Issue #25: "Who Rides The Wind...?" Part Two

Let me explain a bit about Newtonian physics. I’m a scientist by nature, and by trade- I’d argue I’m a scientist in both my jobs. As well as a comprehensive knowledge of forensics, being a speedster means I need a background of one particular science- physics! Luckily, I am- no groans, please- a fast learner. And when it comes to physics, I know this- Newton is number one. Amazing guy. But hey, I’m getting off topic here, this isn’t a Physics class- let’s get back to the point.

Newton’s first law states that “An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed unless acted upon by an unbalanced force”. About seven seconds ago, I was at rest in a hospital ward beside my recovering father, with my pregnant wife and mother, and he had just mentioned a name he should not have known. Roughly a tenth of a second later, I was acted upon by a ridiculously unbalanced force and found myself hurtling through the air, having been picked up by a speedster I’ve never seen who looks to be… oh, a half a century out of date. I was able to use the single instant I had between these two events to switch into my Flash uniform in my ring, and that’s pretty much it.

So how are these two things- my present situation and ol’ sir Isaac, related?

Because Mister Obsolete Speedster just stopped running and unfortunately, my poor old body still wants to continue travelling in the same direction with the same speed.

I shunt into my “speed mode” automatically, but I can already see it’s too late. This is the significant disadvantage of this frame of mind- I can see the ground, with all the devastating injuries it will cause, coming for some time before I hit it. I know from experience it will take at least a relative minute for the pain to shoot up my body, but hey, at least I can calculate how sore it will be.

…

Yes, I have scant time left before I’m horribly wounded and I spend it calculating. I’m a scientist- sue me.

Okay, so, travelling at about 400 miles per second, then the person carrying me came to a sudden, violent stop, I continue to hurtle forwards at that velocity, let’s see, given that… and factoring in my super-speed metabolism, and remembering the odds of my body actually bouncing due to the ridiculous speeds, ergo.. (I love that word. Who doesn’t? It’s such a science-y word. ‘Ergo’! Iris always says my voice gets more pompous when I use it, but who wouldn’t?) …I scientifically predict that I’m about to be in a craplot of pain. Thanks for that, Sir Isaac.

I shunt out of speed force. Better to get it over with.

* * *

Turns out I was right. Ow.

* * *

I’m gonna skip the in-depth description of just how much pain I’m in as I crash down; suffice to say, I’m thinking it will be best to avoid sitting… or running… or standing… or really, in any way physically moving, for the foreseeable future. My head is spinning wildly as I lie on the ground, trying to get my bearings back and really, really, really hoping I manage to recover from my numerous wounds before that speedster, whoever he is, gets back.

I take some deep breaths. My metabolism processes itself at super speed. While that doesn’t reduce pain from really severe wounds, it does help me recover much more rapidly than I should, even if I’m already used to ignoring pretty appalling wounds. Sadly, it seems Obsolete Speedster knows that too. Suddenly, as I try and stand up, something else is slamming me in the face and I fly backwards, with a crack that may or may not be my nose breaking. Not good. It also acts as a trigger, because my body decides it’s taken enough punishment and I shunt back into speed mode instinctively.

Suddenly, everything is slow motion and I can get my bearings- we’re in the middle of a street in Central. I see something flying up the road towards me and, gritting my teeth to ignore the pain, I take off towards it. I feel like I’m crawling- a hundred miles an hour at best, but I pick up speed as I run, lowering my head, fists clenched. The shape resolves itself as we approach at hundreds of miles an hour- I just about see the figure, slightly surprised at my speed, before as one, we both turn at the absolute last second to avoid a collision. Suddenly, we’re running alongside each other up another street, less than a metre apart. Everything else seems to be passing in a blur, and I can nearly see a trail of lightning behind us as we shred the streets- the Twin Cities are used to it by now. My rival is looking at me, and then forwards again, between ticks of the clock- I can’t give him the initiative. I can’t risk hitting him, not when it could send him pitching forwards and kill him and whatever he hits. In the city, there are too many targets- I need to get out of here.

Navigating my way down winding streets I would know in my sleep, I zip through Central, taking things out into the countryside. My opponent is following- I can see the blur behind me, apparently not trying to catch me but content to let me leave. This guy clearly doesn’t want to cause too much damage either then. Suddenly, we’re running through more arid countryside, and more deserted- all the good. I accelerate, pushing for a last ditch burst to take us another few kilometres from Keystone, before I pull myself to a stop as quickly as I can, leaving a few metres of scorch marks where friction and I had our usual struggle. I see the other guy whip past me, curling himself around.

“Hold on!” I shout- as I do, a spike of pain from my lungs reminds me I’m not in optimum condition after he got the drop on me. I’m not the type of guy who usually slows down to negotiate with an attacker, but I still remember what dad said- I have to get back there, as soon as possible- and I can do without another Rogue in the Twin Cities. Especially one as fast as I am, after Rival, not to mention Savitar and his crazy lady friend. “Who the hell are you? Why are you doing this?” For a split second, I think he’s going to keep coming… and then suddenly, just a few feet away, he bursts out of the speed force to be visible to me, no longer a crazed blur, but now pausing, face grim, lightning shimmering around him.

“I told you before.” He tells me- and his voice is strange somehow, almost slurring- his eyes are just a little bit glazed. “My name is… is not important. What matters is that you pay for the things you’ve done.” Before I can even begin to wonder what he’s talking about, he’s coming at me again, and I barely have time to revert into the Speed Force and dodge out of the way. Now he’s running again, but without a second’s pause, I dash after him, gaining on him by the second. He looks behind himself and his eyes widen- it looks like I’m faster than him. Finally, some good news. I reach to throw a punch, and suddenly he’s gone to one side, and I realize that I’m running straight towards a wall- it takes all my effort to skid to an abrupt halt before I crash into it face-first, and in the precious seconds it takes me to decelerate, he runs by me again, and I feel his fist pound into my gut, doubling me over. Damn- forgetting my own momentum like a rookie hero. Even Wally wouldn’t have done that.

He’s out of the Speed Force, standing over me, and his fists rain down at super speed,
throwing me off. They aren’t doing much damage, but they destabilize me too much for me to go into the Speed Force. Suddenly, he’s gone again and I try to rally myself, but even as I do, I look up and see him sweeping towards me, running in rapid circles, kicking up a tornado from his sheer speed. Before I can recover, the tornado picks me up and throws me through the air wildly- but I’ve fought the Weather Wizard, and I’m no stranger to twisters. I’m on my feet again quickly- my stomach is violently rebelling, trying to empty itself, and my wounds are breaking open again- I can feel my lung screaming in agony, and my head is pounding with blood. But I can’t pause- even for an instant. He’s gone, running far away, doubtless so he can build up momentum for a return strike.

Instinctively, I run forwards again at full velocity, throwing myself on, pushing forwards blindly. Blinking blood from my eyes, I can see him running straight at me, his expression determined, gaining speed like myself. We’re going to crash, I feel instinctively. We’re going to run into one another at super speed, we’re going to break each other open. I can’t hear the blood in my ears anymore- can’t hear the rolling BOOM which signals that I’ve passed the sound barrier, all I can see is the form of my opponent, growing larger by the second. He’s closer- he’s a kilometre away, then 50. We’re going to b low this countryside apart- the whole fight can’t have lasted more than a minute. I don’t tense myself, knowing it will make it worse, I push myself for the final sprint- only one of us will walk out of a head-on collision like this. He’s 10 away now, five, and….

…At the absolute last second, something happens and I can’t run faster. I look up, and for a hundredth of a second I see a smile on his face as he changes course and runs past me, and see lightning flicker in the air between us… and then suddenly I can’t run at all, as though all my speed has been completely stolen from me. But unfortunately, as I noted earlier, Newton knew a thing or two about what happens now, and despite the unbalanced force that just hit me, nature just won’t let me stop when my speed vanishes. I pitch forwards at the exact speed I was going at, then bounce off the ground- I feel my bones break as it happens, feel them scream and grind in purpose. I bounce from the ground roughly, pitching dozens of metres each time, and then I slam down to the ground one last time and don’t bounce, lying still. My speed. He… he stole my speed. Had I been alert, I would have been ready- I knew that could be done, I’ve done it myself a dozen times, but I’m unbalanced, and I’ve never actually had a speedster do it to me before so I got complacent and now…

…I lie in the dirt, my entire body protesting in agony. Even my rapid metabolism can’t possibly heal that fast. There’s blood in my head, not just pounding inside it, but also coming from it, mixing with the dust on the plain around us. The dull, throbbing pain from my leg continues, and I wonder if I’ve shattered it- for a speedster, that’s as bad as a spine or a collarbone. I twist over awkwardly, nearly screaming with the agony that rushes up my body, but I refuse, forcing myself to look, taking ragged breaths. I can see a blur coming at me- he’s going to finish the job. I try to stand, ignoring the pain, shoving it aside, determined to meet him standing up. I refuse to believe that this is the end, that I’ll go down like this, in the desert against a speedster in just a minute. I know I can’t possibly get up in time- he’s coming closer, and closer, and there’s an ever so slight smile on my face…

…then a red and blue blur slashes across my vision to drive a single fist into his face, sending him flying backwards, and then Jay Garrick skids to a halt beside me, face solemn, hands curled into fists. I have no idea how he’s here when he’s supposed to be on holiday, but I’m too grateful to ask questions right now.

“Don’t worry, Barry,” he advises me. “I’ll handle this.” For his part, the Speedster quickly arrests his retreat, coming on again, this time aimed at Jay. I manage to struggle my way up to my legs, still ignoring the pain. Jay and I share a glance- I can’t be much use, but if I support him, we can still pull this off. Then the speedster’s nearly upon us… but neither of us are prepared for what happens next.

“…Jay Garrick?” asks the Speedster, suddenly pulling out of the speed force, gaping.

“…Quicksilver?” Jay’s eyes widen. I can only stare between them.

What the Hell is going on here?

* * *

“…How?” asks Jay, as he approaches “Quicksilver”, whoever he is. For his part, the speedster looks pretty confused himself, but I can’t help notice he still has that weird, dazed look in his eyes. I limp a few steps forwards, steeling myself in case I need to run to Jay’s aid – the leg, while hurt pretty bad, doesn’t appear to be fractured.

“I don’t… it’s not…” The speedster looks hurt now, and still confused, and takes a deep breath. “…How can you be here, Jay? Why are you defending this murderer after what he….” He takes another breath, clearly unhappy, and I can’t help but notice his hands close into fists. If he sees it too, Jay gives no sign.

“Try to think, Quicksilver. We thought we lost you after the war. When you helped Johnny fight off Savitar, remember? This is the 21st Century” My stomach churns again- Savitar? Johnny Quick? What did they have to do with this? Could he mean the same speedster I fought months ago? And Johnny Quick… I knew he fought with Jay in the war with the Justice Society, but he had retired years ago. What the hell was…?

“I. yes, I remember… I…” Quicksilver has frozen again, still looking miserable, and he looks down. “I don’t… no, that’s not right. How can you be…? And Savitar… I don’t… I don’t.” Suddenly, he looks up, and there’s a steely glint in his eye. “No. I’m not falling for any more of Wise Owl’s tricks, you hear me? I… you will pay for what you’ve done, Barry Allen, once I’ve gotten a hold of myself. I need to…” And before Jay or I can move a muscle, he’s gone, just a vanishing dust cloud on the horizon. Jay freezes, clearly torn between going after him and looking to me.

“Go,” I urge him. “Catch him.” But I know already he won’t do that- not Jay- and I’m right, as he finally lets out his breath and turns back to me, offering me his shoulder which I gratefully lean on.

“We need to get you home,” he notes, and while I don’t say anything, my screaming nerves tell me he’s right. I’ve barely held myself together for his sake, and my body wants nothing more than to collapse into a bed. But only for two or three hours, I promise myself. That’s all it will take for my system to stitch me up enough to fight, and I want to be fighting fit when “Quicksilver” comes back.

* * *

The hardest part was explaining what had happened to the doctors, when they burst in, having heard the explosion in the hospital room, wondering what the Hell had happened. Iris was quick on her feet, Barry’s parents, still reacting with shock, not so much, but finally, the medical aides had bought that the Flash and a mysterious foe had swept into the room at lightning speed, demolishing the wall and leaving just as quickly, and that no, there had been no one else with them, the man with her had gone on an errand. Following that, the hard part had set in- first, they had had to move a protesting Henry to another, less decimated room, and then she had needed to reassure both of his parents, neither of whom was close to as experienced as she at dealing with this. And that had been even before Jay arrived to let me know that he had an injured Barry at home. Iris had just told his parents that he was okay- no sense in worrying them, and then headed back as soon as possible.

Now she stood at the foot of Barry’s bed in their house, where he slumbered, sound asleep, baby Bart rocking in her arms with the babysitter prematurely dismissed. Nothing to do now but wait.

“Thank you,” she began again, but Jay shook her off. He and his wife had been on vacation when the entire thing started- one well-deserved.

“Lucky Joan had the TV on,” he shrugged. “Normally a Flash battle doesn’t warrant live news, not with so many of them, but with it being at the hospital and a speedster…” He trailed off. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to run out here.” Even if it was something Barry could have handled himself, Jay would have come, just in case. It was who he was. He couldn’t accept that he had arrived four minutes after the battle began- he just regretted that he hadn’t been there three minutes earlier.

“Who…” Iris Allen very rarely allowed herself to worry, and this was not the time- she gulped it aside. “Who is he?” she asked Jay quietly. Jay- who, for his part, had not left the Allens’ side since his arrival for fear of another attack, considered for a second.
“Who he is, I don’t rightly know,” he said thoughtfully. “Who he was… called himself Quicksilver. A speedster who popped up from nowhere before the war. Strange fellow, kept himself to himself mostly and had this whole “zen” attitude, but he was very smart, and no-one better to watch your back in a fight. He took Johnny Quick under his wing a bit- only guy he ever totally trusted, I think, and the three of us… we were something, alright.” Then the slight smile was gone, and he looked troubled. “But after that? He disappeared in a fight with an evil speedster named Savitar in the early fifties, and we never saw either of them again. Gone as quickly as he came.” He shrugged. “What’s happened to him since then… I just don’t know.”

“…I’m sorry…” Iris’ heart skipped a beat- she remembered a kidnap, being held by an evil woman with the same power as Barry, remembered the name of the couple who had attacked them. “…Did you say Savitar?”

* * *

“It’s wrong… Quicksilver murmured, stumbling through an arid area of the Nevada desert, brushing past some rocks. “I’m not… he’s not… this wasn’t Wise Owl…” He took a deep breath, burying his face in his hands. “He’s… he’s… gone? I think… no, he must be. Barry Allen never did those… those things, did he? Those horrible things, I don’t…” He threw himself down on a boulder unhappily, trying to massage his forehead. “He didn’t… he’s not…” Just then, though he did not notice in his despair, there was a momentary flash of golden light.

“But of course he is,” came a voice from behind him. “Who else could it be?” The speedster looked up to find a man in a business suit standing there, head cocked slightly to one side. His eyes were piercing blue, his nose crooked and hawkish, and in one hand, he ran his thumb over a tiny device. Though Quicksilver could not know it, he was fresh from the Twenty-Fifth century, from where he had been observing events here with great interest as the ripples of history changed.

“I… who are… you?” Quicksilver asked, breathing rapidly. For some reason he could not discern, he had seen this man before, but he could not seem to remember why, and his mind was far too scrambled to allow him to react in time. His headaches seemed to be getting worse, his instincts failing, and… Before he could think, the figure sprang forwards, and suddenly he had produced from his coat a needle, which he jabbed into Quicksilver’s neck. The speedster’s eyes went wide for a moment and he arced in pain as liquid entered his system.

“…I see my first dose was not enough,” hissed the businessman mercilessly, eyes glinting. “You pathetic worm. You really think I’d let you go?” He kept the needle in, studying his victim. “Your system reacts even more rapidly than I had predicted- it truly is fascinating. It had already jettisoned the excess of aggression I offloaded, rejected the images planted in your head, and caused your reactions to slow as a consequence. But this should be more than enough. Remember, it was Barry Allen who caused that atrocity, under the control of Wise Owl. It is Barry Allen you must destroy.” Finally, he withdrew the needle and stepped back, as Quicksilver’s head lolled.

“But on the off chance that you can’t handle them both alone,” he smiled. “Let’s see about some reinforcements. What do you say?” Quicksilver’s head snapped up in response.

“Anything that will let me find that murderer and deal with him for his crimes. Once and for all.”

* * *

I take a few experimental steps, then zip up and down the stairs in a few seconds to check, but I’m good. I didn’t take painkillers, of course- deadened reflexes lead to a deadened super hero! Even so, other than some occasional lances of pain from my poor ribs, my body has patched itself up into admirable shape. Bruce, being Bruce, has noted how fast speedsters seem to recover, and has hypothesized that as our bodies take more damage over time, our rapid healing factor is actually getting steadily faster. That would certainly explain how Jay still seems so fresh all the time. Scientist or not, I can’t say I greatly care about the specifics this time.

“I can’t raise Wally,” Iris warns me, looking at me with her face half proud smile and half exasperation as my tenacity. “He and the Titans are out of contact. You and Jay will need to handle this yourselves.”

“We understand, Iris,” Jay nods, walking into the bedroom. He turns to me. “I’ve spoken to Joan and your parents- they’re all okay, though your dad is still irate.” That reminds me.

“I still need to talk to him,” I speak my thoughts alive. Thawne- he should never have known that name. It had been a ‘Thawne’ who had led Savitar (Again, a name that was returning with a vengeance) to attack us months ago, and I needed to know how my father had heard of it.

“I was thinking we should contact Johnny Quick,” Jay tells me thoughtfully. “He was Quicksilver’s closest friend- he may be able to work out what’s driven him so insane. He seems to believe you’ve killed people, but it doesn’t make sense… how does he even know who you are? None of this is clicking, and it may take Johnny to piece it together.”

“I didn’t even think he was active anymore,” frowns Iris, as I half listen, deep in thought myself. “Didn’t he retire?”

“Yes, years ago,” Jay agrees. “But he’s still very much alive and he can still run if he has to. I hope it doesn’t come to that, of course, but if Johnny can’t talk Quicksilver down, at least we’ll have an extra pair of legs- and maybe even two pairs if his daughter Cyclone can help us. We need to find Quicksilver, we need to stop him… and, hopefully, help him.” They both turn to me, having noticed my unusual silence. “Barry…?”

“Jay,” I think aloud again. “You said he vanished with a speedster called Savitar. Is that the same Savitar who attacked us months ago?” But to my surprise, Iris and Jay exchange a look.

“That’s just it, Barry,” Jay tells me. “We spoke about this while you were out and… well, I wasn’t even aware you’d ever met a Savitar. It happened while I was gone.”

“And that’s another lead to follow up on,” Iris says briskly- springing into action as always, that’s my wife in a tee. “I’ll head for Iron Heights and see what I can find out about Savitar. I still have contacts from my reporting days. You two should check up with Johnny.” Years of being married to this woman have taught me that it is absolutely no use protesting when she offers to do a dangerous job. Even Jay knows better than to argue. You just end up not only allowing it, but fully supporting it.

“Wait,” I hold up both my hands, idea developed now. “We need to stop in at the hospital on our way.” They both look at me quizzically. “Whatever is happening with Savitar and Quicksilver can’t be coincidence,” I explain. “And when Savitar attacked us, he was working for a man named Thawne. Quicksilver attacked me just when my dad was about to tell me something about a man with that name. It has to be all related- and I need to find out what he was going to say.” They exchange a glance, and I wonder if it sounds as desperate as it did when I first thought of it, but clearly they don’t think so, because as one, they nod.

“We’ll stop in on your father, and then get Johnny, while Iris investigates Savitar’s end,” Jay nods. “Hopefully, we find out why he’s here, and what he wants. Not to mention how he got here anyway. And all the while, we just hope Quicksilver doesn’t come back. Sounds like a plan to solve this mystery.” Let’s hope so, I think to myself grimly. Let’s hope so.

* * *

“Well, this is…” my dad trails off, clearly lost for words. In costume, Jay and I easily got in to see him, impressing upon the doctors it was important business. Of course, with the entire conversation doubtless recorded, I need to make absolutely sure my identity isn’t compromised, difficult when talking to a father who’s not exactly the fastest guy in the world. (Unlike his son, I guess.) I hope that he’ll pick up the hint if I address him as ‘Mister Allen’, and while he doesn’t exactly react with lightning reflexes, he seems to get it. Albeit reluctantly.

“Err… that is… what can I do for you, B… Flash?” he asks as I prevent myself from wincing. Deepening my voice to try and make the illusion easier for him, I speak urgently- my mother is standing outside with the doctors as he sits propped up in his bed in the new room they got for him at the hospital.

“Mister Allen, I’ve spoken to your son, the police scientist. He says you were speaking to him, something about a man named Thawne.” He stares back at me, eyes wide- clearly this was not what he had anticipated. “Please sir, what were you going to tell him? It could be of vital importance.”

“Um… that is… it’s…” he trails off. “…You’re sure it’s connected to your case…?” He blinks a few times, clearly confused. I just want to get out of there, but I know what I have to do, and I can’t let this go. I nod once; trying to prevent my emotion from showing- Jay does the same. Dad takes a deep breath. “Errr…. I suppose it has to… but I never thought it would out like this…” I open my mouth to press him, but he finally reaches the point, face turned to mine with quiet sadness. “…When my son Barry was born…. He… he wasn’t alone.” The words strike my heart like a hammer against an anvil, and it takes all my strength not to break the façade completely. I stand, staggered by the revelation, and before I can yell out, Jay takes over, as he always does, leaning forwards.

“You mean… he had a sibling?” Miserably, still staring at me, my dad nods. I’m barely listening now, reeling from the initial revelation- I need to grip the side of the bed to keep my balance. A sibling? I have a brother or a sister? How could… what happened? Why did they never tell me? Where are they…? Why hasn’t… what…

“My wife gave birth to two children that night. One of them was Barry. The other… the other was going to be named Malcolm. But he… we were told it…” Belatedly, I wonder where my mother is, what she’ll say when she hears my dad told me without her. This is obviously what they were coming to talk to me about in the first place but to hear it now… to hear it like this… How can it be happening? How can any of this be…?”

“And what happened?” asked Jay, still trying to drive the conversation on, to desperately maintain the illusion as my dad stares at me, eyes almost watering, and I stare back, dumbfounded. Finally, he responds.

“We…. We… It was never… they told us the child was stillborn. We were told that while Barry was alive, Malcolm was not, that he…” It’s taking all I can not to run, to leave, to head out the door as fast as I can and just run, to release myself, but another part of me stays firmly anchored, desperate to hear this wretched tale to the end. I had a brother, and he died? Why would they not have told me? I already know what’s coming next, of course I do, it has to be. I can nearly say it with him. “…We never mentioned it, his mother was heartbroken and we couldn’t bear to think of what we had lost. But a month or so ago… we got a phone call from Keystone. My… my son, Barry’s brother, was alive. He had been injured as a child, you see- his legs became malformed, and he was later confined to a wheelchair. But he was alive. It turns out… he had discovered that the doctor who delivered him had accidentally killed the son of another family by mistake. To cover it up, he… he gave them our Malcolm, he lied to us… but Malcolm had tracked us down at last via the hospital…” He was staring at me, nearly pleading aloud, willing me to understand. “He wanted to meet us- we agreed, of course, how could we not… but we needed to tell Barry. To apologise that we never told him. To let him know….”

For the longest moment, there was silence in the ward, my father’s head bowed as I stared back at him, white beneath my mask, trying to get to grips with a spinning world. After living my entire life as an only child… I have a twin brother? Alive in Keystone today? How can this be happening… how can…?

“Just one last question, Mister Allen, and we’ll leave you be,” Jay says quietly. “…You said the boy was given to another family. What was the name of that family?”

“Well, you’ve heard it yourself,” my dad responds, still looking at me, distracted. “…It was a family called the Thawnes.”

* * *

As Jay and I run again towards Johnny Quick’s house, my mind is throbbing. I want to shout, to scream, but I keep running, my face grim, head bowed. Jay tries to talk to me a bit but I dismiss him as we run, and he gets the message. I try to push aside the revelation, to concentrate on the here and now. Although there’s no doubt in my mind that my… my twin… was connected to this “Quicksilver” and “Savitar” and all this craziness, it’s a dead end for now.

“We’re approaching Johnny’s place,” Jay calls to me- we’re below the speed of sound, so I can still hear him, and nod an affirmative. As the countryside races by, we near the city and I have to wonder- will this be any different? And how’s Iris doing in her quest? And then those thoughts of my brother come back to haunt me and I have to….

…Something smashes across my vision to crash into Jay and with a cry of surprise, he’s flung out of the Speed Force. Immediately, I slow to a halt, crying his name…. and see him on the ground, wincing in pain. And Quicksilver standing over him, face grim.

“You…” I hiss determinedly, balling my hands into fists. “This time, I’ll…” And it’s right then that something else hits me, even though I know for a fact Quicksilver’s standing right there in front of me, and I feel myself slam onto the ground painfully- immediately I turn, wondering what the hell it can be…. And then see someone else standing triumphantly beside Quicksilver, with that same glazed, slightly drugged out look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Barry Allen…” Quicksilver says. “But after the things you’ve done, you have to die.” The other figure nods.

“…And since Jay Garrick came to help you… I’m here to even the odds.”

“Johnny Quick…?” I gape.

This just gets better and better.



Iris investigates the enigmatic Savitar! The identity of the mysterious villain in the future laid bare! A sinister alliance is formed with DIRE repercussions on our hero! The Trickster makes his first move! The birth of a hero! Oh yeah, and one more thing- BARRY ALLEN and JAY GARRICK versus QUICKSILVER and JOHNNY QUICK!

Don’t. Miss. A. Moment.

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