MISFIT
(Disclaimer:
characters are the property of . . . other people. )
(Author's
note: this story takes off from the notion that Agent West from The Zeta
Project is related to Wally. Except for some reason, he doesn't have a
connection to the Speed Force. What does this do to him? Well, read on . . .)
I'll show them.
My aunt, my cousins . . . zipping around the world without even breaking a sweat. They act like it's not even a big deal. Me, I'd kill to be able to do what they do. Even for a day—even for an hour. Just to know what it's like.
But I'll never know.
I don't know what's wrong with me. Why everyone else in the family got it but I didn't. Even my own sister got it. She gets to be Kid Flash and go along with my aunt to fight crime and help people. Meanwhile I just watch them on television, like everybody else.
It's not fair! Why should they have all the luck?
I made the mistake of telling Grandpa last time I saw him. I told him how unfair it was that everybody else but me got speed powers and I got nothing. How I hated to watch the news or download off the Net because I'd always see headlines like "FLASH AND KID FLASH SAVE CENTRAL CITY", and a big picture of Aunt Iris and Angela—in costume, of course—grinning out at me. As if to say, "Isn't it great to be a super hero? Oh, that's right, turtle-boy, you wouldn't know."
Grandpa was quiet for a long time, and I felt bad that I'd said that. I know he still regrets having to give up being the Flash himself, after he got hurt. Finally he said, "Neary sixty years ago, lightning struck twice in the same place. I've never understood it myself, why the Speed Force chose me. Even Max Mercury never really learned what the Speed Force was. It chose Barry, then it chose me, and now it's chosen my descendants."
"Except one," I said bitterly.
"You don't understand," he said. "Not everyone can connect with the Speed Force the way we do. It's a gift, not something to be taken for granted. When you take something for granted, you come to depend on it, and then one day when it isn't there anymore . . ."
He broke off again. Was that what had happened? He'd run out of juice? He never talked about it, to any of us.
"I'd rather have it for five minutes and then lose it," I said, "than never have it at all."
"No you wouldn't," he said. "If you'd ever felt it, known what it was like . . .you'd never want to turn your back on it. Even if you had to."
He looked really sad, and I was sorry I'd brought it up.
"You're doing good things," he said. "You're a Federal agent."
"Junior agent," I corrected him. "Some days I'm not even allowed to carry a sidearm. Bennett thinks I'm a screwup."
"You're not a screwup. You're just a little too eager to get the job done. Reminds me of someone else I used to know." He looked over at his cousin Bart, who was playing with his granddaughter Cissie. "You'll grow out of it."
"When? I'm 23."
"Just remember to think before you act, and you'll be fine." Grandpa got up to refill his drink. "Someday you'll be on the front page, and we'll be reading about your daring exploits."
"I hope so."
Just at that moment, my cousin Bobby came in and started babbling about this new Young Justice he was putting together with some other kids. He was telling everyone how Batman—the new Batman—was helping them get ready to take on this big-time bad guy who called himself the Vaporizer—
I just lost it. "Well, wait till I catch that runaway robot!" I shouted, forgetting for a moment about all the security surrounding the project. "I'll show you, and Bennett, and everyone, that I'm just as good as you are! You'll be reading my headlines!"
Everyone was staring at me, in shocked silence.
"Runaway robot?" Bobby said.
I suddenly realized what I had done. "You never heard that!" I shouted, and went in the house.
I called for my ride, and they came and took me away.
I didn't tell Bennett what I had said. There wasn't much chance of him finding out any other way. Unless we get on a case where the Flash is involved, he'll never know.
It won't be long. We're not that far behind the robot—it's called a Zeta, I think. We'll catch it and take it someplace where it can't hurt anyone. And the headlines will read, "NSA AGENT JAY WEST CAPTURES RENEGADE SYNTHOID", and they'll all read them and finally realize I'm as good as they are.