Flash: Training Wheels

Flash: Training Wheels

• The scene opens with a dramatic close-up of Barry Allen’s face, his brow furrowed, eyes sharp, lips pressed in a thin line of deep concern. Across from him, Wally West mirrors the expression, the air thick with unspoken tension. “This is important,” Barry says gravely. “I know,” Wally nods, eyes serious, voice low. “We can’t rush into this unprepared,” Barry continues. “We need to strike the right balance. Not just function, but the message we’re sending,” Wally replies. Barry nods slowly, almost solemnly. “So… you’re really committed to the yellow boots?” The moment snaps like a popped balloon. Wally’s serious demeanor breaks into a grin. “They’re classic!” he says, suddenly animated, waving his arms. “Bright, bold—heroic! Come on, Uncle Barry, you ran in golden boots.” Barry exhales a soft laugh, “Wally, the point of the suit is agility, insulation, and identity protection. Not flash.” “You’re literally called the Flash,” Wally counters, clearly pleased with himself. Barry sighs again, “Fine. But if you faceplant because you were admiring your boots mid-sprint, I’m pulling rank and making you wear the pink ones.” “Deal,” Wally says, holding out a hand like they’ve just negotiated world peace. Barry shakes it.

• In the cracked concrete yard of Blackgate Penitentiary, the afternoon sun hung low and oppressive, baking the dull orange jumpsuits of five very particular inmates. On the surface, they looked like any other gang of lifers killing time. But something buzzed beneath the silence, a communal purpose. Captain Cold, Leonard Snart, leaned against a busted weight bench, arms folded, “We’ve done time before,” he said calmly, “But this isn’t time. This is exile.” Mark Mardon, the Weather Wizard, squinted toward the distant towers, his voice low, “You mean to tell me you want out. Again.” Snart replied, “I mean, I want us out. This isn’t permanent, and you all know it.” Sitting on the bench beside them was Digger Harkness, known less elegantly as Captain Boomerang. He tossed a pebble into the air like it was one of his signature blades. “I’m listening. But if your idea’s just another frozen sewer grate trick, count me out.” “It’s not,” came a sharper voice, Ronnie Raymond, Heatwave. He stood apart from the others, arms crossed, the faintest twitch in his jaw as he added, “It’s smarter this time.” Mirror Master glanced between them all with a smirk, “And here I thought we were waiting for early parole.” Cold chuckled dryly, “Parole’s a myth. Like justice. Like mercy. What we need is opportunity.” Mardon asked, “So what’s the play?” Snart leaned in, voice even lower now, “One of the guards, Foster, he’s got a drinking habit and a gambling problem. Sloppy. More important, he’s working the transfer block next week. We get the layout, learn the schedule, and set the pieces in motion.” Boomerang’s eyebrow lifted. “And when do we strike?” Cold replied, “When the weather turns,” looking to Mardon with a nod, “A little storm, a little chaos. We slide right through the cracks.” Mirror Master leaned back with a lazy grin, “Sounds poetic.” Ronnie cracked his knuckles, fire dancing in his eyes, “Sounds like payback.” They didn’t need to say who for. The Flash had cost each of them something. And this time, it was more than just about getting out. It was about getting even.

• The calm of the afternoon shattered with a sharp, piercing beep from Barry’s comm. He sprang to his feet, while Wally, halfway through a chili dog, wiped his mouth and followed suit. “Prison break,” Barry said, “Blackgate.” Wally’s eyes lit up, excitement mixed with a mouth full of processed meat, “Your Rogues?” Barry nodded, Sounds that way.” Within moments, twin streaks of scarlet tore across the countryside, Central City’s protectors raced toward chaos. They arrived just outside the perimeter wall of Blackgate, where security had been thoroughly compromised. A trail of scorched earth, iced-over corridors, and warped steel told them everything they needed to know. They were too late to stop them from getting their gear. Inside the courtyard, the Rogues stood tall, fully equipped with their tech again, thanks to a well-timed detour to the evidence lockup. Heatwave’s flamethrower hissed like a waking beast, Mirror Master’s belt shimmered with reflective lenses, and Weather Wizard hovered with a stormcloud brewing above his head. Captain Boomerang casually twirled a serrated boomerang between his fingers. All except one. “Where’s Cold?” Wally asked, already forming a cyclone beneath his boots. “No gear for him to get,” Barry answered, scanning the group. “Though I bet he must be the brain-freezed mind behind it all.” Then, in a flash, Wally bolted ahead. “Wait!” Barry called, but it was too late. Wally zigzagged into action, eager, confident, mimicking the very moves Barry had once used in each of their first encounters. He tried twisting Heatwave’s steel fuel tank nozzle, only for Ronnie to spin around and blast him point-blank with a fireball. He charged Weather Wizard from the front, just like Barry had done, but Mardon zapped a bolt of lightning straight at him, launching Wally into a stone. “Uhhh. Come on!” Wally grunted, smoke rising from his suit. Barry fought beside him, trying to pick up the slack but it wasn’t a fair fight, not with Wally forcing the same moves that had once barely worked in their first run-ins. Before Barry could warn him again, a circular gleam appeared beneath their feet. Mirror Master smirked from across the yard, “Smile for the camera, gents.” In a blink, Barry and Wally were trapped inside a disorienting prism of mirrors, every direction reflecting back distorted versions of themselves and the villains. 

• Barry focused, trying to teach Wally the world’s fastest lesson on resonant frequency so they could vibrate out of the mirror together. The jagged maze of glass gave way as Barry phased them out with a low hum of vibrating molecules. They tumbled onto the pavement outside the trap, coughing and gasping, but it was Wally who stayed down on his hands and knees, fists pressed into the concrete. By the time Barry vibrated them out, the courtyard was empty, nothing left but smoke. Wally stared at the spot where they vanished, his fists clenched and voice shaky in frustration, “I… I totally had them.” Barry placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, Wally. You didn’t. But now you know why we call them Rogues.” Wally lowered his head. “Come on,” Barry said, “We’ve got work to do.” Barry dusted himself off and looked down with a grin. “Hey, careful there, kid. You’re gonna get your boots wet crying over a busted plan.” No response. Barry’s smile faded. “Wally?” Then he heard it. Not just a sniffle. A shudder. Barry’s face fell as he knelt beside him. “I freaking blew it,” Wally choked out, his voice trembling in a way Barry hadn’t heard before. “Okay,” Barry said gently, all humor gone. “Hey, slow down. What’s going on?” Wally looked up, red-faced and blinking hard. “Slow down, Flash? It’s not just that they got away. It’s... it’s everything.” He sat back on his heels, gesturing wildly to the world around them, then held his hands over his head, “It’s all so slow, Barry,” Wally said, his voice cracking. “You don’t get it. I’m stuck like this all the time. Everyone talks like they’re underwater. I’ve read the same cereal box seven hundred times this week. I can count the flaps of a fly’s wings.” Barry just listened. “I get why I mess up. I need action. I need things to move because nothing else does. And when they finally do, I jump at it too fast. I know I do. But it’s because if I don’t, I’ll go crazy.” Barry was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded, “I do get it,” he said, “More than you think I do.” Wally looked at him, unsure. “When it started for me, I used to tap my own foot just to hear something happen. I’d get so bored I’d reorganize my filing cabinets in between passes of the clock’s minute hand just to pass the time.” He chuckled softly, “The first year? I nearly talked to myself more than I talked to anyone else.” Wally blinked. “But you’re so...” “Put together? Calm?” Barry shrugged. “Took me years to learn that. You don’t slow the world down. You figure out how to live inside it.” Wally took a breath, still shaken but listening. “That restlessness you feel? That’s the hard part. But it’s also the gift. You have time other people don’t. Learn to use it. Focus in it. The stillness? That’s your battlefield.” There was a pause both basked in. Then, softly, Wally asked, “You really think I can?” Barry smiled, “I think you’re already halfway there.” Wally wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his suit and got to his feet but steady. Barry clapped him on the back. “Great. Lesson one: don’t tie the guy with the flamethrower’s tubes until you’re as strong as Superman.” Wally chuckled and nodded. “Got it.” Barry gave him a crooked grin. “Lesson two: don’t cry in front of your uncle, or he will make fun of you later.” Wally groaned, but the ghost of a smile crossed his face,  “Fair.”

• In a dingy safehouse stashed between the old rail lines, the Rogues were licking their wounds and hyping their egos. Mostly their egos. Captain Cold paced, his breath steaming in the cool night air, not from cold tech, but pure fury. “It’s a joke,” he snapped, waving his bare hands in front of the others, “You all get your gear back. My cold gun? Gone. Like it never existed!” “Maybe they thought you’d just chill out,” Captain Boomerang muttered from the couch, earning a glare sharp enough to freeze him on the spot. Weather Wizard perked up in his chair and laced his fingers together. “Actually... there’s something I heard before I left Star Labs. Quiet project, off-books. Some engineer was tasked with rebuilding your gun tech for more scientific applications. Improving it. Said he’d cracked it, figured out a way to push the thermal regulator past its previous limit.” Cold stopped pacing. His eyes narrowed. “You telling me there’s a better version of my gun sitting in a lab somewhere?” Weather Wizard gave a smirk, “I’m telling you it’s ours if we want it.” The idea of a robbery lit a spark in the room of excitement, but Cold wasn’t quite sold. Not yet. He turned away, thinking, stewing. The Flashes were always fast enough keep up. Gear helped, sure. But gear could be broken. Stolen. Outpaced. Then, a slow grin crept across his face like ice across a windowpane. “No,” Cold said, his voice low, deliberate, “We don’t just rob the place.” Mirror Master leaned forward, intrigued, “Then what? Smash and grab?” “I take it,” Cold said. “I become it.” The room went quiet. “You all remember how Caitlin Snow got her powers?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “She wasn’t born, it was built. Lab coat magic sourced from my wondrous invention. That means it can be done again. If we get our hands on the right people at STAR Labs, they don’t give us tools…” He paused, savoring the moment, “They give us powers.” Boomerang whistled, “Now that’s escalation.” “We go in,” Cold continued. “We lock it down. We make those scientists turn us into gods. And when the Flashes come running… We’ll be ready,” Weather Wizard finished, eyes flashing. Cold looked at his bare hands once more, already imagining the frost returning, this time from within, “Let’s take what they took from us. And let’s take more.”

• Night fell heavy over Central City, but the sudden blackout at Star Labs was anything but natural. The security lights flickered once, then cut completely, right before the reinforced entry exploded inward in a shimmer of glass and flame. The Rogues stormed the facility, leaving scorched tile and warped steel in their wake. Inside, the startled scientists didn’t even have time to scream before they were herded into a corner at boomerang point. At the head of the assault stood Captain Cold, who walked his way up to a pedestal and took what he believed to be his own intellectual property. Now armed with something new, sleek, chrome, and pulsing with a cold so absolute it hissed. He pulled out the familiar central power core and looked at his counterparts before smashing it into his chest as hard as he could. A light flashed outward and energy pulsed everyone backward. He stood up, his breath fogged in the air, and his eyes were lit with something far more dangerous than anger, ambition. They shoved one of the older scientists into a chair, strapping him down as Weather Wizard zapped a light fixture for dramatic effect, “Meet the smarty pants that has no choice but to help us,” Weather Wizard said, gesturing at the captive man, “Doctor Martin Stein. Nuclear physicist. Inventor. Guinea pig wrangler.” Stein’s eyes narrowed. “I know who you are. And I know what you’re trying to do is impossible.” “Wrong,” Cold said, casually freezing the desk beside him into a glacial sculpture. “It’s inevitable. We’re not asking you to build gadgets. We’re asking you to change us. I managed to become one with my element just like that stupid lab rat girl,” Cold went on, raising his arm with reverence. “I feel it now. Do it for the rest of my associates.” “I didn’t do anything to you,” Stein spat, “That integration happened by accident. It was unstable. You could’ve vaporized yourself.” Boomerang stepped forward, blade spinning between his fingers. “And yet, here we are. Pretty as a picture.” The tension mounted as Stein looked around the lab, searching for an option, “The fusion reactor… the quantum entanglement prototype… maybe, maybe, there’s a way to bind them to their tech. But it’s untested. It could kill you.” “Or it could make us unstoppable,” Mirror Master grinned, practically salivating at the idea. “We’re not asking, Doc,” Cold said, leaning in, his voice razor sharp, “You’ll make it work. For all of us.” Weather Wizard sparked his wand in warning while Heatwave cracked his knuckles, clearly enjoying the pressure mounting around their hostage. Martin Stein’s hands trembled as he looked toward the glowing reactor core humming at the heart of the lab. “If this goes wrong,” he muttered, “you won’t just die. You could tear a hole in the city.” Cold’s grin widened. “Then I guess you’d better get it exactly right.”

• At the Central City PD, the coms started chirping about the hostage situation at Star Labs. Barry caught wind and knew exactly what he had to do. He needed to move, but he also felt like he could use some backup. Seconds later, he came skidding to a stop outside the West residence. Wally cracked the front door open, eyebrows raised. “Iris isn’t here,” he said confused, “You need her for something?” Barry grinned, “Actually, I need you.” Wally blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously? After earlier? I thought I just slowed you down.” Barry sank his shoulders a bit, meeting Wally’s eyes with a level seriousness that stripped away the red blur and left only the mentor beneath. “Kid, you’re fast, faster than I was at your point. And sure, you’re gonna make mistakes. So did I. But I’d rather have you by my side learning the right way than out there trying to prove yourself alone. You’re every bit a Flash as I am.” Wally’s heart pounded in a rhythm that had nothing to do with his speed, “You mean that?” Barry smirked, standing tall, “I don’t slow down for just anyone.” Then, with twin streaks of scarlet and gold, the Flashes launched into the street, one seasoned, one still finding his stride, jetting toward offenders together.

• They arrived at Star Labs in a blur of speed, stopping just short of the perimeter where squad cars and flashing lights crowded the block. Barry slowed his breathing and casually walked up to a cluster of officers, greeting them like old friends. “Detective Curtis,” he nodded with a smile, “How’s the little league team?” “Still winless,” the detective said, chuckling as he shook Barry’s hand, “We could use a Flash outfielder.” Barry leaned in, “If you can get the kids to run drills at Mach 2, I’ll think about it.” Wally watched the exchange, foot tapping and brow furrowed, “You always stop to talk like this during an active attack?” Barry glanced sideways, smirking. “These things take time, Kid. Hostage situations don’t usually wrap up in under a minute, and knowing the cops on the ground helps when you’re the guy trying not to get shot at. Trust matters.” Wally nodded slowly, filing that lesson away. Then, in an instant, they were gone, slipping past barricades, through sterile halls and into the belly of the crisis. 

• Inside Star Labs, the moment they skidded to a halt, Barry shouted, “That’s enough! Step away from the scientist, now!” The Rogues turned and Barry sensed something was different. Captain Cold looked almost serene as he raised an arm, and instead of reaching for his signature weapon, he opened his palm. A wave of jagged frost exploded from his skin, firing like a cannonball of winter itself. Barry and Wally dodged, barely avoiding being frozen mid-sentence. “Yeah,” Cold sneered, “We’re not just packing toys anymore. Soon, we’ll all be unstoppable.” But before Barry could calculate the new threat level, Captain Boomerang, never the most graceful under pressure, flung one of his chrome-edged boomerangs wide. But in his overly excited throw, it curved wildly unpredictably, and collided with the glowing core of the quantum nuclear fusion reactor behind them. “No—!” Stein shouted, but it was too late. The chamber cracked open in a cascade of searing energy and reality-bending pulses. Time seemed to distort. Space shimmered. Then the pandemonium began. Mirror Master’s body went rigid, crystalline veins racing across his skin before his form shattered like fragile glass hitting pavement. He was gone in an instant. Weather Wizard staggered, coughing, his body breaking down into a whirling cloud of vapor and storm until he dispersed into the air itself, a scream swallowed by the wind. Then came the fire. A shriek erupted from Heatwave as his body burst into a furnace of nuclear fire, engulfing the panicked Dr. Martin Stein beside him. The flames consumed them both, two bodies reduced to atomic light in a moment. But something strange happened. Instead of ash, a singular flash of fusion energy sparked between them… then only one body fell to the floor. Captain Boomerang screamed, gripping his sides as metal spikes began bursting from his flesh, warping him into a grotesque new form, jagged and volatile, like living shrapnel. Barry shielded Wally with his eyes wide, mouth dry, “What the hell just happened?” Barry whispered in disbelief, recognising the karma once more, “They didn’t get powers. They got punished.”

• The mess inside Star Labs was far from cleaned up. With the reactor now dim and cracked, its strange glow still echoed off the walls, casting long shadows behind the three remaining Rogues. Captain Cold hurled a fresh barrage of icy daggers, each one forming directly from his fingertips, “Let’s see you outrun this, Flash!” But Barry wasn’t alone. Wally zig-zagged through the storm of frost, moving faster than Cold could track. “Behind you, Snowcone!” Wally shouted just before Barry blitzed in with a punch charged with kinetic force, knocking Cold off his feet. His back skidded across the tiles, and he groaned, reaching weakly as Wally bound him in a cocoon of steel pipes flash-fused shut by friction. Captain Boomerang, now more shrapnel than man, roared in frustration. His body launched jagged chunks of metal like a living weapon, each spike whistling through the air like a deadly hailstorm. Barry shouted, “Watch the ricochet!” and deflected several with a circular whirlwind. Wally darted forward, catching Boomerang’s rhythm. Wally circled him, “Well, he’s got no coordination, just like before!” “Then let’s use it!” Barry called. They baited Boomerang into firing haphazardly, his own metal shards ricocheting off the lab walls and back toward him. With expert timing, Wally landed a hard kick to the back of his legs, toppling him forward into an electrical panel. Electricity shot through his body, locking the Rogue in place. But then came the fire. Ronnie, on his knees at the center of the room, shoulders hunched, flames crawling across his body like sentient lava. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his voice a distorted mix of panic and fury. “It’s too hot! Make it stop! I can’t. This is your fault! No, it’s yours, you fool!” His fire wasn’t ordinary anymore. Where it landed, objects morphed and melted into unrecognizable materials. Metal became plastic. Plastic became glass. A nearby desk warped into something soft and unstructured, like rubber. Barry tried to get close. “Ronnie, Ronnie, listen to me! You’re not thinking straight. Whatever happened to you, we can fix it!” But Ronnie couldn’t hear over the roar of the inferno building inside him. Wally shouted, “We’ve gotta bring him down before he brings the whole lab with him!” They struck together, Barry cleared the surface around Ronnie while Wally looped around to grab the argon tanks, bursting them open in a quick twist of pressure. The inert gas blanketed Ronnie, his fire briefly extinguishing long enough for Barry to knock him unconscious with a high-speed blow to the temple. The two Flashes stood among the smoking wreckage, panting. They carried the three defeated villains out one by one. Captain Cold, now frostbitten and groaning. Boomerang, spiked and twitching. Ronnie… no longer recognizable as the man he once was. As they handed the captives over to the stunned officers outside, Barry solemnly reported, “Mirror Master and Weather Wizard… are gone. Dr. Martin Stein too.” Wally lowered his head, letting the weight of the day finally catch up. “Let’s get them to Blackgate,” Barry added, glancing back at the building behind them. “And let’s hope we didn’t just win a battle that cost us something even greater. Get these men some help.” The officer responded solemnly, “Of course, Flash.”

• The sirens faded behind them as Barry and Wally took off down the edge of Central City’s skyline. A cool wind pressed against their faces as they broke through the city’s perimeter. When they finally slowed to a hover on the edge of a tall transmission tower, Wally turned to Barry with a grin too wide for his mask, “Okay, so… not to toot my own horn or anything, but I crushed it back there.” Barry smirked and crossed his arms, “You did good, Wally. Real good. You kept your head in the game, adapted, trusted your gut. You’re starting to figure out what being a hero really means.” Kid Flash puffed up like a balloon, “Wow. See? I’m practically a one-kid Justice League.” Barry raised an eyebrow, “Let’s not start designing your Hall of Fame plaque just yet.” Wally stretched dramatically, back crackling with a touch of lightning, “You just don’t want to admit I’m getting faster.” “Faster, huh?” Barry tilted his head. Wally’s grin sharpened, “How about a race to Gotham?” Barry blinked, “You’re serious?” Wally was already leaning forward into position. “C’mon, old man. Unless you’re scared of being the second fastest man alive.” Barry sighed, a mock-wounded expression on his face, “You know I need to take back all my compliments before you get as cocky as Superman thinking you can beat me.” And with a crack of lightning, Kid Flash vanished down the road. Barry blinked once. Then he smirked. “Alright, Kid,” he muttered, bursting into motion, “Let’s see what you’ve really got.”