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#8
SEP 13 |
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“Unexpected Allies”
The woman walked swiftly through the streets of Las Vegas. Although she carried a violin case, inside was something quite unexpected – a gift from her benefactor. Now all she had to do was locate her target.
Bart Allen yawned and stretched as he sat up in the bed of his hotel suite. He blinked a time or two and remembered where he was.
Vegas. The city of light. Sin city. The city that never sleeps. The windy city. The city of...well, you get the point.
He hopped out of bed and padded on bare feet to the balcony. He opened the curtains and winced as the bright sunlight hit his face. He looked down and watched the traffic a moment before turning back to his room, already bored out of his mind and the day wasn't even thirty seconds old.
He sat down on the bed and picked up his wallet to check his financial status. He flipped through the pile of bills he’d won courtesy of a three card monte dealer the night before and smiled. Looked like he had enough to make it through the week, or at least for the next seven days and, if not, he could easily win more. That was the advantage of having fast eyes, he could win at virtually any game of chance.
As he laid the wallet back on his night table, he noticed something had fallen to the floor. He picked it up and turned it over. The small photo was of him and Cody. They were standing in front of the Sphinx in Egypt, with the tied-up Green Cigarette being hauled away by the local police in the background. Bart had taken Cody there for their graduation trip. It was partly to celebrate their leaving high school and partly to celebrate their then growing relationship.
Bart sagged as he stared at the picture. Tears welled up in his eyes as he heard Cody’s pleading screams ringing in his ears again. Seconds later he was gone and the door to the room was closing.
“I haven’t heard anything from him, Jay,” Max Mercury said. He was sitting in Helen’s kitchen with a glass of lemonade on the table in front of him, a telephone receiver pressed to his ear. “I saw where he caught that Double Down character out in Las Vegas, so I assume he’s still there.”
“Aren’t you worried about him?” Jay Garrick asked as Joan shooed him out of the kitchen.
“Of course I am,” Max replied with a heavy sigh. Ever since he'd learned Bart was in a relationship with another boy, things had been...awkward between them. “I may not agree with all of the choices he’s made in his life but I still care about the boy, especially with Jack Ryder on some sort of crusade against him.”
Jay frowned. “I don’t know a lot about that Ryder but I know he’s bad news. Things may start getting rough for Bart if he’s made him a talking point.”
“Bart can handle himself,” Max wearily said. He looked to his side. “I’ve got to go. Helen needs to make a call.”
“Alright,” Jay said. “Let me know if you hear anything about Bart. You might think he can handle himself, but this situation could blow up fast. He might be an adult now, capable of making his own decisions, but that doesn't mean we can't stop worrying about him.”“
“I will,” Max said. He said goodbye and hung up the phone after looking at the vacant spot he’d looked at when getting out of his call with Jay. He leaned back and closed his eyes, wondering where he'd gone wrong with Bart.
A familiar blond-haired teenager giggled as he stepped off the bus. The bus station’s air conditioning was unable to completely block the Nevada heat from outside. The young man collected his duffel bag and walked outside and Axel Walker smiled widely. Now he just had to find that brat Impulse and get his revenge, and what better environment to do it than Vegas?
“You’re kidding me,” Jack Ryder said as he glared at his assistant. “I drop everything to fly all the way out here and that kid’s not even here?”
His assistant swallowed hard. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “We’d gotten reports of an incident in his dorm room and police were called. An unidentified male was removed by agents we suspect were part of the DEO.”
“DEO?” Jack interrupted. A smile crossed his face. “I’m smelling government conspiracy here.” He walked to the window of his hotel room and looked out. “I want in that dorm room.”
“We’re working to make that happen,” the assistant said, sensing a stay of execution. “According to our sources, no one’s gone in or out since.”
“Get me in there,” Jack repeated, “and find me someone who saw what happened the night of that police incident.” Jack’s smile continued to spread. “I might just be able to build this into a prime time special. It would be like when Geraldo opened Al Capone’s vault except this would be good.”
Jack laughed as the assistant rushed out to start making calls.
In New Jersey, Grover Adams was sitting in his wheelchair as his father walked in.
“Grover, the offer still stands to help me run the California branch of the company,” his father told him.
“I can't,” replied Grover with a sigh as he sat at the breakfast table. “I don't even want to be in the same state as the guy who did this to me. That's why I transferred to NYU.”
“Grover, you need to stop letting this consume you,” his father told him. “I know that what happened to you was horrible, but at least you're alive. For that much I'm grateful.”
“I'm only half alive,” replied Grover as he looked down at his legs. “From the waist down I'm dead. Meanwhile, that son of a bitch Impulse gets to keep his legs. It's not fair and I really hope this Ryder guy tears him a new one.”
Impulse was out for a run when he noticed that one of the fountains on the Vegas strip was smoking. He slowed to a stop and discovered that the water was eating into the marble of the fountain’s base.
“Not again,” Impulse muttered as he used his speed to dig a trench around the fountain. As he stood and started surveying the crowd, metal springs shot out from behind him and snared him. Before Impulse could move, he was pulled backward and being dragged down the street.
“Found you!” Trickster called as he pulled Impulse along. He laughed as dragged the speedster behind him. “You know, all that time I spent breaking out of jail is so worth it right now.” He threw a handful of razor-sharp jacks back at Impulse.
Impulse vibrated free of the springs and easily rolled out of the way of the jacks. He climbed to his feet and took off after the Trickster.
“Not this time!” Trickster warned as he fired a spray of liquid from a rubber flower on his jacket.
“You could at least come up with something new,” Impulse said as he dodged the spray. “You’re just ripping off the Joker now with an acid flower.”
“Who says its acid?” Trickster asked as he threw a lit match behind him.
Impulse dodged as he recognized the smell of the liquid. The match hit and the kerosene ignited. He ran as flames exploded behind him. They briefly threw Impulse off of his feet but he quickly recovered and caught up just as quickly.
“Nice trick,” Impulse said, already having become tired of this game. “Now try this on for size.” Impulse accelerated and began spinning around the Trickster. When the blur surrounding the Trickster vanished, he was standing in his underwear and Impulse was dusting his hands off.
“Don’t know why I never thought of that before,” Impulse said. “Take the toys away and you’re no problem at all. And...ew, someone needs to hit the gym!”
Impulse suddenly froze as odd flute music began filling the air. Trickster waved his hand in front of Impulse’s face to no reaction.
Trickster smiled. “You’re done, speed boy,” he muttered as he began looking for a piece of debris to bash Impulse’s head in with.
“No time for that.”
Trickster turned to see a beautiful woman approaching playing a flute. “Who are you?” he demanded. He desperately wanted to get revenge on Impulse, even if it was completely unfair to the speedster.
A smile caused her lips to tweak upward as she stopped playing long enough to answer. “My name is Virtuosa. I’m a friend,” she said, “and one you’ll come with if you want to avoid prison. My employer is interested in your talents. Of course, you’re also free to remain here. Decide now. My music won’t keep him occupied forever.”
“Let’s get going,” Trickster said as he grabbed his pants and stabbed his legs into them. “Just tell your employer I want a shot at this twerp.”
“Follow me,” the woman said. She resumed her flute playing before she and Trickster disappeared. Meanwhile, a pigeon flew by and landed on Impulse's head, where it decided to perch and rest.
Five minutes later, Impulse shook his head and looked around. “Where’d he go?” he asked. A quick search failed to turn up Trickster anywhere.
“Now how did he do that?” Impulse asked as he paced. “How could I miss a teleporter? Unless it was up his –” Impulse stuck out his tongue and ran off to explore the night, the pigeon still firmly attached to his head.
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Next Issue: In Impulse #9: A copycat’s bad enough but what if that copycat decides he wants to be the greatest supervillain of all time? And who is Virtuosa’s employer?
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