-1Flash Bygones
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Justice League, unfortunately. Otherwise, the Flash would be the star of every episode.
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Soz for starting another fic, by the way. God damned plot bunnies haunting my dreams.
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Road Rage
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John wondered briefly how in the name of Oa he had gotten himself into this situation before continuing to clutch on for dear life.
It wasn't like he was a bad person or anything. Hell, he thought he had accomplished quite a range of good deeds in his lifetime so far, after all he wasn't a superhero and the Green Lantern for nothing. He had helped save the world countless times. Just last week, he had prevented a giant Japanese robot from crushing a modest city in Osaka. Surely that amounted to something.
John Stewart was a simple kind of guy, preferring the basic black coffee with three sugars rather then-he shuddered instinctively- the cursed iced mocha. Overall, John honestly didn't think that he was too bad a person. At least, not bad enough to deserve this definite cruel and unusual punishment. No. That was wrong. What Batman did to his villains was cruel and unusual. This was on a completely new level.
Perhaps John had been a deranged mass-murderer in his previous life. That might explain it.
The day had started off innocently enough. John had woken up at precisely 6.15am, and spent exactly fifteen minutes on his morning routine- ten minute jog, quick brush of teeth and the washing of face, trim of facial hair (he didn't like the way his stubble itched his chin, nor the ragged look it gave him. The Flash had called it roguish charm, and had attempted to grow his own beard. That had been a traumatic week for the entire League, and John wasn't willing to recall those particular memories.)
Then, the Lantern partook in a brief League meeting in which members were assigned to their respective monitor duties at varying times throughout the week. He had held a civil conversation with Martian Manhunter, discussing the workings of democracy and cultural relativism in regards to spreading the views of the Justice League to third world countries.
Then, the trouble started.
Wonder Woman had called him and the Flash over in order to give them a relatively simple mission. In fact, it was so simple that John had politely inquired why two Founders were necessary in its completion, in which her prompt reply was that the Flash's speed would be useful in handling such a situation. After patiently withstanding said speedster's preening at the praise, she had added that any other complaints would be forwarded to the Batman. John had wisely kept his mouth shut at that.
The details of the mission involved investigating and busting open a suspected drug smuggling in the darker corners of Metropolis. The culprits have been slippery thus far, and have evaded capture and incriminating evidence.
Hence, it was up to the Flash and the Green Lantern to find such incriminating evidence, and then bring justice into the courts. In speedster terms, as Flash had so lovingly deemed it, "find the baddies' stash, clap 'em in irons and cart them to jail."
John wouldn't have put it exactly like that, but yes, that was the general gist of the thing.
What Wonder Woman also mentioned was that both heroes needed to remain anonymous, and apparently, it was crucial for the bust being untraceable to the Justice League.
Which was why two of the world's greatest superheroes were currently crammed into a beat up Toyota Camry, careening at an average of fifty miles an hour towards a drug dealer hideout.
They were also both clad in civvies- well John was, Wally was wearing some kind of hybrid sweater-jumpsuit that was somehow both furry and slippery, like a wetsuit. To top it all off, it was bright red. Where in the seven levels of hell Flash had gotten the monstrosity was beyond him.
John gritted his teeth as he was thrown rather violently against a window. It was the third time.
Under normal circumstances, John would be controlling the vehicle. After all, the level-headed, much-less-volatile Green Lantern would be a better choice in comparison to a hyperactive speedster. Unfortunately, John was concentrating his ring on tracking down the drug smugglers whilst simultaneously keeping the luminous green light to a minimum. It was up to Wally to man the wheel.
"Red light," John warned sharply. Wally ran the car straight through it. John's breath hitched in his throat momentarily as he watched a motorcycle screech to a halt half a metre from their Camry's tail lights. The motorcyclist's disbelieving face flashed by before they were off at a steady sixty miles per hour again.
"What the hell are you doing?" John snapped, fingers itching to resist the incredibly tempting action of slapping the Flash upside the head. Such actions would probably lead them to crash head first into some old lady's backyard. "You could've killed the man!"
"Someone's a big ball of sunshine today," Wally commented flippantly. John's fingers itched a little more. "Besides, the slug was only going at forty miles an hour. Even this old thing-"-he tapped the steering wheel- "-could outrun it."
The car braked sharply, and John grasped at his seatbelt to avoid head butting through the windscreen.
It wasn't as if Wally was a bad driver. No, it was quite the opposite. Wally was a good driver, a very good driver. After all, not everyone could run a red light through a seven intersection busy highway without dog piling half the driving population of Metropolis. Heck, John thought the Flash deserved a medal in being able to accomplish such feats. He didn't even think Superman could pull them off, and this was the Man of god forsaken Titanium he was talking about.
To be fair, the Flash had only clipped seven mailboxes so far. That would be ninety three mailboxes less then what John had expected, and- wait, make that eight mail boxes.
The idiot even had the gall to cast an apologetic look back at the swearing middle-aged lady who had emerged from the house of the unfortunate mailbox. "Sorry, ma'am, I'll make it up to you, promise!" Not that she had heard the buffoon, she was rapidly fading into the distance.
"Eyes on the road!" John all but snarled, and Wally swerved wildly to avoid T-boning a truck loaded with metal rods. John spared a second to glance at Wally's foot on the gas. It was flat against the ground.
Doomed. They were doomed.
John hadn't expected- or wanted- to go out like this. Being caught in the explosion of a planet would be a suitable death for a member of the Green Lantern Corps, not through a driving mishap by an irresponsible idiot that against all odds, John called his friend. Anything would be better then this.
John consulted his ring again.
"Left. Bass Street." he growled. It was sad, really, how being in the same car as the Flash had rendered him to speak in monosyllabic words out of pure annoyance. For once, the speedster sensed the dangerous note in his words and wisely flipped on the indicator without a peep. He even slowed down a minor fraction.
Then he turned right.
John made a choked, gargled noise at the back of his throat.
Wally turned to him, a look of surprise and mild alarm written across his face. John felt like punching it. "Hey man. You okay?"
"I explicitly," John began, struggling to reign in his temper. Despite the infamous willpower of the Green Lantern Corps, it was a losing battle from the start. "-said left."
"Oh, you got all heated up over that? I thought you swallowed your tongue or something since I was going too fast. Slowpoke."
For a moment, John's initial ring construct of a tracking green light transformed into gleaming chainsaw.
"And don't worry, GL, you look like you're gonna pop an artery or three. I know a shortcut."
That would've been more reassuring if Wally hadn't narrowly missed a blue convertible when he was saying it. John slumped down into his seat only to regret it moments later; he'd almost broke his own neck when they skidded around a particularly tight corner.
Sure enough, they were turning into Bass Street. Thank Oa for that. John almost wished that Wally had been wrong, just to wipe the silly, smug grin off the speedster's face.
"Over there," John said with much relief, shining a green light at a sleek Mercedes. Despite the outward appearance, John's ring told him that four hundred and seventy two pounds of marijuana and gunpowder were stashed safely inside. Soon this mission would be over, and then he could leave this buffoon and take a much deserved drink. A long drink.
Hopefully the kid wouldn't do anything more stupid between now and returning to the Watchtower.
John closed his eyes and massaged his forehead in aggravation as Wally pulled up alongside the Mercedes, winding down the window with super speed. Fortunately, the other driver didn't notice that.
"Heeeyy! Dude with the funny hat!"
"Are you insane?" John hissed dangerously into Wally's ear. If the moron sabotaged their mission…"Actually, don't answer that, I already know the answer. What part of remaining anonymous do you not understand?"
"Hey!" Wally looked at John, a slightly hurt and dejected look upon his face. John would've been more concerned and maybe even guilty if he hadn't been in danger of cardiac arrest through stress at the moment. "I know what I'm doing, man. Trust me."
Trust him? John was more willing to trust Lex Luthor as President of the Universe then this imbecile at the moment. …Maybe he had been exaggerating at the Lex Luthor part. But Wally was making it damn hard to trust him if he kept at this velocity on the slippery road at the moment.
"Dude!" Wally called out again. The opposing driver looked, horrified. at the worn-out Camry, weaving in and out of the busy traffic. "Mind telling us where you're headed?"
That was when John heard the groan.
It was a low groan, filled with all the pain and agony of carrying a few pounds too many. It was a groan made up of the burden of travelling at ninety miles per hour, which, if John had interpreted the creak of straining metal correctly, was ninety miles per hour too much.
The Green Lantern spared a millisecond casting his ring over their groaning Camry. For a moment, he felt his heart stop.
"Brakes. NOW!"
The speedster looked at John confusedly- no, don't look at him, look at the god damned brakes!- and slid his foot off the accelerator. Regardless of this, the car lurched forward, slipping and sliding over the slippery road.
It rear-ended the Mercedes.
John barely managed to catch sight of the Mercedes being propelled into the midst of a busy highway before an air bag caught him flush in the face.
Judging from the rapid vibrations and wild thrashings John felt next to him, he assumed that the same fate had awaited his partner. One of Flash's flailing arms caught John in the ear, and he irritably slapped away the offending limb along with the air bag. It seemed that the Flash had somehow managed to brake at the last possible second, thus saving both their lives from his own stupidity.
The Mercedes, however….
John stared disbelievingly at the once smooth and polished car, which was now skidding along the asphalt on its side towards a warm green Honda Jazz. If John squinted, he could just make out the little old lady with spectacles perched precariously over her nose looking with horror at the massive monster of a car sliding towards her.
He had to act fast.
Fisting his ring hand, John summoned a wayward pavement under the sidewards-skating vehicle, redirecting it wildly into the air. The Mercedes landed clumsily on its rear in a pile of unfortunate garbage bags. Even without utilising his ring, John could see that exactly four hundred and seventy two pounds worth of marijuana and gunpowder were now pouring out from the boot and backseat of the car, all over the garbage bags.
"That's one way of taking out the trash."
John groaned loudly- both at the voice and the horrendous pun- and looked around for a wall to bang his head hard against. It was difficult seeing as he was trapped underneath a persistent airbag and with the person he least wanted to be with at the moment.
The sirens were coming, a little late per usual. With any luck, the police would find an empty Camry which had lost control of its brakes and a drug ring busted out of pure, dumb luck. No Justice League interference whatsoever. Unless, of course, the police tracked down that said pure, dumb luck was only capable by the Flash.
John sighed and put his hand to his comm-link. "Lantern to Watchtower. Teleportation for two."
There was a pause, and John sighed again. He was looking forward to that drink. "Yeah, I'm taking the idiot with me."
Keep this on your alerts if you're interested by the way. I might make this into a set of funny oneshots if the plot bunnies attack again.
Stick around, friends.