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Posted by Supreme
on 5/7/2009, 7:07 pm
71.226.186.23
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"New York City Soup Kitchens, eh? Nice touch." Wally says at a speed that makes his speech decipherable only by those lucky enough to be able to move at the speed of sound.
"Yeah, charity is good and all in any shape and form. But a lot of people seem to over look the small potatoes in the non-profit charities. Like the good men and women that offer meals to individual cities homeless." Ethan fires back in an almost equal speed.
The circus known as the mainstream media dazzled the sky with thousands of flashing bulbs as the two men crouched at the starting line like two Olympic marathon sprinters. The rules of this race, simple. No flight. Meaning your feet couldn't stay off the ground (or whatever surface you were running on) for more than 5 seconds. No super powers other than speed. Example: Flash cannot vibrate at an accelerated speed to pass through, say a mountain. On the same token, Supreme could not use his eye beams to clear a path through a solid object. The course: a pre-charted course modified from the one that Clark and Barry used to run around the globe. Both men would be required to circle the globe 3 times. While either man could make the trek before you and I could exhale again, they were additionally required to maintain a speed that could be monitored and recorded with standard television satellites. The satellite feed would stream live over various websites, and be available for viewing in numerous installments provided that you donate the $1 minimum to view. Each website donating the contributions to the charity of their choosing.
The two athletes stand and wave to the crowd as more pictures are snapped and chants come from the masses of onlookers for their favorite. A good 99% being directed at the Flash, although Ethan didn't mind. It'd be wrong of him to feel even an ounce of jealousy when your efforts are helping out a noble cause.
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Maxine Winslow's young son, Brandon sits working learning puzzles and activities. The boy, thought to have been autistic until recently, has taken steps toward quite an impressive education so quickly that even the scarlet speedster would have a hard time keeping up.
In the kitchen, Brandon's tutor fixes him up a turkey sandwich. Ms. Mary, as Brandon called her, had only just stepped away before young Brandon took interest in other things besides the learning tools provided him. Mary Carnatz' personal computer set in one corner of the living room, so foreign, yet inviting to the youngster with an appetite for learning. It took merely moments before Brandon was at the user login screen and even less time for his keystrokes to type in the right password to be let in. By the time Ms. Mary had returned with her turkey sandwich, piled high with lettuce, tomato, sliced olives, dill slices, a slice of cheese, and an ever-so-slight layer of mayo for Brandon, he had already accessed her history, logged into her bank account, and was transferring to and from her savings and checking with a air of glee only an innocent child could attain from such a mundane task.
A soft inhalation of air signals Mary's shock. She sets the saucer down at the computer desk. "No, Brandon, this is an adults toy." She scolds ever lightly.
"I'm sorry Ms. Mary... but is $4,500 a lot?"
The explaining is long and drawn out with plenty of 'why's, 'why not?'s, and 'how comes?'. When the man Brandon calls Mr. Ernie comes home from work, it signals the end of Brandon's day of learning activities and is promptly dropped off at his own residence. After a short and sweet 'bye-bye' ceremony, Mary recounts the details of the little would-be hacker with a healthy dose of laughter afterward. Mary might have seen the incident as cute and innocent, but Ernie has different ideas about the kids talent immediately.
"Say..." The word creeps out of his mouth and fills the car like waters from a raging flood. "How about I take him by my office, show him some of work that I do for old Brownston?"
"I dunno Ernie... I'm not certified to look after this kid, so if anything happened, my butt would be on the line. Plus Maxine let me have this opportunity to further my childcare experience. I can't just crush her trust like that."
His hands grip the steering wheel just a little tighter, enough that Mary notices. "C'mon, what's the worst that could happen? the kid develop carpel-tunnel? or worse... Die of Boredom watching hundreds of guys trapped in cubicles hen peck their lives away." Ernie knows before he even finishes that he's changed her mind, and looks over with a smile on his face.
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