Summary: What if Bart never became Impulse again? After the Apokolips war (by about ten years), the world needs a new Flash and the JLA, constructed of the men and women that once made up Young Justice, has one chance to get their man - who just happens to be Bart Allen. Unfortunately, Bart has his own, average, mundane lifestyle...
The thick aroma of brewing coffee was wafted into the bedroom by the currents created by the humming air conditioning system, and the unidentifiable lump of blankets curled up in the center of the bed stirred and shifted, stretching tiredly. A shaggy mop of auburn-hair popped into view, followed by the head and shoulders of the man in the bed. Bart yawned and stretched again, rotating his shoulders and wincing slightly at the hollow pops. Threading a hand through his hair, he levered himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and muffling another yawn. "Sleepy," he muttered to himself, slowly standing up and running his hand over his face, amber eyes half-lidded. "Why did this seem like a better idea last night?" The clock by his bed flipped another minute by, changing the time to 5:13 AM.
Shuffling across the carpet to the kitchen, he fumbled with the light switch, finally managing to flick it on. Briefly blinded by the glare of unexpected fluorescent light rebounding off linoleum tiling into his eyes, he blinked rapidly, standing in the doorway until his eyes managed to adjust. By then, he had stumbled into the kitchen, banging his hip against the countertop as he made his way over to the pre-timed coffee-machine. Fishing the plastic container out from the machine, he set it on the stove burner and flicked the machine off carelessly, grabbing a mug from beside the sink, disregarding whether he had cleaned it the night before or not. It was while he was pouring the coffee into his mug and wondering why finishing the report for his supervisor was important enough to warrant pre-dawn awakening when the phone suddenly began belting out the ceaselessly annoying 'brrrings' that made it a hated being in his Manchester house.
Glowering at the device, he wished a plague on whoever was calling him even as he peeled the phone off a puddle of near-petrified maple syrup by the stack of dishes. Clicking it on, he held it to his ear and, sighing, asked the time-old question: "Who is this?"
"Happy birthday toooo yoooou!" sang Preston's voice, jumbled by both static and the obvious fact that he was not a natural soprano. "Hey, 's Preston, Bart. You awake?"
"What do you think?" Bart grouched sarcastically, downing half his mug of coffee, miraculously without choking. "When did you get up to plan this wonderful conversation?"
"One, I never went to bed," Preston said cheerfully, "and two, you definitely need to go back to sleep. You sound like a lawn mower ran through your throat, Mr. Sun-is-shining."
"And I feel like a cat slept in my mouth," Bart continued, not missing a beat. "And the sun isn't up, much less shining."
Preston laughed. "Whatever. Anyway, I know you must have some terrific purpose for being awake at the ungodly hour, but I think you should check out what's on Channel 5 News."
"Fine," Bart sighed. "You done now?"
"Mmmm," Preston fell silent for a moment. "Yup. See ya later!"
There was a click, followed by the unwavering dial tone. Thumbing the phone off, Bart dropped it back onto the counter, wandering back into the living room and turning the television on. Flopping down onto the sofa, resting his head on the arm, legs dangling off the edge, he stared blankly at the screen.
"The hostage situation near Gotham Bay was defused earlier this morning with tragic consequences. Five-year old Jonathon Harton, grandson of Mayor Sebastian Harton, died of complications during respiratory surgery in the emergency room mere minutes after he was flown in by the JLA's Superman. If he had been rescued and brought in quicker, there would have been a much higher chance that he survived. The man responsible for the act had been holing up in the warehouse for almost a week, keeping the fifteen hostages captive until the JLA was able to return from the most recent conflict with Apokolips. Who knows how the situation would have gone if there had been a Flash around to help..."
