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"You sure you wanna do this son? I mean, I know you've talked about being out in public for a while now, but going to a crowded stadium is kind of a big step." David asked, eyes filled with worry for his son.
"Dad, you've asked me that like 15 times in the past 10 minutes. As far as I can tell this thing" Grey said, referring to the techno-organic suit that was now effectively his permanent exterior appearance, "isn't coming off any time soon, short of expensive and painful surgery. I know you can afford it, but I figure I'm just better off learning to deal, alright? I can't hide out in our apartment for the rest of my life."
"You're definitely sure?"
Grey sighed exasperatedly "Even if I wasn't, we're already here. Little too late to change my mind now anyways, isn't it?"
The pair made their way inside, heading towards their seats. Just as they hit the doorway leading to them, Grey spotted something.
"...please tell me you see the purple and green guy on the field too."
"Dad, you've asked me that like 15 times in the past 10 minutes. As far as I can tell this thing" Grey said, referring to the techno-organic suit that was now effectively his permanent exterior appearance, "isn't coming off any time soon, short of expensive and painful surgery. I know you can afford it, but I figure I'm just better off learning to deal, alright? I can't hide out in our apartment for the rest of my life."
"You're definitely sure?"
Grey sighed exasperatedly "Even if I wasn't, we're already here. Little too late to change my mind now anyways, isn't it?"
The pair made their way inside, heading towards their seats. Just as they hit the doorway leading to them, Grey spotted something.
"...please tell me you see the purple and green guy on the field too."
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The Jumbotron swapped to an image of the locker room, where the Yankees, all in uniform, were each hog-tied, with men in umpire-uniforms standing guard over them. Each of them had a small bomb strapped to their chest.
"And if I do not receive a total of one hundred thousand dollars in the next twenty minutes, each and every one of those men will die a very messy death. So start passing your hats, ladies and gentlemen... or the New York Yankees will be as dead as Babe Ruth!"
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"Suit, I need a layout of the building and a patch-through to the TV cameras stat." Non-sentient though it was, the suit still responded to his commands, both set of information popping up on to his HUD.
"...hang on." He skidded to a halt. "If I go down to the locker rooms he's probably just gonna blow up the players. Crap, okay, gotta think of a new plan. Thinkthinkthink..."
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A red and blue blur makes its way into the stadium.
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He hefts a baseball bat. "Go ahead, old man... try me directly, instead!"
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"I'll give you one chance, son. Let those people go. No one has to get hurt."
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Another ball is fired, and again Sportsmaster hits it towards the Flash. And another. And another.
But for the moment, at least, the Sportsmaster's attention is occupied elsewhere.
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"Suit, patch me through to the Flash's communicator...Flash, sir? This is Grey Bradbury" Grey vaulted down the stairwell. "I'm, er, new. To the whole hero thing I mean. I think I can rescue the players if you keep Sportsmaster distracted."
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He dodges the balls launched his direction, starting to make his way towards Sportsmaster, but additional pitching machines begin firing from hidden locations throughout the park, making the path somewhat convoluted...
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If the map on is HUD was correct, the hallway to the locker room should be just around this-
"HEY! YOU!" A henchman yelled, coming at Grey with a baseball bat.
"Yup, I was right." Grey's energy shield flared to life, just barely deflecting the swing.
"Sorry pal. Today's hostage situation is called on account of pain." The chromatically-challenged hero swung his fist into the umpire's face, laying him out.
"Well that was easy." Gunshots fired, and Grey instinctively threw up his shield to block as the rest of the guards rushed at him, "Right, more of 'em."
Grey leaped towards them, a jump kick to the foremost one's face, and a gutcheck to another with his shield.. The last hightailed it out of there, but wasn't quick enough to avoid Grey beaning him in the back of the head with one of his compatriots extra baseballs.
"Okay, the myriad of issues aside, this thing is pretty freaking awesome."
He ran into the locker room. "Sorry guys, wish I had time to chat, but I'm not sure how much longer the Flash is gonna keep Sportsmaster's eyes off the Jumbotron." Grey said as he quickly set about unstrapping the bombs from the players.
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Jay sends a punch towards Sportsmaster's jaw, and the punch sends the villain flying...
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And then they'll know not to mess with his plans again.
Before the Flash can intervene, the Sportsmaster presses the button, setting off the blast.
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Grey sighed in relief. "Ha! Man, that was a close one."
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As police run onto the field to take the criminal into custody, Jay heads down below to check on the players -- and the unexpected help he received.
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"No, really Mr. Jeter. I was just trying to help. You don't need to thank me."
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