Jokertown Shuffle

"FLASH? JJ FLASH? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU

"Run!" Flash shouted. "I'll handle him."

Without a backward glance, Durg put the car in gear and floored it.

Flash tried to dart away. An invisible hand seemed to be holding him fast, pinning his arms to his side. He couldn't move. "Don't make me get rough with you," he said.

Turtle chewed his underlip. "Have you gone nuts?" he asked his microphone.

"Just a little stir-crazy," came back through the audio pickups mounted in the hull. "Look, it's great schmoozing with you, Turtle, but the boys in blue are going to get sorted out down there and start shooting at me in a minute, and I've got things to see and people to do."

"You're a federal fugitive, for God's sake. Why are you-" He stopped. "I get it. It's Sprout."

"You definitely win the Bonus Round. It's Sprout. Now let me go."

"Jesus, Flash, this is jailbreak. I can't let you get away with this."

"So you're lining up with the pigs? Battle lines are being drawn and all that sixties stuff is that the side of the barricades you're comfortable with?"

A shot popped off from below. Turtle winced. Flame darted from Flash's hand. An especially bold SWAT man yelped and dropped his M16 as if it were red-hot, largely because it was.

"You people down there stop that," Turtle said. "I have the situation under control."

"My ass you do."

"It's your ass that's gonna get extra holes shot in it if they don't think I can handle you. Come on, Flash, don't you see this isn't the way?"

"We're fresh out of other ways."

"Flash, I feel for you and Mark, and especially Sprout. But we can't do things this way anymore. And not now, for God's sake! George Bush is in town. The whole country thinks aces are arm-in-arm with the devil. What's a scene like this going to do to wild cards everywhere?"

"Not a fucking thing, you complacent tin-plated son of a bitch! If they're going to let the lynch mobs loose, they'll find an excuse sooner or later. They'll make one up if they have to. Let me go."

"No," Turtle said primly. "The welfare of everybody touched by the wild card's at stake here. I'm taking you in." "A little girl's life is at stake, you bastard. And Mark Meadows isn't going to rot in federal slam!"

Flash set his jaw and forced flame out through every pore of his body. The unseen grip did not slacken. "So I can't singe your telekinetic fingers, eh?"

"THEY'RE ONLY IMAGINARY, YOU KNOW." "Yeah? Well what can they do to me, then?"

"THIS." Inexorably, the hand began to crush the air out of him.

He looked around. The cop car was already out of sight. Durg had instructions what to do if Mark was captured, in whatever persona. The mission was a success if only Sprout got away. And K.C.

Damn, that's a fine one. And Mark really loves her. But there's nothing I can do for her.

His vision began to swim. Blackness gathered around the edges. He knew Turtle didn't want to kill him, just black him out. But he had a higher metabolic rate than a nat, used air more quickly. Old Ironsides might hold on just a little too long, and then it was going to be JJ Flash, Turnip. And he knew that wouldn't do Meadows much good either.

Besides, he was Jumpin' Jack Flash. No pansy who wouldn't go out in public without his fat ass wrapped in armor plate was going to take him. He began to rotate his left hand, slowly so that Turtle wouldn't notice. The Turtle hadn't bothered to immobilize him totally, and Flash was fairly sure he could. Slowly, slowly-there. Palm outward.

"It's not-that-easy," he gritted. Fire shot from his palm and splashed against the underside of the Turtle's shell.