The Flash: Silent Whispers
Chapter Four
August walked up to the stairwell to the roof of the precinct, a cool wind breezing past his coat as he stepped onto the concrete. The lights of Central City blinked behind him, stretching on for miles.
He walked up to the ledge and looked out at the city. Blurs of red headlights rushing by in the street, orange and white lights from windows flickering on and off in the high rises, and neon shop signs shining bright. Everything happening in the blink of an eye.
And despite the beauty of this city, August seemed to have seen the worst of it. Beneath the dazzling lights and vigilantes in red, Central City seemed to attract the worst psychos. Not as bad as Gotham, but still enough to scar its citizens.
He could still remember the twisted grin etched on his face. The white makeup on his face and the blood red tint in his soulless eyes. The glint from the knife in his hand blinding young August as the man walked past him.
"Run, August!"
"August!"
"August?" asked a voice. August jolted out of his cerebral reverie and turned around, face to face with the Red Blur of Central City, who was holding two cups of coffee.
"You know, I've half a mind to arrest you right now," said August, clearing his throat. Flash smiled awkwardly and handed August a cup of coffee.
"Barry asked me to meet with you once I interrogate James Jesse. He also warned me that you're not the biggest fan of me," added Flash, walking to the ledge with August.
"It's not that I'm not a fan of you. It's just that the case is sensitive enough without any extraneous influence. I didn't want to take that risk," explained August. Flash put his hands up.
"It's understandable, but you'll be glad you took said risk. Jesse is Murmur's next target," said Flash. August whipped his neck towards Barry.
"You're kidding," he replied.
"Not even a bit. He had deduced all of Murmur's patterns before we did. According to him, Murmur wanted us to find him to give us a sporting chance, so to speak," explained Flash.
"And how do we know he's not playing us?" asked August.
"Truth be told, I've got no idea either. It all seems suspicious if you ask me," replied Flash. August took a deep breath, then stared back to the city.
"How do you do it?" asked August.
"Do what?" asked Barry.
"Keep up in a city that's moving faster than all of us. A few years back all that bothered Central City was your standard mugger. On occasion you'd have the dressed-up psycho. Now it feels like there's freaks on every corner of the city," lamented August, sipping his coffee.
"Truth be told, I haven't figured it out either. Part of me is scared that I'm…I'm living too fast. Not taking in the time enough, if you get what I mean," replied Flash.
"Come on, a guy like you who could get anything done in a second? You never even have to worry about getting late to work," replied August, getting a knowing chuckle out of Flash.
"But no, I get what you mean. Sometimes it's hard to just slow down and live, especially with jobs like ours," continued August, taking in a sharp breath.
"I'll have a squad bring James to the precinct, we'll arrange an escort to take him to a secure location," said August.
"Are you sure?" inquired Barry.
"Murmur is ahead of us. We can't risk anything at this point. Besides, if he's saying the truth, there's no way Murmur will get to him. And if he's lying, he's not getting away either," said August, resolve in his tone.
"Got it," said Flash.
"And tell Barry thanks from me, for connecting us," said August, chuckling. Flash nodded and sped away.
August turned back to face the city, as the old memory continued to play in his head. The man in clown makeup held his sister by the hair, and drove the knife straight through her face.
The walls of Iron Heights Penitentiary's visiting center grew mold all over the edges, as Barry sat at one of the tables. Upon the ringing of a bell, inmates clad in orange shuffled inside the room.
Barry's eyes fixated on an older man, around his early 60s, walking inside the room. The badge on his orange jumpsuit read "Henry Allen." His eyes lit up as soon as he saw Barry sitting there.
"Hey, Bar," said Henry, sitting on the other side of the circular table.
"Hey, dad. I know it's been a while since I could visit, I've just been swamped with work," explained Barry, sighing and rubbing his forehead. His father squinted at him.
"Have you been sleeping? At all?" he asked, a worried look on his face. Barry looked back up and cleared his throat.
"Yeah, I've been getting enough sleep. A good 6 to 7 hours," he fibbed. Henry didn't break his stare.
"Okay, fine. I haven't been getting enough rest," confessed Barry. "There's just…a lot's been happening. On one hand there's this murderer going around and we finally have a lead, I'm caught up in between Joe and Iris' feud, and for some reason the nightmares are bac, and-"
Henry placed his hand on Barry's, giving it a squeeze.
"Son, breathe," he instructed. Barry stopped, and took a deep breath.
"Everything's just going so fast, dad," lamented Barry, looking back at his father, seeking some semblance of comfort.
"You know, physics tells us that motion is a matter of perspective. Barry, have you ever thought that instead of everything going so fast around you, you're not the one who is going too fast through it all?" asked Henry.
Barry lay back in the chair, taking in everything.
"Son, you cannot live your life at a million miles per hour. Like your mom used to say, take it one day at a time instead of all at once," advised Henry. Barry nodded, smiling at the memory.
"Now, tell me how are things going outside of work," smiled Henry.
"So, uhh…Iris and I have been going out more. And Patty is warming up to me, at least. Other than that, nothing much," said Barry. "What about you?"
"Well, there haven't been a lot of shankings recently. So that's a plus. Robert and I have mostly been sticking with the old group, playing cards during the break and whatnot," said Henry.
"How do you have more friends in prison than I do in real life," joked Barry, prompting a laugh out of Henry.
"It's not easy finding people like you, Barry. That's the downside of being one in a million," replied Henry. "But there's billions on the planet. You're most definitely going to find people that you could relate to more," reassured Henry.
"I really hope so. I won't lie, it does get lonely sometimes," sighed Barry. "But I'm glad you're here, dad,"
"Like I said, son. Slow down, don't run through your life like you always have been. Be it rushing through school or making sure you graduate college a year early. If prison has taught me anything it's that sometimes we just need to take everything in, rather than rush through it all," replied Henry.
"Speaking of which, I think I'm close," said Barry.
"To?" asked Henry, curiously.
"Figuring out what happened that night. I'm getting those flashes again, of where I was. For the life of me I could never figure out what happened, but I know I'm getting there," explained Barry.
"And even if you find a way to explain everything, how is that going to help you, Barry?" asked Henry.
"It'll help you! You could get out of this hellhole, live free again," reasoned Barry.
"Barry, I don't want you visiting the past like this. Especially dwelling on traumatic events like that. We had agreed that you would let this go," replied Henry, sternly.
"I know, but that was before I started getting my memories back. I'm so close to remembering what happened that night. What or who I may have seen, but you won't even tell me what you saw," replied Barry, getting flustered.
"Because there was nothing to see. By the time I heard the shriek, your mother had been stabbed and you were almost home," explained Henry.
"Dad, I remember walking home and then suddenly finding myself at the doorway with you trying to stop mom's bleeding. How did I forget walking from down the street to arriving at the door. I think I saw who did it, but I've forgotten," countered Barry.
"Bar, this isn't healthy. Every therapist and doctor told you that it's just repressed memories caused by trauma," reiterated Henry.
"But what if I did see something, or someone? Some clue as to who ruined our lives-"
"Barry. Stop," interrupted Henry. Barry stopped mid-sentence, meeting Henry's disappointed eyes.
"You have enough to deal with. Don't add something from a decade ago to the burden you already have on your shoulders. For my sake, Barry. Please?"
requested Henry.
Barry took in a sharp breath and then nodded. Just then, the bell rang.
"I guess that's it for today," said Henry. "Take care, Barry, and remember: Slow down and focus on the future," he continued.
"Yeah, I know," replied Barry, waving goodbye to his father as he joined the crowd of inmates as they left through the door. Barry's eyes lingered on the table, a small spark of lightning emanating from his finger.
"Hey, Nat. Yeah, I'm really sorry but I don't think I'll make it for dinner tonight. I'm really sorry, honestly," sighed August into the phone. Patty curiously walked up to him, holding a cup of coffee.
"August, it's our anniversary dinner. You know it took a really long time to get this reservation," replied Natalie, sounding equally exhausted over the phone. August pinched his eyebrows.
"We'll figure something out, okay? I promise," said August.
"Please try and keep it this time," replied Natalie, cutting the call. Patty gingerly offered him the cup of coffee.
"Hard night?" she asked him. August sipped on his coffee, mulling over a response.
"Took us 2 months to get that reservation. And now I had to leave it behind because of this. Just perfect," replied August, looking out of the window and at the convoy getting ready in the parking lot.
"What's his name? Jesse James?" asked Patty.
"James Jesse. He'll be escorted here anytime now. After that, the convoy escorts him to a safehouse. Meanwhile, we'll have another team keeping track of anything unusual, in case Murmur decides to strike," explained August.
"Are we sure Murmur would attack only Jesse? And not, I don't know, switch up his victims?" asked Patty.
"Serial killers tend to follow a very strict modus operandi. Murmur's victims have followed a consistent pattern so far, I doubt he's going to want to break that pattern now," explained August. Patty nodded in return, as a trail of black cars pulled into the parking lot.
"There he is. Joe, let's move," called out August. From across the precinct, Joe nodded as the two of them made their way out of the precinct.
"Where's Barry?" asked Joe. "Thought he was your ride along,"
"He wanted to go help Iris out with…something. Honestly, I have no idea. He just muttered something about Iris and ran," said August. They walked up to James.
"Mr Jesse, all of this is for your safety. We will be escorting you to a secure location, until the threat of this serial killer dies down," explained Joe. James snickered and laughed.
"You don't need to explain anything, detectives. We all have tricks up our sleeves," he replied. August raised an eyebrow as James entered the backseat of the fourth car.
"I'm gonna sit with him," said August, following James and entering the car just before the door closed. Joe cocked his head, before shrugging and sitting in the car behind them.
From a nearby rooftop, Barry stood and watched the convoy get set up. Barricades had been set on the streets ahead. Despite the fact that it was meant to be covert, the barricades would certainly draw attention.
"I'd better be on guard for anything suspicious," thought Barry, pulling the cowl over his face.
"Okay, we're clear. Move!" commanded director Singh, as the convoy drove out of the precinct in a single file, James and August's car in the center of the line. Barry leaped across the rooftops, making sure to keep an eye on the convoy.
Inside the car, James seemed much quieter than he normally was. August noted how he was fidgeting with his fingers.
"You're going to be safe," reassured August. "We're going to catch that son of a bitch,"
Just then, his phone began to ring. August checked who was calling: Natalie.
"Girlfriend?" asked James. August chuckled.
"Wife," he replied.
"Pick up the call," suggested James. August shook his head.
"I can call her later, after all of this," said August.
"Detective, picking up your wife's call isn't going to affect this convoy," urged James, cracking a smile. August hesitated, but picked up her call.
"Hey," he started.
"Okay, so dinner is off. But if you get home by around 11, we could do a movie night?" asked Natalie.
"Sure! Which one?" asked August, trying to hide the ecstasy in his voice.
"We're watching Legally Blonde again. Don't lie, I know you love it," joked Natalie. August chuckled.
"How could I not?" he replied. "I'll see you then, love you," he finished, cutting the call. He looked up and saw a comical smile carved up James' face.
"I'm sorry, you two are just so cute," remarked James. August smiled back at him.
As the convoy continued snaking down the streets, Joe got a ping on his handheld transceiver.
"Lieutenant West, we have some suspicious activity some streets away. It's out of the perimeter, however," said the officer.
"Send a squad car to investigate. Make sure the convoy remains undisturbed," replied Joe.
"Understood. Sending it n-"
The officer's signal suddenly cut it off. And just then, Joe heard a slight boom from nearby.
Barry whipped his neck to a nearby street adjacent to the convoy's path, where an explosion had just taken place. The Flash raced down the building to the scene. Two police officers were trapped under an overturned car.
Flash managed to pull the two of them out of the rubble, but the fire was still spreading.
"Need to contain the flames!" he thought, as he held out his hands and began to rotate them counterclockwise at super speed, generating large gusts of wind. However, the wind started to spread the fire further.
"I can't take them out that way. If I rotate my hands clockwise instead of counterclockwise, it should create a horizontal upthrust and suck the air out of the fire, removing any oxygen and smother the flames," thought Flash.
He aimed his hands directly at the flames and this time spun them clockwise. Sure enough, air began getting sucked into his direction, causing the fires to shrink and extinguish.
Back in James' car, August transceiver began to beep.
"Detective, there's been an explosion nearby. It may or may not be connected to the convoy. The Flash was at the scene to contain it," said the officer.
"The Flash is here?" asked James.
"Send more men to help the injured officers, but continue with the convoy. I doubt it's Murmur," said August.
"We have the Flash?" asked James.
"Apparently. Let's hope that explosion was the biggest problem of the night," sighed August.
Barry examined the area, noticing pieces of shrapnel on the ground. He picked it up and began to examine it.
"Scorch marks and gunpowder residue. Potassium nitrate, possibly? This was definitely part of some sort of incendiary device," deduced Barry, until he examined other pieces of shrapnel around the place.
"This isn't shrapnel from a grenade. This is metal from a…car engine," said Flash. His eyes darted between the metal, the dazed and injured police officers and the overturned car.
James was twiddling his thumbs and seemed to be giggling, as he looked out the window of the car.
"What's got you so excited?" asked August.
"The Flash is here," replied James.
"I know you've met him. Seems like he's made quiet an impression on you," remarked August.
"Oh, indeed. On both of us," replied James.
"Us?" asked August.
"Remember what I said before we got in the car?" asked James, unflinching.
"No," replied August, feeling an air of uneasiness in the car.
"I said, that we all have tricks up our sleeves," replied James, turning to face August, an even larger grin on his face. August reached for his gun, but James kicked him in the face and took out a cord of rope, tying it around the driver's throat.
Barry took the transceiver from one of the cops and rushed away from the scene of the explosion, pressing the button to contact Joe.
"Lieutenant West," said Joe.
"Lieutenant, stop the convoy! There are bombs in the car engines!" exclaimed Flash, frantically.
"Who is this?" asked Joe. Despite sounding steely, there was a hint of worry in his tone.
"It's the Flash. There's no time to explain, just stop the convoy and get away from the perimeter!" exclaimed Barry. He zoomed past the barricade and ran alongside the first car. In the blink of an eye, he disassembled the hood of the car.
However, there was no bomb in the engine. Time slowed down around Barry even further, as he began to survey the environment. And that's when he noticed something.
There were cars parked alongside the street. And as soon as Barry ran towards them, he was enveloped in a brilliant white light. Time resumed to its normal speed, as the parked cars exploded along the convoy. The police cars crashed into each other and overturned, as the Flash was sent flying back into the chaos.
Barry opened his eyes, the smell of smoke choking him as he coughed his lungs out. As soon as he stood up, he noticed his suit was in tatters.
"Need to save the others..." thought Flash, limping towards police officers and helping them out of the wreckage. He managed to safely pull an unconscious Joe to safety, before dialing up a number.
"Patty? Tell Singh there's been an attack. Send EMT units to Weissman Avenue," groaned Flash, cutting the call and rushing to get everyone away from the wreckage that surrounded the place.
August spat out blood as he came to his senses. He was trapped underneath the backseat of the car, his face against the cracked window. Summoning whatever strength he had, he punched the window. But it didn't budge.
August grit his teeth as he punched it again, and again, and again. Until it finally gave way. He grabbed the edges of the door and pulled himself out, crawling out of the car. He turned around, only to realize that James Jesse was missing.
"Son of a bitch," he scowled, struggling to get on his feet. His vision started to blur, as he fell again. Amidst the flame, he saw two figures. One man wore a black suit and had a mask with a smile on his face, and August recognized who it was.
"Murmur…" he groaned. But the second man seemed different. He wore a blue and orange jumpsuit, with blue diamond shaped mascara around his eyes. Before August could do anything, the duo disappeared in the smoke.
"August? August!" exclaimed a voice. August craned his neck the other way and noticed a man in a tattered red and gold suit limp towards him, helping him sit up.
"Flash?" coughed August, before losing consciousness again.
August opened his eyes and found himself on a stretcher inside a stationary ambulance. Firefighters were putting out the fire, as Joe sat next to him.
"You doing better?" asked Joe.
"Just dandy," scoffed August, pressing his palms to his forehead and getting out of the ambulance. Joe tried to stop him, but he knew better than to talk to August when he was irate.
"Detective Heart, I think you should see this," said an officer, showing him a video on the phone. "This was broadcast live after the convoy attack,"
August pressed play on the recording, which featured the same blue and orange clad man at the scene of the wreckage.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Central City! I think it's time you meet the latest Rogue to grace your beautiful, pitiful city. Me, The Trickster! As of today, I played the ultimate trick on not just the incompetent police department, but also on the Scarlet Speedster you hold so dear…" announced the Trickster, zooming in on an unconscious Flash after the explosion.
"And by the way, yes my dear police officers, I AM WITH MURMUR! Unfortunately, he's asked to not be seen. But just know that the two of us are going to murder again and again and again until we both feel satisfied, which is probably going to be in a million years. AHAHAHAHAHAHA, TILL NEXT TIME!" shouted Trickster, ending the recording.
"Fucking hell, that's Jesse. He played us," cursed August, handing the officer the phone. Just then, a familiar face entered the scene of the crime.
"What happened here?" asked Barry, hoping his speed healing got rid of some of the bruises.
"Murmur happened. He and Jesse tricked us. Now most of the precinct is injured, and God knows what the two of them are up to," sighed August. Without warning, he kicked the wreckage right next to him in anger.
"I cancelled my anniversary dinner for this? To have another psycho be let loose and have so many injuries on my hands," lamented August, kicking the wreckage again.
"No matter what I'm JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO SAVE ANYONE!" shouted August, destroying pieces of the wreckage. Barry held him by the shoulders.
"Hey, hey. It's not your fault, it's genuinely not. Take it easy," reassured Barry. August took a breath, then walked up to the curb and sat down, burying his face in his palms. Barry sat down next to him.
"I ever tell you why I decided to join the police force?" asked August. Barry shrugged.
"You've alluded to it," he said.
"When I was a kid, my dad was a cop. He made the mistake of hunting down this serial killer calling himself "The Clown." Bastard found out where we lived. Unfortunately, the day he decided to pay us a visit, it was just me and my sister at home. Roughed me up, slashed my stomach with a knife, but I guess he decided to take it all out on my sister," said August, sniffling.
"Beat both of us up and stabbed her through the face with a machete, making sure I was there to see it all," he continued. "And the cops never caught him, probably because my dad stopped chasing him down. My parents' marriage didn't last long either, and a year later my mom attempted suicide. She went to the psych ward and dear old dad turned to the bottle. As soon as he sent me to college, he disappeared too," finished August.
Barry didn't know what to say, but he knew where August was coming from.
"It's why I decided to join the police force. If they can't do the right thing, then I sure as hell can try. But now it just feels like I'm failing everywhere, work and personal life," said August.
"I decided to be a forensic scientist for a similar reason," said Barry.
"I know. Your mom's death, and how your dad was framed," said August.
"It's not the whole story. As much as I know my dad was framed, something else happened that night. Something I can't explain. And part of me is scared that I'll have my answers someday. And that it'll be just as scary as not knowing what happened," said Barry.
"Guess we both have unfinished business when it comes to cold cases and Central City," replied August.
"Unfortunately, we do," said Barry. "But we're not going to let Murmur and Trickster become another cold case," reassured Barry.
"At the rate things are going, we'd be lucky to get another lead regarding Jesse and Murmur's whereabouts. I just hope the Flash knows what he's doing when it comes to this," remarked August.
"Yeah, me too." Replied Barry.
