-Central City, 12:30 a.m.-
[Beep] [Beep] [Alarm]
The alarm blared through the quiet halls of the Central City Museum, an ear-piercing siren wailed throughout the museum. Startled guards leaped to their feet, awakened to the aftermath of the daring heist at the museum.
Each guard was dressed in a crisp uniform, their expressions resolute as they reached for their walkie-talkies and flashlights.
One of the guards, Frank, a burly man with a grizzled beard, was among the first to respond. He had spent years protecting the museum's treasures and considered them almost like family. His heart raced as he approached the source of the alarm.
"It's gone!"
Frank exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief, as he reached the room where the Worthy Pod had been displayed. The empty pedestal glistened under the cold light of the emergency fixtures.
The other guards quickly gathered, their expressions mirroring Frank's shock. Among them was Maria, a young woman with a background in art history, who had always been captivated by the Worthy Pod's mystique. She gasped and muttered, "How could this happen?"
Jim, another guard known for his levelheadedness, began to relay their situation over the walkie-talkie, his voice steady despite the urgency of the moment. "This is security team alpha. We have a breach in the Worthy Pod exhibit. I repeat, the Pod is missing."
As the alarms continued to blare, the guards scanned the room for any signs of foul play. Dust motes danced in the air, caught in the eerie red glow, but there was no trace of forced entry or struggle.
Fear gripped the museum staff as they realized the implication of this theft. The Worthy Pod was no ordinary artifact; it was said to hold immeasurable power, and its absence threatened to disrupt the delicate balance of history and legend.
With a deep breath, Frank took charge, his grizzled features hardening with resolve. "We need to notify the authorities immediately. But remember, we have the Flash in this city; if anyone can catch the thief and recover the pod, it's him."
***
In the heart of Central City, Barry Allen, the mild-mannered forensic scientist, sat at his cluttered desk in the police department's crime lab. The hum of fluorescent lights and rhythmic beeping of machinery surrounded him as he meticulously examined a piece of evidence under a microscope.
His concentration was broken when the phone on his desk rang insistently. Barry's hand shot out to answer it, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. "Barry Allen," he answered in his usual calm and collected tone.
On the other end of the line, a frantic voice crackled with urgency. "Barry, it's Darryl," said the voice of his captain. "We got a problem. The Central City museum has been hit. The Worthy Pod is gone."
Barry furrowed his brow. The Worthy Pod was an artifact surrounded by myth, a legendary artifact of immeasurable power. He had read about it in the newspapers about the exhibit. "Are you serious, Captain?" Barry replied, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Captain Frye's voice was grim, "Yes, Barry. We were just informed. The place is a mess, and the museum staff are in a state of panic. I have already dispatched a pair of detectives; I want you to go collect evidence and see if you could find anything."
Barry gave a nod, even though his captain could not see it. "I am on my way," he ended the call.
With a quick movement, Barry left his lab coat behind, revealing the iconic red and gold Flash suit hidden beneath. In an instant, he transformed into the Scarlet Speedster.
...
Barry Allen, as the forensic scientist for the Central City Police Department, arrived at the crime scene. The Central City Museum's grand entrance lay before him, marked by flashing police lights and hushed voices of officers and museum staff.
He quickly flashed his badge to gain access and had his way past the security tape that cordoned off the area. The tension inside was palpable as the police interviewed the witnesses, yellow tape surrounding the cleanly cut display case, and the red glow of the alarm.
Barry wasted no time and donned a pair of latex gloves before getting to work. He carefully examined the cut on the display glass, his sharp eyes scanning for any trace evidence, while his keen mind cataloged every detail.
As he used a magnifying glass to observe the cut, he found something unusual. The cut on the glass was rough, unlike the precise cut made by a tool. It was as if a dull nail was scratched on the surface at high speed.
His mind raced even faster than usual, processing the implication of these peculiar markings. It was a telltale sign that they might be dealing with a meta. Barry's forensic skill kicked into high gear as he checked for fingerprints and took photographs.
"I want this display case in the lab for further analysis," Barry informed the fellow officers, then turned to the detective interviewing the staff, "Can I see the surveillance footage?"
The detective gave a nod before taking Barry to the console where a technician was reviewing the video footage. The technician obliged to their request by showing the footage. With the footage displayed on the screen, Barry scrutinized every frame with his lightning-fast perception.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The video played. The museum was peaceful until the event happened. The footage showed the Pod inside the display for a second, and next, a hole in the display glass and the Pod missing. The technician slowed down that second until it was playing second by second.
Barry had already noticed the inconsistency in the video; there was a single second missing in the video. It was when the crime had happened. The whole crime had taken less than a single second. The criminal had the ability to move at super speed, similar to him.
"Sir," the technician pointed at the screen.
Barry and the detective focused on the screen, only to see a smoke trail writing,
[Catch me if you can, Flash! ;)]
***
"I am telling you, this Flash will be the death of me!!!" Captain Frye shouted, "We already had our hands full with the Flash, now we seem to have another one to give us a headache."
"Captain, please calm down," David said to the captain.
David sighed as he took the captain out of the crime lab. He returned shortly after. He looked to Barry using the microscope to observe the cut on the display case.
"Barry, did you find something?" He asked, his tiredness and frustration visible.
Barry looked up from the microscope, his expression showing that he might have found something, but he was not sure of it.
"What is it, Barry?"
"The glass was cut by something organic; that's all I can say," Barry shared his finding.
"Don't tell me it's one of those freaks," David sighed in frustration.
"Maybe," Barry replied.
"Keep working on it," David gave his words and moved on.
Barry turned to the evidence on his table, his mind working at super speed to put together the clue. He now knew he might be working with a meta like himself.
***
The sun hung low in the Central City sky, casting a warm golden hue across the park. Zion, sitting on a weathered bench, basked in the gentle rays, his eyelids heavy with the promise of an impending yawn. With a soft sigh, he stretched his arms, a quiet yawn escaping his lips.
Central City Park buzzed with activity around him. People strolled by, absorbed in their daily routines. Zion had decided today to be the day for his encounter with the fastest man alive. A sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he contemplated the intriguing encounter ahead.
He even prepared a little something as a token of appreciation for the Scarlet Speedster.
As the anticipation grew, Zion decided it was time to make the call. His hand slipped into the pocket of his trousers, retrieving an old-fashioned flip phone. He punched in a number, his fingers moving with ease. It rang just twice before a melodic feminine voice greeted him from the other end.
"Hello, this is the Central City Police Department. How can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite and professional.
"Hello, good day to you, ma'am," Zion began, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness, "Can I talk to Barry Allen from the forensics?"
A moment of hesitation followed before she inquired, "Can I know why?"
Zion swallowed his nerves and replied, "I am trying to contact him due to work stuff, you know, work, and I need a professional opinion, something like consultation?" Zion really sucked at telling lies, especially when he needed to make it up on the spot.
Her response was measured, "Well, I will inform him. Please wait for a moment."
With the call put on hold, Zion's fingers drummed a soft rhythm on the bench's weathered wooden rails. His anticipation was palpable as he hummed a melodious tune under his breath while he waited.
A few moments later, a more masculine voice broke the silence on the line,"Hello?"
"Hello, am I talking to Barry Allen?" Zion asked, cautiously.
"Yes, this is Barry Allen, Who is this?" Barry's voice held a note of curiosity.
"My name's Zion," Zion began, his tone casual yet enigmatic, "I might know who took the Worthy Pod from the Central City museum."
"Really?" Barry's voice held a tinge of skepticism.
"Yes, Barry Allen, or should I say the Flash," Zion continued, his tone as light as if he was discussing the weather. "You could say I have it with me here, at Central City Park."
Silence hung in the air for a moment, a pause that stretched as Zion's heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat, "Hello, you there mate?"
"Yes," Barry answered, causing Zion to visibly relax.
"Ah, you are still connected. I am waiting at Central City Park," Zion suggested, his tone taking on a subtle hint of urgency.
"Yes, in a minute," Barry replied before ending the call.
With the call concluded, Zion reached into a small bag and retrieved a handful of bird snacks. He scattered them around him, attracting the attention of the local pigeons. He leaned back, watching the birds with a sense of anticipation, knowing that soon he would be face to face with the fastest man alive.
As Zion reclined on the bench, his attention still divided between the pigeons and the approaching rendezvous, a voice interrupted his contemplation.
"Is it you?"
The question came from a man with blonde hair, a chiseled jawline, and a clean-shaven face. His eyes held a mix of surprise and curiosity as he looked at Zion and the seemingly unremarkable clay pot resting beside him.
Zion, fully aware of the man's identity but amused by the situation, decided to play along with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He straightened up, assuming a theatrical tone, and declared, "Yes, it is I, Zion, here to give you a quest. Do you accept your mission, adventurer?"
Barry Allen, the Flash, blinked, clearly taken aback by the unexpected encounter and the theatrics. "What?"
Zion couldn't help but chuckle at Barry's bewildered expression. "Never mind. Just a joke. I should have gone with the CW version," he muttered under his breath.
Barry's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. "What? No, give the Worthy Pot back!" He pointed toward the clay pot beside Zion, his tone more urgent.
Zion casually picked up the unassuming clay pot and examined it as if it were a mundane object. "Oh, you want the clay pot?" he asked, feigning ignorance as he pointed to it. "Why do you need a mud pot, anyway? It doesn't even have magic like the myths claim. It's nothing but a ruse."
Barry's skepticism remained, but he couldn't help but be intrigued by Zion's nonchalant attitude toward the supposed artifact. "Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow,
Zion nodded firmly. "Absolutely. This is just some random piece of pottery that some guy probably made when he was drunk. The whole 'Pot of Power' legend? It's nothing more than a silly tale etched on stone. Archaeologists should know better."
Barry couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the situation. It seemed that Central City was always full of surprises, and today was no exception. He reached out to take the clay pot back from Zion, his curiosity satisfied. "Well, you certainly had me going there for a moment. Thanks for the... entertainment."
Zion, moved with lightning-quick reflexes, had deftly moved just out of Barry's reach. A playful grin crept across Zion's face, and he looked at Barry with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Barry, my guy," Zion began, his voice taking on a challenging tone, "How about we make things a bit more interesting? Instead of handing over this mundane pot, how about a race? You and me. If you win, you get the pot. If I win, well, I get to say I raced the Flash."
*****
Peace out. (・~・)ゞ