Flash gestured toward the warehouse interior., while he spoke.
Then James replied, "There's more of them in there. Storage room, looked like a full arsenal. You want to help me finish clearing it before the cavalry shows up and asks a lot of questions neither of us wants to answer?"
James moved toward the entrance without further discussion. Flash fell in beside him, matching his pace with visible effort, the two of them moving through the warehouse's interior together while distant sirens grew steadily louder.
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They cleared the remaining resistance in under four minutes.
Flash's speed handled most of it once the field was gone, but the interior held two more armed positions that required actual coordination rather than pure velocity, and James found himself working alongside someone whose fighting instincts were sharper than his public reputation suggested.
Flash wasn't just fast. He was fast and paying close attention, adjusting his approach based on what James was doing rather than simply outrunning every problem.
By the time Central City PD's lead vehicles arrived at the warehouse's main entrance, both of them were three blocks away, standing on a rooftop overlooking the scene.
"That was good work," Flash said, still catching his breath despite his metabolism presumably processing exertion faster than a normal person's. "Genuinely. I've been dealing with this cell for two weeks and getting nowhere. You showed up and cracked their whole setup in ten minutes."
"You'd already done the hard part," James said. "Locating them, forcing them into the open. I just had better intelligence on the specific hardware."
"Still. Thank you." Flash said it plainly, without needing to dress it up into anything bigger than it was.
"It's nothing," James said. "Wrong place, right time."
Flash extended a hand anyway. "Barry. Well, obviously don't put that anywhere, but you get it."
James shook it, noting the deliberate offer, small and genuine, a trust extended without demand for equal return. "Sovereign's fine for now."
"Sure. Whatever works." Flash glanced back toward the warehouse, where police floodlights were beginning to sweep across the scene below. "There's a diner a couple blocks from here that's open all night. Makes a genuinely underrated milkshake. Figured I'd buy you one for the assist."
"Appreciate the offer," James said. "I've got a flight to catch."
"That's a very Batman answer."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Flash laughed, short and easy. "Suit yourself. Offer stands if you're ever back in town."
Red and blue lights swept closer, voices carrying now from the approaching officers. Flash turned toward them, already composing his posture into something more public-facing, more press-ready.
"Give me a second," he said over his shoulder. "I should go smooth this over before anybody starts asking questions we don't want asked."
James said nothing. He didn't need to.
By the time Flash finished his brief exchange with the first officer on the scene and turned back toward the rooftop to say something else, there was no one there.
No grapple line receding into the dark. No sound of departure his ears could have caught even moving at normal speed. Just an empty ledge and the wind.
Flash stood there a moment, hands on his hips, looking at the space where Sovereign had been.
"Huh," he said to no one in particular. "Okay. Yeah. That's definitely a Bat thing to do."
He shook his head, half amused, and went back to dealing with the police.
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