.|. COHERENT COMICS UNINCORPORATED ---X------------------------------------------------------------------------- '|` PRESENTS DVANDOM | -. -. -. | ________| ____ \ ,___ \ ____ \ ________| | .' \ | | / ` | | | | | | | / ___| | | | | ` / | | __| | | < | __| | | | ,--- \ \ | | | \ | | \ ` | | | / | \ / | ___| _______-' ___| ____\ -______-' ____________| #62 - "Born To Be Run Part 1 - Boot Up" copyright 1996 by Dave Van Domelen ============================================================================= [cover background is in a fat chevron pattern, yellow on top and bottom, greenish tint in the middle. In this greenish field is a city street setting, with people looking on in shock at a young man superimposed over the chevron pattern. He's wearing a yellow and green t-shirt with a pattern similar to Kid Macro's uniform top. Cover copy reads "Born To Be Run I: Boot Up!" ============================================================================= My name is Douglas Ellis, and I'm the fastest man alive. Unfortunately, without specially designed computer assists, this amounts to thrashing about uncontrollably at very high speeds. You see, while my speed was increased, my reflexes didn't speed up at the same rate. If I try to move too fast without my wristbands, things get ugly. To get some idea of how this might feel, get a computer mouse that's really oversensitive...you know, move the mouse a millimeter and the pointer's across to the other side of the screen. Try to run a normal application this way. You'll overshoot every single time you try to click on something, right? Now apply that principle to every single action you can take. You'll see that the only way you can possibly function is to turn down that response speed, or learn to be VERY slow and deliberate. For a while I had my speed turned down, as the result of being banished from the Looniverse [see Constellation #30-31 - Ed.]. But now it's back to full, and any time I need to be without my wristcomps is like performing neurosurgery just to open a door. Like now. I have to remove the wristcomps to clean the dermatrodes installed in my wrists. They look like normal skin, but feel slightly smoother than skin should. I've had them since I gained my powers, they were the entry points for...well, I suppose if I'm going to tell you all my origin (now that I know it myself), I should tell the whole thing, right? Slowly, carefully, as if I were sculpting with dust motes, I wash my hands, dry the dermatrodes off and slip my wristcomps back on. There, now I can relax enough to reminisce, explore the memories so recently unlocked...or perhaps created [see last issue - Ed]. The Looniverse works in strange ways. Let me tell you a tale.... * * * * Clue Valley, Net.braska was a town on a pretty steady downward path. Once a mining boomtown, it was past its glory days and the population inched downward at every census. The irony was that the mines hadn't been worked out, like in declining gold and silver boomtowns. No, the demand simply wasn't there anymore. Clue Valley sat on the continent's largest natural vein of Clues. The city's motto is "Get a Clue!" Clues as far as the eye can see up in the hills, there for the taking. No matter how many were harvested, more bubbled up from the depths of the ground. It wasn't even mining in a traditional sense. But eventually no one wanted to get a Clue. Modern technology had removed the need of the average person to have a Clue, and it was soon seen as old fashioned and unfashionable to get a Clue. There was still a small niche market that kept a few hundred people at work, gathering Clues for sale in specialty shops, but it was demoralizing to know that most of these Clues would be given as gifts and never used. My dad had worked on the Clue fields as a kid, so he'd gotten quite a few Clues on the sly. But he mistook knowledge for wisdom...or at least that's what Aunt Glory said. Oh, he was successful in his work and made a lot of money, especially considering the slumping economy back in the late 1970s, but he'd never really gotten to know me. I like to think that he felt he could help me more by working than by being there for me, and not that he deliberately didn't want to be around me. Maybe he just needed to get a Clue, one he had missed before. So that was the background of my life when I was ten. Small town on its way down, father obsessed with work, mother who cared for me but didn't really understand me, disco at its height and pretty much nothing to look forward to. Nothing except one thing, that is. You see, I had a hero. You might say everyone "had" him, but I was probably his number one fan. At least I told myself this. His name was Macroman, and as you might guess I used to be his sidekick. But that part of the story isn't for a little while. 1980 wasn't a really big year for net.heroes. The Net.astic Nine had faded from public memory, but the LNH wouldn't revive for another decade yet. What little net.hero activity there was seemed to be concentrated on the East Coast, far from the gray fields of Net.braska. But for a year or so, we'd had our very own net.hero, operating out of Keystroke City in Southeastern Net.braska. He had started developing his own little conclave of net.villains that fought him on a regular basis, from old-timers like the Sapster to one-shot gimmick villains like Mister Moodring. My room was covered in posters and drawings of Macroman's green-suited image. I even had a photo of his first appearance, back when he wore a mainly yellow suit (the pattern I later adopted for my suit, by the way). And I was going to be spending the entire summer of 1980 in Keystroke City with my Aunt Glory. Even without Macroman, this would have been an event worth looking forward to...Aunt Glory was a neat person, and any big city was something to behold for a small town kid like me. But the chance of actually MEETING Macroman had me counting the minutes off until Summer Vacation (which really bugged Mom and Dad, especially when I did it at dinner). Then it came, that magical day when Aunt Glory would come to take me to her apartment in the city. I said my goodbyes (a bit *too* quickly) to my parents, loaded my bulging suitcase into the back of Glory's 1979 Volkswage.net Lemur and jumped into the front seat, eyes fixed forward. Glory made conversation with me during the hour-long drive, but my attention always wandered from it unless we were talking about Macroman. I was thrilled to find out she *knew* him, had actually MET him in person. After my bouncing up and down begging almost caused an accident, she relented and admitted she hoped to introduce me to him, although she warned she didn't exactly have his telephone number. But I knew she was an investigative reporter, I was confident she'd have his phone number by the end of the week. I was counting on it. * * * * "Wow..." I think was my first reaction as we came over that hill. "Behold, the mighty metropolis that is Keystroke City," Glory intoned in a mock-regal fashion before breaking down in giggles. She may have been just kidding, but to her Keystroke City was just home. To me, right then, it *was* a mighty metropolis. Skyscrapers clustered in the city center like a fantastic castle...smaller, yet still towering buildings dotted the land around the city center like guard towers. All it lacked was a protective wall to be the castle of fantasy. And there, another cluster of towers on the other side of the Missou.rec River. C|Net.ral City, Keystroke's sister city and home of NNN, the Net.News Network. Of course, back then NNN was just a regional thing, and cable was a fad. It'd be a decade before NNN would become the news juggernaut it is today. "See that building there? The one with all the mirrored blue glass?" Glory asked as she pointed towards the city center. When I nodded mutely, she added, "That's where I work, at the Keystroke Bandwidth. From the top of the building, you can see the entire city all at once." "Wow! Can we go up there?" "Sure thing, kiddo. As soon as we stop off at my apartment and drop off your stuff, we can head over and I'll show you 'round." The next half hour went by as a blur for me. For anyone used to the city, the stalled traffic and general slow going would have been a nightmare. But not for me. I just rolled down the window and stuck my head out, peering around at all the wonders this new place had to offer. And even the slowness of traffic seemed fast-paced to a small town kid like me. "Tsk, can you believe it?" Glory said as we slowly inched past a gas station. "A year ago, it was only about sixty cents a gallon, now the price is up to a buck and a quarter. You'd think gas was free to look at the traffic, though," she sighed. I shrugged. Gas prices weren't really something I watched in those days. The price of comics, however, I watched like a hawk. Especially the new Macroman series. "Hey, look! It's Macroman!" came a shout from outside. I was halfway out the window and looking all around so fast you'd think I had superspeed myself. And there he was. Moving so fast he was little more than a green blur. A bunch of guys in skimasks had just run out of an electronics store, and were lugging sacks full of circuits and transistors and stuff. They had guns, too, but not for long. Macroman zipped back and forth, taking away their guns or slicing them in half or anyone of a dozen speed tricks he'd worked out. You could tell he was just showing off for the crowd...after all, these were just thugs with guns, he could afford to get a little cocky, right? Wrong. He was so busy unravelling one guy's ski mask and tying him up with the yarn that he didn't notice another goon opening up a spool of electrical wire. And when Macroman started moving towards another target, the goon threw the clump of wire into his path. "Macroman, look out!" I yelled. Too late. Macroman hit the clump of wire and went down hard, his legs tangled up in the red stuff. For a horrible moment I thought he'd died, right in front of me. Then he rolled over and moaned in pain. I was relieved... but only for a moment. The thug pulled out his spare pistol and pointed it at Macroman's head. "This is the end of the program fer ya, hotshot," he snarled, cocking back the hammer. Someone had to do something...fast. Now, I've said before, there's not a whole lot to do in Clue Valley over the long, hot summers. Something that can eat up an afternoon or two is hanging out by the mill pond, skipping clues across its surface. And if there's one thing I learned from doing this with friends, it's that being nailed by a clue can really hurt. I dove back into the car and pulled out the clue I'd brought along as a present for Aunt Glory, then popped back up while the thug was savoring his chance and skipped it as hard as I could off the roof of the Grem.LAN in front of us. WHANG! It smashed into the thug's head and dropped him like he'd been hit by...well...a clue. My stunt gave Macroman a second or two more to catch his wind, and it took him no time at all to finish wrapping up the bad guys. I blinked, and he was there. Right there by Glory's car. "That was quick thinking, son! You saved my life! Thanks!" he said. I stammered something, I'm not sure what. I probably embarrassed myself gushing all over him. But he just smiled...well, I think he smiled, he was wearing a helmet at the time. Then he nodded to Glory and ran off. "Wow...." Yeah, I know, I said that a lot my first day in Keystroke. Then it hit me. "Wow! He nodded to you! You really do know him!" I practically screamed in her ear. "Heh," she replied, edging her car forward in traffic now that the criminals had been hauled off by the cops and the street cleared. "I guess checking out the top of the building's not gonna seem so impressive now." For the record, it was a neat view, but she was right. Nothing could compare to not just meeting your hero, but helping him out. * * * * "Sigh...I guess I shoulda warned you, kiddo.... Alan Berry is many things, but punctual is NOT one of them," Glory said, a slight snarl in her tone. "Why d'you still date him, then, if he's never on time?" I asked. She shrugged. "Oh, he's a nice guy, Doug. And he's about the only man I've ever dated who hasn't tried to get in..." she paused, remembering she was talking to a kid, not a co-worker. "Er, who hasn't been too, um, forward. And with all the strutting macho men out there these days, it's kinda nice to date an old-fashioned guy who's happy just to be with you, y'know?" I nodded. I'd heard some of the older kids talk, I knew what she'd meant to say. Not that I really knew what it meant then, but I had some vague (and mainly wrong) ideas about the subject. Glory must have spotted him coming before I did, because she rapidly changed the subject and pretended to be intently interested in her menu. "So, kiddo, you ready to order yet? Oh, hi, Alan," she breezily greeted him. "Am I late?" he asked. "Do lemurs frink?" she replied. "Well, I've never met a lemur," he grinned. "So, who's the little hero?" he asked, turning to face me. "I heard about how you helped Macroman today." I couldn't help beaming with pride. "This is my nephew, Doug Ellis. Doug, this is Alan...finally." "Pleased to meet you, sir," I said in my best Don't-Embarrass-Me- In-Front-Of-Everybody-Douglas-Harlan-Ellis manners. "Oh, no need to be so formal," Alan jibed as he took a seat at the table and glanced at the menu. He must have been a regular here, since he didn't really look at it very long. He and Glory probably ate here a lot. "Doug, Alan works for the police department over in C|Net.ral City, and sometimes gets loaned out to the Keystroke cops," Glory said. "Wow! Can I see your gun?" I asked. The cops in Clue Valley hardly ever bothered with guns, and usually had shotguns when they did. I'd only seen pistols on TV. "Well, I don't carry a gun, Doug, sorry. I'm more of a desk cop, I manage the new computerized database for the police department," Alan replied. Just like that, my excitement turned to boredom. Kids can do that, you know. "Alan's probably the best programmer and computer designer in the Midwest," Glory added, trying to spark my rapidly waning interest, but it didn't work. Alan's job wasn't any more exciting than Dad's. At least if he were a beat cop he might get into shootouts or something. "Tell him how you're helping catch crooks, Alan," she added. So he did. In excruciating detail. A man would have to work pretty hard to be that boring. Heck, he wasn't just boring in talking, he even SAT boring. He was stiff as a board, hardly ever made any move he didn't have to make. Meanwhile, a time lapse film of me would have shown just a blur. "...anyway, Doug...Doug?" Alan poked me and I sat at attention. "Um, yes?" "Like I was saying, they took those crooks you helped stop down to the station to be booked, but they just vanished. That's why I was late, they had me run a check on all known net.villains to see if there were any teleporters at large who could have done it. I suppose I see as many net.villains in my job as Macroman does in his, eh?" he grinned. I smiled back weakly, figuring he was trying to make a joke. Glory looked down at her watch and did a double take. "Argh, I lost track of the time...I've gotta get to the office and finish those stories. Doug, I hope you don't mind spending the rest of the afternoon with Alan." I did a double take myself. That little piece of information must have come up when I wasn't paying attention. I almost protested, but I caught the look in her eyes...she really wanted me and Alan to get along. I guess she was serious about him. Why, I had no idea...the man had all the personality of formica. "Nope, no problem," I said, trying not to sound like I had just agreed to be keelhauled. "Thanks...it's good to know my two favorite guys like each other. See you after work, mwa!" she finished, kissing me on the forehead and dashing out into the summer squall that had just blown up. "C'mon, Doug...I'll pay the bill and then we can go back to my place." He paused for a moment and smiled. Looking back on it, I guess he was probably thinking that if I'd been raised in the city I'd have run for it at a line like that...a guy I'd never met taking me back to his apartment. But hey, I was raised in a small town, that sort of thing never happened. Well, at least it was never talked about. Besides, Glory liked him, and while I may wonder at her taste in men, I'd never doubt I could trust him. The biggest danger I thought I faced was death by boredom. Turns out I might have wished for a little more boredom that day. * * * * I was about ready to burst when we got inside his "bachelor pad." He was so SLOW all the time. He never seemed to be in a hurry, he always moved carefully and deliberately. To a kid stuck with him for an afternoon, each measured pace was a deathknell for any chance of excitement. I was in the door and sitting on a couch before he finished taking his key out of the lock. In my best "bored kid slouch," I asked, "So, what's to do 'round here?" "Well, I've got some computer games lying around," he started, and my heart leapt. Video games were just starting to come out back then, and even a boring one like Net.Invaders could kill a few hours just by the novelty of it. Then he continued, "I made them myself in my spare time." Ugh. I didn't wanna know what kind of computer game he'd be interested in. Golf, probably. Then he dropped the bombshell. "Of course, Macroman should be by in a few minutes if you want to meet him...again, that is." I couldn't believe it. A net.hero like Macroman hanging around with Captain Plywood here? "Suuure," I replied, trying not to get my hopes up. "Seriously," Alan said. "We're friends. I made his wristcomps for him. He stops by every so often to get them checked up and use my computers to do crimebusting research. Heck, he might be in my workshop right now," he gestured to a door at the back of the room. Okay. Pause button time. I think most of you know where this is going, but I might as well spell it out for the rest. Alan Berry, the man who would explode on contact with an interesting person like matter and antimatter, was really Macroman. So, while I was opening the door to the darkened room, he had put on his wristcomps, activated his costume change macro and zipped in ahead of me. Of course, at the time I had no idea. And I was so amazed to be face to face with my hero again that I never noticed that Alan was gone. "So, we meet again! Doug, was it?" "Doug. Sir. Wow." My mind raced like an engine in neutral, trying to come up with something more intelligent to say than "wow." "So," I started...not a great start, but it got me rolling, "Alan said he made your wristcomps. How do they work?" Of course, I knew more or less how they worked...what Macroman fanboy didn't? Still, it was better than standing there drooling, and I might find out something new. He chuckled and took one off. "Y'see, Doug, my powers let me move really fast...faster than a normal human brain can think. This means that I'm always leaping before I can look, as it were. The wristcomps think at computer speed...really fast. Fast enough, in fact. So what I do is create sets of instructions, called macros by computer types, and my brain *is* fast enough to trigger the right macro for the job. Running, fighting, changing clothes, and so forth. See these patches of smooth skin on my wrists?" he held out his bare wrist to show me. "They're dermatrodes, direct links to my nervous system for the wristcomps. I can get by on just one wristcomp, of course, but I use two in case one is damaged." "Wow." There I go again. "How did you get those in your wrists?" "Ah, that's my secret origin. And if I told you, it wouldn't be secret, would it? Maybe later. Wanna go for a tour of the city, Macroman style?" "Would I? YEAH!" As he scooped me up in his arms, I thought I saw a bit of sadness in his eyes. Had I made him think of something sad? Maybe the real reason he didn't want to tell me his origin was that there was something terrible about it, something he didn't want to remember. I could have kicked myself right then, except we were already outside and racing through the city streets at almost a hundred miles an hour. "I CAN GO FASTER," Macroman shouted over the wind, "BUT THEN YOU COULDN'T BREATHE, AND THAT'D BE A ROTTEN WAY TO PAY YOU BACK FOR SAVING MY LIFE YESTERDAY!" "How do you breathe, then?" I asked. I knew he couldn't hear me, but he must have either read my lips or guessed my question, because he answered. "THE HELMET, IT HAS BAFFLES SO I CAN BREATHE AT SPEEDS UP TO MACH 2." Suddenly, we started to slow down. I looked around, but couldn't see anything interesting in the area worth slowing down for. Then I saw the look in Macroman's eyes. I'll never forget it, now that I've remembered it in the first place, that is. It was the look of someone who saw a terrible fate coming, but knew that while he could do something about it, he wasn't allowed to. I later found out Alan's powers gave him occasional flashes of the future. He must have seen it coming. But he did nothing to stop the robot which, thanks to its stasis beam, was able to catch up to us and capture me. Then everything went black as the robot did something to me.... =========================================================================== NEXT ISSUE: Bet you were expecting a lightning bolt, huh? Be here next time, when Doug Ellis gains his powers and learns the truth behind both his and Macroman's powers, in part two..."Beta Version"! Author's Notes: When Mark Waid took over the Flash title, he started with an arc that retold Wally's origin and helped redefine his vision of the character. This story was "Born To Run," and it ran in Flash #62-65. Now, while I'm not a new writer on this title, I've never really gotten around to defining Kid Macro. First he was a Triumph riff, then Douglas Nolan crossed with Harlequin Ellis (from a really old Justice League of America comic). After that he moved into the Designated Clueless Person slot, mainly kept around to ask questions that would let me advance the plot. He's had his share of scenes, of course, since he's one of the more combat-capable members and his unique limitations made for some fun scenes. But he hasn't really grown since the Evolution arc. So what I hope to do here in Born To Be Run is finally do something with him, turn him into a three-dimensional character with a past, present and maybe even a future. A short bit of background for newer readers. Kid Macro was first introduced during the Retcon Hour business, as my take on the appearing/ disappearing Triumph over in the Justice League books. It turned out that he had been a founding member of the Secret Dvanders (the team that became Dvandom Force) in a previous timeline, but had been wiped from existence by Lord Ebon. Removing him from the tapestry caused it to reweave in a new fashion, one in which Ebon never gained the level of power he had possessed when he banished Doug. However, Doug wasn't destroyed, he was merely retconned into existence in the ASH universe of the 1990s. His dreams eventually started to intrude into the "real" Looniverse, causing first his bizarre appearances and then an entire weird sequence stolen from the old JLoA mentioned above. He was rescued and returned to the LNH's reality, but now he was a man without a past. He remembered all of his old life now, plus all of his false life in the ASH universe...but had no past in the LNH Looniverse. However, due to the nature of the Looniverse, you don't always need to have a past. Most LNHers have no prior existence before 1992, for example. But when he was exposed to the time and space altering energies of DeFacto's gateway device last issue, the Looniverse finally shifted around and made room for a new origin for this speedster. And now you get to see it as he "remembers" it. Grow young with Kid Macro....