Tag: mu

League of Justice #2.7: “He That Outlives This Day”

Metropolis

Clark Kent sat in a student lounge on the campus of Metropolis University watching the Weather Channel. He should have been studying for his economics midterm, but something had caught his eye. The anchor was speaking:

“Hurricane Chris is brewing in the North Atlantic. Chris was a tropical storm just yesterday and today it is a category three hurricane. It is off the Grand Banks, and doesn’t look to make landfall, it should spin itself out without harming anyone, except we now have news of a fishing vessel that hasn’t reported in yet. We go now to our reporter on the scene, Dave. Dave?”

“Thanks, Bill. I am here in Gloucester, Massachusetts, home base of the Abby Gale. The Abby Gale left port nearly two weeks ago. She has been last reported some 200 miles off of Sable Island. Her crew of six has not been heard from since. It is possible that their trajectory has taken them into the heart of Hurricane Chris. If that is the case, we fear they may be lost at sea.”

It suddenly hit Clark: I can save those people. I could fly there and I could rescue them!

It was a scary thought. Who was he to rescue people lost at sea over a thousand miles away? Well, who was he to not try? As a matter of fact, he was the only man on the planet that could do anything about it. With that, his mind was set.

Clark had no idea how far or how fast he could fly. He had been practicing in short bouts all his life, but feared to go too far or too fast in case something went wrong and he couldn’t fly back home. His father, Jonathan Kent, had forbid him from using his powers in order to keep his extraterrestrial origin a secret. But this time, Clark just couldn’t sit by and do nothing. He, for the first time in a long time, new exactly what the right thing to do was, and knew that he could do it. He would be damned if he wasn’t at least going to try.

Gathering his books, Clark stowed them in a locker. He slipped out the door and into the dark alley behind the student lounge. Zipping up his scarlet “MU” hoodie, he launched himself into the air. Rising fast, he soon was above the cloud bank that hung low over Metropolis. He was thankful for the overcast night, as it gave him cover from eyes that might see from the ground. He pointed himself east and was off. He kept his arms by his side, his legs straight out behind. He had never quite understood the mechanics of how he was able to fly, he just had always known he could. As a kid he had floated around his room, rather than walking, until his mother caught him floating and hanging from the ceiling fan, spinning in a lazy circle. From then on it was walk or be swatted on the butt.

But lately he had been experimenting a bit more, and found that the general mechanics of flight applied to him despite the specific mechanics of his flight. Clark knew that he could fly at least sixty miles per hour as he had once raced a semi (unbeknown to the semi) and had kept pace above it on the highway. But, at that speed, it would take way too long to reach the north Atlantic Ocean and the Abby Gale. So he pushed. It was more of a mental effort than a physical one, a quickening of the mind than body. It was mentally like kicking your legs in a pool to swim faster, though to do so physically would actually slow him down. Despite his defying of gravity, the physics of drag still applied. Clark mentally shook his head. This was why he was studying economics, not physics. Physics was confusing as hell.

Clark could feel himself going faster. For one thing, the skin on face was being pushed back. He had no idea how fast, but faster. He pushed even harder and flew even faster. He kept this up for an hour or more, but now he was flying into the dawn. Huh, that’s a problem, he thought. The only way to continue to keep out of sight was to go higher, which solved another problem: distance. He knew that planes often traveled in a parabolic arc over the earth to cut down on time while lengthening distance. The longer path is sometimes the quicker path over the surface of a sphere. So Clark banked.

A few hours later, in early morning, he had reached the eastern seaboard of the United States. He crossed over the ocean and was flying north. Off in the distance his super human sight could make out the clouds of the storm wall. This was it. Banking downwards, he entered the storm. He was pelted by rain and wind, which made it hard to see. He wished he had thought to wear something warmer than a hoodie. The hood had swept off his head some time ago and was fluttering behind him like a tiny red cape. Clark thought he probably looked a bit dorkish, but there was no one around to see him, fortunately.

His blue jeans were soaked by the swirling rain, but he flew on. He had no choice now. He couldn’t very well stop with nothing but stormy ocean beneath him.

There!

Clark spotted the ship. It was being tossed on seventy foot tall waves, the out riggings groaning and whipping in the weaving, bobbing motion. Now what? Do I grab them one by one and fly them somewhere? Hello, my name is Clark and I can fly you out of here. How do you think I got here in the first place? Clark shook his head. Too much explaining and too much recognition. His anonymity would be blown to hell. Well, there is another way… Clark knew he could lift heavy objects, but again, how heavy was unknown to him. Once, as a kid, he had lifted his mother’s car off the ground to stop it from rolling over a little kitten. His mom nearly had a heart attack, but the kitten lived, oblivious to its near demise.

Clark dove into the churning ocean beneath the boat, instantly soaking what parts of his clothes weren’t already. This is gonna suck flying home, he thought. Swimming up to the bottom of the boat, he placed each hand flat on the hull and pushed harder than he had ever pushed before. The boat began to rise slowly. It was hard to concentrate with the wind and waves and everything twisting and seething and all the noise and thunder crash and lightning flash and rain pelt and…Clark centered himself. His mother, long ago, had taught him to drown out all noise and confusion and to concentrate on a single thought, a single mantra. Higher…higher…higher, he thought and everything else faded away.

Being careful to keep the ship level, Clark steadily flew out of the ocean, and then up above the swirling clouds. He was sure the fisherman were startled and probably scared witless, but they couldn’t exactly see him. He changed his angle of flight ever so slightly so that not only was he flying up, but also out of the storm. It took some time, as he flew slower under such a heavy load, but he managed to fly boat and all souls out of the path of the hurricane. He took them south west, towards safe harbor, and lowered himself and boat back down onto a calmer ocean. He held his breath as he once again slipped beneath the sea. From under the ocean, he saw the ship’s propellor start turning, and the boat motored off towards shore. Clark waited until it was gone from sight before launching himself from the ocean into the upper atmosphere. Actually, the faster he flew the faster his clothes dried in the wind of flight. Soon he was only damp, not soggy. He turned west, and flew back towards Kansas.

Actually in mid flight he fell asleep, but his subconscious mind kept him on course, but not on course for MU, but home. Something in his subconscious wanted to be safe, and safe was home. Also, as he flew closer he flew lower, and just as he was out over cornfields and farms he flew over a lonely section of nearly deserted county highway. There was only a single motorcyclist on the road. The sound of the engine woke him up and he swooped up above the clouds. He hoped desperately he hadn’t been seen. Clark looked around in confusion. Where am I? but then he saw the familiar green silo of the Kent farm and figured out what had happened. Drifting in the direction of the barn, he flew into the open second story window and let himself crash into the baled hay in the barn loft.

He instantly fell back asleep.

In Boston harbor, a group of eight fisherman aboard a ship called the Abby Gale were having a hard time explaining how they escaped a hurricane.

League of Justice #1.9: “His Quietus Make”

Central City, Missouri

“Well, as far as I can tell, nothing is wrong with your vision. Perfect 20/20. As to why your vision suddenly got better and why your eyes changed color, I’m really sorry, but I can’t say.”

“Thanks, doc. I’m glad to know nothing’s wrong at any rate.”

“Well, there I can say: you are just fine.”

Barry Allen exited the ophthalmologist’s office reassured but still uneasy. It had been more than a week since his lightning accident, and he still didn’t have answers. And it wasn’t just his vision or his eye color that had changed. He was thinking quicker, moving quicker, everything about his life seemed faster somehow. And he couldn’t explain it. The best possible solution sounded like something out of a comic book: lightning combined with random chemicals, and charged heavy water mutated his cells. While such events weren’t unprecedented, usually death followed such mutations. As a rule, random mutations that were not evolutionarily based tended to be unhelpful. Cancer was a mutation. So were most genetic disorders. Mutation of things in the human body was usually a recipe for disaster. Somehow, Barry’s mutation was beneficial. Somehow, the lightning, the nature of the chemicals and his groundbreaking heavy water formula induced a quickening in Barry’s cells. He had noticed his metabolism was also getting faster. It was harder to get drunk, he was eating twice as much as normal and had lost extra fat around the edges.

Without a solid explanation and with a test group of exactly one, the only thing to do was to keep careful notes and go about his business. And business today was LexCorp. Lex Luthor’s mega-billion dollar corporation had research divisions into everything, and today’s research was heavy water. The experiment, despite the lightning, was still a success and Barry still had to present his results.

The LexCorp building was an smallish skyscraper, modest by Lex Luthor’s standards. The L-shaped Zephrymore Building in Metropolis that was world headquarters for LexCorp was head and top floors above all others, and would remain that way as Lex paid for a law to keep any other new construction shorter than a certain height. Barry shook his head and entered the lobby. How Lex built his buildings didn’t concern him as long as some subsidiary of Lex’s company paid for his research.

He walked up to the girl in the lobby, a Miss Lana Lang by her name tag.

“Hello, I am here for a briefing. Name’s Barry. Barry Allen.”

“Hello Mr. Allen. They are expecting you. Come with me.”

She led him to an-all glass elevator and up to a top floor. Off the elevator there was a glass walled room with a fantastic view of Central City. Also, there was a group of white coated scientists waiting around a conference table. Barry breathed deep. Lana noticed and flashed him a smile.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Half an hour later, Barry was unconscious.

An hour later…

Barry squinted into a super bright light. He couldn’t see anything else. He couldn’t hear much either. He tasted blood in his mouth and his head throbbed.

“Hello? What’s going on?”

Not expecting a reply, he was shocked to hear a kindly voice. It was being transmitted over some sort of communication system. More than that, Barry couldn’t tell.

“Hello, Mr. Allen. My name is Lex Luthor. I apologize for your treatment, but certain measures must be taken.”

“Wha..What is going on, sir? Didn’t you like my presentation on heavy water?”

Lex chuckled.

“It isn’t that, Mr. Allen. It is your remarkable accident that I am interested in. I read all about in the Central City Herald. Your girlfriend is such a…passionate…reporter when it comes to you.”

“You leave her alone!” Barry shouted, struggling against his restraints.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Allen. I have absolutely no interest in Ms. West, I assure you. I want you and your…abilities.”

“What? I can think fast, see better, and move quickly. You want that?”

“Of course, Mr. Allen. As your mind works quicker I am sure you can apply your abilities to say, a super soldier, or perhaps, an enhanced scientist, much like yourself, able to work much quicker towards a solution. Really, the possibilities are endless, and the applications limitless for a creature of enhanced speed. And to think, all this from a flash of lightning.”

“But I don’t know how it happened! I don’t understand it.”

“Oh, neither do I. But I do employ the best scientists in the world. Coupled with your research into your heavy water project and just a little cooperation, I am sure we will have the answer soon enough.”

“I’ll never help you!”

“Oh, but my dear Mr. Allen, you don’t have to, not willingly anyway. While you were unconscious my men took samples of your blood and tissues. We will keep you for observation and experimentation, of course. Your blood is only the beginning. And once we have our answers, we will let you go.”

Barry thought that unlikely.

“I think that is unlikely. I know who you are and I am not afraid to press charges.”

Again, Lex chuckled.

“Oh, but Mr. Allen. You are mistaken. It isn’t Lex Luthor who kidnapped you, not provably anyway. My voice can be faked, even my image, should you actually see me. No one you interact with will be identifiable. We are quite safe from your deluded ravings. Besides, I have a magnificent legal department. Last I heard you were quite penniless. Crime pays very well, Mr. Allen, and criminal lawyers are always worth the expense. No one cares about morality or even legality any more. The world is an economic world, and I have the only currency that matters: currency. Now, good night, Mr. Allen. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

With that, the lights snapped out, leaving Barry Allen in total darkness. He struggled, but uselessly.

“Well. This was an unexpected outcome of the briefing. And my mom wanted me to become a doctor.”

Quipping to the dark was meant to make it less threatening. It didn’t work.

League of Justice #1.8: “The Native Hue”

Central City Medical Centre
Central City, Missouri

Barry Allen awoke to a bright light and the steady beeping of heart rate monitors. He tried to look around, but found it was too painful.

“Dude, you’re awake!” The loud obnoxious voice was that of Barry’s best friend, Manuel Lago. They were randomly assigned roommates in their freshman year of undergrad, but now close friends. While Barry had gone into chemistry and the heavy sciences, Manuel was pursuing a PhD in applied engineering and mathematics. Often Barry would stumble on a discovery and Manuel could often figure out how to turn the discovery into a practical tool. Holding a few patents helped stave of starvation while the two continued their educations.

“Hush.” That was the soothing sound of love in the person of Iris West. Iris was a college newspaper reporter when she and Barry first met. She was covering one of his first big discoveries, and he was very eager to talk to her, though not necessarily about science. After a bit of a stop and go start, they became a constant couple. Iris now worked for the Central City Herald, one of the only remaining newspapers in the city, but still occasionally covered Barry’s work, though it had moved from front page college news to page six science column news.

“Hey you…how you feel?” the blurriness finally focused onto Iris’ lovely face. Her eyes were striking blue, and her hair the deepest chestnut. Barry felt he had never seen her as clearly before. Everything about her seemed to shimmer somehow. The colors were vibrant and effervescent.

Barry managed a groaning “oww” before he decided further audible communication would have to wait. His throat, lungs, and chest felt like they had been burned from the inside.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t talk. You were struck by lightning three times and inhaled some vaporized chemicals along with some heavy water. The doctors kept you in a coma for a few days to make sure you didn’t have residual damage. But they say you should be ok, it will just take time to heal.”

Barry managed a nod. He remembered the lightning, the chemicals. Everything hurt. He felt something soft and warm on his lips. A kiss. That felt good. He must have managed a signal of some sort because the good continued, longer this time.

“Get a room, you guys…” That was Manuel again.

“Actually, Manny, Barry already booked the room. Maybe you should leave.”

“Ha. Right. I’m sure lightning boy will be doing all sorts of loving. But I gotta go anyway. Take care, buddy.”

Barry felt Manny squeeze his shoulder, saw him look over into his eyes, then he left his field of vision, a field that was promptly filled with Iris, and Barry didn’t mind the switch at all.

“Hey lover. I’m so glad you’re ok.” Tears filled her eyes briefly before she wiped them away. “I was so worried.”

Barry held her hand and tried to look as loving as possible. Hooked up to tubes and oxygen and catheters it was hard to manage, but manage he did. At least she smiled back.

A week later…

Barry coughed. Doing so was still painful. He was out of the hospital and at home under strict orders to rest. His first night of rest with Iris was a bit vigorous, but since his bones hurt and breathing hurt, after that she let him rest in peace. It took nearly a week before he could move without constant pain, and breathe without feeling like he was inhaling fire, but he slowly mended. Actually he healed much faster than the doctors first thought, but it felt long enough to Barry. It was at a week that he noticed the first alteration in his body: his eyes were now a dark shade of crimson. Where his irises had been brown, they had lightened to red, with flecks of yellow. He was shaving in the mirror when it suddenly hit him.

“That’s new.” he murmured. Beside him, Iris was applying her makeup.

“What’s new?”

“My eyes. Take a look.” He opened them wide and stared into Iris’ crystal blues.

“Wow. They’re red!”

“Yeah. I wonder how that happened?”

“A reaction? Can you still see ok?”

“Yeah, in fact, better than I used to. I don’t need my glasses anymore.”

“What? You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist later, but as far as I can tell I’m fine.”

“Wow. All that from lightning?”

“No, I think the lightning catalyzed the chemicals I was working with. As the lightning was striking, a beaker I had in my hand exploded. I felt the chemicals splatter all over me. That must be it. Once I get back to the lab, I am going to run some simulations.”

“Ok. But take it easy, Bear.” Leaning over, she kissed him hard.

“I will. I promise. Oh! I forgot to mention, my laptop wasn’t plugged in when the lightning hit, so it continued to record data. My heavy water experiment was a success. I have a meeting with someone at LexCorp next week to present my results. This could be my big break!”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to cover it for the Herald. And then celebrate with you after.” She flashed a wicked grin before flouncing out of the bathroom.

Barry turned to follow, but realized he had only shaved half his face. Sighing, he stared back into the mirror and his new scarlet eyes and carefully laid razor to skin. By the time he was finished, Iris was just about to leave.

“See you later, darling Bear. I love you!”

“Love you, Iris. Happy reporting.”

She blew him a kiss and left.

Barry felt like the luckiest man in the world. After all, he had survived not one but three lightning strikes, still had a beautiful woman to come home to, and some new eyes.

Barry dressed for the day and wondered what else the lightning charged chemicals had done to him. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Manuel.

“Come to lab after class. Need 2 run xpermts.”

Barry felt charged with extra energy as he left the apartment and locked the door. It felt like there was an extra bounce in his step. On a whim, he decided to walk to class instead of riding the bus. It was a beautiful day, and good to be alive.

League of Justice #1.1: “The Thousand Natural Shocks”

Central City, Missouri

Barry Allen hated running. He really, really hated running. As a young man he had been more interested in reading and school work, and as a result, never made time for athletics. The other kids on the playground used to love to race and run about, but the naturally slow Barry preferred to sit under the trees and work math problems. By the time he was a teenager, Barry had minted a catchphrase: “The quick of mind will always beat the fleet of feet.” It didn’t save him any harassment from the bullies, but it helped sooth his wounded feelings when his peers laughed at his discomfort.

As a young scientist, and PhD candidate, he was sometimes forced to run, especially when he overslept and was late for class. Again. Skidding to a halt inches in front of the large, glass doors that led into Garrick Hall, Barry stopped to take a few deep breathes. Garrick Hall was the main math and science building on the Midwestern University Campus. MU wasn’t as big as Metropolis University across Missouri in Kansas, but it was known for being a more intimate community of scholars. While every bit as prestigious, the “other” MU as Midwestern students called it, catered more to the rich and the famous and the upper class. Barry was a farmboy from Fallville, Iowa, and the smaller MU suited him perfectly.

Barry smoothed down his hair and absentmindedly tried to tuck in his shirt, but failed completely and completely failed to notice. Taking the steps two at a time, he scaled three flights of stairs, and walked down the empty hall to his classroom. He tried not to make eye contact with students in the other classrooms as he walked by. Finally he reached room 312 and opened the door as quietly as he could. He slipped into the back row of chairs and sat down.

The class was some variant of Organic Chemistry, and while Barry half listened to the lecture in progress, his mind worked an entirely different problem. Barry was currently obsessed with a new method to produce heavy water that would take half the time and a fraction of the energy currently needed to produce the coolant for nuclear reactors. He had been conducting an experiment all night, which is why he had slept late for class. He felt he was close to a breakthrough.

Later that night…

A bluish flame burned atop a chemical burner, and a cauldron-like flask bubbled. Elsewhere on the lab table, chemicals oozed through pipes or gradually mixed into compounds. Barry Allen was hunched over a laptop entering a large amount of data and simultaneously monitoring his experiments. He doubled checked some results, and toiled over a maintenance program on his supercomputer mainframe that was running a simulation. If he didn’t get the results he was looking for, he would be in serious trouble. He had procured a grant from the prestigious Wayne Foundation for the Sciences, but one thing foundations that granted grants wanted were publishable results. Without them it was hard to secure funding from their wealthy donors. None of that would matter, however, if Barry did succeed. He had secured a conditional contract for use of his formula from LexCorp, the industrial giant run by businessman Lex Luthor. Conditional meaning on the condition that his heavy water synthesis method was useful in some way. Luthor paid well, but only for working prototypes and applications. Otherwise he would blackball a scientist into oblivion. That was the danger of working for Lex Luthor: rich if you made it, forgotten if you didn’t. But Allen was running out of options to continue his education and fund his research, and couldn’t afford to turn down funding, no matter how shady the source.

Outside Allen’s lab, a heavy rain had begun to fall and in the distance, thunder rolled ominously. Barry barely heard it. He rushed from one side of his bench to another. Grabbing some large rubber gloves he grabbed some forceps and carefully lifted a test tube half full with green liquid. He slowly poured it into a flask that contained a purple powder, and ever so gently swirled the two substances together until they mixed. He turned to check the bubbling cauldron and noted the temperature on the attached gauge. Just a few more seconds. He set the flask down and removed his gloves. He pulled a tattered notebook from his pocket and opened to the first blank page. He scribbled a few notes before putting it down. Consulting the thermometer again, he saw that the liquid had reached the desired temperature. He picked up the flask, and stepped up onto a stool next to the lab bench. From here he was able to peer through the steam and into the cauldron. Taking care not to spill or splash, Barry poured his mixture into the boiling liquid. Instantly a thin stream of blue steam lifted into the air, but Barry ignored it. This was expected. What came next was entirely unexpected.

A loud crack of thunder shook the entire lab. From the corner of his eye, Barry saw a bolt of lightning descend from the dark clouds and arc towards the skylight in the lab. Everything afterwards seemed to take place in slow motion:

The lightning jumped to the skylight’s metal frame, shattering the glass. Barry hunched his shoulders and ducked his head against the rain and descending shards. From the frame, the lightning leaped to the top of the chemistry apparatus. It immediately spread throughout every metal frame and connection. It arced through the air, exploding the Bunsen burner and instantly boiling the liquid and the mixture therein. Barry felt a pricking in his thumbs and every hair on his body stood on end and repelled each other. A second and a third flash of lightning hit the exact same point on his set-up and this time shot right through his body. The flask he was holding shattered and for a nanosecond, the mixture within seemed to coalesce into a single point before expanding rapidly in every direction. Barry simultaneously inhaled the gaseous mixture, swallowed what was left of the liquid form, and felt the substance splash onto his skin, leaching into several slashes made by falling glass. A fourth bolt of lightning struck and with a loud bang everything went dark after a final eye searing flash.