by Matt Adams
Where are they?
For a time, I contemplated if I’d been relegated to some strange hell in which a higher power forced me to spend eternity with a sarcastic butler, a freaked-out birdman, and a dark avenger who’d sooner kill me than say hello. But this doesn’t feel like a permanent situation; it feels temporary, as if we’re just waiting for someone to come find us.
I get a creeping dread that it’ll come later rather than sooner… and when we least expect it.
Until then, we’ll briefly celebrate “victory” and figure out a way to stay alive.
Once, I was always running.
Now, I’m only waiting.
Appendix I: Scarlet DashBoy
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I don’t really know why I’m writing these things down. Teachers and counselors tell me it will help me focus my thoughts. So I guess I’m doing it because they said it would help. Plus, when I join the Heroic Legion someday, they can use this for background.
Some guys are fast, but Crimsonstreak is faster. I mean, recklessly fast. Awesomely fast.
I’m fast, too. I’m really fast… maybe even Crimsonstreak fast. They say there are a lot of super-speedsters in this world. That’s probably true. I mean, the Fairborne family alone has two of ’em between Crimsonstreak and Miss Lightspeed.
I found out I was a super-speedster when my dad skipped town. I was, like, nine years old. I chased after him before ending up in New York. My mom says it’s a long trip from Chicago to the Big Apple, but I was there, like, within a few seconds. Maybe less; I don’t know.
I just know I overshot Soldier Field by a long shot.
When I was a kid, I thought I’d use my speed for all kinds of stuff. I could play pro sports or run the fastest fast food joint in the country. I could do anything.
Then I realized I could do something else.
I was watching TV late at night when I saw Crimsonstreak take down a bunch of bank robbers. I mean, I really didn’t see him do it—he’s so fast no one sees him do anything unless he wants them to—but you get the point. People were in danger, and this guy’s running around making it so they’re not in danger anymore.
It was, like, the most awesome thing EVER.
So I decided I, Barry Allen Bartlett, needed to do something awesome like that, but a little different. Totally awesome, but totally me. I couldn’t be crimson, but I could be scarlet. I was young. I dashed. I became Scarlet DashBoy, someone who could take on the criminal element and be like Crimsonstreak.
It meant some late nights. It meant some homework didn’t get turned in. It didn’t really matter anyway. I mean, Mom didn’t give a crap what I was doing. I only saw Dad like twice a year.
It wasn’t that I wanted to become the world’s greatest hero. I just wanted to get Crimsonstreak’s attention. The dude’s a hero… a bona fide hero like me. We could be like Batman and Robin, only faster.
I just need him to see me. I just need him to understand me.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I couldn’t catch him.
Almost! Almost!
Crimsonstreak was just three feet away from me after some reporters interviewed him about a case. He’d just saved a school bus full of kids. I was trying to get his attention. I should’ve worn my DashBoy outfit, but I didn’t want to steal his thunder.
If he were a pro athlete, I could’ve thrust a baseball in his face and asked him to sign it. What do you do with a superhero? How do you get his attention?
It certainly isn’t by yelling his name and telling him you’re fast and want to be just like him. I know that because that’s what I tried. I got within a few feet of him, waited for the cameras to stop rolling, and told him I wanted to be just like him. I told him I was fast.
“So was Carl Lewis,” he told me.
I told him he didn’t understand. I’m fast. Like… fast.
He gave me some weird advice.
“Beat some Olympic sprinters,” he said. “And then come see me.”
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I took Crimsonstreak’s advice to heart.
First, I raced some dudes preparing for the Olympics. I was at the finish line before they even got off the starting block. When they reached me, I clotheslined them.
I don’t know what beating Olympic sprinters has to do with running fast, but Crimsonstreak told me to beat some. So I did.
To say the least, his training methods are unconventional.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I don’t get it. I showed up in Crimsonstreak’s hometown… this little place called Williamsburg, Indiana. There isn’t anything there. I saw, like, a post office and a traffic light. There was a community center. No good pizza places, no stores.
Most alarmingly, no statue of Crimsonstreak. I mean, this guy’s the greatest hero in the history of heroes. His parents are, like, kinda legendary, too. But I get to this town, and there’s nothing there. Not even a sign saying, “Earth’s fastest man was born here.”
Don’t these people realize what they have? Don’t they realize who he is?
He’s Crimsonstreak, the greatest hero ever to live and the fastest dude ever (until I reach my full potential).
They can’t even put up a sign letting everyone know that Crimsonstreak was born here? That Crimsonstreak lives here?
His family’s home is just a mile or so outside the main town. I knocked on the door. No one answered. The house was a letdown; it should be, like, a historical site or something. Again, there’s no sign. Nothing to tell us how awesome Crimsonstreak is.
If this is how they’re going to treat him, they should just wipe the whole town off the map. I’m just sayin’.
But it’s okay. They can put his statue next to the Scarlet DashBoy/Barry Allen Bartlett Memorial that’ll go up in Chicago someday.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
Crimsonstreak came to Chicago!
He was helping the authorities stop some bank robber who could teleport all across the country. Apparently, Crimsonstreak was able to run around the guy, creating a vortex that disrupted his powers. Then the police fit the guy with a power-restraining collar.
I’ve never seen one of those up close before, but they look absolutely nasty.
When I heard on the news that he was in town, I skipped class and changed into my new outfit. Mom’s not much of a seamstress, so I made it myself. Well, okay, I ordered it off the internet with her credit card and had it delivered. Basically, it’s a dark red bodysuit with some black streaks down the sleeves and pant legs. I added a San Diego Padres patch to the upper left part of the chest.
It’s simple, but it screams “Scarlet DashBoy.”
Once Crimsonstreak wrapped up his interviews with the press—he does a lot of interviews—I dashed over his way and introduced myself.
“I’m Scarlet DashBoy,” I told him.
“Right,” my hero said. “Scarlet DashBoy. Are you, like, a ‘thing’ around here?”
I didn’t know what he meant.
“I’m superfast,” I said. “I’m like you.”
My hero smiled. “That’s cute, kid. Your costume even looks kind of like my uniform.”
I pointed at the “S” and “D” on my chest. Scarlet DashBoy, all the way.
“Is that the Padres logo? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, kid.”
I told him not to worry about it because the logo was just kind of a last-minute addition. He asked if it was hard to find Padres gear in a Cubs town. I told him it was about as easy as finding Cubs gear in a Colts city.
I know he’s a Colts fan.
“You’d be surprised,” he said.
I asked him if he liked my new DashBoy suit.
“You really shouldn’t wear that in public,” he said. “People might start thinking y
ou’re me.”
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I heard this villain named ThunderStruck had invaded the Field Museum. This was on my turf; I wasn’t going to let this happen.
But I’m nobody. I’m Scarlet DashBoy, the new hero in town. Nobody knows who I am yet; the villain certainly isn’t going to listen to me. I ripped the Padres patch off my chest (like Crimsonstreak said, it could be a lawsuit, and I totally don’t have time for that, you know?) and went charging in… not as a scarlet streak, but as a crimson one.
ThunderStruck wasn’t that scary—all thunder, no lightning. Just like sound and fury signifying… well, basically nothing. I told him to let the museum guests go.
He refused.
I got upset and DashBoyed into his chest with enough force to knock him down. The cops took over after that. They never saw my face because I didn’t let them.
I heard one lady yell, “Thank you, Crimsonstreak!” as I ran off.
I probably should’ve corrected her. All I could think of was what Crimsonstreak told me.
“People might start thinking you’re me.”
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
It happened again. I impersonated Crimsonstreak.
I didn’t mean to.
I was minding my own business when I saw this guy take a woman’s purse.
All right, all right. I didn’t actually see it. I just heard yelling in the street.
When I chased after the guy, we ended up on the Magnificent Mile.
Before he knew what hit him, I was in front of him, asking why he would do something like that. His answer was a fist right into my stomach.
I mean, the guy didn’t hesitate, not for one second. So I’m doubling over in pain and the guy says, “Crimsonstreak don’t seem so tough.”
Obviously, the guy hasn’t ever seen Chris Fairborne in action because Crimsonstreak is totally tough. Maybe he can’t lift a bus over his head and throw it to Nebraska, but he’s tough. I’m not letting some lowlife purse snatcher berate my hero.
My fists pummeled him, red blurs pounding his midsection before a flash of scarlet slammed into his jaw. By the time the police got there, the guy was pretty beat up.
I handed the purse off to police officers and told them I was Scarlet DashBoy. They didn’t seem to care, so I bolted away from the Mile. I’m pretty sure someone muttered something about seeing Crimsonstreak again.
I mean… he’s fast. It’s no big deal for him to hike up to Chicago, right?
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
Multi-state and multi-county agencies were staking out a home where this woman was holding people ransom. I thought that was weird because all the evildoers I’ve beaten up have been guys, but a bad deed’s a bad deed.
When a blast of yellow-green energy surged toward a police car and blew it up, I knew the cops were in over their heads. I tried to convince them to let me help, but they told me they didn’t know me from Adam and they just wouldn’t listen.
I pulled the “C” card. I told them I was Crimsonstreak.
I heard the thup-thup-thup of a news helicopter from above, and one of the officers must’ve told the media that Crimsonstreak was on the scene because Crimsonstreak eventually arrived. He stood next to me and acted like he didn’t know who I was.
We’ve talked, like, tons of times, yet he claimed he didn’t know me.
It kind of hurt.
More yellow-green blasts came from the house and Crimsonstreak said he thought some woman named KnightStar was inside causing trouble. A couple of the officers told Crimsonstreak that she had hostages with her.
The villain said she planned to kill them unless police left the scene. They weren’t going anywhere. Crimsonstreak wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Crimsonstreak suggested that I could draw KnightStar’s fire while he went inside the house. Now we were talking! Operational cooperation! It’s like we were partners.
Batman and Robin!
Green Arrow and Speedy!
So I got the villain’s attention and Crimsonstreak rescued the hostages out before she ever knew what happened. Enraged, she came out of the house and police put a pair off stun cuffs on her wrists.
“Sometimes the villains aren’t very bright,” he told me. “Even when they can project blinding light from their palms.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was getting advice from Crimsonstreak! Better advice than beating Olympic sprinters, too. I told him my name again—Scarlet DashBoy—and he asked me my real name.
“Barry Allen Bartlett,” I told him. “One of the world’s fastest men.”
He said I was probably one of the fastest “kids” and suggested that I wait awhile before becoming a superhero.
“Don’t rush it, kid,” he said. “It’s tough work.”
I asked him if he wanted to be partners.
He looked me up and down. “I don’t do sidekicks, kid. Saving people is hard enough without having to keep a sidekick safe.”
That’s when I realized that the only way we’d work together would be if I proved myself.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
Exponential—the Amazing Multiplier Man—got drunk or something and caused quite the ruckus in Arizona. When I saw it on the news, I knew Crimsonstreak was outnumbered.
I came to help him, only to discover that Exponential was throwing out some high-quality alcohol.
The nerve of that guy!
Exponential was using his infinite personalities to assault Crimsonstreak. My hero said he doesn’t need a sidekick, but it sure looked he could use the help so I stepped up. If I’m going to become the guy’s partner, I needed to prove myself and kick some Exponential ass.
He didn’t seem as happy to see me as I thought he would be. The first thing he told me was to go find the Heroic Legion.
There was no time for that.
We came together and beat the snot out of Exponential and his annoying personalities before the guy finally gained control of himself.
I could only think of two things: 1) Crimsonstreak was getting closer to accepting me as his partner and 2) stupid Exponential wasted a lot of good Hooper’s Hooch.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I didn’t really mean to steal Crimsonstreak’s regular uniform, but I kinda did. I was just dropping by his place—this little apartment in Green-something, Indiana—and I just saw it.
Crimson’s just such a cool color. The suit almost fit me perfectly, but it was a little loose around the waist. The sleeves were a little long. It didn’t fit my quads snugly enough.
Still, almost a perfect fit.
Anyway, while I was there, I may have kinda had the news on. I heard there was this guy storming around Springfield, Illinois, trying to destroy Abraham Lincoln’s birthplace, so I went. Chris must’ve heard about it, too, because he arrived around the same time I did.
I told him we should be partners.
“We could be a team, Crimsonstreak!” I said.
He told me he worked alone and would never have a sidekick. I suggested calling us “The Red Dashes.”
He didn’t really seem to like that idea.
Anyway, back to Springfield, the state capital and home to Abraham Lincoln. We encountered this guy who dressed like John Wilkes Booth. He even called himself “JWB.” We made pretty quick work of the guy, but he did destroy a sign outside the museum dedicated to Abraham Lincoln.
Crimsonstreak asked me to return his suit, which I did. I didn’t tell him that I really liked his auxiliary suit, a sweet black uniform with dashes of red.
I can’t be sure, but I think he’s warming up to me and the idea of teaming up.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
I’m really not sure what I have to do to get Crimso
nstreak’s attention.
He was helping the Crusading Comet clear out a gang of bank robbers when I showed up and started busting some heads. I was wearing a new Scarlet DashBoy outfit, but he didn’t seem to notice.
When all the bad guys were down for the count, I introduced myself to the Crusading Comet.
“So you’re that—you’re Scarlet DashBoy,” the Comet said in his awesome, mysterious, gravelly voice. It was so sinister that it was hard to tell if he was glad to see me.
I just assumed he was since I came and helped them with the McCarthy Gang and all.
“He’s kind of a fan,” Crimsonstreak said.
Kind of a fan? I wanna be his damn partner. I didn’t say that to the Crusading Comet, but I should have.
“Look… um… Barry… you need to kind of stop tagging along,” Crimsonstreak told me.
I asked him why.
“Things are getting dangerous,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.”
I reminded him of how we took on villains like KnightStar, Exponential, and JWB. He looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.
I’m starting to wonder if he has some memory problems. Maybe moving so fast all the time scrambles his circuits on occasion. I hope that doesn’t happen to me.
I told the Comet that Crimsonstreak and I had fought together during several missions, but the Comet said he didn’t know much about me. I explained that I kept a low media profile because I didn’t want to steal Chris’s thunder.
The Comet shrugged, shook my hand, and then fired his grappler. Just like that, he was gone.
I want to add that to my repertoire! Maybe me, Crimsonstreak, and the Comet can work together. I just have to convince the Comet to change his armor to vermilion. “The Red Dashes” don’t have to be limited to two people.
From the personal journal of Barry Allen Bartlett (Scarlet DashBoy)
They threw Crimsonstreak in prison today.
They accused him of being a violent terrorist who destroyed his own hometown.
I don’t believe it. How could they treat my friend and future crimefighting partner like this? What happened to Colonel Chaos? Why hasn’t his dad helped him? I mean, he’s in charge of everything now, so why wouldn’t he make everything okay?