Zev
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Previously, on The Flash...
The Flash
The Flash 2: Rogue's Gallery
But all that was CRAP compared to this!
Simon stayed where he was, a small brown image, concealed by leaves. Even if he shut his eyes the sow's head still remained like an after-image. The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life. They assured Simon that everything was a bad business. - William Golding, Lord Of The Flies
"We're in this position... I think it's our duty to abuse it." - Bono
OPEN ON:
BLACK SCREEN
NIGHTWING: (V.O.) I used to love reading comic books as a child. The heroes were colorful and larger than life. The villains were fiendish but harmless, always cooking up some overly complicated scheme which was always foiled just in the nick of time by the proper application of pseudo-science. And no one ever, EVER died. But a week after I turned ten... the comic books started getting dark. The villains became bloodthirsty and the heroes become indistinguishable from the villains. The hundreds of colors of Kryptonite, the millions of gadgets with a Bat-prefix added on... they disappeared. And the women... oh, God, who could write such horrible things happening to the women? No light shined anywhere. I guess, for me at least, art imitates life. So remember, you've been warned. This is not a dream. This is not a hoax. This is not an imaginary story.
EXT. FOREST NIGHT
It's dark. Very dark. The moon behind an ominous cloud. A WOMAN in a black kurta with red trim runs through the forest, clutching a NINE-YEAR-OLD BOY in her arms. He's dressed in his own kurta. The branches of the trees scrape at her body as she tries to shield the boy in her arms. Behind them, we hear DOGS baying in the distance, men shouting.
BOY: I want to go home!
WOMAN: We are going home, sweetie. We just have to make it to the main road...
We hear a HELICOPTER overhead. The Woman takes shelter in the roots of an overturned tree. Uses it as a hiding place.
WOMAN: Don't say a word. Just keep quiet, honey. Quiet as a mouse...
Above, we hear boots stomping. More men, armed with rifles, wearing their own black kurtas. For the record, the CULTISTS.
BOY: Help! We're down here!
The Woman clamps a hand over his mouth, but it's too late. The Cultists have found them. The Woman finds half a dozen automatic weapons pointed at her as the Boy pulls away from her. He walks to CARDINAL SYN, a massive hulk of a man wearing a kurta with the sleeves ripped off, his body painted with various occult symbols. Syn, a native Zandian, is acromegalic, the bones beneath his skin swollen and distorted.
BOY: Can I go back to Brother Blood now? I miss him.
CARDINAL SYN: Sure you can, slugger.
The Boy walks up to join the Cultists. Looks down at his mother.
WOMAN: Please, he's just a boy!
CARDINAL SYN: (to Boy) Don't turn away and you'll get a sweet when we get back to the compound.
He aims the gun at the Woman.
CARDINAL SYN: Receive the love of Brother Blood into your heart.
BEEP! Pre-lap an ALARM CLOCK going off. Then we SMASH CUT to...
INT. WALLY'S ROOM LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
A HAND slams down on the alarm clock, shutting it up before it can even get started. Wally sits up in bed, wide awake already.
WALLY WEST is... well, geez, if you're read the prequels, you probably have a fair idea who he is. But just as a refresher, if Wally were a comic book, he's be written by Chuck Dixon and he'd give wedgies to all the comic books written by Neil Gaiman. I'd add that he'd probably get in drunken brawls with the comic books written by Mark Millar, but that's probably stretching the metaphor too far.
Wally YAWNS, stretches.
WALLY: Ready for action.
On an endtable at the foot of the bed, two RINGS sit. A WEDDING BAND and the FLASH RING. He kicks the endtable, sending them both flying upwards. They fall back down onto his raised fingers. He bursts into super-motion.
INT. KITCHEN LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally pores through the fridge. Finds some Bagel Bites and burritos.
WALLY: Breakfast of champions.
He shoves them in the microwave, sets it for fifteen seconds.
Super-speeds to the answering machine, presses play. Then fast-forward. He makes small, innocuous comments to the helium-like fast-voices.
WALLY: I'll have to remember that. Sure mom, you too. No, I DON'T want to change my long-distance provider...
He speeds back to the microwave. Twelve seconds.
Speeds upstairs.
INT. BATHROOM LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally blurs into the bathroom moments before LESLIE, Linda's sister, can claim it. She death-glares the door.
LESLIE: Wally West, you better not even THINK about shaking dry!
We hear a sound like rain and Wally steps out, completely dry and wearing a robe. Behind him, the entire bathroom is wet.
WALLY: Blow dryers? We don't need no stinking blow dryers!
INT. KITCHEN LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally super-speeds through the newspaper.
WALLY: Man, that cat sure loves lasagna.
He looks at the microwave. Five seconds.
WALLY: C'mon, c'mon...
FINALLY it goes off. He pulls the food items out of the microwave, juggles them from hand to hand.
WALLY: Hot! Hot! Hot!
He cools them off by fanning them at superspeed, then starts digging in. Leslie interrupts the feeding frenzy.
LESLIE: You did remember that you're being interviewed on Linda's new talk show today... right?
Wally looks up. ****. He twists his trusty ring and the COSTUME shoots out of it, expanding as soon as it hits air...
EXT. SLIPSTREAM MORNING
Flash is running... FAST. We see from a FACE CAM (think the Smashing Pumpkins video for 1979) as Flash presses a hand to his WINGED EARPIECE, activating a radio. Talks so fast it comes out as a BUZZ.
EXT. CLOCKTOWER BLUDHAVEN NOON
It's a clocktower. What do you want from me?
BARBARA: (V.O.) You know I can't understand you when talk at superspeed.
EXT. KEYSTONE CITY VARIOUS LOCATIONS MORNING
We see the red-and-yellow blur of THE FLASH as he speeds through various locations. Newspaper deliverymen, milkmen, and others look up from their morning routine to see a touch of the supernatural visiting their lives.
FLASH: (cut to a new location every word) You... were... supposed... to... remind... me.
BARBARA: (filtered) Must have slipped my mind. It happens when you're coordinating information for several freelance vigilantes.
FLASH: (sarcastic) Oh my God, you're seeing other people behind me back? I'm shocked!
BARBARA: (filtered) I'm sorry Flash, I guess we just grew apart.
FLASH: So, Oracle... you do all this from behind a computer in the comfort of your home, right?
ORACLE: (filtered) Right.
FLASH: Tell me, how do I even know you're dressed?
INT. CLOCKTOWER MAINFRAME NOON
A bank of supercomputers right out of William Gibson's wet dreams. A NITROGEN SYSTEM, an array of hoses winding across the floor, intermittently shoots jets of gas upwards, dropping the temperature enough to keep the whole building from bursting into flames.
We find one thick, coaxial T1 cable trailing out of a computer tower, follow it up the wall and through the ceiling and into...
INT. CLOCKTOWER GEAR ROOM NOON
Behind the face of the clock. Gears grind together silently in the background around a miniaturized SATELLITE DISH aimed out the clock face. A tall carousel loaded with micro discs. Some exercise equipment, a mini-fridge, trash can, stereo system, even a door to a bathroom in the corner. Basically a living space within a living space.
Six huge flat panels linked together above three keyboards. Weed-like cables coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind up and around the legs of several desks. Tabletops are filled with cannibalized equipment that lay open like an autopsied corpse.
Hacker heaven.
In the center of it all sits BARBARA GORDON in a WHEELCHAIR. Bespectacled. Mid-to-late twenties. Beautiful if she ever had time to do her hair. Very prim and proper. The all-knowing, all-seeing ORACLE.
In her pajamas.
BARBARA: Please. Do you think I'd be that unprofessional?
FLASH: (filtered, serious now) We going to meet face to face or not?
BARBARA: Why do you ask?
FLASH: (filtered) I don't know. Kinda weird just having you as a voice in my head. Be good for you to get some fresh air anyway. We could go for a walk in the country or something...
BARBARA: That's... kinda out of the question.
FLASH: (filtered) Have it your way.
INT. TV STUDIO BACK STAGE MORNING
The set of a morning talk show. Backstage. LINDA PARK, intellectual, down to earth, fidgets impatiently, a bad habit she's picked up from Wally. She's dressed professionally, wearing glasses and her hair up.
The DIRECTOR appears in Linda's face.
DIRECTOR: One minute to curtain, Linda! You promised us an exclusive!
LINDA: He'll be here.
DIRECTOR: He'd better be... for your sake.
He hustles off.
With a distant SONIC BOOM, Flash appears in the midst of the scene.
FLASH: I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.
A P.A. tries to fit Flash with a mic. Linda shoves him aside.
LINDA: I'll do it.
As she puts it on his collar, they speak in hushed tones.
LINDA: You're late.
FLASH: Sorry. There was an earthquake in Markovia.
LINDA: You really expect me to believe that? Markovia is in the middle of a tectonic plate, it doesn't get earthquakes.
She finishes adjusting the mic.
LINDA: Flash fact.
DIRECTOR: (O.S.) Places, everyone, places!
They part, speaking at a conversational level now.
FLASH: Thanks for the help, Miss Park.
LINDA: Actually, it's Mrs. Park now.
Flash smiles.
FLASH: He must be a very lucky man.
Flash steals a kiss at superspeed, takes his place. Linda looks at a monitor as host BETHANY SNOW goes through her monologue. Linda mouths Snow's monologue along with her. By her pride in it, she was obviously the writer.
Next: Accusations, Political Incorrectness, and a Ratings Bonanza
The Flash
The Flash 2: Rogue's Gallery
But all that was CRAP compared to this!
Simon stayed where he was, a small brown image, concealed by leaves. Even if he shut his eyes the sow's head still remained like an after-image. The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life. They assured Simon that everything was a bad business. - William Golding, Lord Of The Flies
"We're in this position... I think it's our duty to abuse it." - Bono
OPEN ON:
BLACK SCREEN
NIGHTWING: (V.O.) I used to love reading comic books as a child. The heroes were colorful and larger than life. The villains were fiendish but harmless, always cooking up some overly complicated scheme which was always foiled just in the nick of time by the proper application of pseudo-science. And no one ever, EVER died. But a week after I turned ten... the comic books started getting dark. The villains became bloodthirsty and the heroes become indistinguishable from the villains. The hundreds of colors of Kryptonite, the millions of gadgets with a Bat-prefix added on... they disappeared. And the women... oh, God, who could write such horrible things happening to the women? No light shined anywhere. I guess, for me at least, art imitates life. So remember, you've been warned. This is not a dream. This is not a hoax. This is not an imaginary story.
EXT. FOREST NIGHT
It's dark. Very dark. The moon behind an ominous cloud. A WOMAN in a black kurta with red trim runs through the forest, clutching a NINE-YEAR-OLD BOY in her arms. He's dressed in his own kurta. The branches of the trees scrape at her body as she tries to shield the boy in her arms. Behind them, we hear DOGS baying in the distance, men shouting.
BOY: I want to go home!
WOMAN: We are going home, sweetie. We just have to make it to the main road...
We hear a HELICOPTER overhead. The Woman takes shelter in the roots of an overturned tree. Uses it as a hiding place.
WOMAN: Don't say a word. Just keep quiet, honey. Quiet as a mouse...
Above, we hear boots stomping. More men, armed with rifles, wearing their own black kurtas. For the record, the CULTISTS.
BOY: Help! We're down here!
The Woman clamps a hand over his mouth, but it's too late. The Cultists have found them. The Woman finds half a dozen automatic weapons pointed at her as the Boy pulls away from her. He walks to CARDINAL SYN, a massive hulk of a man wearing a kurta with the sleeves ripped off, his body painted with various occult symbols. Syn, a native Zandian, is acromegalic, the bones beneath his skin swollen and distorted.
BOY: Can I go back to Brother Blood now? I miss him.
CARDINAL SYN: Sure you can, slugger.
The Boy walks up to join the Cultists. Looks down at his mother.
WOMAN: Please, he's just a boy!
CARDINAL SYN: (to Boy) Don't turn away and you'll get a sweet when we get back to the compound.
He aims the gun at the Woman.
CARDINAL SYN: Receive the love of Brother Blood into your heart.
BEEP! Pre-lap an ALARM CLOCK going off. Then we SMASH CUT to...
INT. WALLY'S ROOM LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
A HAND slams down on the alarm clock, shutting it up before it can even get started. Wally sits up in bed, wide awake already.
WALLY WEST is... well, geez, if you're read the prequels, you probably have a fair idea who he is. But just as a refresher, if Wally were a comic book, he's be written by Chuck Dixon and he'd give wedgies to all the comic books written by Neil Gaiman. I'd add that he'd probably get in drunken brawls with the comic books written by Mark Millar, but that's probably stretching the metaphor too far.
Wally YAWNS, stretches.
WALLY: Ready for action.
On an endtable at the foot of the bed, two RINGS sit. A WEDDING BAND and the FLASH RING. He kicks the endtable, sending them both flying upwards. They fall back down onto his raised fingers. He bursts into super-motion.
INT. KITCHEN LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally pores through the fridge. Finds some Bagel Bites and burritos.
WALLY: Breakfast of champions.
He shoves them in the microwave, sets it for fifteen seconds.
Super-speeds to the answering machine, presses play. Then fast-forward. He makes small, innocuous comments to the helium-like fast-voices.
WALLY: I'll have to remember that. Sure mom, you too. No, I DON'T want to change my long-distance provider...
He speeds back to the microwave. Twelve seconds.
Speeds upstairs.
INT. BATHROOM LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally blurs into the bathroom moments before LESLIE, Linda's sister, can claim it. She death-glares the door.
LESLIE: Wally West, you better not even THINK about shaking dry!
We hear a sound like rain and Wally steps out, completely dry and wearing a robe. Behind him, the entire bathroom is wet.
WALLY: Blow dryers? We don't need no stinking blow dryers!
INT. KITCHEN LINDA'S HOUSE MORNING
Wally super-speeds through the newspaper.
WALLY: Man, that cat sure loves lasagna.
He looks at the microwave. Five seconds.
WALLY: C'mon, c'mon...
FINALLY it goes off. He pulls the food items out of the microwave, juggles them from hand to hand.
WALLY: Hot! Hot! Hot!
He cools them off by fanning them at superspeed, then starts digging in. Leslie interrupts the feeding frenzy.
LESLIE: You did remember that you're being interviewed on Linda's new talk show today... right?
Wally looks up. ****. He twists his trusty ring and the COSTUME shoots out of it, expanding as soon as it hits air...
EXT. SLIPSTREAM MORNING
Flash is running... FAST. We see from a FACE CAM (think the Smashing Pumpkins video for 1979) as Flash presses a hand to his WINGED EARPIECE, activating a radio. Talks so fast it comes out as a BUZZ.
EXT. CLOCKTOWER BLUDHAVEN NOON
It's a clocktower. What do you want from me?
BARBARA: (V.O.) You know I can't understand you when talk at superspeed.
EXT. KEYSTONE CITY VARIOUS LOCATIONS MORNING
We see the red-and-yellow blur of THE FLASH as he speeds through various locations. Newspaper deliverymen, milkmen, and others look up from their morning routine to see a touch of the supernatural visiting their lives.
FLASH: (cut to a new location every word) You... were... supposed... to... remind... me.
BARBARA: (filtered) Must have slipped my mind. It happens when you're coordinating information for several freelance vigilantes.
FLASH: (sarcastic) Oh my God, you're seeing other people behind me back? I'm shocked!
BARBARA: (filtered) I'm sorry Flash, I guess we just grew apart.
FLASH: So, Oracle... you do all this from behind a computer in the comfort of your home, right?
ORACLE: (filtered) Right.
FLASH: Tell me, how do I even know you're dressed?
INT. CLOCKTOWER MAINFRAME NOON
A bank of supercomputers right out of William Gibson's wet dreams. A NITROGEN SYSTEM, an array of hoses winding across the floor, intermittently shoots jets of gas upwards, dropping the temperature enough to keep the whole building from bursting into flames.
We find one thick, coaxial T1 cable trailing out of a computer tower, follow it up the wall and through the ceiling and into...
INT. CLOCKTOWER GEAR ROOM NOON
Behind the face of the clock. Gears grind together silently in the background around a miniaturized SATELLITE DISH aimed out the clock face. A tall carousel loaded with micro discs. Some exercise equipment, a mini-fridge, trash can, stereo system, even a door to a bathroom in the corner. Basically a living space within a living space.
Six huge flat panels linked together above three keyboards. Weed-like cables coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind up and around the legs of several desks. Tabletops are filled with cannibalized equipment that lay open like an autopsied corpse.
Hacker heaven.
In the center of it all sits BARBARA GORDON in a WHEELCHAIR. Bespectacled. Mid-to-late twenties. Beautiful if she ever had time to do her hair. Very prim and proper. The all-knowing, all-seeing ORACLE.
In her pajamas.
BARBARA: Please. Do you think I'd be that unprofessional?
FLASH: (filtered, serious now) We going to meet face to face or not?
BARBARA: Why do you ask?
FLASH: (filtered) I don't know. Kinda weird just having you as a voice in my head. Be good for you to get some fresh air anyway. We could go for a walk in the country or something...
BARBARA: That's... kinda out of the question.
FLASH: (filtered) Have it your way.
INT. TV STUDIO BACK STAGE MORNING
The set of a morning talk show. Backstage. LINDA PARK, intellectual, down to earth, fidgets impatiently, a bad habit she's picked up from Wally. She's dressed professionally, wearing glasses and her hair up.
The DIRECTOR appears in Linda's face.
DIRECTOR: One minute to curtain, Linda! You promised us an exclusive!
LINDA: He'll be here.
DIRECTOR: He'd better be... for your sake.
He hustles off.
With a distant SONIC BOOM, Flash appears in the midst of the scene.
FLASH: I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.
A P.A. tries to fit Flash with a mic. Linda shoves him aside.
LINDA: I'll do it.
As she puts it on his collar, they speak in hushed tones.
LINDA: You're late.
FLASH: Sorry. There was an earthquake in Markovia.
LINDA: You really expect me to believe that? Markovia is in the middle of a tectonic plate, it doesn't get earthquakes.
She finishes adjusting the mic.
LINDA: Flash fact.
DIRECTOR: (O.S.) Places, everyone, places!
They part, speaking at a conversational level now.
FLASH: Thanks for the help, Miss Park.
LINDA: Actually, it's Mrs. Park now.
Flash smiles.
FLASH: He must be a very lucky man.
Flash steals a kiss at superspeed, takes his place. Linda looks at a monitor as host BETHANY SNOW goes through her monologue. Linda mouths Snow's monologue along with her. By her pride in it, she was obviously the writer.
Next: Accusations, Political Incorrectness, and a Ratings Bonanza