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#7
FEB 13 |
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“Double or Nothing”
Then
Jeremy Tell was sweating as he studied his cards. The Gambler, his opponent, smirked as Tell pushed the remainder of his chips into the center of the table. Tell knew that if he lost he was dead, punishment for failing as one of the Gambler’s henchmen.
“Well, sir,” the Gambler said, “let’s see how you’ve done.” Tell laid his cards down on the table. Two pair, while not exceptional, might still be enough to carry the game.
The Gambler smiled. “Sir, it looks as if your luck has ended.” He placed a full house on the table with a flourish. “I bid you adieu, sir,” the Gambler said as he stood. “Wait until I leave.” As the Gambler headed toward the door, another henchman moved in toward Tell with a pistol.
Tell saw his opportunity and grabbed the henchman’s arm. He wrestled it free and yelled as he aimed it at the Gambler. As he pulled the trigger the Gambler threw a deck of cards at him. The cards stuck to Tell, who screamed as they began eating into his skin. The Gambler didn’t even pause as he ran out of his escape door to lose himself in Las Vegas.
Tears streamed down Impulse’s face as he ran. He’d already crisscrossed the globe five times, trying to escape the pain he felt. He skidded to a stop and found himself outside his UCLA dorm. He ducked under the crime scene tape and returned to his dorm room. Part of him wanted to think that it was all just a bad dream and that Cody would be waiting for him on the couch, or in the bedroom. He still couldn't believe that Cody was really Jericho, son of Deathstroke the Terminator.
Joseph Wilson's soul had taken over the stillborn body of Cody Wyatt at birth, laying dormant until recently. When Jericho's true personality awakened, he had tried to use Impulse to achieve his original goals, but Bart had managed to thwart him. Now 'Cody' was sitting in a containment cell somewhere, being studied and prodded to see just who was inside the body.
As soon as he stepped inside, Impulse realized that he’d made a mistake. He looked around the deserted room and didn’t even turn on a light. He picked up a photo from the trash can and felt his heart break again. The picture fell to the floor and Impulse started running again. He had to outrun the pain. All he had to do was run a little bit faster.
Jack Ryder shot up in bed screaming. He’d had the dream again. A quick check of his arms proved that his skin was still the normal color – not the yellow of his dream. He glared over to where his phone was ringing. He picked up the receiver and said, “This better be good.” He listened then smiled. “I’m on my way. Get a camera crew there now. If that little punk’s running around UCLA again I want him covered.” Ryder jumped out of bed as he called a taxi. He was heading to California.
Impulse slowed and stopped as something caught his eye. He’d run by Vegas plenty of times but this time there was something different. He heard the commercial slogan in his head again, “Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Maybe that was what he needed. If whatever happened in Vegas in stayed Vegas, then maybe there was a chance that anything that happened outside of Vegas couldn't happen inside the city. The costume returned to his ring and Bart Allen headed into the city.
First things first, Bart knew he needed some money. All he had was enough money in his pocket for a few large meals to keep up his metabolism, but if he was going to stay in Vegas, he'd need a place to crash. Fortunately, his speed helped him out with a few games of chance.
Bart knew enough to not push his luck too far. When he’d gathered enough cash to afford a place to sleep for a little while, he headed to a nice hotel room. He lay down on the bed, kicked off his sneakers and started channel surfing, landing on the Director's Cut of Star Wars Episode III.
Mace Windu, having been blasted out of the window by Senator Palpatine, fell into a flying garbage truck before falling out and hitting the ground. He stood up and dusted himself off.
"I'm alive!" Mace shouted. "I made it!"
It was then that a shark jumped out of the lake behind him, pulling Mace into the water.
After about thirty seconds of that he decided he was bored and started exploring the room. After emptying out the mini-bar of all its candy and food to boost his metabolism, he searched for something fun to do. He saw a hot tub and heard how much fun they were. In less than ten seconds, he'd rid himself of his clothes and sat inside of the tub, waiting for something to happen.
"This is it?" asked Bart as he sat there. "What a gyp." Bored, Bart threw his clothes back on and headed out to explore the city.
California
Grover Adams was watching the news as he sat in his wheelchair when he heard the story about Impulse and his fight with Jericho. "About time someone gave that jerk what was coming to him," said Grover as he stared down at his legs. He still blamed Young Justice for what happened to him, but Impulse especially.
Back in Las Vegas, Bart heard a commotion and looked around. Even Bart had to stop when he saw total chaos as gamblers fled a casino. “Is there a sale at Penney’s?” he asked before changing to Impulse and running into the casino.
Tell turned as Impulse stopped in front of him. The emblem of a spade had appeared on his face. He smirked. “What’re you going to do, hero?” he asked.
Impulse shrugged. “Well, I was kind of hoping for a few hands of blackjack,” he admitted.
Tell laughed. “Try 52 Card Pick-up!” he yelled as he began firing cards from his sleeves at Impulse.
“How do you play that?” Impulse asked before dodging the cards, which stuck into the walls. “Throwing playing cards?” Impulse asked. He stroked his chin. “Now where have I seen that before?”
“More than just throwing cards, kid,” Tell said as he peeled a card loose from his face, leaving exposed muscle beneath. “I am the cards now. Thank my old boss.”
Impulse was sticking his tongue out. “If you keep picking at that it’ll never heal. Hey, is your name the Red Sk–"
“No! I'm not called that name that neither of us has ever heard of. But you’re right,” Tell said, “it’ll never heal!” He laughed crazily as he threw the card at Impulse, who dodged it only for the cards to follow and cut a gash on Impulse’s cheek.
“That’s not very fair,” Impulse said as he wiped blood from his face.
Tell laughed. “Neither is playing cards with the Gambler. Deal with it!” Tell raised his hands and his body dissolved into a flurry of playing cards which adhered to Impulse.
Impulse fought down a moment of panic as he realized he couldn’t move. He fought and felt his legs begin to separate just enough. He used his memory and walked toward a burning pile of trash. When he felt the heat through the cards, he threw himself into the fire.
The cards screamed as they released him and flew back to reform Tell. Impulse made sure he wasn’t smoking anywhere and turned his attention back to Tell. “So you’re nothing but cards?” Impulse asked. “I’ll bet that makes gaining weight a really hard trick.”
Tell snarled. “Die, kid!” he shouted as cards flew toward Impulse again.
Impulse quickly began fanning his arms and the cards reversed. An idea hit Impulse and he increased the speed. Tell braced himself against the wind as trash began flying past him. He started to scream as the wind increased and cards began flying loose from his body until, finally, Tell dissolved into a cloud of playing cards. Impulse vanished and quickly grabbed each card. He grabbed a small metal box that was lying in the debris and put the cards inside, then forced the lid closed.
Impulse dusted his hands off. “And that takes care of that. Just one more thing to take care of and I only have five minutes to do it before the buffet closes.”
The Gambler was sitting at a blackjack table when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Go away, son, I’m on a roll,” he said.
His seat spun around and he found himself face to face with Impulse. “Looks like that guy was telling the truth,” he said. Impulse turned to casino security. “He’s all yours.” Impulse snapped his fingers. “Just a second.”
Impulse used his superspeed to quickly search the Gambler. When he finished, a three inch stack of aces sat on the table in front of him. The Gambler stared wide-eyed at the advancing security as Impulse took off at top speed.
Bart returned to his hotel room and flipped through the channels on the TV.
"And now back to Bridezillas."
A 25 story tall woman, wearing a white dress, was tearing up a city.
"Where's my white cake!?"
Finally Bart dropped the remote on the bed. “There’s nothing on,” he griped. He walked to the balcony doors and looked out. He watched the traffic and people walking below him before growing bored. He dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes. Moments later he was asleep.
Bart tossed and turned. His dreams were tormented and filled with visions of Cody and Preston. As fast as he ran, he couldn’t save them from various torments designed by Inertia.
A tear ran down Bart’s cheek as he rolled over again. Why couldn't he run fast enough to save the people he loved?
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Next Issue: In Impulse #8: It’s the return of the Trickster, but who’s helping him out?
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