The Flash: Silent Whispers
Chapter One
"Jonathan, your food's getting cold!" shouted the woman, placing 3 plates on the table.
"I'm coming, mom! Just give me a…few more minutes," replied Jonathan, mashing a series of buttons on the console controller. His father sat next to him, trying to comprehend what was on the screen.
"So you're just able to…carry all of those blocks in your pocket? And a pickaxe?" asked his father.
"Pretty much. And you can build so much stuff in it!" exclaimed Jonathan, as he continued playing the game.
"David, could you help set the table?" asked the woman.
"Coming, Elena," said David, standing up and walking to the table, placing the forks and knives near each plate. He looked at her and smiled, before turning to see Jonathan continue playing the game.
"Hard to believe he's already 10," chuckled Elena. David kissed her on the forehead.
"I'm gonna get the pitcher of water. Is your dad coming home tonight?" asked Elena.
"Not tonight, his flight lands in a couple hours…yeah around 11 pm. So we'll probably see him for dinner tomorrow night," said David, his back turned to the window adjacent to the dining table.
What he couldn't hear was the window slowly creeping open, and an arm sneaking through the small crevice. Holding it open, a man stealthily stepped into the house from the window.
"Jonathan, you better come for din-"
Before David could finish, he found himself face to face with a man in an upside down pentagonal white mask, with two triangular eyes drawn on it. The mask also had drawings of stitches scrawled over the mouth.
Before David could scream, he felt a sharp pain in his lower abdomen, followed by another to his side. And another in his chest. A burning sensation shot through his body as he looked down, only to see pools of blood forming on his shirt.
"El-El…"
Elena walked into the dining table, only to see the masked man holding her dead husband by the collar.
"JONATHAN, RUN!" shouted Elena, picking up a plate and throwing it at the man's face.
Jonathan turned around, only to meet eyes with his dead father's. He was frozen solid as his mother rushed up to him, and held his face.
"Hide in the cabinet, go!" she whispered frantically. The man grabbed her by the hair and shallowly stabbed her in the stomach. Her scream seemed to break Jonathan out of his frozen state, and he ran for the cabinet in the living room.
Elena staggered back, but managed to dodge the man's attacks and punched him across the face. The mask lifted up a bit, revealing a sadistic smile across the man's bloodied lips.
Elena picked up a knife and aimlessly threw it at him, but the man grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the table. She tried fighting back and clawing at his mask, but the man forcefully began to open her mouth.
With one move, he sliced off her tongue, before stabbing the knife into her throat.
Elena fell to her knees and began to choke on her own blood, before falling to the ground.
Jonathan watched as he threw his mother aside and walked up to David, opening his mouth and slicing his tongue too, before picking both of them up and placing them on the cracked table.
The man looked around, and locked eyes with a paralyzed Jonathan. Fear rushed up his body as the man slowly put a finger to his lips, mimicking a hush. A wicked smile creeped up his lips as he pulled the mask down and left through the window.
"All units, 132 at Central City Bank, suspect confirmed to be Tony Woodward!" said the police scanner.
"Girder again? Ah well," said the man, clad in a red and gold spandex suit, complete with a white emblem and a gold lightning bolt in the centre of his suit. He closed his eyes, as lightning began to run up his body.
In an instant, the Flash began sprinting down the streets of Central City, weaving through traffic like an electric needle. The bolts of orange lightning behind him continued their streak to the bank.
Out of a large hole in the bank walked out a 7 foot tall man with pieces of steel and construction equipment stuck to his body, almost as if it was welded onto his skin.
"Girder! They let you out on good behavior?" asked Flash, crossing his arms. Girder grunted and dropped the bags, raising his arms.
Before his arms could hit the ground, a crackle of lightning seemed to erupt from Flash's body, as he shifted his entire body to the right and dodged Girder's attack.
"If that money is going into a liposuction, lemme tell you, I'll fund it myself! Though I feel you'd need electromagnets for yourself," taunted Flash, dodging a swing by Girder.
"Quit moving!" grunted Girder, trying to hit him again. The Flash ran behind Girder and slammed into his back, throwing him to the ground. Flash quickly shook his right arm, stopping his shoulder from tensing up.
Before Girder could get back up, Flash zoomed down the street, then turned around and ran back towards him, building up momentum and punching him directly in the face.
Girder was lifted off of his feet and he fell on his back, seeing figurative stars over his head. Flash walked up to the bags of money and rushed them back into the bank.
"You'll pay for this, Flash!" yelled out Girder incoherently, yet unable to get up.
"Yeah, yeah. Seems like the only busted thing is your jaw," replied Flash, chuckling as orange lightning began to envelop him, and the symbol on his chest. In an instant, he picked up slabs of concrete and placed them on Girder's chest.
"Enjoy getting out of that," he chuckled, zooming away down the winding streets of Central City. Citizens held onto their coffee cups as he whizzed past them, dodging cars and streetlights.
He felt a vibration in his pocket, and realized he was getting a call.
"Patty, hey! I'm just on my way," said Flash.
"I'm sending you an address, get there fast. Double homicide," replied Patty.
"I'm on my way," he replied.
Wiping off some dirt off of his shoe, forensic scientist Barry Allen ducked under the yellow tape around the house's porch. He instantly noticed footprints leading to and from a window at the side of the house, imprinted in the mud.
"There you are," said a blond woman in a brown coat. She wiped her spectacles and walked up to Barry.
"I tried calling you twice before, where were you?" asked Patty. Barry ran a hand through his messy blond hair, his stomach grumbling. Patty rolled her eyes and pinched her eyebrows.
"I was trying to get breakfast, but the barista was just way too slow with it. So I rushed out," replied Barry, blurting out an excuse.
"You'll be glad you didn't eat anything after you see the scene inside," said Patty, entering the house. Barry followed her, instantly seeing a trail of blood, leading to what looked like a severed tongue.
"Is that a… tongue?" asked Barry. Patty gestured to the two bodies covered by blue tarp on the floor.
Barry took out his forensic kit and began to examine the bodies of David and Elena Drake.
"So both tongues were sliced off with a sharp object. A knife or a blade. Oral thrombocytopaenia around the tongue suggests that the woman had her tongue cut off while she was alive, while the male victim's was done post mortem," remarked Barry, inspecting Elena's mouth.
"The perpetrator kept the tongues at the scene, so they weren't taken as trophies," said a man wearing a black turtleneck. He had jet black hair and wheatish tone of skin, and carried a notepad.
"August, hey," said Barry. "Where's Joe?"
"With Captain Singh, he's debriefing him about the scene. Speaking of which…Jesus Christ," sighed August, looking around the scene. Barry noted the marks on Elena's neck.
"The killer was wearing gloves, and he choked her. There may be some trauma to the larynx," suggested Barry. August walked around the place and gestured to Barry and Patty.
"He snuck in through the window," said August.
"I took an imprint of the footprints in the soil. I'll have the computer run the tread pattern, and pray to God it's a unique pattern," said Patty. "As for the window, I can't find anything else on it,"
"What about the child?" asked Barry. August pointed outside the window, where the young boy was sitting on a stretcher, a blanket around his shoulders as a police sergeant was talking to him.
"Looks like Joe is talking to him. Poor kid saw the whole thing," said August. The boy lightly nodded at Joe's answers, but was still trembling. As Joe left, the young boy's eyes met Barry's.
Barry saw the pain and fear in the young boy's eyes. In one night, his whole world was shattered. In one night, he saw both the people he loved the most get brutally slaughtered by a psychopath.
For a while it felt as if Barry and the young boy shared a mutual look in each other's eyes. The look of pain, of anxiety and of anger all in one. Barry knew all too well what that felt like.
"So far, John mentions a man wearing a "white, upside-down smiley mask" and he was using a knife when he attacked the family. He's tall, kind of skinny, and he wore a black suit," said Joe, walking up to August.
"It's not much, but it's a start," replied August.
"Barry, where were you?" asked Joe. Barry sighed and scratched his neck, leading to Joe rolling his eyes.
"Nevermind, Singh wants you and Patty to get working on any evidence right away. We'll have the body wheeled in for an autopsy. Heart, you and I are damage control, and figuring out any motive," informed Joe.
"Wonderful," said August, leaving the scene with Joe. Barry and Patty exchanged a look.
"I hope to God we find some evidence here," said Patty, examining the bodies once again.
"Looks like Mr Drake died of blood loss after multiple stab wounds, whereas Mrs Drake suffered far more. See the ecchymosis?" asked Patty.
"Yeah. So far, all we've got is footprints and a possible murder weapon being a knife," lamented Barry. Patty placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, we'll get enough evidence from the autopsy, trust me," she smiled. Barry smiled back and nodded.
"Think something's off about Joe?" asked Patty, seemingly changing the subject.
"How so?" remarked Barry, examining David's skin.
"Right, you wouldn't have noticed considering you disappear like 88% of the time," commented Patty.
"Come on now, is it THAT bad that I don't want to starve?" asked Barry. Patty shook her head and sighed, taking skin samples underneath Elena's nails and placing them in a plastic bag.
"Like I was saying, Joe seems much more…worried. Any idea what that could be about?" asked Patty. Barry thought for a moment, and something seemed to click in his head.
"His daughter is a reporter, and she sometimes bites off more than she can chew. He's probably worried she'll write about this story too," replied Barry.
"Oh, Iris? I've met her a few times, heard you two are close," said Patty.
"Yeah, she's uh…my best friend," said Barry. "Since childhood,"
"Hold on, you've known Joe since childhood?" asked Patty, amazed. Barry nodded his head.
"Ever since my mom's…accident, and dad's imprisonment, I stayed with my Aunt Esther. But Joe was…always there for me," said Barry, finding himself zoning out as he stared at a pebble at the scene, as if he was recalling something.
"Wanna…talk about it?" asked Patty, surprisingly expressing a modicum of concern. Barry snapped out of his reverie.
"Nah, it's fine. My shrink deals with it enough," joked Barry, going back to his work. Just then, he received a ping on his phone. His eyes went wide when he read it.
"I need to go, I had promised Iris I'll get coffee with her today. Send the footprint mould to the lab though, I'll get it analysed by tonight!" assured Barry, rushing out of the crime scene.
Barry ran into an alleyway and in a flash of lightning, was back in his red and gold outfit. Lightning emanated from the symbol on his chest as he dashed out of the alleyway and back onto the streets, running nearly as fast as the speed of sound.
"Crime alert pinged…Waid Museum," thought Barry, rushing to the scene. As he ran further, he felt the temperature begin to drop.
"Oh boy," he said out loud, realizing who he was dealing with. Just then, he felt his legs give way, as he slipped and fell forward, tumbling onto the ground.
"What the hell?" exclaimed Barry, getting on his feet. That's when he noticed that the whole street had been covered by a sheet of pure ice. Flash groaned and massaged his knee, which he had landed on when he fell.
"Funny thing about moving fast…you miss out on the small details," said a voice. Barry turned around and dodged a projectile, which looked a lot like a bolt-shaped icicle.
He followed the trajectory of the icicle to a man standing in front of a car. He wore a light blue fur parka with an eskimo hoodie, and blue goggles shielding his eyes. He held an odd shaped gun in his hands.
"Captain Cold. What's a guy like you doing robbing museums?" asked Flash, getting back on his feet.
"A whole building full of priceless stuff, worth millions on the black market, and you expect me to not try my chances?" asked Captain Cold, pulling the trigger and releasing a stream of concentrated ice towards Flash.
Barry quickly drifted to the left, but a part of the stream hit his left arm.
"ARGH!" he grunted, clutching his arm. Cold released another stream and hit him straight in the chest. Flash was sent flying back into a parked car. Barry quickly rolled out of the way of another blast.
He zoomed towards Captain Cold and clocked him across the face, sending him to the ground.
"Now then, Snart, let's wrap this up," said Barry, picking him up.
"Let me ask you a question, Flash. You've got lightning and thunder, so what do you get with ice?" asked Snart, sneering.
"FIRE!" shouted a large, grizzly voice. A huge stream of fire hit Barry, causing him to stagger back and let go of Captain Cold. A second man, wearing an all white protective suit with orange lining stepped forward. His goggles were orange and his gun seemed to be a smaller, modified flamethrower.
"How'd his suit not catch fire?" asked the man.
"Eh, layers of heat resistant fibres interwoven into the spandex, it's too complicated for you," said Barry, getting onto his feet. "Stuff like-"
"Modacrylic fibres, probably. Aim for the opening at his face!" interrupted Captain Cold. The duo raised their guns.
"Guys, guys! Before we continue, could I at least know what you call yourself? Hot Rod? Human Torch?" asked Flash, cocking his head to the right and chuckling.
"HEATWAVE!" shouted the man, causing Snart to roll his eyes.
"Hey, anything's better than "Captain Cold." I mean, how long did you think about that, 10 seconds?" mocked Flash. Snart grunted and shot out a stream of ice to the left, while Heatwave shot a concentrated stream of flames to Barry's right.
Flash cracked his knuckles as he ran in between the two of them. Time seemed to slow down around him as he turned Captain Cold's gun to face Heatwave, and turned Heatwave's gun to face Captain Cold. Both the streams were now facing each other.
Almost instantaneously, both streams of fire and ice hit each other and snuffed each other out. The blowback into the muzzle of both guns caused both Captain Cold and Heatwave to be launched backwards.
"And that concludes today's episode of Dumb and Dumber," joked Barry, going up to Heatwave and knocking him unconscious. However, as soon as he turned around, Captain Cold projected a massive ice wall between him and Flash.
"Seriously?" asked Flash, running up to the wall and punching a hole straight through it. However, just as he did so, Snart aimed his cold gun and froze Barry's leg.
"That's a head start. Adios, scarlet speedster!" waved Snart, as he rushed away from the scene and broke into a parked car, hotwiring it and speeding down the road.
"Come on!" exclaimed Flash, trying to move his leg in the sub zero temperatures around it. Eventually, he was able to excite his molecules enough to break apart the ice, but by then Snart was long gone.
"Flash!" shouted a voice. Flash turned around to see a bunch of police cars pull up. Joe West walked up to him.
"Sergeant, Snart got away. But I have his accomplice right here. Goes by the name, Heatwave," explained Flash, gesturing to the unconscious body.
August Heart speed-walked behind Joe and caught up to Flash, shaking his hand. "I recognize "Heatwave" here. He's Mick Rory, serial arsonist who went off the grid a few months back. Looks like he teamed up to be Cold's better half," chuckled August.
"We'll take it from here, Flash," said Joe. Barry noticed the scowls from the other police officers, and he nodded and rushed away from the scene.
"Been doing this for more than a year now, and the police force still seems to have a grudge against me. I guess they're right this time, I let Snart get away. I'll have to pick up his trail later," thought Barry, taking out his phone and noticing a text from Iris West.
IRIS: Where are you?
"Ah crap," muttered Barry, responding back.
"On my way."
"So yeah, he was spooked by whatever happened. And honestly, I can't even blame him. It's hard to get over watching a psychopath murder your parents in cold blood," said Barry, sipping on his latte while he talked to the woman opposite him. She wore a red sweater and had long, ginger-brown hair.
"I know what you mean. I just hope the kid stays okay," said Iris West, gulping down her iced mocha.
"Yeah. It just reminded me of…well…" started Barry, but drifted off.
"Hey, it's okay. You're going to get evidence to stop this maniac, I know it. You're a damn good forensic scientist, trust me," reassured Iris. She chuckled as she thought about a memory.
"What is it?" asked Barry.
"I remember when you'd come over for dinner, and you would only ask Joe questions about your mother's case, about how your dad was doing. If everything was okay," said Iris. "You even did your own mini-investigation,"
"It's why I decided to be a forensic scientist. If the same thing happened to some other kid out there, I can't let our "justice system" do this to them. And I'm afraid that I'll fail this kid. The look he gave me, Iris. It…it reminded me of myself. I can't let this happen again," said Barry, with steely determination.
"You know what I've noticed after knowing you for years now? When Barry Allen puts his mind to something, Barry Allen gets it done," replied Iris.
"And yet it's been nearly 15 years and I'm no closer in cracking my mom's case," lamented Barry.
"And someday, you'll have answers. But for now, I think it's best if you stay closer to the ground, in the present," replied Iris.
"Yeah. Anyway, what's your take on this whole thing? Seeing as how you're the one with a degree in journalism," said Barry.
"My experience? Serial killer. Unless maybe Mr and Mrs Drake did something specific to this guy, so much so that he broke in and cut their tongues off as revenge," suggested Iris, finishing her mocha.
"Something is definitely off. Are you going to be reporting on this?" asked Barry.
"If it pisses off my dad, then definitely," she joked. Barry chuckled with her. Iris stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder, giving Barry a hug.
"And hey, don't go off doing anything stupid, okay? I may be a journalist, but even I'd say that you can't investigate this by yourself," said Iris, before walking out the door.
"But someone else can." thought Barry.
That night, Barry sat at his desk and played with a Rubik's cube while a computer analyzed the footprint mould. In front of him was a massive pinboard propped up on an easel, displaying a map of Central City.
Barry kept thinking about the crime scene. Every inch of it had been burned into his brain.
The bodies.
The tongues.
The little boy's eyes as he sat on the stretcher.
Barry threw aside the cube and stood up, taking off the map on the pinboard. Underneath it was a collage of pictures, connected to each other by streaks of red tape, forming a complex web on the board.
At the centre of it all was one headline:
"Doctor Murders Wife, Son Finds Body."
Barry shook his head, trying to forget that memory. But it was scorched inside his head, his brain marked by it as if it were a branding iron. He walked back up to his desk and closed his eyes.
The memory was just fragments, and Barry could barely remember specifics. All he could remember was slinging his backpack on his shoulder while he walked home from a friend's house. That's when he heard a scream from his house.
"M-Mom?" Barry remembered asking, as he picked up his pace.
His memory suddenly cut to him inside his house, staring at his dad cradling his mom's dead body, a butcher knife embedded deep inside her heart.
"Barry, run…" whispered his father, tears streaming from his eyes.
Something flustered Barry about his memory, and it wasn't just about his mother's murder.
"What happened in those two minutes?" he asked himself. After when he picked up his pace, it was if his memory blacked out, and he found himself in the house. He had spent years trying to remember what happened in those two minutes.
He knew he couldn't remember because his brain had repressed some trauma, but why on the street? What happened that caused Barry to completely repress and forgot those two minutes before he found his mother's body?
Barry rubbed his eyes, remembering that in the past 15 years of trying to recall the memory, he was only able to recall one thing: A hazy, blurry image of a man walking up to him.