4:15 PM, 20th April, 1989.
Location: The same tiny town, dammit.
How isolated is this town? I've been waiting for relief from some federal police force of some description, I mean without their vehicles the disarmed cops can only go so far. I would have chained them, but what was the point? Desert in all directions as far as the eye can see. They're stuck in this town, as long as they don't steal vehicles. And their Sheriff seems more interested in rescuing his cousin, since he and his deputies are holed up across the street watching for an opportunity.
It has been amusing, playing with them. Peeking out the window of the Diner to make them hide like mice. I made sure to escort the various people in the diner to their vehicles, letting them leave after having written and signed a declaration of what they had observed, including names and their home address.
I don't want these trigger-happy fools escaping prosecution.
So to pass the time, I settle for talking with the chef. He seems sympathetic. He talks of a few people over the years with what he now believes to be powers. Don't tell me I found the most inbred, meta-gene filled town in the US.
Apparently he heard of someone when the town was first settled who could always find water. Okay, useful but not ground breaking.
Then there was a man who could spit acid, which he used to kill a man when he was held up at gun point. Of course this was back in the days of the Wild West. Still, potentially useful. Certainly an effective offensive ability. Too bad he was gunned down by the robber's partner. Of course the story could be simple exaggeration.
Later still there was a woman who could sing like a Disney princess, summoning all forms of life from the desert to do her bidding. Which she used to terrify the locals into leaving her alone. Which might be the source of the 'witchcraft' and 'demon' based paranoia. A more powerful ability, that was certain. People rarely attack someone when faced with waves of tarantulas, rattlesnakes and scorpions, they run instead. Unfortunately for Skitter-desert variant, the locals crept up on her one night and shot her in bed.
Some years after her death a being swept through town, punishing the killers in ironic ways. No one could remember his face, or more than his presence. They thought he was a demon. Actually, it seems more likely Coyote, the trickster god since only a couple actually died. If that girl was someone he liked, it would be natural he'd retaliate.
Which left only a few people descended from this family line of water finding, acid spitting and desert controlling people.
The Chef it seemed was one.
"So what is it you can do?" I asked.
"Me? Nothing." He replied, from the other side of the counter. "But my little sister ran away from home last year. Haven't heard more than a phone call to say she was okay. Says she's in Central City." He shrugged. "For most people from this town, that might as well be the moon."
Okay, that needed to be checked.
"How little are we talking here, you're what thirty?" I asked.
"She's twenty two I think. Yep, born in Feb. Twenty two." He shrugged. "Parents broke up and remarried each other several times. Even went on the Jerry Springer show that one time. Dad died last August."
"Got a name for me? I'll check up on her." I offered.
"Goldie. She is named Goldie White." He replied. "You find her, you let me know how she's doing or make her contact us. I don't know 'bout Mom but I care."
A greasy meal later I had the pleasure of finally seeing a set of police vehicles pull into town. Five, one of which disgorged a SWAT team. In the lead a guy wearing the FBI logo. Now the Sheriff and his pair of Deputies were confused, before emerging to try to parley aid.
They were quickly overpowered and placed in handcuffs as I watched, offering a salute from the Diner window with a smile.
The following hour was a lengthy deposition, after which I was let go with a warning. Not to destroy law enforcement vehicles without sufficient reason.
At least I made it to Keystone City before midnight, booking a room at a hotel I crashed for the night, still fully dressed.
10:30 AM, 21th April, 1989.
Location: Keystone City.
Late rising and quite tired. Still, it's my holiday so I don't push myself but laze in bed watching TV. Aside from a few slightly different movies TV is boring stuff… I mean Rambo acted by Schwarzenegger is spot on… it's just a rehash. With slightly bigger explosions and gorier deaths. Also Rambo dies in the end, as he was supposed to in the script. Even if he does get bloody revenge with a great big smile before being wiped away in a hail of gunfire ala Scarface.
My ordered breakfast becomes breakfast in bed as I watch some kid's cartoons, distorted versions of the ones they used to rerun when I was a kid. It's simultaneously interesting and depressing.
News reports have the Keystone and Central City both suffering extreme weather. Huh… could be Flash's enemy Weather Wizard… I guess that's something to check.
Venturing out into the city gives me a good view of the very unsettling sky. Flying around gives me a good sense of the changing air pressure and the fast moving clouds are causing a rise in the static charge in the atmosphere. A storm's coming… I can feel it.
I move to the epicentre of the weather formation and watch in awe as tornadoes begin to spawn, several ranging from narrow to more than a kilometre wide. Zeus chooses this moment to let his bolts fly and like a magnet they all come at me.
And finally I see why Magneto was always so happy to taunt Lightning users. Poor Storm. All it does is absorb into my field, with a refreshing ozone aftertaste. Really great pick-me-up. I feel energised. Or is it simply positively charged?
Luxuriating in the moment is a blunder, as the funnels begin to touch down, destroying everything in their path. Even if it's mostly fields and roads out here. But then again, they are moving at a decent pace toward the city. That means suburban zones will be coming up soon.
I keep pace with the largest as it chews it's way through wheat fields and moves toward a town on the edge of city limits. I fly ahead, collecting cars off the road with passengers still aboard and drag them to the major town buildings, hoping they have a shelter available. Because there is nothing I can do to stop that funnel.
Mitigate it, with barriers and magnetism is possible. I stalk the funnel, a step ahead. As debris falls or is sent flying, I catch it if it is metal. Merging the wrecked cars, sheet metal and odds and ends into a wide, solid barricade. This I carry around like an umbrella held out against the debris and winds.
Redirecting metal debris and blocking the larger pieces of wood and plastic with the umbrella takes up a lot of effort, since I'm fighting the wind at every turn.
It is all I can do to breathe a sigh of relief as a bright red blur appears and moves to stand below me, on a roof.
"Woah, that's some nasty breeze out there!" Flash remarks, covering his eyes with his hand. "Hiya! Flash's the name, running fast's the game!"
"Magnus aka Bubbleboy. This really isn't a good situation for me, if the twister comes closer I'm going to have to start picking between which building is destroyed first… dammit the pet store with all the scared puppies has to be rescued. So… goodbye St Andrew's Homeless Shelter?! Gah! What is with these hard choices?" I mimed weeping. "Save me Flash!"
He paused to give a thumbs up. "I evacuated the pet store, FYI. Even the goldfish."
Oh. Not such a hard choice then.
And he's gone. The change of air flow is a sign, as the twister is cancelled out with a burst of activity around it in the opposite direction. Whoa… I knew the guy was major leagues, but to see someone simply shoo away a force of nature like that is breath taking.
And he's back.
"Woah, that was a first for me! Never realised I could do that..." He babbled.
"Very impressive, Monseigneur Flash." I tilted my head, then bowed in typical court fashion. "I am in your debt."
"Nah, it would have worked out." He smirked. "So… you and Supes are buddies? I've been meaning to head down to Metropolis and yammer away at him. But then I figured people might take it the wrong way, my humour is an acquired taste." He shrugged. "Then all of a sudden here you are. What gives? I'm fairly sure I'm an unknown."
He glanced out at the other five twisters. "Well perhaps after today I'll be better known."
"French Intelligence found out about you over a week ago." I replied.
"Wah… what?!" He asked, overwhelmed.
"I asked my friend, who investigated other people with powers and they had already noticed you… it seems despite your speed you don't step lightly." I grinned.
"Big Brother at work… pretty impressive. I wonder how…?" He began. "But I'm getting sidetracked. I've got some twisters to unravel!"
Well, I'll just be here if you need me. Oh… that was a big bolt 'O lightning. Crawled all over my fields like hundreds of fingers of pure energy. Which seem to be reinvigorating me slightly. Like a nice coffee. I guess while he does all the heavy lifting, I'll sit here and absorb the thunderbolts instead of the city. I ramp up my magnetic field, until it is almost solidly filled with iron dust from the surroundings.
I'm attracting objects from outside my normal range, interesting. I guess the higher I push my power's ambient effect, the higher the passive effects around me are, at an increased range. Curious, I use it lash out at a car wreck outside my range and sent the car tumbling away as I strike it with a repulsive effect. Nice! That almost doubles my effective range. Too bad it is only for pushing and pulling. But, I suppose I could use it to reel myself into prime attack range against a slippery opponent or back off just as suddenly.
Best to keep it under my hat as a surprise for anyone who realises I have a range of effect and measures it. So I can run them over with a car from behind.
And… Flash is back.
"So, did ya miss me?" He posed, flexing. "I was busy being awesome!"
"Maybe, I might if you tone down the… you a bit." I replied shaking my head.
"Very well, Flash on the rocks, shaken not stirred." he smiled broadly. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, you know? Just talking to someone else like me… it's liberating."
"Just don't 'liberate' yourself out of those tights and we'll get along fine." I suggested raising my hands to keep him away. "I don't want to learn the real reason you call yourself the 'Flash'."
"Hey, quit making fun of the name… geez. I don't mock you about that whole Bubbleboy debacle. It would be so easy too. I can give examples..." He joked.
"Please don't."