Barry woke with a hand on his shoulder. A puddle of drool had collected on his desk, where he had fallen asleep. Suddenly wide awake, he looked up and saw his mother.
He stood up so fast that he knocked over his chair. It crashed to the ground, drawing the attention of the other police officers.
"Mom, wha- what are you doing here?" he asked. Was he still dreaming? How could she be here?
"I'm here for lunch with you and Iris," she said, wiping a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. "Did you forget?"
Barry was frazzled. He didn't have the slightest clue what to say. He wanted to talk to her, to figure out what had happened. He didn't remember much, everything was muddled, but he knew she shouldn't be alive.
"Where's dad?" he asked.
A look of confusion struck her wrinkled face. "Barry, your father has been dead for years."
This wasn't right. Everything was wrong. So he did what he always did. He ran.
He ran as fast as he could straight out the door. Every officer watched him as he left. Then he fell down the stairs on the way out of the police station.
"My speed," he muttered under his breath. Barry was the Flash, the fastest man alive. At least he was supposed to be. Instead he was as slow as any other human.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Everything had changed.
He was tempted to wait for his mom. It had been so many years since he'd seen her and all that he'd wanted to do was get justice for her murder. But this wasn't right, and he didn't know if he could trust her. So instead of risking it, he made his way to Star Labs. Maybe Caitlin and Cisco could help?
He didn't notice the newspaper under his foot. Its headline was relatively ordinary for the people of Central City.
"Citizen Cold and Plastique Thwart Rogues Yet Again."
Meanwhile, in Starling City, a man in a green hood chased his foe across a series of rooftops. He was slower than he used to be, but still quick enough to keep pace with any lowlife he found.
The hooded man – quiver and bow strapped to his back - and his prey approached the edge of the rooftop. The only thing in front of them was an asphalt street.
"There's nowhere to go, Bertinelli," he said. A voice change turned his voice into a deeper, more intimidating growl. It helped protect his identity as well as frighten his opponents.
The woman turned around. She was wearing a black biker suit and had a pistol strapped to each hip. Helena Bertinelli, world class assassin, deadly mercenary, was finally cornered.
"You've got me, Queen," she said with a grimace. "Now why don't you tell me what you want?"
He stepped forward until he was face to face with her. She barely had both feet on the roof's edge. She slipped, but he grabbed her before she fell. "Two days ago you murdered an officer from the Merlyn Global Group. I want to know who paid you." It had been a high profile murder, especially because many still blamed MGG for the Quake. Everyone suspected it was someone who lost a friend in the Quake, but some thought it may have been a stockholder trying to create a power vacuum.
"Sorry," she said sarcastically. "You know the rules, my employers are completely confidential."
"I know your social security number and have access to your computers," the hooded man replied. "I don't need you to tell me who it was, I can find out on my own. This will just save me a few hours."
She pursed her lips as she mentally weighed her options.
"Well, I'm not exactly a fan of heights," she said. "So I'll do you this favor if you do one for me."
"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth.
"Thomas Merlyn," she said.
He let go of her and processed what she had told him. Tommy controlled a large amount of MGG's stock, but did he really have the determination to have someone killed? Was he really following his father's path?
"Thank you," the hooded man said. And he meant it. He didn't actually have her social security number or access to her computers. It would have been immensely difficult to acquire this information any other way.
Unfortunately, she was a liability and would certainly pose a threat in the future. So before she could walk away, he gave her a quick nudge. It wasn't hard just a tiny shove.
She didn't even scream before she hit the ground.
He turned around to see a silent spectator. He was clad in red armor straight out of a sci-fi movie. The hooded man didn't even care to guess how long he'd been watching.
The armored vigilante just stood there, arms crossed. He was certainly passing judgement, but would never say so.
"Palmer," the hooded man said. "What do you want?"
"It's a shame," he said, shaking his head. "Waller wanted her on the Suicide Squad."
"Explain yourself," he barked. "I don't have time for you to beat around the bush."
Palmer extended his gloved hand, and a collection of lights appeared from it. Holograms appeared on the rooftop.
They represented a handful of vigilantes, mostly from Central or Starling City. Citizen Cold and Plastique, the metahumans from Central City, were present. Another man stood behind them, he was probably a different metahuman that they added to their "team." Wildcat, originally from Starling City, was the premier vigilante of Blüdhaven. Firestorm appeared, surprisingly enough. He rarely appeared publicly, and when he did it was to fight a metahumans threat. He didn't limit himself to any one city, unlike most vigilantes. But he was still a vigilante like the rest of them. The only one who seemed out of place was Amanda Waller, the director of ARGUS.
"The Hood?" Plastique asked. "You can't be serious. He's a murderer."
The hooded man didn't dignify her comment with a response.
"Can it," Director Waller piped in. The years had not been kind. She had probably eaten Jenny Craig whole. As she spoke, the surface of her chins rolled like waves, disappearing under her jacket. The hologram was disturbingly accurate. "The Hood is the one who started all of this. His input is ten times more valuable that any of yours."
"Anyway," Palmer said, before anyone else could interrupt. "We've decided to contact you in regards to the growing metahuman threat. Particularly the Rogues and the Man in Yellow."
"Looks like you've got a regular army here," he replied. "Not to mention ARGUS. Why can't you stop a handful of super-humans?"
"It's not just them," Citizen Cold explained. "It's what they represent. We have no idea how many of them there might be."
"Well let's do a head count," the Hood said. "There are four of you, though I'm not sure who that fourth one is. There are the half dozen you've locked up. And how many Rogues are there now? Five? Looks like we've got a pretty accurate count."
"And how many of them are hiding?" Plastique asked. "How many are still trying to figure out how to control their powers?"
"Ah, I see now," he replied. "Waller told you that they're all just poor lost souls who need guidance. Guidance from ARGUS of course. She has you believing that you're super heroes, doesn't she?"
None of them objected. Waller's face was starting to get red.
"If you so called 'heroes' take orders from the government, who decides who the villains are?" he asked. "What happens when ARGUS starts drafting metahumans? Like with their Task Force X."
"That task force," Waller interjected. "Is composed of criminals serving time."
"And who are these metahumans we're hunting?" he asked. "Upstanding citizens who occasionally rob banks?"
"He's got a point," Firestorm added. Holographic sparks flew from his hair into the other holograms, though they didn't seem to mind. "Metahumans are living weapons. Should any government be allowed to possess such power?"
"Should any person?" Plastique added, earning a nod from Citizen Cold.
"What right does the government have to take these people?" Wildcat added, finally voicing his opinion. "Doesn't this fall under the 'right to bear arms?'?"
"I don't recall the Constitution mentioning super-human abilities caused by dark matter," Palmer added. "They aren't technically protected by that law."
"The law doesn't officially recognize super-humans," Waller stated as a matter of fact. "Only ARGUS and the tabloids do. And that's how it must remain. If their existence becomes any more public then we could face a new arms race. So now all of you have to decide where you stand."
The vigilantes stood divided. Would they fight with ARGUS? Or stand aside?
"I'll stand with you Waller," Citizen Cold said. "I may not agree with your methods, but I cannot argue with your results."
"So will I," Plastique added. The man behind them nodded in agreement. That made three.
"Count me out," Wildcat said. His hologram dissipated into nothingness, leaving a gap in the ensemble of heroes.
All eyes fell to Firestorm. He had yet to pick a side.
"We'll think about it," he said. "Don't count on it." Then his hologram disappeared as well.
"Well?" Waller said, eyebrow raised. She was looking directly at the Hood. "Will you and your team join us?"
The Hood stood silent, still considering his options.
"I've fought alongside them before," Palmer said. "We're a force to be reckoned with. The idea is to form a League of Superhumans. Our enemies have alliances, why shouldn't we?"
"You have fun with your Superfriends, Palmer," the Hood replied. "My duty is here."