randomality | Reset! - Chapter Five

Summary: Faced with being shipped out to Denver to live with Jay Garrick after the disappearance of Max Mercury, Bart argues to remain in Manchester with Helen. Impulse begins to search for ways to save Max on his own and reaches out to friends and allies. AU.

Disclaimer: DC owns the DCU. Impulse created by Mark Waid and Mike Wieringo.

Reset! - Chapter Five: Renegade

The moment Bart stepped into the kitchen, he stopped cold. Wally was there in full Flash uniform, cowl on and all, and his posture and scowl did not speak of a pleasant visit. Helen stood between them, her expression worried.

Bart took an instinctive step back, ready to run. "What's wrong?"

The Flash's voice was hard and edged. "Why don't you tell us? Why are you doing this?"

Tensing and feeling the rush of lightning pulse through his veins, it was difficult for Bart to maintain speech at the slowed, "normal" pace. "I don't get it. What am I doing?"

"Stop this," the Flash warned, "Impulse stopped a mugging in Baltimore, but caused a four car accident in doing so. Three people went to the hospital. Fortunately, the injuries were minor. If I didn't see the traffic cam footage, I wouldn't have thought it possible to do what you did there."

"It wasn't me! I wasn't in Balti-!"

"Stop!" Taking a deep, steadying breath, the Flash gathered his composure. "By what I've seen, it's not a loose scout that's causing havoc and you haven't had an alibi for any of these incidents. The Impulse responsible looks like you, acts like you, sounds like you, and moves like you. I know you have a doppelganger out there, but there's only one way I can think of to prove that it's him. I'm stealing your speed and you're going to stay in Manchester. If Impulse shows up again, then I'll believe you and I'll take care of it. If these incidents stop, then..." He shook his head with his green eyes closed. His voice became quieter. "I don't know what I'll do with you."

In panic, Bart did the first thing that came to mind. He ran. Pushing against his limits, he did not dare look behind him. He already knew that the Flash was chasing him. He vibrated through obstacles, leaving them for the Flash to maneuver around. His path was erratic with sharp turns wherever he felt the need for them. After drifting through a wall and angling hard right while still inside the building, he continued his escape attempt. Still not looking back, he vibrated through another wall and stopped.

His heart was still racing and he looked to see where he was. It was the inside of a church. The chapel was dark and the pews were empty. Bart dove for cover under a pew and waited. Did he outmaneuver the Flash? Could Wally track him down? The seconds crawled by. If Max were chasing him, how would he find him? Footprints? That didn't work so well on concrete and asphalt. He shivered at the next thought. Max could commune with the Speed Force. Could Wally do that by now? How could he hide from that? What should he do now?

An eternity passed before he felt safe enough to crawl out from under the pew and sit down on it. If he didn't use the Speed Force, could he still be tracked? There was no way to know for sure, but he recalled that Max usually didn't know when a psycho speedster was going to pop out of the Speed Force until they were active. With that, Bart decided that he wasn't going to use the Speed Force unless absolutely necessary. In any case, he needed help. His first idea was the active Young Justice crew, but Wally would think of alerting the JLA to watch them. Batman would think of that, at least.

Bart propped his elbows onto his knees. What would Batman do if the Flash were hunting him down? Batman didn't have any superpowers, right? Bart drew a blank for solutions. Batman would at least know where he was. Getting up, Bart walked up the long aisle and to the locked doors. A quick twist of the deadbolt knob and the door was unlocked and open. It looked like about the same time he left Manchester and the sign in front of the church was in English. Walking towards the street and down the sidewalk, he searched for clues about his location. Every now and then, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that there wasn't a red streak barreling down on him.

Passing by a small strip mall, he spotted a public phone booth. Where there was a phone booth, there was a phone book! On top that, there was a convenience store there and he was hungry. The phone book told him that he was in region of Omaha, Nebraska. He raised a thick eyebrow at that. How many right turns did he take to run all that way and only end up in Omaha? At least the phone book had a map and he found his approximate location in the city on that.

Stepping inside the minimart, he bought a couple of cheap burritos that were best when nuked from orbit. Sitting along the wall outside of the store, he settled down to his dinner. On the other side of the doorway, a pair of men stood. The shorter one in the trenchcoat was smoking, while the taller blond one spewed out a steady stream of vulgar language. Bart tried to ignore them and, past the expletives, he understood that they were lost and it was the lunchbox's fault. Whatever that meant. Eventually, they walked away. Bart was grateful for that, since thinking was hard enough without listening to verbal diarrhea.

Who could he go to for help? He really hated this whole thinking thing. It never quite worked the way people said it would. Whoever he went to needed to know that he was Impulse, since his problem centered on that identity. So that ruled out his Manchester posse, except for Carol. But Wally would think to look there. Also, whomever he went to couldn't be watched or interrogated by a mentor. That ruled out Kon, Robin, Cassie, Anita... Anita? Bart swallowed the last bite of burrito. Who was Anita's mentor? Did she have a mentor? He rattled his memory, but couldn't come up with a mentor for Empress. Where was she now? Baton Rouge? That wasn't too far from Omaha, as he reckoned. It wouldn't take long to get there. But he didn't dare run, in case Wally was able to detect and track draws on the Speed Force.

So, how could he get there quickly? Plane? He was sure he didn't have the money for that. Bus? That might be in his budget. He recalled the last time he went anywhere on a bus, which was a trip to the coast with Carol, Preston, and Rolly. That gave him some clue on the process. But didn't it take forever and a half to get anywhere that way? He just remembered the trip taking way too long and being bored out of his mind. Where was the nearest bus station? He returned to the phone book and flipped through the pages.

After a phone call to the bus depot, Bart discovered that he didn't have near enough money to buy a ticket to Baton Rouge. Besides, the trip would take a full day and a half. There was no way he was going to stay cooped up on some motorized snail for that long. He started walking south, just to give his legs something to do. He would rather run, but the image of Wally chasing him down kept his urge in check. After several minutes, he looked over his shoulder to see how much ground he had covered and was disappointed at the meager distance.

He picked up his pace to a loping jog well within the bounds of normal human speed. Eventually, he found a major highway and started following it. It was the sort of route he would take when he ran at a hair below supersonic speed. Now, vehicles sped by him with roaring engines and gusts of tainted wind. Normally, he would be zipping between the seemingly stationary cars. It sounded far different now to have the engines approaching him. Looking back from time to time, he was frustrated with his slow pace. He felt like a slug.

On the other side of the highway some distance behind him, he spotted a man walking alongside the road with his thumb out. Hitchhiking? Could he do that, too? Riding in someone else's car would be faster than the pace he was holding to now. He slowed down and stuck out his thumb. After a while, he was getting bored, so he started walking backwards. That let him see the cars as they approached. Maybe he should have figured out some way of getting on the bus? At this rate, it would take forever to get to Baton Rouge. Maybe he could have found the bus and snuck onto it? It would be better than walking around in the dark.

Just as the last rays of the sun faded over the horizon, a semi truck slowed and pulled over. Bart jogged over to the truck and climbed through the opened passenger door. A stocky, middle-aged, blonde woman wearing a baseball cap waited for him to buckle in. "Where're you headed?"

"Baton Rouge," Bart replied, wrinkling his nose at the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

"That's pretty far," she replied as she pulled her truck onto the highway. "I'm going south, as it is. I'll clip Louisiana, but I don't think I get all the way to Baton Rouge. What's your name?"

"Bart Allen," he answered without thinking.

A young woman's sleepy voice piped up in the cabin behind the seats. "Mama? You pick someone up?"

"Bart's on his way to Baton Rouge," the driver replied, "Young boy all alone on the road these days isn't safe at all these days. Not that they were all that safe before. Especially one this pretty."

The woman leaned out from between the seats. "He's pretty?"

Bart's jaw dropped. He knew that face with bright blue eyes and long, platinum blonde hair all too well. "White Lightning?!" What was she doing out of jail so soon?

She jerked to full alertness. "You know me?" She gave him one of her dazzling smiles. "Well, you are pretty, aren't you? I know some folks that would die for that... hair..." Squinting in the dim light, she peered at him. "Mama, put on the overhead light." Under the light, White Lightning examined him. "I know you! Where do I know you from?" Bart squirmed in his seat, hoping that she wouldn't identify him. "What's your name?"

"Bart Allen," he repeated as the light turned off. He wasn't sure if this was worse than being caught by Wally or not.

"That sounds familiar," she mused, "But I don't think you ever put on one of my jackets. Were you in one of the older crews? Nah, you couldn't have been. You're too young and I usually throw 'em back when they're that small. Unless-" She snapped her fingers, "That hair! Manchester!" Bart felt his guts seize up. "You're that little spitfire! You came along on that botched casino job!"

Bart laughed uneasily, recalling the event. "Yeah! I rode on your bike!"

"Well, how ya been, spitfire?" White Lightning beamed, "Ain't this a long way from Alabama?"

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted.

"Running from something?" she guessed. When he nodded, she sighed, "Trouble at home?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You have problems with your dad?"

"My dad died when I was a baby," Bart told her, "Then my uncle disappeared, so now my cousin is in charge of me. But he thinks that I'm a walking disaster zone, even though I'm not the one causing the trouble. He was going to... make sure I couldn't cause any trouble. So, I ran. I need to get to Baton Rouge, 'cause I have a friend there that can help me."

"Sounds like you're in fix, sweetie," remarked White Lightning, "Well, you helped me once, and I like to repay favors."

"I didn't help you much," reminded Bart.

"Well, I couldn't expect you to take on Impulse. A real live superhero? He'd have made short work of a small fry like you. I've watched him do it to other folk and got nabbed by him myself. Not that I like to admit it." White Lightning settled into a more comfortable position behind the seats. "When the bullets start flyin', it's best that the amateurs get out of the heat, anyways. Don't want anyone gettin' hurt."

The driver spoke as she merged onto an interstate freeway. "We got about three hours before our next stop." She glanced at Bart. "We're gonna pass right through Central City and stop in Kansas City."

White Lightning added, "The Twin Cities are Flash turf and his little brother has given me enough trouble. I don't want to deal with the big red jammies, if I can help it." Bart snickered at that description and nodded in agreement. White Lightning yawned and rubbed at one of her eyes. "I'm not sure if I'll be up to my game tonight. That last job was a real drag." She tapped Bart's shoulder, "Hey, spitfire. How about you pay us back for the ride by helpin' me out? You've volunteered before."

It wasn't a hard choice to make. "Sure." After all, he could keep White Lightning out of trouble that way. He had done it before.

She tousled his wild chestnut hair and added a little extra honey to her drawl. "I knew I could count on you."

He grinned at that and asked, "So, what am I gonna do?"

"Pretty standard fare," she answered, "Wear the colors, hold a gun, and just scare folks a little. Don't need to shoot or anything. If things get tough, you take off. Minimum risk and maximum thrill."

"Sounds cool." He twisted around in his seat to get a better look at the charismatic bandit, but something else caught his eye in the low light. "Whoa! It's like a mini house back there!" There was a bed, a sink, a microwave, a television, and lots of compartment doors.

Mama chuckled, "A sleeper helps when we're on routes that don't go by truck stops."

"And it beats having to hunt for a shower," White Lightning added. She stood and navigated to the bed, flipping it up against the wall to reveal a pair of seats and a small table that folded out. She flicked on a light over the dinette. "Come on back and have a seat, spitfire."

Bart unbuckled and unsteadily made his way back to sit across the tabletop from her. She fished a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray out of a nearby drawer and brought one of the sticks to her lips. She held the pack out to the boy, "You smoke?"

Bart shook his head. "They smell bad and they're not good for you."

White Lightning chuckled and nodded. "You're right on that." She lit the cigarette and took a long drag from it. Crossing her legs and leaning against the wall, she let the plume of blue smoke go. Bart tried to hold his breath until the wispy tendrils dissipated. White Lightning continued to speak, "But, in the end, it's what you don't expect that gets ya. That's why I always say, "Live fast, die young, and leave a good lookin' corpse." Y'know what I mean?"

"I know about the living fast part," Bart admitted, "I'm not sure on the rest."

White Lightning raised a finely arched eyebrow and laughed. "Well, I can't blame ya on that!" She put out the cigarette and stretched out on the seat. From the floor, she picked up a blanket and used it for a pillow, drawing part of it over her eyes. "Since we got some time, I'm gonna get a little more shut eye. If you want to watch the TV, go ahead."