered today.”
“I take that to mean your meeting with the job rep went as well as expected.”
His mood turned. Where a moment ago he was jovial he was now pensive, but still tried to cover it with a smile. “I just need to keep looking,” he insisted. “There’s bound to be something out there for me. Even if, I don’t know, I flipped burgers, or delivered pizza.”
When she reached to take his hand Wally flushed. Was his anguish really that obvious? Then again she was his wife – they were close enough that she could read him even when he was putting on a brave front. Superman had Kryptonite – the Flash had Linda Park-West.
“You shouldn’t push yourself so hard,” she said. “You already have a full-time job in saving the world.”
“True, but it doesn’t put money on the table.”
“No, but my job does,” she reminded him. “Modern working woman, remember? TV career, co-host of a daily panel show, local celebrity. We’re lucky enough that one of us has an income we can both survive on. That leaves you free to do other things.”
Valid a point as it may have been it was still a wound to his ego. “It’s not as simple as that, Linda.” He stood and began to pace.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he muttered, “it’s just not.” Of course he would have to come up with a better excuse than that. Conceding to his wife’s glare the speedster sunk. “Because...I want to feel like I’m contributing to our family.”
Linda stood and parked herself in the path he trod. “And who says you won’t be? Changing diapers, feeding, playing, spending time with the baby – those aren’t small tasks.”
“What you’re essentially describing is the job of house-husband,” he explained, “and I want to be more than that. I can give so much more...”
Delicate fingers reached up and stroked the hero on his cheek. That touch reached further into him than words ever could. Then Linda spoke and he heard her more clearly than he ever had before.
“You will never be ‘just’ a house-husband,” she told him. “Stop trying to be everyone to everyone, Wally. By staying here and being a father to our child you’re the hero of this family, and no matter what you do I will always be proud of you.”
Wally smiled. Damn her, she always knew how to get to him. Husband and wife kissed a kiss of solidarity, their lips making a promise that they would be there for each other in their times of need. Wally had to admit, he really did have the best wife on the whole planet.
“I love you,” he beamed.
Linda tapped his nose and chuckled. “Ditto.”
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. The couple looked to see if the other was expecting someone, but neither was.
“It’s probably a salesperson or the Jehovah’s Witnesses,” Wally shrugged. What were the odds of a super-villain appearing on his front step? Given his public identity it was more likely than most people would think.
He opened the door and was stunned. It definitely wasn’t a super-villain, and yet most salespeople he knew didn’t wear red and yellow spandex.
Wally blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but then he recognized her. “Hey, I know y–”
In a flash of lightning she was gone. Who was gone? There was nobody there but the pouring rain. Wally blinked again and checked his temperature. Why had he even gone to the door in the first place?
Linda called to him from the dining room. “Are they here yet?”
“Are who here?” he muttered under his breath. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
A comforting hand patted his shoulder, but it wasn’t his wife. Wally turned to face his companion – the scarlet speedster himself, the Flash, but known to his friends and family as police forensic scientist and father of three, Barry Allen.
The older man looked to Wally with some concern. “Everything alright, son?”
Wally thought about it for a moment. Something definitely didn’t feel right. “Yeah, Dad, probably just some bad tuna salad I had for lunch.” The more he thought about it the more likely that seemed to be.
|
|
|
Next: In The Flash #2: Everything old is new again! Barry Allen is back in the saddle, but where does that leave Wally?
To Be Continued...
Previous Issue | Next Issue