(A/N: A word of warning: this is a Flash fic much more than it is a JLU one. It's just set in the DCAU. That's not to say that JLU characters won't turn up, but this is more like an episode of some imaginary Flash animated series. Okay? Okay.)

Disclaimer: The Flash and all DC related stuff isn't mine.

Legacies

Chapter One: Meet Hunter Zolomon

The struggling car drifted slightly to the left, and Detective Hunter Zolomon moved the wheel slightly to the right to adjust. He grunted in annoyance at the fact that he had been forced to do so at least twelve times today, today being a particularly miserable Tuesday. He remembered that he had made a note somewhere in his apartment to take the car in for a check up, but his line of work didn't allow for much free time. At least, that's what he told himself. And Ashley, for that matter. He reached down and turned on the car radio, hoping to find some indication as to how much longer this downpour of rain was going to last. He winced as the music blasted from the speakers, and quickly turned the volume dial the other way.

Probably Wally's doing, he thought to himself with a grumble, lighting up a cigarette as he did so. Although he considered the young man his best friend, he was a handful almost all of the time, especially since he was also the costumed adventurer known as The Flash. He had initially been touched that Wally trusted him enough to tell him that he was the Flash, although it put Hunter in awkward situations with his fellow policemen. During his early days as the Flash, Wally hadn't been too careful about protecting his secret identity, talking to Hunter casually in and out of costume, causing many eyebrows to rise in the department. Hunter had been forced to tell the Flash to get lost, while being profusely apologetic to Wally the next time he saw him. Wally had begrudgingly understood, but had maintained an antagonistic relationship with Hunter as the Flash, which irritated him to no end.

"It's just for appearance's sake," Wally would say with smile, and Hunter would snort derisively every time. Not that he minded. He now knew why Commissioner Gordon valued Batman (if he indeed existed) so much – he could go after criminals that were dirty but had no incriminating evidence held against them. Wally frowned upon Hunter's turning him upon targets in that manner, but sometimes it was necessary. More often that not, however, Wally would catch the aforementioned criminal carrying out some illegal activity, thereby making the point moot, at least in Hunter's eyes. He turned the corner and pulled into the police station car park. He got out of the car and locked it hurriedly, and broke into a brisk jog as he crossed the car park to the entrance.

He nodded a greeting to two uniforms leaving the building, and walked to the reception desk. The secretary, Rachel, looked up and smiled sarcastically.

"Good afternoon, Hunter. You get lost?"

Hunter didn't respond. He wasn't in a smiling mood today. "Any messages?"

"Nope – nothing to pull you away from the station. Guess you'll have to do some work today, huh?"

Hunter resisted a sarcastic smile before heading upstairs, nodding greetings to those he knew as he walked up the stairs. His own laboured breathing became all the more apparent to him as he climbed up the stairs, and he considered the irony of the slowest man in the police force being best friends with the fastest man alive. He didn't laugh, though. In his experience as a police officer, irony was oftentimes more tragic than it was humorous. And besides that, Hunter didn't have much of a sense of humour. He pushed the thought aside as he opened the double doors leading into the main offices. He walked over to his desk and removed his dripping trench coat, draping it over the nearby radiator. The janitor always complained to him about that, but he never paid him any mind.

He sat at his desk, exhaling mightily as he did so. He resisted the urge to pull out a cigarette, and chose to get to work instead. He had been working on a series of murders by a psychopath whose only distinguishing feature was that he/she left a note with the word 'Klann' on it. And so the case and the suspect were dubbed 'Klann'.

He checked the clock and thought about how much time he had before his lunch appointment with Wally. Since Wally was the fastest man alive, Hunter had always made it a point to arrive about ten minutes early for any appointment with him. Unfortunately, the time indicated that Hunter had three hours of solid paperwork ahead of him. He walked to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. Unfortunately, detectives Johnson and Reynolds had also decided to get a cup of coffee at that moment.

"Well, well, look who's decided to grace us with his presence!" Johnson said, spreading his arms out grandly.

"Morning, Johnson."

Reynolds smiled. "'Morning'? Is that all we get? That hurts Hunter." He poked his own chest where his heart would be. "It hurts… right here," he said, melodramatically choking back sobs as he hid his face behind his arm.

Johnson bowed. "Please, sire, tell us where you have been during your time away!"

Hunter resisted the urge to knock their heads together and continued to stare at his slowly filling Styrofoam cup. "Sorry, you'll have to annoy someone else today. I'm not in the mood."

"Ooo, did you hear that, Sam?" Johnson said. Hunter could practically hear the smirk on his face.

Reynolds nodded in mock concern. "I sure did, Ben. It sounds like widdle Hunter's in a bad mood. We'd better not disturb him."

Hunter tried his utmost to show the relief that his coffee cup was finished, and picked it up to go. As he turned to leave with his coffee, Johnson bumped into him, sending the hot liquid down Hunter's front. He couldn't tell if it was an accident or not, but by then, he didn't care. He dropped the cup and twirled around, grabbing Johnson by his jacket and shoving him head first into the coffee machine, letting go as he rebounded slightly, dropping him to the floor. All motion and sound in the office stopped, and all eyes were on Hunter.

"What the hell are you doing?" Reynolds shouted, kneeling next to Johnson as he kept his eyes on Hunter. Hunter looked around at the faces of everyone in the office, the discomfort in their faces not even registering as he looked back down at Johnson, who was slowly gathering himself. Reynolds helped him to his feet, and Johnson shook him off. He walked up close to Hunter so that he was nose to nose with him, and was about to say something when the Captain's door whipped open, slamming against the wall as it did so. They both looked over to see the enraged form of Captain Manning glaring at them.

"Zolomon, Johnson, in my office, NOW!"

They slowly made their way over into the office until they reached the door. Johnson didn't let Hunter go first, and Hunter wasn't about to let Johnson go before him. Manning sat at his desk.

"Do you girls need me to call you parents, or are you going to come in?"

Hunter looked over at Manning, then back to Johnson, and then made a grand gesture with his arm to allow him to go first. They entered the office and sat down.

"What was that about?"

Johnson shot a thumb in Hunter's direction. "Ask this psycho, I didn't do anything."

Manning looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "Is that right?"

Hunter didn't even look up. He simply stared at Manning's desk.

Manning leaned over the desk. "I said, is that right?"

Hunter slowly brought his head up. "No, sir."

Johnson stood. "What? You just shoved me into the coffee machine! I didn't even do anything!"

"Sit down, Johnson."

"But-"

"Sit. Down."

He sat down.

Manning turned his eyes back to Hunter. "Zolomon, I don't want to treat you like a naughty school boy, but you're not leaving me a lot of choice. What. Happened?"

Hunter looked Manning straight in the eyes. "Exactly what Johnson said. I shoved him into the coffee machine. He didn't even do anything. Can I go now?"

Manning stood back and sat down in his chair. "Johnson, you can leave," he said, not taking his eyes from Zolomon's as he did so. He waited for the door to close before he said anything. Hunter crossed his arms, preparing himself for the lecture he had heard too many times before.

"Zolomon… what the hell were you thinking?" He sighed. "You're a good cop, but if you keep this up, you're not going to have a single friend left in the force."

Hunter wondered what Manning's reaction would be if he stood up and told him that he was best friends with the Flash.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to take that risk, sir."

Manning stared at him. "Well, I'm not. As of right now, I'm putting you on paid vacation. Maybe if you get some time off you can learn to live with other human beings like the rest of us do."

Hunter couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stood and leaned across the table. "You can't take me out now! I'm… we're so close to catching Klann I can taste it!"

"You should have thought of that before you decided to take out your anger management issues on Johnson and the coffee machine."

Hunter felt the anger rising in him, the same almost uncontrollable rage that haunted him every day of his life. He took a step back from the table and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as he did so. He glared at Manning with eyes full of burning hatred, and quickly whirled around on his heel and left the office, slamming the door shut on the way out.

He ignored the stares of his colleagues as he went to collect his coat. When he saw Johnson sneering at him from his desk, Hunter took a menacing quick step forward, causing Johnson to flinch. Hunter smirked at the show of emotion, and left the room.

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"Geez, Hunter, you look like crap."

Hunter brought his head up from staring at the glass of whisky in front of him to see his old friend Wally West stood before him. He smiled.

"Thanks."

Wally frowned. "Something wrong?"

Hunter took a sip of his whisky and scrunched his face as the liquid left a burning trail down his throat. "It's nothing."

He was about to take another sip when Wally took the glass from his hand. He sniffed the liquid and his head shot back from surprise, a look of revulsion on his face. He put the glass back on the table, out of Hunter's reach.

"Nothing, huh? Is that why you're onto you fifth glass already?"

"Tenth, actually; they cleared the glasses away earlier," Hunter said, a faint smile on his lips at his attempt at humour.

Wally's frown deepened as he sat opposite Hunter. "What happened? You and Ashley have another fight?"

"Kind of hard to fight when you're not talking to each other."

Wally's eyes widened slightly. "You guys have split up?"

"No, she's just gone to stay with a friend of hers for a while."

"She didn't tell you where?"

"No," Hunter said, shaking his head. He regretted having done that, as the whole world seemed to spin sideways around him. He tried to steady himself as Wally's face grew more contorted with concern.

"So… what're you gonna do about it?"

"Right now I'm going to drink. Okay?"

Wally's concerned face disappeared, replaced by a stern glare. "As long as you're going to drink coffee, then we're on the same page."

Hunter covered his face with his hand. "Please, Wally, don't try and pull all this righteous crap on me right now. I just want to drink my problems away for today, all right?"

"No. So if-" he was interrupted by the waiter coming to see him. "Two coffees, please. One black," he said, looking at Hunter as he did so. Hunter wanted to strangle him. He appreciated what Wally was doing, and truth be told he would do the same thing if the situation were reversed. In fact, he recalled more than a few times he had comforted a distraught Wally after a relationship with a girl had gone awry. But that still didn't stop Hunter from wanting to kill him. The fact that Wally was spinning while doing the whole 'best friend' thing didn't help.

After the waiter had left, Wally resumed his sentence. "So, if this isn't about Ashley, what is it about? Work?"

Hunter didn't respond, and Wally's face darkened. "Another fight?"

Hunter didn't look at him. In fact, he downright refused to. But Wally didn't need eye contact to read his best friend. Hunter could feel him rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair, exasperated.

"Jesus, Hunter. Why don't you just march into the Captain's office and say 'fire me'? How many times has it been now? Five? Six?"

Hunter looked at him, and fixed him with a cold, hard stare. "Twelve."

Wally's jaw dropped. "Twelve? You've been pulled in twelve times?"

He shook his head. "No. I've been pulled in seven times," he said, a hint of a smirk dancing across his lips.

Wally looked stunned, but his face quickly changed into one of anger. "This isn't funny, Hunter. You're gonna get yourself fired someday, and then where will you be?"

The coffee arrived, and Hunter turned up his nose and squeezed his eyes shut at the sight and smell of the stuff. Wally pushed the mug towards Hunter.

"Drink up."

Hunter eyed the brown liquid. "Do I have to?"

"Hey, you chug-a-lug the other stuff."

"Yes, well, the other stuff makes me feel better."

"Zolomon. Drink."

Hunter suddenly stood up, knocking his chair over as he did so.

"DON'T YOU D-" Hunter stopped, his brain kicking in as he saw the shocked look on his friends' face, which was a perfect mirror image of everyone else's in the café. He took a breath, attempting to halt the anger boiling inside of him. He looked at Wally. "Don't you dare talk to me like that. Ever," he spat, violently jerking his coat from where it lay on the back of his chair.

"Wait, Hunter-"

Hunter slammed the door before Wally could say anything else. He quickly turned the corner and walked to the nearest bus stop. Hunter found an empty bus shelter and sat down. He leaned back against the cool window and turned his head slightly so he could see the rain drops sliding down the window, meeting and joining, separating and going their separate ways once they reached a certain point in their journey down the plexiglass. Hunter sighed. His temper had always been an issue with him, even going back to when he was a child. Ashley had once calmed that burning anger, but even she found it hard to deal with sometimes, especially recently. And Wally… Hunter had no idea why Wally was such good friends with him. They were complete opposites, Wally being an approachable, good natured guy, while Hunter avoided human contact whenever possible, making it even more of a miracle that he had found Ashley. Again, he had Wally to thank for that.

Hunter thought about the irony of the fact that it was his temper that had started their friendship all those years ago in college. Hunter found a lot of things ironic. He had had that kind of life, as if it were all some big joke by God. Hunter still remembered the dark alleyway, the way those two thugs were going after that woman. It sparked something in Hunter, something primal. He had never attacked a human being like that before. He smashed their faces into the walls, stepped on their necks, broke their fingers. And he loved every minute of it.

Wally had also seen the woman being roughed up by the two men, but by the time he had arrived as Kid Flash, Hunter was standing over two broken men, one unconscious and the other weeping in pain. The woman that Hunter had saved was in a ball, looking at Hunter with wide, terrified eyes. Hunter felt that he should have been disturbed by the look in her eyes. But he loved it. He loved the fear. Later, he had put it down to being caught in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline. But deep down, he knew there was something inside him that enjoyed it. That revelled in it. So he tried to apply it to something constructive. He enrolled with the police force. He had met Wally West a day later, and only in retrospect did he realise why he was so interested in spending time with him.

Thinking of Wally made Hunter wonder why he had become so angry with Wally in the café. Was it is constant pestering? Or was it the fact that he called him Zolomon, like Manning had done hours earlier? Or was it something else? Hunter's entire body tensed at the thought of Manning, the anger once again coursing through his veins. With Ashley's help, he had learned to subdue his violent outbursts, and had even learned breathing techniques to help deal with them. But they weren't so effective anymore. Ashley suggested going to a professional psychiatrist, but Hunter was dead set against it. He didn't want someone poking about in his head, even indirectly.

"Hunter."

Hunter whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice. "Hello?"

"Don't bother. You can't see me; at least, not yet."

Hunter stood and walked around the bus shelter, checking for anyone hiding. "Wally, if that's you…"

"Not Wally. Certainly not Wally."

Hunter sat again, his vision still spinning from the alcohol flowing in his blood. "Who then?"

"I see you're not close minded. Good."

"How do you know Wally?"

"A more suitable question would be, 'How don't I know Wally?' You see, I know everything about him, from where he lives to the fact that he's the famous Flash."

If he were sober, that fact would have shocked Hunter. As it was, he was more mildly interested than anything else. The voice seemed to be inside his head, but Hunter couldn't tell if that was because he was drunk, or… if he was talking to something that the Justice League should handle. Too drunk to panic, he simply continued. "And you're talking to me because…?"

"Because you can help me. Because I can help you."

"Help me to do what?"

"To get vengeance on those who have wronged you. Johnson. Reynolds. Manning. Wally. Ashley…?"

"Not interested. Go away."

"You mock now, but just wait… I'll still be here in the morning… and the day after that, and the day after that… I'll wait for as long as I have to until you're ready."

"Shut up."

Hunter could hear the smile in the other's voice as he spoke. "You'll see. It's destiny. You will come to me, and then you will have your vengeance on those that have wronged you. Especially Wally and Ashley. Perhaps you'll let me help you kill them, eh? Would you enjoy that?"

"SHUT UP!" he roared, covering his ears with his fists. He started running from the bus shelter, not caring in what direction he ran, as long as it was away from that devilish voice.

"Hmmm… a slow runner… How ironic…"

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(A/N: Well? Fun? Or no? Either way, review!)