Bart Allen:
        He never lost that impish twinkle in his eyes, although he's much
more serious than he'd built up a reputation for being, when he was much
younger. Obviously capable, and quite strikingly handsome, Bart Allen
carries himself like a hero. He's tall, around six foot two or three, and
his hair is wiry and cut short enough to stick up and /not/ be defiant of
gravity. Those famous amber eyes are framed by a pair of wire-rimmed
glasses, and he's smiling. He's always smiling. It occurs to you that
there's something vaguely wrong about that...until you get to know him and
you see the ways his smile changes.
        All heroes have downtime - unless they're crazy and /like/ wearing
itchy, hot, unforgiving spandex. In Bart's downtime, he's (believe it or
not) an Eddie Bauer kinda guy. Clothed comfortably in a pair of worn
bluejeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, the guy
looks like he'd be just as comfortable hiking as he is when writing his
beloved science fiction.

Wally:
	Where there was once compassion and caring, now only empty
emotionless white eyes stare back, the unreaching depths of unending white
that people often describe when they 'cross-over and see the light.' Well,
this figure did cross over and has come back. Hope you like the
alterations.
	Where their was once life and color, now there is only the vision
and specter of death. Taunt muscles are stretched over a starved and thin
frame, as the figure before you is gaunt; like a skeleton wearing a thin
layer of flesh. Hallow cheeks bones make the face appear thined, ghoulish.
Yet, over this is another suit, that of the Black Flash.
	Sharp lines outline the depths of the pool of black that cover
this body, with dark and pointed 'wingtips' on either side of the head. A
band of blood red 'lightning' wraps about each forearm and the waist and a
bold white circle with a yellow lightning bolt through it is centered on
the chest. The mark of the Flash, even though this figure wears it as a
symbol of whom he has come to claim. The fingers seem to be abnormally
enlongated, draw out to resemble black claws; the grip of determined
death.

It's a warm night in early summer, in the famous midwestern city of
Keystone. It wasn't just a night...it was a night after a busy day, for
Bart Allen, the Flash. The house is quiet; the kids aren't back for the
summer yet, and Cassie's off hobnobbing with some puffed-up dignitary or
another. Bart has the place to himself, and he's reveling in the quiet
that he so rarely gets to enjoy. He's set aside this time to write, but as
any writer will tell you, it's /much/ easier to get distracted in a quiet
room than a busy one. The daydreams are alluring, it must be said, and in
a few more minutes...he could...fall...asleep.

Sleep. Ironic that your rest is interrupted by one that wishes to give you
nothing but rest. Eternal rest. There is a light knocking at the front
door. By now, in this age, there is likely all manners for ringing a
doorbell. But those are ignored, and this person knocks. And now again,
and much louder this time. Adament. Defiant. Then, in a muffled, yet
perhaps hauntingly familiar voice, comes a, "Bart Allen? Are you in there?
I need to speak with you..."

Shuddering awake as if thinking he'd had a nightmare, and it was still
going on, Bart grips the arms of his chair and glances at the clock. Only
ten minutes since he'd last looked. So what had woken him up? The knock
comes again and he sits up straight. /What the hell/? That voice...?
"I'll...who?" he says dazedly, and is at the door. "Who's there?" He
doesn't open it. One must, of course, take precautions...especially when
the EDA knows your address.

Your nightmares come to haunt you. That is who it is. "It's me, Bart. You
know who this is...." Could it be, after all this time? And if you peek
there you see ... Wally? Only it is like a Wally that you have never seen.
Thin, gaunt, with scruff and messy hair. Starved pale blue eyes. A thin
taunt frame. Dressed all in black, with a black trench coat on. and, like
right out of a horror film, comes the question, "Won't you let me in,
Flash?"

"Christ," breathes Bart, hands dropping and the blood rushing out of his
face. He fumbles with the locks. "Wally! Oh my god, Wally! You...oh, god!"
He finally gets the door unlocked -- why is it that the fastest man alive
takes a full minute to open the door when Wally's out th- wait. /Wally/?
Wally's dead! Holding the last lock on the door, the one on the doorknob,
Bart pauses. "You can't be Wally West," he says flatly. "Wally West has
been dead for thirty years."

"Let me in, Bart, and I'll explain.... I have much to explain to you,
Flash, much..." And then Wally, outside,w ho seems to be able to hear you
through the door, raises his hand, which was tucked into his trench
pocket. And it is a hand like thatfrom his costume; a claw. Which he rakes
down the door before him. *Scraaaaaaaaaaaaath* "Let me in, Bart. Let. Me.
In." The tone only gets a little more adament, more .... angry. And if you
peek again, Wally seems to be getting aggitated.

Suddenly thrown back about thirty-five years, Bart yells, "No way, man, I
saw Scream! No /way/ are you getting me to open that door!" He quickly
flips up all the locks again, and there's silence for a second...then out
of the blue, beautifully sudden, Bart tackles Wally from behind!

Scream, which is likely up to what, Scream 22 by now? Mocking itself at
this point, and still not succeeding after Scream 11 & 1/2, which mocked
the 1/2 movie titled movies. But, Wally finds himself tackled, and
slamming intot he front door. As he goes down his suit of condensed speed
force is released, wrapping about him. And soon you have the Black Flash
in your tackle. Trying to bat you back, and *away* the figure with you now
grins. Wide. "You're right, Bart Allen. Wally West died many years ago,
and you should have died with him. Now you, the new Flash, and verything
you hold dear, shall die as well ... at the hands of the Black Flash!"

The Flash pauses, blinking owlishly at Wally through his glasses. "You
have /got/ to be kidding me. I've been writing science fiction for twenty
years, now, and that's the cheesiest, oldest plot in the book." He says
that quickly enough and in enough of a monotone that it would probably
have the effect of semi-mesmerization. Try it. It works. Especially for
car salesmen. He keeps talking, but as he talks, he moves - ducking here,
swinging there, trying to shove you face-first into the ground - alla that
stuff. "And grife, I've seen some pretty pathetic plots in my time. Come
on, man...remember when Hal went nuts? At least he still /thought/ he was
doing the right thing. You've gone the way of the Cyborg Superman."

Dodging your attacks, as meager as they are, the Black Flash just scoffs,
"You wish to trivilaize me to those that came and went before, as you
still believe that I am Wally West. Wally Wesy is dead, Flash, just as you
shall be. I am only The Black Flash now, the agent of the power that gives
you your powers. A force that now tells me I must take your life for using
them. Your time is up." And then the Black Flash sneers as he moves in
closer, lightning quick, meaning to get his claws/hands about your neck.
"I had hoped to make you suffer, first, ut killing those important around
you, but no matter. They shall come after you if need be. Just like Wally
was before you, you and all the other Flashs are failures. You thegreatest
of all." and the dialogue is somehting cheesy from one of your own novels.
Are you sure you aren't dreaming this?

"You," huffs Bart, struggling, "are just...a B-movie.../retard/!" With
that, his eyes flare up lightning as he draws on energies beyond his body,
quickening with power. He pulls a beautiful little wrestling move, easily
getting out of the hold of the Black Flash, and standing, backpedaling a
few steps. He takes a deep breath, and actually fights this time. "I'm
beginning to think...valor, I dunno what I think. But I don't want to kill
you, whoever you are. You're too dumb to die. Give yourself to scientific
study or something." He's still talking extremely fast, speeding up as he
goes along, moving and thinking faster. His fighting improves drastically
as he's able to think three steps ahead of what he's doing instead of
three steps behind. "Do everyone a favor, y'know? I mean, either that or
write pulps.."

Black Flash is obviously not prepared for this. While you have had time to
grow, and learn, he was trapped, stuck and didn't advance much past his
own old tricks. Tricks that you likely know. Bashed and batted, pushed
back and crumbling, the Black Flash staggers under your blows, the next
landing before he, or it, can catch it's breath. When you are finished the
figure drops to its knees, before you, panting heavily and coughing.
Harshly. With great strain. The body you were striking was frail.
Withered. Old. ONly determination seemed to be holding it together. But,
as the figure slumps before you, head bowed, he tries to speak, ina weak
voice ... "Oh, God, Bart ... what have I done...what have I become...I
didn't mean to ..."

The years have taught him that caution and paranoia have their place, and
value. Bart looks down at Wally, unmoving. Inside, of course, this is
hurting him. Maybe it really /is/ Wally. Maybe he /didn't/ mean it. Maybe
he got royally screwed up, wherever he was - his looks certainly aver to
that. But one can never tell. He replaces his glasses - custom-made and
quite unbreakable - and crosses his arms, still looking down. He says
nothing.

Black Flash coughs more, spitting up ... is that blood? A hand comes up to
wipe it away, and then look at it. And then, up to you. Blood seems to be
coming form his mouth. Did you hit him there? Do you remember? he surely
is bleeding from there. The BF's eyes go wide, with ... is that shock?
And, as he speaks, bloodsplatters, slightly, about... "Just like before,
you couldn't save me...you let me become what I am and now, you condem me
for it..." Agast, or appearing so, the BF staggers to his feet, holding
his blleding mouth, coughing and thus spitting up a bit more blood over
himself. "I finally come back, and for help and this ...." But then, there
are no other words, as the BF turns and just *runs*. Black crinckling
energy flows away form the speeding away form, that goes at top speed.
Once well away from viewing distance, and before you can give chance, BF
looks over his shoulder and grins to only himself.

Muttering obscenities, Bart takes off after his cousin...then stops
himself. He doesn't know where he went. If this was Wally, for real, he'd
be back, eventually. And maybe not so angry. Maybe then they could talk.

The Flash turns, and slowly walks back to his house, rubbing his face.
Damn good thing the kids /were/ away at college. "And when Cassie gets
back, it's time for a long talk," he whispers to the night, then goes
inside.