In a long line of crappy and emotionally trying days this one takes the cake. Wally really wishes it didn't, because god could he eat some cake right now, but it totally does.

Waking up to a pounding headache that makes remembering recent events a little fuzzy, gagged, and hanging from his wrist in the dark like a peeking duck in a Chinatown shop window tends to do that though.

Oh god, duck. Crispy skinned with a sweet layer of fat and juicy dark meat, and damn but Wally is hungry, and this train of thought isn't doing anything to get him out of his situation and closer to actually eating something.


Catalogue the details.

The area all around him is dark, but he strains his eyes against it and shapes begin to reveal themselves. There's a catwalk jutting out to his left, a tangle of rigging placed seemingly at random. Above him there seems to be a whole array of unlit lights in all sorts of sizes and configuration. Below him is a pretty decent drop, not enough that it would kill him, but maybe enough to break a leg if he lands wrong.

Still, if he can manage to get out of his restraints, or maybe loosen whatever riggings are suspending him in the air, it's not an option he's going to pass.

He pulls himself up carefully, taking in greedy breaths as a pressure he hadn't quiet recognized loosen in his chest even as his body protests the strain on his muscles and lack of energy. Eventually his face is level with the restraints around his wrists.

Too oddly smooth metal bands are wrapped around his wrist, pushed and held slightly apart by some unseen force. There is some kind of give to them letting them move slightly back and forth, but the only thing they seem to actually be attached to is Wally. Some sort of force field then holding him in place. Something that is a lot harder for him to get out of than your standard rope job, although it does seem to have the bonus of not biting into his skin and restricting blood flow even with the whole weight of his body puling on them.

Something about the metal catches his eye, and he works to hold himself steady, abdominal muscles clenching fiercely. He recognizes the design.

It's Abra Kadabra's technology.

He definitely isn't going to get out of these by conventional methods, but maybe if he can vibrate the right way?

Crap, ow, no. Weather Wally just can't do it right, or if Kadabra made the cuffs so that he can't escape them that way, a possibility Wally can't deny, he isn't getting out of them by vibrating. And the attempt did nothing but take up more of the little energy he has.

Wally lets his body fall slack again, a grunt of noise caught behind his gag. With his arms above his head once more a pressure settles back in a band across his chest, but for the time being he does his best to put it from his mind.

How did he end up captured by Kadabra? He had been in Chicago, not doing superhero type things, and then – crap, and then Conner had shown up, and then the team had been in trouble, and then – Kobra? And Abra Kadabra?

Well, he has seen weirder things.

But whatever they had been up to together it doesn't look like Kadabra stayed around. It certainly doesn't look like a warehouse in Chicago or a Kobra Cult Convent or something.

It also looks like Wally is the only one that Kadabra has captive.

Wally really hopes that that's a good thing, that it means the others got away.

Maybe if he's lucky it'll even mean that help is on the way. The whole getting out of this on his own thing isn't looking very good at the moment.

Any other thoughts are cut off as the overhead lights turn on, blinding Wally. He hears the swish of fabric moving in front of him. His body wobbles slightly as the cuffs lower him down so that his feet barely touch the floor, offering some tentative relief.

Not just a floor though, a stage. With the lights on and velvet curtains drawing open the old theatre is starkly lit, old cracked gold filigree shining dully.

A slow clapping draws Wally's attention to the front and center seat in the audience. Abra Kadabra lounges across the slightly frayed upholstery. An odd cane lies across his knees. "Kid Flash. How nice of you to drop in."

Wally tries to open his mouth to retort, no doubt scathingly, only to be caught short by the gag.

"As you can see I've acquired quite the venue for us." Kadabra stands up, flapping one hand about in what Wally is sure he thinks is an elegant manner.

He can't respond.

"Perfect, I think, for the performance we'll be enacting tonight." Kadabra begins walking up a set of invisible steps. He comes up besides Wally, much too close for comfort, one hand ghosting violently over his left check.

All Wally can do is hang there, glaring. And listen.

Kill him now.

Kadabra leans close and whispers in Wally's ear. "Your ifarewell performance./i"

Wait, what?

He takes it back. Wally is totally okay with being killed at a later date.

"But first, now that I've managed to get through the introduction uninterrupted, let's take of the gag. After all, half the fun is going to be hearing you scream."


The technology that Abra Kadabra brought with him from the future is unique, and a part of that uniqueness is the exact composition of the metals used in their construction. A composition that has, among other things, a very distinct way that it reflects light and images.

An amateur when walking through the mirror world will try and navigate through the reflected landscape, the twisted representation of the world outside. Mirror Master is no amateur. The real way to get through the mirror world in a hurry is to walk through the places of nothing. The gaps between reflections where the mirror world just – stops.

And it's this way, winding through the highways of absence, that Mirror Master travels through Central until he finds the unique spiraling reflections of Abra's tech and the double layered prism of a place on top of a place that indicates phasing technology is in use.

Lip curling in satisfaction Mirror Master reaches into one of his pockets and carefully sets down a beacon.

Wally thinks the cane might have been some sort of prop. It doesn't look like something Kadabra would usually carry around. It has a black finish, and it looks like the main part of it might be made out of some kind of wood. One of those heavier sturdy ones. The bottom has a little cap of brass on it, and the top has this matching horse head figurine, one of those ones that looks like it would be kind of funny to grab onto but that actually fits perfectly against the curve of a hand.

Kadabra pulls the cane back, and swings it into Wally's side. The force of it pushes the air from Wally's lungs in strangled grunt, but somehow he manages to keep his feet under him.

Right now the cane would probably only work as a horror prop considering the blood on it.

That little horse head is sharp.

But between bruised ribs and the position he's in Wally finds that he's a little bit more concerned about breathing than bleeding. Every breath seems to take a little bit more effort, to sap a little bit more strength. And any time he loses his footing it becomes ten times as hard, little dots swimming in front of his vision as his chest refuses to expand and let air fill his lungs, a surge of primal panic sweeping through his veins.

He's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold on.

Kadabra steps back, a crazy grin on his face, and laughs. Some of his hair is coming loose from his ponytail framing one side of his face oddly. His eyes are completely blown, wild looking. With blood splatter decorating his shirt and across the open V of his chest the overall appearance is far gone from the composed, aloof look that he always seemed to try and project whenever Wally has seen him committing crimes in the past. "You know," he says, "for all the flaws of this time period there is something about the hands on experience."

There had been a few moments, right after he had taken the gag off, where Wally could talk back, deflect.

It had only taken being lifted a few inches into the air, and a hand pressing his shoulders down and forward compressing his lungs even more to convince him that he had better things to save his breath for. The only sounds he's allowed to make are sounds of pain.

The greatest defiance that he can muster now is lasting long enough that someone (and he'll take anyone at this point, anyone has to better than this) can come and find him.

Conner, the team, they had been searching for him before. Surely they'll keep looking for him now. They have to know Kadabra has him.

Kadabra brings the cane back again, angling it so that the arc of the swing will hit his legs. Wally closes his eyes, and tries to prepare himself for the pain and the sudden constriction, the horrifying inability to breath, that comes with the lost footing.

His legs shake, reminding him that it won't be long before he loses the strength to keep himself upright and breathing even without Kadabra's help. A surge of panic wells up in him at the thought making his breath hitch, and his muscles spasm even as he tries to fight it down. He just needs to hold on.

Just a little bit longer.

Please, let it only be a little bit longer.


The mirror world is wonderful for a lot of things, but it's actually spotty at best for spying on people, especially people that are aware someone from the mirror world might want to come along and spy.

Kadabra is one of those people.

So while there had been plenty of shiny reflective objects to use as a door into Kadabra's hideout, since the prick has always been to flashy not surround himself with shiny shit (not that Mirror Master can entirely blame him, the need to grab a bunch of shiny ass shit is what got a lot of them into this business), they don't have any views of whatever it is they'll be jumping into the middle of.

But their sudden appearance should still give them at least a momentary advantage. And for someone who battles the Flash on a regular basis a momentary advantage is more than enough.

With one last look to make sure everybody else is ready Mirror Master grabs hold of them, steps through the small golden reflection, and because Abra is a pompous showboat, straight onto a stage.

Turns out they aren't the only ones with an element of surprise, because the sight that greets them is nothing like they had expected.

There's a fucking kid. When the Cat said Abra took something she was talking about a fucking kid.

Cold is the first one to move, always the fastest one on the uptake, the one that makes the snap decisions. Two long strides carry him to Abra's side and his hand wraps around the cane he's beating the kid with on its backstroke, an audible smack of skin echoing through the theatre.

"I think it's time we had a little chat," says Cold.

Of course Abra is used to fighting the Flash too, and if he wasn't going to like what they had to say to him before (which he wouldn't have) he certainly isn't going to like what they have to say to him now. And he knows it.

Abra drops his two handed hold on the cane, his left elbow coming down sharply and throwing off Cold's aim with his gun, his right reaching somewhere on his person to pull out a weapon. He steps away as he spins to face them, and Cold pivots so that he's standing in between the boy and Abra. Abra goes to fire, but the Trickster's yo-yo arcs out and begins to wrap itself around Abra's arm before he can follow through on the blow. The yo-yo disintegrates against Abra's force field, but not before the Trickster manages to yank Abra farther away giving them all more room to move.

Weather Wizard and Captain Boomerang take the opportunity to fan out creating as much of a circle around Abra as they can. Mirror Master uses his own hard light constructs to fill in the space left between his four fellow Rogues.

"This is low even for you," says Weather Wizard, the echo of lightning dancing on the tip of his wand. "We'd heard you were taking something that best belonged elsewhere, didn't realize you'd stooped to taking kids."

Abra's face twists up horribly. "What I do is none of your business." He jabs his wand in Cold's direction again, obviously intent on getting back to the kid, and an arc of power flows out only to be intercepted by a similar one from Weather Wizard, the power of both following his command and grounding itself on the floor. Abra lets out an inarticulate scream of rage but wrestles control back in time to disintegrate the Boomerang sent his way before it can reach his person. The two wands disconnecting send a backlash of power at Weather Wizard with the same movement and he's thrown back and off the stage.

No one turns to check on him, but a moan insures them all that he isn't dead, in case they were really worried. Mirror Master creates another hard light construct to cover the hole.

"See," says Mirror Master, the acoustics of the theatre doing a wonderful job of masking the direction of his voice, and causing Abra to eye his constructs wearily, "that's where we keep on running into a little bit of a disagreement, isn't it? You keep saying it isn't our business, and we keep having to remind you that these cities are our business. And like we've told you before - we have rules."

All of the Mirror Masters raise their Mirror Guns in unison, and fire a blast at Abra. Boomerang uses it as a cover to throw another weapon, Cold fires a layer of ice on the stage making Mirror Master happy once again that they've all changed over to the kind of slip free soles that will find a purchase, and the Trickster rolls something that looks like it could be marbles or gum (but has a ninety percent chance of being something completely different) across the floor.

A number of small explosions occur and for a moment Abra is obscured. None of them lower their weapons or get out of their defensive positions.

Abra laughs, the smoke clearing to reveal him in perfect shape, his personal force field still flaring slightly around him. "You won't beat me with your pathetic toys."

The Trickster laughs with him, happy and care free. "Of course not," he says. "We're just the distraction."


Trickster rolls his eyes, as though Abra didn't hear him the first time. "We're the distraction. He's the one who's going to beat you." Before Abra can ask 'who?' the Trickster leans to the side and reveals a very unhappy looking Pied Piper.

The low whistle that had been vibrating at the base of Mirror Master's skull since just after the fight started suddenly grows, and Piper lets out a few short blasts of sound that crash upon one another with dissonance. Several loud cracks sound in response, and Abra's own toys crack and fall apart - including whatever it was that had been holding the kid up. Mirror Master catches him falling out of the corner of his eye, and he can hear him gasping heavily for breath after he lands.

"We've told you not to fuck around in our cities before, Abra," says Cold, stepping forward as Abra tries uselessly to get his equipment to work. "And I think we've given you enough warnings, wouldn't you say boys?"

The grim silence is answer enough.

"From now on stay out of our way, and stay out of our cities." Cold points his gun at Abra almost point blank, and flips a little swtch on the back with his thumb. "Assuming, of course, that you manage to survive."

Cold fires, and Abra releases a final scream of fury before it is suddenly cut off and he is encased in ice. Not the suspended animation that he uses on civilians, but the genuine cold ice that has no problem with taking a life.

"Get the kid and let's get back to the hideout. We're done here."

They lay down their arms, so to speak, Mirror Master calling off his constructs and Boomerang going to check in on Weather Wizard. Curious Mirror Master Walks around to get a closer look at the kid.

Red hair. Gotham.

Man, if this is Ivy's kid he's never going to another park again, cause from what he's heard about her 'we found him this way' probably isn't going to be enough to keep them safe.


Searching an entire city is crazy. Searching two is bordering past ridiculous. But that's what they're doing anyway. Little by little, block by block, they are whittling down the places where Wally is likely to be.

That's what Artemis has to keep telling herself, keep telling anyone who questions the speed they are going at or the places they are checking. Robin made the map and gave each of them their routes, designed specifically to search as efficiently as possible, and they've only deviated from it a few times at Batman's urging so that Catwoman can conduct her own search. Even if it feels like they are doing nothing what they're really doing is inching closer to the inevitable moment where they find Wally.

And damn it, he better be in good enough shape for her to hit him, because they've worried too much about him for him not to deserve a slap on the head at the least.

"I sense nothing at this location," says J'onn. She still isn't used to his earth look, a bald black man with a long overcoat, but she's glad that she has a few familiar people on her team none the less.

"Sheyera?" It's become almost normal at this point for Artemis to act like nothing is going on during a mission while she does things that are utterly unbelievable when she has a moment to stop and process it, and be effected by it, and calling League members like Hawkwoman by name is no different. She pushes it aside for the moment because there is something more important to focus on. "Did you find anything?"

Shayera, her wings hidden by some kind of cloaking device, shakes her head. "The nth metal didn't react to anything."

Artemis sighs, and looks across the rest of the group. Red Tornado ,Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman are on her search team as well checking out a warehouse on the other side of the street. They haven't found anything there either.

"Let's go, we can get to the next target fastest by rooftop."

On top of the roof she contacts the others. Thirty-three D and E, no sign of Kadabra.

Robin's mental voice is tight. Roger that.

Artemis glances to the east, just off of her search grid, taking in the lay of the rooftops in the dim dawn light. A sign a few blocks away catches her eye. Robin, you said Kadabra is known for being a showboat, right?

Pretty much. Why, do you have something?

About a block off of our search pattern, it looks like it's an old abandoned theatre. And if he's the kind of villain that likes to keep a running theme…

She can feel Kaldur pondering what she's saying before he even makes his response. Indeed. Artemis, take your team, check it out. Robin, run a search for all other locations that fit with Kadabra's 'theme.'

Artemis shoots an arrow from her small cross bow embedding it at a good point of leverage in the next building."This way." She doesn't wait to see if they follow at this point, just makes her way over as quick as she can.

Already on it. I'm looking at five other spots that match, but – yeah, two of them get too much foot traffic to work, even if Kadabra sets up out of phase, and one of them is already inside our search grid. I'm calculating the most efficient way to add them to our routes now.

Shayera gets to the theatre next, and she wastes no time in pulling out the nth metal. As she brings it close to the door something sparks.

Might not be necessary. It looks like we've got something.


Selina is loosing her patience. She's loosing it with Heatwave, she's loosing it with the Bat, and most of all she's loosing it with no one being able to find the son of a bitch who took Wally.

So when Batman says "Selina" sharply in her ear she barely manages to contain the irritated 'what' she wants to snap in reply.

It doesn't take Batman long to carry on anyway. "Abra Kadaba was just found frozen solid in his hideout. While it was apparent he had been there at some point Kid Flash was missing when they arrived."

A low growl works up in Selina's throat as she puts two and two together. Heatwave turns to her the look on his face warring back between surprise and fear. "What the hell's going on?"

She attacks, and a brief tussle on the ground leaves her victorious, her legs pinning his arms to his sides and her claws extended and digging in to the skin of his neck just enough to leave harsh indentations. "There's been a change of plans. You are going to bring me to your hideout with the other Rogues, with none of the bullshit you've been giving me so far, or I'm going to have a new scratching post."

When Batman nor Heatwave voice a protest Selina lets herself feel a small thrill of victory.

No mare waiting, no more playing around.

It's time to get the Kid back.