I do not own Young Justice
A Speedster's Providence
Unit 146
.
.
.
It all happens so quickly.
Abra's wand is snatched from his grasp, the villain floundering as he becomes swept up by a sudden, violent gust of wind.
The 'wind' persists, a miniature tornado forming. Abra's feet are elevated from the pedestal the would-be magician had made of a nearby truck – his limbs flailing in attempts to right himself.
The crowd that had been enraptured by his earlier showmanship bear witness to him being unceremoniously deposited unto the pavement below, furious yet disoriented.
The direction of the gale-like air currents abruptly shifts, moving towards the giant saw construct that had been set up to be the Flash's demise. The tornado bounces the saw from where it hovered over the beloved hero's body. The tool flies through the air, crashing into a few light posts and a fire hydrant before finally coming to a stop.
Wallis' focus is all on the tornado, as it moves a final time to settle right beside her uncle.
More accurately, her gaze is trained on the humanoid figure at the centre of the small-scale phenomenon.
Everything had happened so fast.
But she couldn't bring herself to expect anything less.
Not with another Speedster involved.
Unit 147
.
.
.
As the winds died down and the dust settled, a stunned silence permeated the scene as onlookers got their first look at just who was in the midst of the vortex.
Once Wallis caught sight of the person – as clear a view as her location afforded – her body that had been coiled with tension, stiffened further.
He.
The Speedster that had made an impromptu appearance was a 'he' – and a 'he' that she recognized.
Perhaps it was in the way the Speed Force appeared to expand and wrap itself around him – as a parent would surround his/her child in a welcoming embrace – warm, familiar.
Or maybe it was because of the outfit he donned – a red and white spandex suit complete with red gloves and boots.
Wallis shook her head, though the action did little to ease the building pressure she felt within her skull.
She watches, fascinated yet apprehensive, as the boy nonchalantly snaps Abra's wand.
Immediately the saw construct crumbles and whatever force had been holding the Flash down dissipates, the older Speedster shooting to his feet.
The new Speedster glides up to her uncle and beams.
Barry, for his part, just stares.
Unit 148
.
.
.
Prioritize.
The Flash had to prioritize.
He doesn't immediately start to question the kid that had so…speedily rescued him. He's a hero and his first order of business is securing the villain.
So he zips over to where a livid Abra had already risen to his feet and delivers one of the nastiest right hooks he's thrown in a while.
Barry snorts coldly as Abra's body crumples to the ground.
The villain would live, but he'd have one hell of a headache when he regained consciousness.
Normally after defeating a new criminal, he'd tie them up and – with them at his feet – squeeze in a post-battle interview or just bask in the admiration of his onlookers. Then if he could, he'd hand-deliver them to the precinct. Maybe he'd even slap on a bow just to make the moment that much more special.
But for now –
His eyes lock onto the newly arrived Speedster
– he had to prioritize.
All too aware of the cameras trained on them, Barry straightens to his full height.
"You," he addresses the young boy, "With me."
He speeds off.
The young speedster follows at his heels.
Unit 149
.
.
.
"Man, I never thought that I'd get to run with you, grandpa!"
Had the two been running and not standing in a clearing at the outskirts of Central City, just maybe Barry would've tripped over his feet.
Flabbergasted, he sputters, "I am not that old."
Beyond a yellow visor, brightly-coloured eyes appraise him, "Well, you aren't right now."
The Flash grimaces at the implication of the teen's words, all while cataloguing his appearance – a slender frame adorned with red and white spandex, red boots and gloves.
Anyhow, he looks like a Speedster.
More importantly – he feels like one.
The Speed Force was absolutely…giddy.
"So," the boy drawls, taking the initiative to break the sudden stalemate, "Sixty-fourth-century tech can be such a pain, am I right?"
"'Sixty-fourth century'? Is that when you're from?"
"Nope! That's waaay ahead of my time grandpa."
There's that word again – he's in his early thirties okay!
Barry pinches the bridge of his nose, realizing that he's going to have to give more direction to the conversation.
"Okay, different question," he sighs, "Who are you?"
The kid vibrates on spot.
"I'm your grandson – Bartholomew Allen."
He throws his arms wide open.
"Bring it in grandpa!"
Unit 150
.
.
.
"Flash!"
"Kid!" Barry whirls around when he hears Wallis' voice, "What are you doing here?"
He tries to block the view of his supposed grandson.
But this was Wallis – his lovely, yet meddlesome niece.
So obviously she ignores his question to make an enquiry of her own.
"Who's he?"
"Your cousin, cousin!" Bartholomew declares jubilantly. He darts from behind Barry, hands out and fingers spread, as if making a grand reveal.
His stance wilts when his response is met with Wallis' solemn and unimpressed stare.
"Well first cousin once removed," he pouts.
"Never mind," Barry frowns, "Now is not the time or the place."
He doesn't want the situation to get any more out of hand. This thing with the kid – the apparent future one – was unpredictable enough without the addition of his kid here.
Barry addresses his niece sternly.
"I need you to go home."
"But –"
"No buts."
Unsurprisingly, her hackles rise.
"But Flash –"
"I can't do this with you here Kid."
"Ooooh!" the boy interrupts excitedly, "Can we do it at the Watchtower then?"
There's silence before Wallis enquires, suspicious, "…the Watchtower?"
When Barry glowers at him, Bartholomew has the wherewithal to look abashed.
"Oops…spoiler."
A/N: It's been a long while, I know.
The first thing I have to say is that I have a lot of catching up to do with the YJ universe as it is, so please bear with me.
Secondly, I'd like to say that I appreciate everyone that has followed, favourited and/or reviewed. Thank you.
Constructive criticism/comments/queries/suggestions are welcomed.
Thanks for reading.
U.P.: Sign Out
