Post by johnreiter902 on Nov 5, 2019 23:56:58 GMT
by vendikarr dewuf (August 20th 2004)
PROLOGUE
Central City, December, 1987.
Two lovers strolled arm-in-arm through downtown Central City towards
Central City Park, oblivious to the city-life all around them.
"So what did you think of the film, Drew?" said the girl, a red-
haired beauty wearing a green dress and a synthetic fleece coat.
The tall, thin man at her side was wearing a fashionably-cut suit
and a long tan trenchcoat. A classic-looking fedora covered his bald
head, while he carried a walking cane in his free hand despite not
seeming to need it. "I thought it was quite brilliant," he
replied. "In my short time here I've come to appreciate Roger
Corman's films as wealthy men appreciate fine wine -- they only
improve with age."
"Mmm..." said the girl. "Well, this movie was much better than the
last one we saw. I'll never watch another flick by that hack
Spielberg again."
"You were the one who had a yen to see a B-movie, weren't you?" the
man said, amused.
The girl rolled her eyes and said, "Don't remind me."
As the two turned down an alleyway which was a shortcut to the
parking lot in which was their car, a strange rustling sound caused
the girl to startle.
"What was that?" she exclaimed quietly.
"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear," her companion replied. "In any
case, you'll be safe with me if anything should happen."
The two had begun to walk down the alleyway, when suddenly the
strange sound reappeared, followed by several sparks of apparent
electricity and a loud humming sound, followed by a final CRACK!
"Good God!" the girl cried out as the two were thrown back. Her
companion threw himself over her protectively and looked back.
The brief lightshow disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving
behind the smell of ozone... and a lone figure kneeling in the
middle of the alleyway.
The man in the trenchcoat waited momentarily before picking himself
up and approaching the figure cautiously. "Hello?" he said, though
at first there was no reply. "Hello? Are you all right?" As he came
nearer to the kneeling figure, he realized that this person was
wearing some kind of costume. A mostly-gold costume covering the
figure's entire body except, apparently his face. The figure also
wore red gloves and boots, and he had some kind of jagged red
protrusions on either side of his head, as well as a jagged, V-
shaped stripe running down his back and, apparently, his front as
well.
It took Drew Drowden a moment to realize what he was looking at, but
when he did, he jumped back. "Pamela -- get out of here, now!" he
shouted at the girl. "Before it's too--"
"Grodd," the figure finally said in a deep voice as he rose to his
full normal height. His accent was as strange as his clothing. "Do
not fear. I have come from the future to save the world."
Drew Drowden paused long enough to realize what the figure had
called him. He also noticed that the familiar-looking costume was
not what he had thought it was. This was not the infamous super-
criminal Johnny Quick, after all, but a stranger wearing an oddly-
reversed form of his costume. Steeling himself for anything, Drew
finally said, "Who are you?"
"Drew?" called Pamela Isley from behind Drew Drowden as she rose
from the ground. "Drew, are you all right? He called you Gro--"
"My name is Eobard Thawne, good gorilla Grodd," the yellow-garbed
man said, "and I have come to set the past right."
CHAPTER ONE
Central City Police HQ, April, 1988.
James Jesse drank his third cup of coffee that morning and tried to
keep the butterflies in his stomach from turning into full-fledged
nausea. He couldn't quite understand why, after performing so many
death-defying acrobatic feats all throughout his childhood, he felt
so nervous about meeting the Commissioner of Police, Manfred Turtle.
The commish was a somewhat short, somewhat obese man with gray hair.
Though he was not at all intimidating, he had built for himself a
reputation as a great lawman, which was why he had been reelected as
the Police Commissioner in every election for the past twenty years.
It was a great honor to meet Commissioner Turtle, of course, but
what made James Jesse extremely nervous was the fact that Turtle had
requested him by name. Jesse could only speculate that he, a rookie
cop with only a year under his belt, was about to be promoted.
Now James Jesse walked through the halls of Central City Police
Headquarters proudly, despite his nerves playing havoc in his
stomach. He couldn't help but notice the admiring glances and
disapproving glares he had received from various men and women
around him, and he hoped this wouldn't lead to a great deal of
resentment against him. Central City cops had a reputation for
hazing their rookies, especially if they thought they were getting a
little bit ahead of themselves. Jesse did his best to ignore
everyone and approached the Commissioner's office.
"Uh, hi, Sarah," he said to the secretary, his cap in his hand. "Is
the Commish in? I've been told he's expecting me."
Sarah, a pretty brunette with rimless glasses, smiled at him and
said, "Of course, Mr. Jesse. You may go right in. They're expecting
you."
Jesse gulped and nodded, then turned towards the doors and pushed
them open. As he walked into the office, he heard subdued voices
around the corner and straightened himself up before entering the
office proper. When he did so, his observant, police-trained eyes
noted that, besides the Commish, there were ten men and one woman in
the room. Five of them were officers -- Snart, Mardon, Scudder, Rory
and Bivolo -- and Desmond from Forensics was there as well. The
other four men he did not recognize, but he had seen the pretty
blonde woman at Roscoe Dillon's funeral -- she was, he remembered,
Lisa Star, Dillon's girlfriend and Leo Snart's sister. He suddenly
began to wonder what he had walked into.
"Jimmy!" Commissioner Turtle said his usual slow drawl as he
recognized the rookie and greeted him with a grin. "Jimmy Jesse,
come right in. Well, gentlemen and lady, I believe that's everyone.
Our meeting can begin?"
"'Meeting'?" Jesse whispered to Roy Bivolo, a fellow rookie with a
year more experience than he. Bivolo shushed him and listened as
Manfred Turtle continued to speak.
"Perhaps we should begin with introductions, a kind-of roll call, if
you will," Turtle drawled. "Let's begin with our officers. Tell us
your name and a little bit about yourselves."
The officers shifted around uncomfortably on their feet until
finally Snart, a bespectacled brown-haired cop in his mid-thirties,
spoke up. "Detective Leo Snart. Been on the force for twelve years
now."
The cop next to him, who had short, curly black hair said, "I'm
Detective Mark Mardon, I joined the police force ten years ago after
my brother Clyde was killed by Johnny Quick."
"Detective Sammy Scudder," said the next man, a brown-haired man in
his late twenties. "I've been on the force for the past seven years."
The next man, who looked to be about forty years old, was bald,
somewhat chubby, and wore glasses. "I'm Mick Rory, and I've been a
cop for five long years," he said with a grin. "I was a firefighter
before then, and in much better shape -- believe me!" There was a
bit of muted chuckling for a moment.
"I'm Al Desmond," said a red-haired man wearing a labcoat. "Some of
you might recognize me. I work in Forensics."
"Bivolo," said the rookie next to Jesse. "Been on the force for two
years."
James Jesse gulped and said, "I'm James Jesse. I've been on the
force for a year as of last week. I'm an ex-circus acrobat, and I
joined the force after Johnny Quick murdered my family." A hush ran
throughout the room. "My parents named me James after the great
lawman of the Old West, Jesse James, so I figured I'd follow in his
footsteps and do my family's memory proud by becoming a lawman
myself."
"Thank you, Jim," Commissioner Turtle said. "Thanks to all of you,
gentlemen. Now, we have a few guests with us who should also
introduce themselves, but first I'd like to introduce Mr. Drew
Drowden, the distinguished gentlemen who is the reason we're all
gathered here today."
"Hello to all of you," Drowden began. "As many of you may already
know, I'm a Central City businessman and the founder of DrewCorp, a
research and development firm. What you will not be aware of is that
DrewCorps is a leader in police armory development, specifically in
anti-metahuman weaponry. We keep that part of our work a complete
secret in order to prevent making ourselves a target for the Crime
Syndicate."
Drowden continued, "As part of our research, we have been collecting
a number of talented individuals from many fields to develop various
anti-meta strategies with which to use against Johnny Quick and the
rest of the Crime Syndicate. I've brought four of them with me
today. Lady and gentlemen?"
The beautiful woman on Drowden's left spoke up, "My name is Lisa
Star. As many of you will know, Leo Snart is my brother, though he's
not the reason I'm here today. I've been an athlete since childhood,
for fifteen years actually, and I've competed in the Olympics twice
as in the ice-skating competitions. I was also engaged to be married
to my longtime boyfriend Roscoe Dillon, who many of you will
remember as your fellow police officer. That is, until... until he
was killed while attempting to stop Johnny Quick from robbing the
1st National Bank of Central City four months ago. I was contacted
by Drew Drowden, and I've been working in DrewCorps' anti-meta
program ever since."
"Hello, mates!" the balding man next to her said in what was
obviously an Australian accent. "My name's George Harkness, and,
like Lisa here, I'm an athlete of sorts. I'm an expert in all
manners of projectiles, whether they be boomerangs, javelins,
discus, or what have you."
"Aren't you Projectile Pete?" said Rory suddenly.
"That's what they call me," Harkness said proudly. "Yeah, well,
actually a few years ago Wiggins Toys turned out a line of toys
based on the Projectile Pete concept, but all I did for 'em was a
few photoshoots and commercials. They really hired me above all for
my skills with projectiles. Anyway, DrewCorps hired me after the
Projectile Pete craze kinda died down, and they even bought the full
rights to the Projectile Pete name from Wiggins, if you can believe
it. Good on ya, Drew! I've been working with various projectile-
based weapons at DrewCorps ever since."
A tall man next to him who had a receding widow's peak, a thin
mustache and a goatee, said, "I am Presto Change-O, the great
magician! And I believe I am the oldest man in this room, or at
least I would be if not for our good host, Manfred Turtle. Some of
you may have come to my shows as a child or even as an adult. I am,
of course, a stage magician, but I possess a few talents exclusive
to myself that no other stage magician alive knows. As a result, I
have become a valuable resource for DrewCorps. I must admit also
that the day of the stage magician has seen better days, and I am
eternally grateful to Mr. Drowden for my gainful employment."
A thin, red-haired man next to the magician said, "I'm Hartley
Rathaway, and I'm a musician extraordinaire. Specifically, I know my
way around various sonic frequencies and know to which uses they can
be applied. For example, I could play a melody in this very room
that could make all of you prance around on all fours while making
puppy dog noises. DrewCorps recruited me earlier this year, and I've
given a hell of a lot of money, equipment, time and space to play
around with. Hm. Yes, a lot of fun."
"And finally, I'd like to introduce all of you to Eobard Thawne,"
Drowden said, motioning to the young, blonde man on his
right. "Eobard is here to help us stop the Crime Syndicate once and
for all, and he has the abilities necessary to do much of the job
himself."
"What is he, then?" Scudder said. "A super-garbageman or something?"
The other officers laughed.
"Eobard?" Drowden said. "Would you like to show them what you can
do?"
"Yes," Thawne said. "It is done."
The officers were puzzled at first, until they looked around and
realized that their caps had all been taken from their heads and
placed on Turtle's desk.
Rory began to laugh, "Hey, that's quite a trick. Are you Presto
Change-O's protege or something?"
"No," said Thawne. "I can move faster than the human eye can see.
Like this." Suddenly, the office seemed to be filled with duplicates
of Eobard Thawne, each of which said, "My speed allows me to do many
things." A moment later only a single Eobard Thawne was left.
"He's as fast as Johnny Quick, gentlemen," Drew Drowden said. "We've
taken to calling him 'Quick-Jack' at DrewCorp for want of a better
name."
James Jesse cleared his throat and said, "Um, I'm not quite sure
what this is all about. Why am I -- why are we here?"
"I've selected each of you to join DrewCorps' program, boys,"
Manfred Turtle said. "You're among the finest in the CCPD, and all
of you possess a certain amount of talent yourselves."
"Sure, but we're police officers, sir," Detective Snart said. "What
exactly are cops supposed to do at a research and development firm."
"You are police officers, Detective," Drowden said. "And it's police
officers that we need to put the fruits of DrewCorps' research into
practice."
"What? Do you wanna make us Super-Cops, or something?" Rory said,
laughing.
"Precisely."
The room fell silent.