DCU The Flash #24 Goldrush (The Forgotten)

"I want an APB sent out immediately," Ira West shouted, rushing from his office to the CCPD breeding room. "Every available officer needs to be searching this city up and down, every damn apartment!"

 

Inside the room sat August, his eyes locked onto the floor. When paramedics arrived, he refused to be taken to the hospital, electing to have a quick patch up and be taken straight to the precinct. The gauze wrapped around his head was stained red, but it didn't bother him at the moment, his mind was occupied.

 

"Sir, everyone is already here," Patty replied with a frown. "The fire at Iron Heights was worse than Trickster's breakout; multiple wings were able to escape."

 

"Damnit…" the commissioner cursed, clenching his fist. "We need to contact Keystone, see if-"

 

"Ira!"

 

August's head final rose, looking towards the doorway. Joe stormed into the room, Flash following in behind him.

 

"What are the patrols looking like?" he demanded, his face flushed red. "Do we have any choppers out? Wh-"

 

"Joe, Joe!" Ira called out, interrupting his brother. "Take a breather, please."

 

"It's… but…" Joe mumbled, before stopping himself, breathing in deeply. "How ma… is this everyone?"

 

Ira frowned, nodding his head solemnly. "Everyone here is what we have available," he said. "Everyone else is dealing with the breakout."

 

"Ira… you… you know that- that he took him, right?" Joe whispered out, Flash placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "Him."

 

"Yes, I do. And you know how much I want that fucker's head on a block, but I can't," Ira replied, gaze shifting to the new footage of Iron Heights. "He's my nephew. I want him home, safe, but I can't just drop everything for him. As Commissioner I need to th-"

 

August quietly stood, the group in the room not taking notice of him. August watched the Commissioner's mouth continue to move, but no words could be heard. The television was running a fast food ad, but the commercial was silent. August's eyes were fixated on Ira, his fist balling at his side. He could feel his breath pass through his teeth, gritting together tightly.

 

"He's some random dealer who got shot in an alleyway, it happens everyday. We aren't dropping everything going on right now just to start an investigation for him and that's final."

 

"Detective."

 

August flinched as a red-gloved hand was placed onto his shoulder. He quickly brushed the hand off, staring at the hero in front of him. He then noticed Joe, Ira, and Patty were all looking at him as well, causing him to unclench his fist.

 

"You okay, Detective?" Flash asked with a small, endearing smile on his face. "I know you and Daniel are close, if there's anything-"

 

"You can do to help?" August interrupted, narrowing his eyes at the hero. "How about stop standing around like everyone else and go find him."

 

 

Flash frowned, nodding. "I'm here to get CCPD's patrol routes," he explained, looking back at the group. "Once they start sending cars out, I'll know where is getting covered. It'll help us find him faster."

 

August stayed silent, nodding lightly before stepping past Flash and out the door. He paused as he reached the hallway, looking back into the room. "You should know by now…" he said, staring into Flash's eyes, "the right way isn't the right way… not always."

 

-^-

 

You must be swift as a coursing river, (Be a man!)

 

Blue lightning bounced off Wally's body as he slid to the right, dodging the cane strike.

 

With all the force of a great typhoon, (Be a man!)

 

The next strike came rushing at Wally's head, but the boy raised his arms to block the attack.

 

With all the strength of a raging fire…

 

Wally's other hand shot up, grabbing onto the cane and pulling it free from Eddie's hands.

 

Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!

 

Spinning the object, he pointed it at Eddie's face, panting lightly as the song on the radio ended. After a moment of silence, his eyes widened, reaching forward to catch Eddie as he stumbled backwards.

 

"I'm sorry Mr. Jones," he apologized, handing the man his cane back and guiding him to the chair. "I, uh, guess it got kinda intense back there."

 

Wally was surprised to see Eddie chuckle once more, sliding his sunglasses off and placing them next to the radio. "I'm not sure what you're apologizing for, Wallace," he said, turning the radio off. "If you didn't notice, you were able to stay in complete control for three whole minutes."

 

"I… huh," Wally mumbled, sitting down next to Eddie. "I guess I did… I did! What… prompted it? The music, I mean."

 

"Heh… well, would you believe me if I said it was you?" he asked, his smile falling slightly, but becoming evermore sincere. "Remember the day I met you? Christmas at your uncle's place?"

 

"I mean, yeah," Wally said, chuckling slightly. "August hit you in the head with a snowball and you decided to join us."

 

"Yeah that's it," he said with a nod. "That day, I hated you."

 

"Huh?"

 

"For three years I just… I didn't even like looking at you," he explained, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "When Barry told me what happened with Trickster, that we'd be training you… I wanted to opt out."

 

"Wait wait wait, go back a bit?" Wally asked, a confused frown on his face. "Why did you hate me? We hardly even saw each other."

 

"I know. I made sure of that," he said, taking a deep breath. "I… I hated you because you just… you remind me of her, so much."

 

"Her?"

 

"My daughter, Colly," Eddie mumbled with his eyes closed. "Your kindness, your sass, your carefree attitude, your ability to get knocked down and get back up laughing… it was like her ghost was haunting me."

 

"That's why you call me-" Wally began, stopping as Eddie nodded. "So… so what changed? I mean, I assume you don't hate me now?"

 

"You're still a pain in the ass, but I don't…" he said smiling again. "When Barry and Jay asked for my help with that fake Clariss, when I had to use my power for the first time since she… it was like a fog in my mind cleared. You aren't some spectre looming over me with the spirit of my baby girl held hostage. You're a reminder of her. Her heart, her brain… her soul. I told Barry he was the reason I broke out of my solitude and was able to smile again. You though? You gave me something worth more than a thousand smiles, so thank you, Wally. Thank you for being you."

 

"I uh… I'm not sure exactly what to say," Wally chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

"Well I say, we head upstairs and get some grub," Eddie said, brushing away a tear before putting his glasses back on. "Once we eat, I've got something special to show you, I think you'll really like it."

 

-^-

 

The crowd roared as a man in robes performed a roundhouse kick, knocking the other to the floor with a thud. The man was quickly back on his feet, throwing a wild uppercut at his opponent. August stood in the entrance to the club, the music blasting loud and the building reeking of sweat and alcohol.

 

Goldrush: An underground night-fight club located just outside the city border. Its owner, Damion Poitier, had run the club for a decade now under the alias of Bling. Through the years Poitier accumulated wealth and power through Goldrush, making a name for himself and dipping his fingers into the CCPD as well as the KCPD.

 

August began to survey the room, searching for the head of the establishment. Poitier, more than anything, was a businessman. A businessman who made sure he knew what went on in the gem cities at all times.

 

It was a long shot, but August had no other options.

 

As he searched the dancefloor, his eyes were drawn to the bar, narrowing as he spotted the bartender. 'Is that…' he thought to himself, pushing through the crowd, confirming his suspicions as he approached the bar and taking a seat.

 

"And what will it be f-" the woman started, before gasping. "August?"

 

"Didn't know you worked here, Becky," he said, staring at the woman, dressed in a white button down with a crimson vest.

 

"Well, things happen after you don't talk to someone for five years," she responded, a slight venom in her words. "I don't think you really should know, either. What's one of CCPD's finest doing here?"

 

"I-"

 

"And that is round two, we have had a great fight on our hands so far ladies and gentlemen, it shall continue shortly!"

 

"I need information," August said, noticing the unphased look on Becky's face. "If you could point me in the direction of your boss, I'll be out of your hair."

 

"Pretty ballsy to walk in here demanding to speak to Bling," she said with a coy smirk, leaning forward on the counter. "I'm not too sure he'd enjoy me sending a cop to his doorstep."

 

"I'm not playing games, not today," August growled, causing Becky to frown. "Tell me where he is, or I'll make sure this club comes crashing down."

 

Becky sighed, crossing her arms as she pulled back from the counter. "You're not much fun anymore," she mumbled, jutting her thumb to the side. "Door behind me, it'll take you to the VIP lounge. If they ask, say you threatened me with a knife or something, 'kay?"

 

August didn't respond, stepping through the opening and past Becky through the door. He quickly made his way up the carpeted stairs, finding himself on a balcony positioned to view the arena and dance floor.

 

August spotted a plethora of mobsters, CEOs, and high ranking officials sitting at the various tables lining the balcony. It didn't take long to find his target, however, as he sat at the largest of them all. August approached the table with a quickness, his eyes locking onto Poitier's.

 

"Well, well, well," Poitier said, an invisible smile forming under his mask, "what an interesting turnup we have here. Never expected to see you in here, Detective Heart."

 

August stared at the man, who sat on the couch of the VIP lounge, scantily clad men sat around him. He was dressed in a crisp white suit, arms splayed across the back of the couch as he chuckled, a drink in one hand.

 

"Bling," August said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't have time for any bullshit, I need information."

 

"I do like someone who can cut to the chase," he said, raising his glass to August before sticking the straw through his mask and taking a sip. "You need information, I've likely got it."

 

"Eradicator, where is he?" August asked, crossing his arms, watching the man's golden eyes narrow.

 

"Eradicator…" Poitier mumbled, bringing his free hand to his chin. "Ah yes, Eradicator, good old Mr. Phillips."

 

"Well?"

 

"Well?"

 

"Where is he!?" August shouted, his fists clenching.

 

Poitier was silent for a moment, his eyes staring into August's. Then suddenly, he began to cackle, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. "Oh… oh that… that's rich," he wheezed, trying to contain his laughter. "Yo- ha. Do you think you're Batman or something? Why in the hell would I be afraid of you?"

 

"Do you want to find out!" August shouted, reaching forward and grabbing onto the man's collar. "I'm not playing around, Poitier! My family is-"

 

Suddenly, a large hand clasped onto August's shoulder, tearing him from Poitier and lifting him into the air. August began to struggle, but the grip tightened, making him groan in pain. A cold blade was pressed against his throat, the edge pressing into his skin. August's eyes shifted slightly, eyeing the man that held him up.

 

He stood tall, much taller than August's own frame. He was clad in a blue suit, pieces of silver armor covering his body. His face was rough and mean, a scar running from his cheek through his lips. The blade pressed against August's neck was attached to the man's gauntlets, the silver stained red.

 

"It seems I forgot to introduce you two," Poitier smirked, slipping the straw through his mask once more. "Razor, meet Detective Heart. Detective Heart, meet Razor, my personal bodyguard."

 

Poitier gave a slight nod, causing the large man to drop August to the ground. "You've got a supervillain working for you?" August grunted, rubbing his shoulder.

 

"I've got supervillains working for me," Poitier corrected, shooing the strippers away as he leaned forward. "Razor's good at his job, earns his paycheck and then some. Now, you wanna try being a good boy and continue our conversation?"

 

"I need to know where he is," August said, standing up from the ground. "I don't have time for your games. He has my… my brother."

 

"Yes, I know," Poitier said, nodding his head. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to Daniel. Here's the thing though, Detective. I am a businessman," he explained, placing his glass onto the table and bringing his right leg over his left. "When I do something for someone, I get something in return. If I just started handing out things, all of this wouldn't last."

 

"And Crowbar goes down! Your winner for the match, the beastly, Kung!"

 

"I've got an uneven amount of fighters tonight," Poitier said, raising his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a stack of cash. "If someone were willing to, say… help me fill that spot…" the man's eyes narrowed, "well, let's just say I like to help my employees with their troubles."

 

August stared at Poitier, his own eyes narrowing.

 

"I can't lose anyone else either."

 

-^-

 

"Get ready folks, you won't want to miss this next matchup!" the announcer shouted, riling the crowd up.

 

August sat in the small locker room located in the back of the club. His jacket, shirt, and gun were all placed in the locker Poitier had given him. He stared at his gauzed wrapped hands, mind flooding with the events that occurred earlier that night. Eradicator beating him effortlessly, Daniel being dragged out of the house after trying to save him. His teeth grit, hard.

 

"You've seen him here before," the announcer returned, introducing his opponent. "He strikes like a winter wind, give it up for… Chillblaine!"

 

August turned to see his opponent discarding an aviator jacket into the locker. The man smacked his head a few times, before turning towards the arena.

 

"Get ready to die, piggy," Blaine said with a devious smirk before rushing out into the arena, earning a roar of applause.

 

August looked down to the bench he sat on, lifting his badge from the seat.

 

"If having this badge means I can't even help a child in need, then maybe I shouldn't have it."

 

"Facing off against Chillblaine," the announcer began, causing August to stand, throwing the badge into the locker before slamming it shut, "he's a never before seen fighter here at Goldrush. Taken straight from the other side, Detective August Heart!"

 

As August exited the locker room, he was met by a barrage of negativity. Food was thrown at him, hands tried to grab ahold of him, and insults were loud enough to drown out the music. His head stayed down, eyes locked onto the stage in front of him.

 

They could think whatever they wanted. He was here for one reason, their words didn't matter.

 

Stepping into the cage, the door was slammed shut behind him. As the lock ticked, the ref mumbled out a threat, but August was unable to decipher it. Blaine stood across from him, chatting with a woman outside the cage.

 

"Are… you… ready!?" The announcer asked, earning another roar from the crowd. "Alright! Let's get ready to rumble!"

 

The sound of a bell ringing caused Blaine to turn. August kept his head straight, eyes locked onto Blaine. He readied his fists and began to sidestep around the cage.

 

"I'm gonna kill you in here," Blaine said, taking a similar stance to August and following his movements. "Filthy fucking pig ruining my night."

 

August didn't speak, the events from earlier once again flashing through his mind. 'Powerless,' he thought to himself, narrowing his eyes.

 

Blaine charged forward with a quick jab, one August was able to block with his forearm. The man followed up quickly with a low hook, connecting with Blaine's abdomen. Blaine easily tanked the hit, responding with another two jabs, one right one left. August attempted to use the opening, but was met with a rising knee to the stomach, the force causing him to stumble. Blaine didn't let up on the attack, rushing forward with another jab and a right hook. August was able to block the first strike, but the second connected with his skull, putting him into a daze.

 

"How you like that, hog!?" Blaine shouted, sending another hook into August's head, knocking him to the ground. "Gonna be joining old Jorgy soon, fucker!"

 

Blaine brought his foot down, smashing it against August's abs, vomit spilling from the detective's mouth.

 

"Screw dad, he's not family, not real family, I mean."

 

Another stomp was against his chest, causing August's vision to darken.

 

"Real family is… well, it's the people who you care about. Not just like friends, but people who've changed and impacted your life so much that… that you'd do anything for them. People who you'd steal for, kill for… and even die for. That's what a real family is."

 

August laid on the arena's floor, Blaine's foot tauntingly hovering above his face. Blood trickled down his face, from new wounds and his cut from earlier reopened. As he watched Blaine taunt, the image of Daniel passed through his mind once more, causing a guttural cry to be ripped from his stomach.

 

August grabbed Blaine's foot in one hand and leg in the other. With all the force he could muster, he pushed in opposite directions until he heard a pop, as well as a cry from his opponent. Stumbling to a stand, he still held Blaine's now broken foot, panting. His body rushed forward as fast as it could, slamming Blaine's back against the cage. Once there, he brought his elbow crashing down onto his opponent's kneecap, attempting to break it. Blaine was quick enough to bend his knee, stopping the attempt, but drawing August in closer in the process.

 

Still holding onto Blaine's foot, August slammed his free fist into Blaine's abdomen. Blaine doubled over at the strike, allowing August to let the man's foot fall and perform a devastating uppercut. August then sent his fist into Blaine's face, smashing the blond's nose and slamming his head back into the cage. A second strike connected with his upper jaw, with a third again hitting the bridge of his nose.

 

Grabbing him by the hair, August hit him with two more quick head punches before throwing him to the ground. August quickly straddled the man's hips, his breathing erratic. Blaine raised his hands in a weak defense, but August pushed them aside, bringing his fist down. He began pounding the man's face, each strike causing another crunch, every hit staining his wraps a deeper red.

 

"Please…"

 

August paused with his fist ready to strike again. He panted heavily, a concoction of blood and sweat dripping from his chin. His eyes widened as he truly looked at the man beneath him.

 

His head was smothered in crimson, his skin torn all along his bruised face. Blood was pooling underneath him, coloring his blond hair an orange-y red. His nose was broken, his bottom lip split open, and his right eye was sealed shut.

 

With uneven breaths, placing a hand on his knee, August pulled himself to a stand. It was only now when he noticed the crowd, completely silent.

 

"A-a-and… I'm sorry," the announcer stuttered, gulping audibly. "Your winner, Detective August Heart!"

 

August looked up to the balcony as the crowd began to roar. Poitier was looking down at him, slowly clapping his hands. August could tell, even with the mask over his face, the man was smiling.

 

'It was for Daniel,' August thought, looking up into the blinding lights as he panted. 'It was for Daniel… anything for family.'

 

-^-

 

"That was a spectacular fight," Poitier said, his feet kicked up on the table, clapping as August entered the VIP lounge. "I'd say the best we've had in this place in years, at least since that blond kid with a temper came in a few years back."

 

August stood across from the man, his wounds crudely wrapped in gauze and his jacket laid over his shoulder. "Eradicator..." he mumbled, "where is he?"

 

Poitier sighed, dropping his feet to the floor. "A deal... is a deal," he said, pulling out the same stack of bills from before. "I had one of my informants follow them after they took down that building. Apparently, he and the fire fella are heading to the northern power plant. What for, beats me, but you should find them there."

 

August stared at the Poitier, the stack of cash, then back at Poitier. "Keep your damn money," he mumbled, turning away from the man.

 

"You're welcome to step into the cage again anytime, detective," Poitier called out, causing August to stop.

 

"When all of this passes," he mumbled, looking over his shoulder, "I'll be back to shut this place down."

 

"I cannot wait to see you try," Poitier chuckled, as August left Goldrush

 

-^-

 

"Nothing… we've got nothing," Joe said, slamming his fist against the wall. "What are we supposed to do!?"

 

"Joe, calm down," Barry said, placing his hand atop his shoulder. "We'll head back to CCPD and check in with Patty, I'm sure they've got some updates."

 

"I should've brought him to the station…" Joe said, his voice wobbly. "If he was there instead of home-"

 

"Nothing would've changed, Joe," Barry said, causing Joe to look at the blond. "What would've been different if you had him at CCPD instead of home?"

 

"I… I could've…"

 

"Nothing," Barry continued, giving Joe a sad smile. "You… you have to accept the things you can't change… it's the only way you can make real change."

 

"I… Yeah… I just-"

 

bzzt bzzt bzzt bzzt

 

Barry looked at Joe, confused, before tapping the wing on his cowl. "Hello?"

 

"I found Daniel, get to the Northern Power Plant, now."

 

"A-August? Wait, what? How did you? A-alright, I'll text Joe and-"

 

"Cut the act, Barry," August responded, a drive Barry had never heard before in his voice. "I know you're him. Bring Joe if you want, but get here, now."

 

As the line cut, Barry was frozen in shock. Before he could let the reveal get to him, he turned to Joe, a small, but hopeful smile on his face.

 

"August found him."

 

----------------------------

 

NEXT TIME: Faceoff! The Flash vs The Eradicator!

Done