Legends of the Flash #19

[thefastestmanalive]

Higher Ground
By Nikolai Peter Fomich

The acrobat spun in the air, grasping the incoming trapeze with elegant experience. Within seconds of switching from trapeze to trapeze, she somersaulted into the air, grasping an even higher one. Below, a young man, slim but muscular, clapped, the lone occupant of the circus tent save for several sanitary janitors. He gazed at her with a strange sort of longing - as though he craved to be up there with her, or for trapeze acts not to exist at all.

"Jesse? Jesse!" Flipping down from above onto a trapeze podium, she scaled down a small ladder, practically gliding her way to the ground.

"How's my Rose?" The young man, blonde and in his twenties, gave her a half-cocked smile. He tried to appear whimsical, casually stringing a yoyo, but the eagerness in his calling of her name gave him away.

“Jesse, it’s been so long!” She grabbed hold of him eagerly, even happily, and he returned the embrace in kind. For a moment he closed his eyes, enlivened by the warmth of her body against his. This. This feels like home. He opened them, looking sideways across the room toward the trapeze pedestal, though allowing her to continue with the embrace. A smile formed again on his face as she gently pushed herself away from him. Her smile was so genuine Jesse looked away.

“Jesse, what are you doing here? I’m so glad you’re back, but I never expected you to - ” Jesse grazed her face with his fingers,. He wiped a tear or two away.

“I’m back, Rose. I'm ready to rejoin the troupe."

"Rejoin the - but Jesse, your fear of - " Jesse smiled gleefully, as if attempting to bewitch her.

"I'm past that. I'm here for the family now." The tent opened, an older man with gray hair and a blonde mustache talking to a brown-haired woman, excitedly. At the sight of Jesse, the man dropped his towel. The woman burst toward Jesse, leaving the man behind.

"Jesse! My Jesse!" She began to tear up, stuttering a bit as she tried to ask him a dozen questions. He smiled patiently. He received her as he had Rose, though his mannerisms were less natural than before. Mother, my mother. How little you know. From the distance, Jesse eyed his father, who had yet to approach. Jesse's mother followed her son's gaze toward her husband.

"Paul! You're son's returned, and you can't even embrace him?" Jesse James smiled slyly at his mother's words. His father's bewildered face betrayed his embarrassment. Quickly relenting, Paul James walked toward his son and held out his hand.

"Last time we spoke some things were said that I'm sure we both regret... but you're here now and that's all that matters." He paused a moment, but not for too long.

"I love you son." Jesse took his hand in a theatrical gesture, maneuvering closer to embrace his further. As the old man's eyes closed in what seemed to be genuine happiness, Jesse's never strained from the trapeze podium in the distance.

[thefastestmanalive]

"Approaching Central City National. T-minus ten minutes, over." The radio crackled out its response to the pilot.

"Roger that, US-421. You're in the clear, over." The pilot sat back and pushed her graying blonde hair away from her face. She looked over at her copilot, finding him starring blankly out the window, listlessly performing his job while drinking coffee from a mug. She began to open her mouth to say something when he dropped the mug, liquid splashing everywhere. A gentle tapping startled her, and she turned toward the windshield and shrieked. Outside, a man in a purple and orange striped costume floated serenely, somehow managing to keep up with the plane. His purple cape flapped violently into the windshield, smacking against it at times with abandon. He smiled and waved.

"AHHH!" Suddenly, the wicked figure disappeared, heading above the plane. Her mind raced as she reached for the walkie-talkie.

"Air-traffic control, we have an unidentified meta, possibly hostile. I repeat, we -" From the cabin, a loud bang was heard. Several alarms began to blare as the nose of the plane tipped downward.

[thefastestmanalive]

"It was awfully nice of you to drive me to work, Barry. I'm sure my car will be fixed by tomorrow." Barry Allen pulled into the courthouse, taking extra caution as to not hit the curb. It's been awhile since I've driven somewhere. I can't believe I almost ran that red light!

"No problem, Fiona. Just a friend helping out another friend." Fiona Webb smiled smartly, as if thinking of a joke only she knew. She glanced out the window, then back at Barry, her reddish blonde hair falling from one side of her face to the other.

"Still, thanks. You're a nice guy." Giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, she opened the car door. Barry blushed red, reminding himself that he was not Hal and that tonight was movie night with Iris. "The circus is in town this week. I have two free tickets, and I'd love for you to come. Just as friends, of course."

"Uh...sure. That'd be swell - err, great." He waved bye stupidly as he watched her walk into the courthouse. Just as friends.

It took fifteen more minutes for Barry to reach the steps of Central City Police Station's main building. Walking up the stairs, he saw Fred Chyre outside with a cigarette, Frank Curtis joining him with his coffee. Being ten minutes late, Barry kept heading for the door, though still tried to make quick conversation.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Detective Curtis, who looked at Barry with the sincere but skeptical look he always seemed to maintain, raised his eyebrows.

"Careful Barry. I wouldn't go in there quite yet." Barry, already halfway through the door, slowed down.

"What do you mean? Something wrong?" Detective Chyre was the one to speak up this time. He always tried to maintain a gentle demeanor when he spoke to friends. Barry suspected that it was to offset his naturally rough voice.

"Captain Frye is in one of his moods. I'd watch myself." Within seconds of having entered the building, Barry felt his morale drop.

"ALLEN!" Great. A perfect start for an awful day.

"Allen, do you have any idea what time is it?" Captain Darryl Frye, in his usual black suit, white shirt, and black tie combination, strode right toward Barry. Continuing his walk toward the science lab, Barry sighed.

"I know I'm late Captain. Fiona Webb's car broke down the other day and - " Frye cut Barry off with a look and began on his tirade. His face, which always seemed to be either flushing red or ghost white, was the former of the two right now.

"I don't care about the entertainment of your lady friends. You need to be on time to work, Allen. This is the fourth time this week - on Monday you were an hour late!" That's because I was too busy fighting Darkseid and the hordes of Apocalypse. He's lucky I didn't stay in!

"I know you take your work seriously; you work late almost every night. But you just can't come strolling in here, as if the rules don't apply to you. You need to shape up. Get some more sleep. Stop daydreaming like Patty does..." Barry continued nodding, droning his boss out. Although right now Darkseid wouldn't seem so bad... or at least Mantis. Or anyone but Frye.

"I hope I've made myself clear. This isn't a funhouse, this is a police departm - " Captain Frye's eyes twitched toward Curtis and Chyre, who had just entered. He walked briskly away from Barry, already forming new accusations involving ill-used coffee breaks. Barry shook his head. Finally, I can get to real work - A report, breaking through the police banner on someone's desk, caught his attention.

"Meta Unit, this is car 117. Reported meta activity on a commercial jet set to land in Central City National. The plane hasn't responded to any further hails, over." Barry grimaced as he looked at his lab door. Looks like Patty and Julio are on their own. Let's just hope Captain Frye doesn't notice I'm gone. Barry disappeared amidst a wisp of floating papers. He made sure to race by Darryl Frye close enough so that the Captain's tie flapped right into his face while in the middle of his admonishment of Detectives Curtis and Chyre.

[thefastestmanalive]

"Now, now, don't break out the barf bags yet!" A slim man in the jester's outfit pulled out a gun and held it up to the airplane's ceiling. The airplane passengers began to scramble, some screaming in fear. He smiled wickedly.

BAM! Confetti spilled out of the gun, some spreading on some nearby passengers as they shrieked.

"Hahahahahaheh! Just a joke, you see? A trick? Come now, where's my applause?" A middle aged man approached the intruder cautiously.

"What do you want?" The intruder pointed his gun at the man, who promptly sat back down.

"I'm the Trickster! And if I can't have your applause, the least you can give me is your money." Looking around the passengers, the Trickster mocked their incredulousness with upward waving of his arms.

"C'mon, where do you think we are, Smallville? This is Central City, and I'm your rouge of the day! Now, starting with this row," he said, pointing to the row closest to him, "I want you each to come up and give me something valuable. If you don't have anything, tell a joke." He tilted his head, the white lenses of his domino mask narrowing. "I just might laugh," he added maliciously. Suddenly, the door of the pilot cabin burst open, revealing the co-pilot with a gun in hand.

"Ah-ah!" The Trickster ducked sideways toward the ground, taking out another weapon, this one looking like a crossbow. It fired a small, opaque ball, which hit the co-pilot's gun and expanded, essentially spattering and sticking him to the wall.

"Talk about a lot of snot!" The Trickster laughed again, and laughed alone.

[thefastestmanalive]

Woosh! The Flash grabbed a child playing too closely to the road right before a zoomed by. He continued to run, racing right into Air Traffic Control. The Flash heard his name called by several employees, startled at the sudden appearance of Central City's favorite son.

"Hi all. I'm here to help."

"Flash!" A bearded, round man, his face blistering red, approached the Scarlet Speedster. "Am I glad to see you! My wife was just telling me the other day how it'd be great to meet one of those super-types and frankly, you're my favorite. I was actually hoping to get your autograph - not for myself, I'm not so much into those type of things, but for my wife. You see, she's just crazy about celebrities and frankly- "

"What's the situation, sir?"

"Oh, right! Commercial flight A227 reported some kind of "meta" activity and it seems to be slowly descending off-course. We should be able to get some planes up there, but we're not sure it'll be soon enough." The Flash frowned. How can I get up there? Flash looked around the room, surrounded by faces illuminated with hope. The superhero turned back toward the head ATC controller.

"I'll need an oxygen mask. And clear the runway as much as you can." The bearded man smiled.

[thefastestmanalive]

He stood there, unsmiling and with narrowed eyes.

"And so, uh, the priest - err, rabbi, said to the... to his wi- wife..." The young man shook nervously, unable to meet the Trickster's eyes. "He said, um - " The Trickster let out a sigh, lifting his gun toward the frightened passenger.

"Boring!" Bam! A foul-smelling gas released from the lower barrel of his triple-barreled gun. The man instinctively ducked, then fell to the ground. He struggled to stand up amidst his coughs.

"What is - cough - this stuff? It smells awful - " Suddenly, the man's eyes widened and he raced for the bathroom.

"Guess he has a weak stomach!" The Trickster headed for the plane's door. Looking at the passengers, the Trickster pauses.

"Now I know what you're all thinking. "Oh my God, this maniac is insane, the plane is going to crash and we're all going to die!" Well, that's just a bit harsh. You're not all going to die. The pilot is slowly steadying the plane, and after my stage exit, you'll all land and this will all just be a wacky dream! Besides, if anything really went wrong, you'd still have the Flash around these parts." A young boy chimed up.

"But the Flash can't fly!" The Trickster motioned his head sideways, his eyebrows jumping.

"You got me there kid." Looking outside the window, he saw a blur of red heading toward the plane.

"Or maybe not," he muttered. Putting on the oxygen mask that had been attached to his belt, the Trickster unsealed the adhesive he had previously lined the airplane door with.

"Buckle up, ladies and gents! Adieu!" Kicking the door halfway open, the Trickster jumped amid muffled cackling. The door slammed shut behind him. He did not fall through the air but instead, as if on solid ground, stood firm. Orienting himself, he began to run northwest. His cape, wavering behind him, suddenly caught wind from the other direction and flapped right in his face. The Trickster turned around to see the Flash, propelling himself into the air by rapidly twirling both his arms. The Flash passed by the Trickster, unable to control the accuracy of his motions. The Trickster fired his "mucous" crossbow, missing the Flash by inches. The Flash propelled himself toward the Trickster, who promptly jumped to the side, allowing the Flash to set himself on a collision course with the airplane. Stopping his propelling immediately, the speedster barely had enough time to grab onto the edge of the airplane wing. Raising his face up, the Flash found that the Trickster hadn't made his exit quite yet.

"So you're Central City's star, eh?" the Trickster said, kneeling down so he could be heard through his oxygen mask.

"Guess you've met your match! Hahahaha!" The Flash looked up at his foe with a grimace.

"This isn't a joke! Someone could get killed!" The Trickster put on a face of mocking bewilderment, his eyes widening.

"Not a joke? But I'm in a jester's costume!" The Trickster lifted his jester's shoe. "And you look like a fool!" Stomping down hard, the Trickster managed to force the Flash to let go of the wing's edge. The Trickster watched him fall, then turned around to make his getaway. He had barely walked off the airplane wing when a figure propelled down from the sky, the sun glistening behind the red blur. The Flash's fist hit the Trickster with a crack. The crook fell back on top the airplane wing.

"Like I said, friend, your game's done," said the Flash, while landing upon the plane. The Trickster wiped the blood from his nose, looking over his shoulder at the sky below. Taking a dramatic bow, he flipped backwards, off the plane. This time he soared through the air as if diving. The Flash dived to catch him, but the Trickster fired his "mucous" crossbow in time to avoid his pursuer. Flinging him far into the distance, the Trickster let out a brief, obnoxious laugh.

"HAH! Happy landings friend!"

[thefastestmanalive]

Sometimes I miss my desk job. Test tubes never send you flying off airplanes...in mucous. The Flash couldn't seem to move his limbs, save his left arm slightly. Propelling his free arm to lessen his impact on the ground, the Flash's arm became tangled in the expanding "mucous" as well. Now what? I managed to vibrate my molecules through an object when I was battling Mantis in Metropolis,* but can I do it again? And through all this...stuff? Concentrating, the Flash began moving at such a speed he himself began to get dizzy. Finding himself free of the mucous, the Flash attempted to twirl both his arms, only to find that the adhesive had weakened them sufficiently. Moving his left arm, which had been less affected, as much as he could, the Flash wondered if it would be enough when he suddenly became immersed in a gooey liquid, his arm giving way as soon as he found himself on land. Brown, swampy mush filled Barry's eyes as he landed on the ground. The puddle of mud stunk, covering the Flash's costume almost completely. Sitting up, the Flash knocked some mud away in an overwhelming sense of frustration. I really hate that guy.

*As stupendously told in the superb "Legends of Superman #10!" True legionnaires of all things "Legend" have already printed, framed, and told their friends about the issue...have you?

[thefastestmanalive]

"Great! Now- great! Nice one, Jesse!" Jesse James twirled in the air as Rose spoke, completing his triple somersault with careful grace.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." Bowing for the audience of two, Rose and her mother clapped.

"Bravo, Jesse! You really have been practicing," Natasha James embraced her son.

"You know me mother. I do what I have to." The tent opened clumsily, Paul James stepping past the curtained door in a fit of disarray.

"Our ruin, I tell!"

"Paul, you blood pressure! And mind the children," Natasha reprimanded, walking toward her flustered husband. Rose gave Jesse a knowing half-smile, and Jesse chuckled in spite of himself.

"But Natasha, look at this!" Shoving a newspaper in front of his face, Natasha studied the paper as the James siblings approached the curiosity.

"Mother, what is it?" Jesse said, maybe a bit more forcefully then he had wished.

""Trickster Loots Museum! Who is Central City's Latest Rouge?" The Trickster?"

"Don't you see, Natasha? With this... this... maniac stealing our spotlight, the news will barely make mention of The Traveling James Troupe, let alone that our premiere is tomorrow night! The nightly news has been covered with nothing but reports about that rouge for the past week!"

"Paul, we'll be fine! We've been through hard times before, and we can get through this." Putting her hand on his shoulder, she could feel his sigh.

"I know, I know. It's just- I've put so much into this and I'm afraid that..." Paul trailed off, as if unsure what he meant to say. Jesse walked toward his father and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Dad, I'm here for you." Jesse looked behind him at his smiling mother and sister. "And so are mom and Rose. We'll get through this." His father's face beamed.

"Lets practice the closing act," Paul James said. The company walked toward the practice set in the center of the tent, Rose lagging behind with Jesse. She smiled at him as a child might smile. For a moment, sadness seemed to creep across his face.

"Jesse? What's wrong?" Quickly the sadness melted, replaced by a grin.

"Nothing, Rose," he said, placing his arm around her with familiarity. "Everything is perfect."

[thefastestmanalive]

"Barry, my boy! You look positively ill!"

"Hello, Professor West. It's good to see you in such high spirits." Barry had arrived at Central City Hospital half-an-hour late. Iris spent every Thursday evening with her father, who had been in the hospital for the past couple of months due to a violent concussion while working in his lab. Iris sat next to him, her photography portfolio half-way open.

“Barry, m’boy, I’m always in high spirits when my son-in-law shows up!”

“Daddy!” Iris blushed, something Barry rarely saw. “We’re not married!” The professor’s brow furrowed, in a confused expression.

“Really? I could’ve sworn there had been a wedding. When is the wedding?”

“We’re not engaged ye- we’re just dating.” Iris replied. Barry eased his way to the left side of Professor West’s bed, opposite of where Iris sat. His eyes locked with Iris’ for a brief moment, taking her in.

“I hear they’re going to let you out of this place soon, Professor,” Barry said.

“Ah! yes they will. Then you and I can start up on our work again! None of this nonsense!” the professor said, as he clumsily pointed down toward the various formulas scribbled on the notepad on his lap. Leaning over to Barry, the Professor’s mustache almost seemed to twitch. He glanced whimsically at Iris, while veiling his mouth with the back of his hand, as if to tell a secret. “It’ll be just me and you, boy. Iris is one of those artistic-types... she doesn’t understand real work! The work of science!” Barry chuckled as Iris rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Haha!” Professor West laughed, turning back to his daughter and placing his hand on her arm. She smiled at his touch.

“You know I’m just teasing you, my dear. Your mother was an artist too. A painter. She created such things of beauty...! And humble! If I could have been half as humble as she was... I could never fathom where she gathered the inspiration to create such humble, yet extraordinary pieces of art... but that almost made me appreciate them even more..." Ira West’s eyes began to tear up, though this would have gone unnoticed if it had not been for the illumination of the sun. “I’ve gotten all sentimental now. You two kids go! Shoo! Have some fun, go for a walk...” Iris smiled at her father.

“I love you, daddy.“ Leaning down, she kissed her father gently. Before making his way out the door along with Iris, Barry hugged the old man.

“Take care of her, my boy. She loves you, you know. And I know you love her.”

[thefastestmanalive]

Barry and Iris exited the hospital hand in hand. Though they walked aimlessly toward Infantino Park, both knew that the park was much to far away to get to on foot. Several moments passed with neither saying anything.

"Iris..." His breath could been seen in the cold air as he spoke her name. They embraced, each enamored by the other, each capturing the other's body heat amidst the cold. They continued walking along, Barry looking toward the ground. Iris glanced over at her best friend and lover of many years.

"Tell me." He looked at her innocently.

"Tell you what?"

"Barry," she said, in the way she always did when she wanted Barry to divulge something trivial. He sighed.

"Fiona, uh, my neighbor, she invited me to the circus. This weekend," he added, as if unsure what else to say. Iris raised her eyebrows.

"The redhead?"

"Her hair's strawberry blonde."

"Strawberry blonde?" Iris cocked her head slightly.

"I'm just describing her, Iris. I mean, if you don't want me to go, I won't."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Barry," she continued, speaking more quietly, "We're not kids. We're not even in college. She's a friend, I want you to have fun." Barry smiled appreciatively.

"You're one in a million, Iris." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. Iris let out a smile. Though Barry didn't seem to notice, she remained quiet throughout the rest of the walk.

[thefastestmanalive]

"Ladiesss and Gentlemen!" The colored lights dimmed as the crowd mulled to a hush while the ringmaster continued on with his proclamation. It had been a descent turnout, confetti and balloons reinforcing the illusion of a packed house. Barry made his way, somewhat clumsily, past a family of four.

"Excuse me miss - sorry there," he said with his natural, friendly charm. Fiona looked over at him and smiled.

"Barry, you're just in time!" He sat down next to her, making sure that the popcorn and two sodas stayed steady.

"That was line was so long, you'd think they were giving this stuff away for free."

"Thanks again for getting the popcorn and sodas." Fiona reached in a grabbed a handful, her eyes still strained on the ringmaster.

"It's so nice to be away from the Court House for a day," she said simply. Barry reached in and took some popcorn for himself.

"For a day? Don't you have off weekends?" Fiona shook her head, smiling.

"Ha. In theory. But in reality, my boss is Creed Phillips, master taskmaster."

"You haven't met Captain Frye," Barry quipped.

"Oh?" she said, raising her eyebrows, which somehow made her seem more like Iris to Barry.

"Darryl Frye wouldn't be late if hell were freezing over. I swear, it's like his brain was replaced by an alarm clock at some early age." Fiona laughed, the sound reminding Barry of her natural, easygoing demeanor which he found so appealing.

"I'm sure he has a field day with you."

"Me? I'm not always late. I just get caught up sometimes." Fiona shook her head as if she knew him better than she actually did. For some reason Barry suddenly felt guilty. Looking toward the stage, he took a breath in.

"Isn't this an acrobat show? With that famous family troupe - The Traveling Jesses?"

"Yes," Fiona responded in her relaxed manner, not seeming to notice Barry's sudden nervousness. "But first is the lead-in act. Probably clowns or something."

"Oh, I hate clowns," Barry said, thinking back to the Trickster. "They never seem to be funny."

[thefastestmanalive]

Jesse James grinned at the crowd from behind his curtain. Perfect. Still staring, he half jumped when Rose gently pushed him on the shoulder.

“Hun? Oh, Rose.” She had an excited, almost blissful expression about her.

“Jesse! We perform in ten minutes!” She spoke the words with more anticipation than worry. Jesse’s grin faded as he pursed his lips.

“I know, Rose, I know. I’ll be there in a moment.” Rose smiled at her brother, and left for backstage. He watched her exit for a long moment. Sighing, he made his way to his dressing room, passing several such rooms along the way.

“...I’m telling you it’s simply astonishing. How does he do it?” Jesse stopped at the sound of his father’s voice. He leaned against the half-closed door of his mother’s dressing room.

“He overcame his fear, Paul, that’s all.”

““Overcame his fear?” Natasha, the boy couldn’t even walk on a high beam without being petrified!” Through the crack in the door, he saw his mother turn her head away in annoyance. “We took him to the doctor’s, for God’s sake,” his father continued. “He was terribly afraid of falling, and what’s more, he never wanted to carry on the family tradition anyway! Maybe if he had been a bit less arrogant and cared more about the family’s prestige and not just his own...” Natasha raised herself in a fury, turning towards her husband.

“That’s our son you’re talking about! Maybe if you hadn’t put so much pressure on him to be like the rest of us, he’d have never left!” Paul James threw his hands in the air.

“Pfft! I know the real reason he left.”

“How dare you accuse our son of thievery.” Paul now looked pleadingly into his wife’s eyes.

“Accuse? Natasha, there was no other way. No one else could have stolen the box office recites. I don’t know what his game is now, or how he overcame his fear of falling, but I won’t be duped again.” Natasha stared at her husband coldly. He sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being too harsh, judging too quickly. But he hurt you - hurt Rose - so much when he left. He never even cared much for myself, but - ”

“Get out.” Seeing his father’s resigned look, Jesse quickly stole away before Paul James could exit the room. Quickly exiting into his own room, Jesse began to unbutton his shirt when there was a knock. It was his father.

“May I come in?” Jesse continued unbuttoning his shirt.
“I don’t see why not.” Looking about himself for a moment as if unsure if he were doing the right thing, Paul James finally sat down on a small bench, fading gold in color.

“I...wanted to wish you good luck tonight.” Jesse stood motionless. His father smiled, in a sad sort of way. Placing his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, he seemed stronger, if but for a moment.

“Good luck.” He left the room without another word. Jesse took a good look at his trapezze artist costume, as though it were foreign to him. He then went to a hidden locker, opting before for another, more colorful uniform.

[thefastestmanalive]

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The Ringmaster’s voice was electric. Barry tried to keep his eyes on the performance, but somehow ended up glancing discretely at Fiona. She noticed.

“Presenting, the Family James!!!” A spotlight lit, revealing a smiling woman in a red leotard. The audience applauded, and suddenly another spotlight lit, revealing a man in a matching costume. Barry and Fiona clapped with the rest of the audience. He suddenly felt her leg brush up against his. His entire body felt rigid, and he was unsure as what to do. Her hand discretely bumped into his as the third spotlight unveiled a young girl, approaching her twenties. Captain Cold, if I ever needed you now’s the time... The fourth spotlight lit. The clapping lessened, now coupled with confused shouts and slight laughter. Barry stood up, momentarily forgetting himself.

“It’s the Trickster!” The Trickster gave several mock bows, the other performers looking on in confusion and fright. Fiona raised herself from her seat to get a better view.

“The Trickster? That new villain?” Barry shook his head in a nod, not keeping his eyes off the rouge. I’ve got to - oh no! Fiona already suspects I’m the Flash. How will this look? He turned back to her, finding her face set in a impassive expression.

“Maybe one of us should call the police...?” An almost imperceptible smile then crossed her face.

“Good idea,” Barry said, meeting her gaze. She does know. “I’ll be right ba- ” Suddenly, bright purple light blinded the crowd. Barry fell back into his seat, catching Fiona, who almost hit the ground.

“Kids and old people! Welcome, to the greatest show on earth - my show!” Barry heard the Trickster’s voice ringing in his ears. “Now, as this is a surprise performance, I’m sure you’ll indulge me with a trinket or too...gold watches, diamond rings, hard earned cash...you know the drill.” The light had began to slowly fade as several masked men entered the circus tent from various points. As Barry’s head cleared, he thought he could see guns in their hands. He tried to make his way out of the crowd, not wanting to risk super-speed while his head was still so dizzy. The Trickster flipped into the air and walked toward the audiance. Several members of the crowd gasped in astonishment in spite of themselves.

“You can donate your generous collection to my dozen or so associates who will be around shortly. In the meantime,” the Trickster took out three balls, and began juggling. Each changed color as they hit his hand. “Enjoy the show!” He threw them into the air, and each burst into mini-fireworks.

“Jesse, you’re mad!” The Trickster glared down menacingly at his father.

“Mad?” He said, flipping down to meet his family, which had huddled together.

“Why, I’m the most sane of them all!” Pointing at his father, an electrical charge came from his finger, hitting the ground where the older man stood.

“Jesse, stop this nonsense!” He turned menacingly toward his mother.

“And you! At least he doesn’t pretend to care!” The Trickster lowered his voice so that only his family could hear. Barry looked on, his head finally clear. First the two guards near the closest exit, then I'll take care of the rest. No problem.

“You’ve only ever pretended to care! Tell me, mother sweet dearest,” he said, raising himself into the air, “did you ever ask me once what I really wanted out of life? Were my needs ever met? Or was it always just assumed that I’d be just like the two of you!” Flipping from the ground to the bottom of the trapeze podium, he looked down upon them accusingly. His father pleaded as Jesse flipped once, two more times, finally reaching the top of the podium.

“And what about Rose?” For a moment, the Trickster’s face broke from its malicious countenance, Jesse James opening his mouth but quickly shutting it again, as though he couldn’t think of what to say. The Trickster found he had taken a few steps back, unknowingly walking off the podium and into the air. All of the sudden, a brilliant streak of red ran up the poll. Someone in the audience yelled out the hero’s name.

“Trickster! The game’s up.” The Trickster cackled, throwing several marbles onto the podium. Small explosions set off, as the Flash jumped off, catching the Trickster’ cape.

“Hah- ack!” The Trickster propelled himself through the air and across the stage, pressurized air from his jester’s shoes sending them toward the roof of the circus.

"Let go you buffoon!” The Trickster zapped the Flash several times, his glove’s electrical charge seeming to increase with each blast. Each time the Flash maneuvered out of the way, though his shoulder was singed with the last blast. As the Trickster neared the roof, the Flash pulled tightly on his cape, causing the villain to twist and propel downwards toward him. The Flash pulled his fist back, but was met with an odorous gas as the Trickster fell upon him.

“Cough, cough....” The Flash felt dazed. Motioning his hands toward his eyes, he wasn’t prepared for the Trickster’s quick jab. Flash felt blood trickle from his nose into his mouth as the blue cape slowly slipped from his hand. Barry...get with it...

His head clearer, he saw that he only had a second before hitting the ground. Plenty of time. Twirling his arms, he eased himself onto the ground and looked up. The Trickster was making his exit, taking a moment to wave to the crowd beforehand. Too risky with this guy to attack him from above...how does he manage to stay afloat? The Trickster was making his final bow, his feet together and arms spread above him as he bowed. The Flash focused on the Trickster’s shoes. They propelled him before... Grabbing a sharp, broken piece of a trapeze that had fallen the Flash aimed at the side-by-side hanging tips of the Trickster’s jester shoes and threw the object. They tore apart, and he began to fall along with two electronic chips, no bigger than a pocket-sized notebook each. The Trickster's face froze. His eyes widened as a woman's voice rang out.

“No! My son!”The Flash caught the Trickster with ease. He looked up in terror at the Flash. He began to babble.

“I mustn’t fall! I won’t be good enough!” He grabbed the Flash’s costume and brought himself closer to the speedster’s face.

“Please, give me another chance! I’ll do my best - so long as I don’t hit the ground. Gotta keep flying...gotta keep up there...” Flash tore off the Trickster’s cape and gently let his head down upon it. His sister ran toward him but her father caught her and she cried in his arms. Natasha James ran her fingers through her son's hair. He had fallen unconscious. Barry heard the police come through and in the seconds that the Flash made his leave, thought he heard a passing whisper.

“He hates us,” a woman’s voice said. “Our own son hates us.”

The Flash ran home, taking care to get there as quickly as possible.




The End

Next Issue: The Captain Always Comes Back!