Quotes From Your Own Work!

[Rebel Dynasty]

A scene from Whispers of Nowhere, intended for Chapter 15:

As they landed at the lowest point of the turret’s peak, Forneus gripping her hand tightly as she leaned over the edge, fighting back the overwhelming wave of sickness that had enveloped her, it occurred to Gwen just how fortunate they were that Phenex had provided a feint against Reeves’ forces when he did. In doing so, he had ensured that the very tower they stood on was completely unguarded—as well as the vast majority of the other towers, it seemed. She had sensed it before, but until Forneus had removed her from the hazardous battle taking place between the firebird and shadow demon, she hadn’t been able to tell exactly where the subtle tingling sensation had been coming from. All she had known was that it was either somewhere atop the cathedral, or the castle, itself.

Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as the sickness finally passed, she cast one look downward, and nearly knocked Forneus over backward when she threw herself into his arms again, trembling.

“I really, really hate heights…” She choked out, too frightened to be embarrassed by her actions.

“You have nothing to fear,” Forneus assured her, his arms firm yet gentle, as he wrapped them around her, “I swear to you, I won’t let you fall.”

 

[Xeroxis]

Romano stared deep into Don Gambino's eyes. "But...but boss, I'm a made man! I can't betray everything I know and stand for!" Gambino pressed his hand into Romano's. "Jonny, look at me. If you don't take your pants off, I'm gonna break your friggin legs. "

 

[TerrorA]

From my PR Story: Bones couldn't meet Crimzen's gaze. Instead, he only whispered. "I did the best I could, Captain." and handed Crimzen a mirror and a note. The note read "5 new keys for an eye. Fair trade, right Jackie?" And in the mirror, testament to the explosion Crimzen had survived, was the scar going from his right cheek to his left temple. His left eye was...well, it's better left unsaid.
Crimzen threw the mirror, and it shattered against the wall

 

[Shadow]

Stuff for Blackout, slightly out of order. Emotions ahoy!

Fear:

From the next room over Reaver could hear the solitary echoes of a grandfather clock, ticking away seconds like a metronome as he sipped at the reddish-purple liquid in his glass. The lonesome sound mingled with the soft crackling of the flames in his study’s hearth like a delicate nocturne, only occasionally punctuated by the rustling of papers and the scratch of his quill. He needed a plan. Something concrete and thoroughly devious that would still be able to win the queen’s attention. After all, he did so loathe being refused, especially for petty reasons, and he knew perfectly well that the queen was not entirely immune to his charms. All he had to do was find a means to make her see things his way.

At that thought, the fire in the hearth abruptly dimmed as though a large gust of wind had come down the chimney and the room dimmed with it. Reaver drew his head up from his work as the room failed to brighten even as the fire itself returned to its former brilliance. One of the oil lamps—an expensive one with a fashionable coloured glass shade—on the other side of the room was out. He could feel the beginnings of a frown start to tug at his lips as his mind needlessly pointed out that the very same lamp had been lit only moments ago. Reaver tried to dismiss it—after all, the damper was open in the fireplace and the weather had been erratic lately, so it was easily explained away as a byproduct of the same wind that had made the fire grow dim—but that didn’t stop him from resting his free hand on the butt of the Dragonstomper .48 holstered at his hip.

He’d nearly convinced himself that the wind truly was to blame when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw another lamp flicker and then extinguish itself as though someone had blown out the flame.

“Oh, now really,” he soliloquized with a huff of annoyance, drawing his pistol languorously. “Either this is merely a prank in poor taste, or this is one of the most abysmal taunts I’ve ever happened to lay eyes upon. Tut, tut, you really must try harder,” he added to the room at large, tapping the Dragonstomper’s barrel against his thigh meditatively.

As though in response the two lamps on the other side of the study abruptly extinguished, leaving only the light of his desk lamp and the fireplace to fight off the growing darkness. His pulse picked up, thudding through his head with pre-battle adrenalin, as his eyes searched the gloom for any sign of movement. A growl of frustration very nearly forced its way from his throat as he failed to find whatever thought it was amusing to keep turning off his lights. Really, didn’t they have better things to do than screw around with him and get shot?

Fingers brushed the back of his neck, as cold as ice and just as biting, to make his skin erupt with gooseflesh. Reaver whirled, pistol at the ready, and was startled to find…absolutely nothing. Nothing but the wall-to-wall bookcases that occasionally gave the study the air of a padded cell. He stared at the countless leather-bound books without seeing their titles and absently licked his lips to return moisture to his strangely dry mouth. Tried to calm his pulse. He had to be doing this to himself—it was far too fanciful a situation to not be purely his own imagination. Stuff and nonsense. (Perhaps the ridiculous truth was that, on occasion, he was utterly ridiculous himself.)

The hiss of his desk lamp being turned off instantly pushed all thoughts of this being a possible hallucination out of his mind.

“Reaver,” a voice that sounded like the hush of embers dropped into cold water called, barely louder than a whisper.
He could feel eyes boring into his back, making his skin crawl as though it wanted to be anywhere but attached to him. He steadied himself and adjusted his grip on the Dragonstomper before turning back to the rest of the room.

A dark mist was growing there, coalescing into a—very familiar—umbral figure whose features were hidden within the depths of a deep hood. The darkness grew, bringing a soul-crushing cold with it as it spread throughout every corner of the room until even the fireplace struggled to pierce it. And that voice echoed through his mind again: “Thief Prince….”

D*mn.

Anger:

“Don’t start with me,” she hissed, teeth grit in her mounting anger as she glared at the woman across from her. “Do you even know my father’s name? His real name?” Victoria paused and, in the answering silence, finally continued: “It was Gwilym. He changed it to Liam after Aunt Rose’s murder to distance himself from it. By the time he married mother, father wouldn’t answer to anything but ‘Sparrow’, and he was half mad when he wasn’t occupied with work. You don’t—he sold off pieces of himself, of his identity, for your sake!” Her voice was starting to rise and, despite the pub around them being almost perfectly empty, she forced herself to speak quieter when she turned from Theresa to Reaver—who, quite frankly, was wondering why the seeress had breached this topic at all—and snapped: “And you…if it weren’t for father being so god-damned clumsy when he was nervous, he would have sold his youth for you. Anything either you two or this Avo-forsaken country ever asked of him, he gave, and it drove him to his death. So don’t you dare sit there, frowning at me like I’m a child, Theresa. My father was a good man—one of few who would put up with your lies, regardless of what affect they’d have on him—you don’t have the right to judge him.”

She stood up, her chair screeching violently against the uneven floorboards as she pushed herself away from the table. “You best hope Avo will help you, because I will not. I’m done. And I’m leaving.”

Erm...fluff? That's an emotion, right?

He could not be certain when or why he had awoken in the predawn hours—a time when even the nasty things in Albion slumbered—all he was certain of was that he was suddenly watching her sleep. She’d rolled onto her stomach sometime in the night; despite still being clad in both her corset and chemise, she had half-curled in on herself as though she’d been attempting to imitate a cat coiling itself up. Temptation sang through his veins, telling him to draw her closer and breathe in the scent of her perfumed skin in a rare gesture of true affection. He wouldn’t allow himself, though; if he moved her, she would wake and he was quite content with her as she was in that moment: her expression open and untainted by thought or trouble, lips trembling slightly with every slow breath that rolled as smoothly through her body as the tide against the shore.

He carefully reached out and freed the lace strap of her chemise from where it had pulled against her shoulder to unobscure the glowing blue tattoo it had previously shielded from view. His fingers idly traced the pattern, feeling the slightly prickle of Will with every touch. She was such an odd woman—a mystery that refused to be solved. She never did what he expected or behaved as any of his previous lovers had. Of course, a large part of the difference was that she had never thrown herself at his feet in adoration, but that wasn’t even the half of her peculiarity. Over the years he’d come to find that most of his lovers acted unscrupulous and were eager for anything that pushed societal limits until they were in private, whereupon they really wanted someone to love them gently and give to them their heart…which he was incapable of actually doing. She was…different. So puritanical and up-right in public and private—it was only once the doors were bolted tight and they both knew exactly why they were there that she changed, becoming wild and untamed to the point where she was sometimes unrecognizable even to him. His little masochist had grown into a heathen of circumstance.

As he mulled that thought over, he paused, only to carefully lift her hair from the back of her neck as an entirely new thought occurred to him. Perhaps, he pondered, Heroes were really just uncivilized creatures wearing civilized masks.

Or maybe he’d just read too many novels. If left up to him, he would refute neither possibility.

 

[Rebel Dynasty]

Here's an excerpt from Whispers of Nowhere, Chapter Twelve:

His pleas had fallen upon deaf ears it seemed, for the man spoke over him, “For your crimes against humanity and against our Lord, God in Heaven, the punishment is…death.” There was something cold in the way he said it, in the way his eyes didn’t quite look at Phenex, but through him—as if he were already dead.

Gwen watched in horror as Phenex was forced, not into the hangman’s noose as she had expected, but onto his back, each one of the guards and villagers who had led him to the gallows holding him down spread-eagle as another set of guards came into view, their armour clanking loudly as they led four large work-horses into the square, all of them deep brown with flecks of white.

All the while, Phenex struggled against them, his voice growing weaker as he pleaded for a mercy he would never receive. When they began tying ropes around his wrists and ankles—ropes, Gwen realized, that had been secured to each one of the horse’s bridles—he went limp, pitiful moans drifting from his lips as the guards moved the horses into position.

Each clop of their hooves settled like a stone in Gwen’s stomach; despite him only being a fragment of the past, the air of defeat surrounding Phenex was tangible, permeating the air like a poisonous cloud, choking her with the realization of what was about to happen to him.

The words Forneus had said earlier came to her then, unbidden.

“We can’t save him, sweetheart. What’s done is done—there is nothing we can do for him, now.”

There was no point in breaking free of his grasp, no point in running up to the gallows to save Phenex—no one could see them or hear them, and even if they could, the past was fixed in time. If it hadn’t been, someone surely would have spared Phenex from what he was about to suffer through—she couldn’t imagine that any of the gods would have been so cruel as to let the past remain as it was, otherwise.

Clearly, there were things even the gods couldn’t do—and undoing the horrors of the past seemed to be one of them.

The men that had been holding Phenex down now drew back, admiring their handiwork before jumping from the platform to stand before the crowd. When she saw that a few of them appeared to be enjoying themselves, it was all she could do to keep from getting sick, right then and there.

When they moved aside, Gwen managed to catch a glimpse of Phenex’s eyes. In that moment, everything, including time itself, stopped; the mixture of terror and anguish twisting his features—as though someone had thrust a knife through his chest, directly into his heart—was too much to bear.

Her breath came in choked sobs when the ropes around Phenex’s wrists and ankles were pulled tight, tears burning their way down her cheeks as his screams rent the air. She could feel her legs beginning to buckle, Forneus’ hold on her all that kept her from sinking to the ground in despair.

“No more…” Gwen shut her eyes, the image of Phenex writhing as his limbs were slowly pulled from their sockets imprinted on the backs of her eyelids, his agonized howls reverberating through her mind. “Forneus, make it stop, please!” She turned her tear-filled gaze on him then, her hands trembling as she grabbed hold of his lapels. “I can’t bear it…make it stop!”

When she saw tears glistening in his eyes, mirroring her own, she knew she wouldn’t have to ask again; without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, and in a blinding flash, Paisley town square fell away.

 

[Shadow]

Random scene from MoI and Blackout's third part:

He slowly made his way down the foot path, occasionally commenting aloud on the fact that the road was in a state of disrepair at some points. At these sections, he would carefully step through whatever was in his way, trying to not slip and fall on the muddied dirt, before continuing onwards. The sky above him was barely visible through the thick canopy of tree branches overhead, but, occasionally, he could see it lighten over the course of the day. The clouds had grown thicker and had opened up, pouring gallon after gallon of rain down upon the region. But still Zero kept walking. He walked until the sun went down and kept going, barely pausing for rest. It wasn’t until he found his way obscured by four very large bodies that he drew to a full of stop.

His eyes slowly roved over the foursome of bandits before settling on the one who looked to be in charge. Slowly, almost as if in a daydream, he murmured, “You weren’t here earlier.”

“Yes, we was,” the thug said, sounding as though he’d never had a day’s worth of proper education in his life. It made Zero internally cringe. “You just weren’t lookin’ hard enough.”

“Oh…yes; my apologies, then,” Zero replied without the faintest hint of sarcasm. “Would you please move? I need to go.”

The bandits exchanged incredulous looks, clearly perplexed that anyone would just stare at them blankly, without a hint of fear or unease.

“Look at this!” one of them crowed, laughing. “His mind’s emptier than his moneybags!”

The other three laughed with him, clearly amused by the joke for the purse at Zero’s waist was indeed nearly empty. Zero was unaffected by the slight against him, more concerned with how he was going to keep going with the bandits in his way.

I tire of this, a voice in the back of his head drawled, bored. End them.

Hands trembling, Zero drew his short sword. “I’m going to ask you to move once more.”

A part of Zero wondered if he really looked so ill-suited to fighting as the bandits roared with laughter at the sight of him. Truth be told, he’d never enjoyed fighting, it was almost strictly his last resort, but he wasn’t completely incompetent. His hands shook, but they held fast to his hilt and his nerves showed nowhere else on his body. He wasn’t afraid to die.

“Teach ‘im a lesson, lads,” the bandit in charge said in between guffaws.

One of the bandits stepped forward, still chuckling to himself, and Zero readied himself. He watched intently as the bandit drew his sword and…and went wheeling forward as though some invisible force had pushed him over; he stumbled, tripping over a rock, and fell right onto Zero’s sword. Everyone froze. Blood flowed down the blade, dripping onto Zero’s hand as he stared back and forth between the dead bandit and his very much alive friends in a mixture of horror and disbelief. Sure, Zero was used to weird things happening, but this…. Not again, he thought with a mental groan.

And:

“He killed Bob!” one of the bandits shouted, enraged.

“Bob?” Really? Zero thought incredulously, repressing the urge to snort in laughter.

This is why I shouldn't have caffeine. LOL Having way too much fun with this.

 

[TerrorA]

Dusk's short but EPIC speech to the Council

Dusk sighed as he explained to the olderr heroes.
"My power comes from the Bio-Grid. I can see the light of each and everything. The protection of that light is the most sacred duty there is. And each and every one of you has betrayed that duty. You're not heroes. You're super powered thugs, no better than the killers you fight."

 

[DragonMaster2010]

"Listen here, 50 Shades of bitch!"

 

[Rebel Dynasty]

This was a writing prompt I did a couple of days ago, based on this picture:

Entitled, "Demonic Protector".

He didn't know how long it had been, since the girl's father had first summoned him up from the pits of Hell, calling him forth to protect the child from all those who would do her harm. In fact, he had never been quite sure why anyone would want to harm the child in the first place. All he knew was that she had been sleeping for as long as he had been here—be it months or decades, it made no difference to him—and that there was something undoubtedly special about her.

It wasn't her white hair, though that certainly had caught his notice from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her; from what he had seen of the many soldiers, nobility, and the like that wandered the castle's halls, none of them looked quite like the girl—not even her mother and father. No, what had first alerted him to her—uniqueness—was the way she seemed to shine with an otherworldly radiance; like a beacon in the black of night.

At some point, the contract that had been made between him and the girl's father had ceased to be the only reason he stood guard over the girl, night and day. Over the countless days that had passed, he'd grown to care for her as his own. So fragile, so filled with innocence and purity—his heart ached whenever his gaze fell upon her, reminding him of what he could never be, of what he would never have.
Still, he would let no other defile her, body or soul; and so he watched her, weapon in hand, wings unfurled, awaiting the day someone dared to step forward—for when that day came, he would gladly give his life for hers.

 

[EA9Sol]

And here is what I've been working on for the past couple of days. A story based of a writing prompt.

The Beginning of the End

The house shook and lights flickered off and on as my mom, who stood in the kitchen cooking dinner, pretending like the whole world wasn't literally going to hell in a hand basket. I was just seven years old and I had no idea what was going on, but I could sense my mom's uneasiness. When ever I asked what was wrong, she'd put on a brave face saying nothing's wrong and I should be getting ready for daddy to come home. And I would only nod and return to the living room waiting for dad to return from work.

My dad who was a police office for the N.Y.P.D was doing over time due to the looting brought on by the storms that was distorting half the city and the anti-war activists who’s protest ended in a riot. It would get so bad I wouldn't see him for days at a time and when I did see him it would be on his way back out for work. I knew day wanted to spend more time with us, but the were short handed do to the war and they needed all the help the could get.

I cast a side long glance at mom before turning on the T.V. and started to Chanel surf. Most of the T.V. stations were off due to the bombing that happen and the only ones that were broadcasting were CNN and a few other news channels. So I decided to watch CNN. When I turned in they were showing live footage of the on going war that was taking places some where in the Middle East. They were talking about the about of thing I couldn't really understands, but I know it was bad.

Without warning the front door to the house flew open and my dad stormed in dripping wet from the rain. Mom who was setting the kitchen table rushed to him to his side and flowed him to the second floor. I stood up and wander to the banister at the bottom looking up. My eyes wide in fear and curiosity wondering what made him rush in like that. Not long after my mom and dad walked back down, this time acting as of nothing happened. Dad patting on the top of my head and mom kissing me on the cheek.

“Go wash up Ciel and get ready for dinner.” mom said, walking into the kitchen.

I then ran up the stairs and into the bathroom washing up all the while wondering what was going on. I slowly made my way done and toward the kitchen passing the T.V. which was now talking about the massive pandemic through out Asia. As I got closer to the Kitchen I could hear the hushed but urgent wispier of my parents, Talking about leaving to the country and staying there until everything go better. But before I could get closer for a better listen they both hushed up and turned to look at me with closely guard smiles and beckoned me to the table.

“Hurry up and sit down before you food--” Mom started but stopped as sirens started to echo in the distance.

It's been going well so far. I hope to get this into a full novel or something...I hate unfinished work.

 

[TerrorA]

Daemon loaded an m11. “The trick is to shoot at the pause between breaths.” He exhaled and fired. Six holes appeared on the target, four grouped to the center of mass, one in the shoulder and one in the belly.
Angie loaded a Glock herself. “You have to squeeze slowly. Don’t rush it. The shot should come almost as a surprise to you.” She fired 6 shots of her own on a new target. All six hit center of mass.
Cain went next. He tried, he really did. Emptying the clip into the 25 meter target. He missed four shots, the other 8 scattered randomly upon the body.
Erika fired next, hitting the center thrice, the shoulder once, and the area around the target the remainder of the times. Angered, the girl threw a knife into the target, hitting it where a human would have a space between their eyes.
“Guns for show. Knife for pro.” Erika muttered angrily.
Drake took up a handgun. He took up a three point stance. He fired the handgun, emptying the clip into the target 50 meters away. All twelve hit center of mass, creating a circle with the twelfth shot being in the middle.
“You put a target…..on the target.” Daemon noted.

 

[EA9Sol]

Another peace of writing that popped into my head. Fortunately I was by my keyboard and I typed it up. My muses smiles kindly on me today.

Dead Eye
Witch Detective Story

It can happen at any time and any place. To anyone, no matter race, gender, creed or status. Death can and will happen no matter what. It can creep silently in the night and steal you breath away or load and angry. Knocking the very breath out of you without warning. For someone like me death is a common occurrence, but; no matter how many times I see it I still get that sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. For when I see death, it is not the gentle thief in the night, but the load and angry beast that tares away the very life from you. Leaving a bloody and mangled corpse in it's wake.
t

 

[Astaroth123]

"Good doesn't die, it just sleeps"

 

[lorddemolatron]

" True Gods cannot die"- The preface for mine Naruto Xover Fanfic what consist of Female OC with Rinnegan and well mysterious for now Man what have an Alias of Uroboros what have ties to her ( more of Family bonds )

 

[Shadow]

From MoI and Blackout's (Fable fics) sequel:

Rowan flung her arms around her as though they hadn’t seen each other in years and beamed as she pulled back. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back now,” she chirped. “I see you’re between quests, right?”

Victoria blinked slowly at her, taken aback. Why did Rowan always seem so cheerful? “Yes,” the queen confirmed, and, noticing Rowan’s ring finger was currently unoccupied, added, “And you between husbands.”

The pink haired girl looked down at her hand and sighed dramatically as she sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire. “Oh, he was old and boring and so very sad. All he talked about was his first wife and how much he missed her. I could hardly bear it!” she added as though confiding some great secret to them. “I just felt so awful. So I left.”

“After clearing out every bit of gold to his name,” Jericho intoned quietly, pouring out a cup of tea from the pot that had been brought up earlier.

Rowan pouted at her. “Oh, quiet, Jerry. I only took what I need and, really, he should be grateful I didn’t take more—and I would have if he wasn’t so sweet. Besides, I doubt there’s much life left in him at his age, at least he won’t have to worry about where his wealth will go now.”

She said everything with a sweet, innocent smile that made her look more like a little girl that usual—as though she really had done the poor guy a favor—and Victoria repressed the urge to bury her face in her hands. Oh, yes, it was always a joy when Rowan came over for a social call. Sensing her patience was already close to snapping, the queen turned to Jericho. “You wanted to talk about those murders, right?”

 

[lorddemolatron]

Well this time im showing small preface of mine new FanFic " you can't hide from me " and this is large quote from it also :

" I don't know if mine decision to leave the whole hometown is good for me and it allow me be safe from him or the monster as i call him now. Whole city now talks only on those gruesome civilian and once two police officers killing what always happened on night and well murderer not only killed them by unusual means like those been reported to be killed by thurst of hand into them but also creepy in victim blood names of their past wrongoings on me, also after that police killings they got more creepier as they stated That they ( Police) should not look or watch on her or more will be killed. This all was sick i knew from now that i should not take that book with Magical Rituals and try one thats been in with summoning magic and now this is mine whole sin now as i unleashed someone who not only is from other dimension also he is creepy towards me and even going into violent stalkerism as if those creepy and bloody murders not show anything on him, also i never seen him for now face to face but always i felt observed even not seeing who it is and that makes me live well in fear since i don't know how or what he wants from me".

 

[EA9Sol]

Another piece of work I've been writing. Since I can't stick to one thing at a time. A bit problematic. lol

Another steampunk detective short story:

“Thank you Miss. Hawke and Mr. Cole!” Inspector Daniel Smith said, as he watch is men push the two criminals into the back of the paddy wagon.


“No need for thanks, Inspector Smith,” Beatrice smiled lightly. “The criminals had grown careless in there success and thought they were surely out of the laws reach. We just proved otherwise.”


“Ah, you are too modest, Miss. Hawke,” Inspector Smith chucked. “Any-road, I best be heading back to the station and get these two behind bars where the belong.


Alaster Cole, who standing beside Beatrice smiles and looks at the back of the paddy wagon. “And don't forget the mountain of paper work Inspector.”


Inspector Smith cringed and wrinkled up his nose in distaste. “Don't remind me about it, Mr. Cole! I've been trying to keep it out of my mind until I have to type it up into the station's mainframe.”


Beatrice and Alaster both chuckle as they bid Inspector Smith and his men goodbye. Leaving them alone on the side of the street as it slowly starts to rain.


“You know you didn't have to lie to them, Beatrice.” Alaster said quietly as he pulls his gaze from the road and onto the short red-head woman beside him.


“And what should I have said then?” Beatrice asked, he violet eyes twinkling with amusement. “My partner, who is actually a demon, was shot through the heart?

Might turn this into a series or something. Kinda like Sherlock Holmes with a bit of Black Butler in it. ;3

 

[Erian1Mortal]

"You know, this lone wolf thing is bad for you,you got a few people you can talk....", Ezekiel stated.
"I know that. I'll talk to them soon enough, only need to sort some things out before that....", Niko started to reply,
"Better do it now, before you regret not doing so later", a womans voice interrupted him. "Irina, what're you doing here?"
"Simply looking what my boyfriend is doing, and all I see him doing is brooding, c'mon lighten up will ya?", she answered straight to his face. His bad mood was gone all of a sudden and a smile started to make it's way onto his face, he had not even noticed that Ezekiel had left the room already.

Derp.... I should let that old story rest already.... I'm never going to finish it and I know that because I already rewrote the whole world like 4 times by now and each time the characters changed who they were completely....

 

[Quentarus]

:://below is a identification hymn of a faction from a novel, I am writing.
This is actual copyrighted material, just a heads up.

"To bring Chaos out of Order; We march to bridge the border between Tranquility and disorder. We are the Choas Task Force Elite."

 

[TerrorA]

Joe knew he wouldn't make it. Even with his physics-defying speed, he couldn't save everyone. He wasn't fast enough. The cyborg soldiers would die

Then, the voice of the man from the other world spoke in his mind, an echo of a conversation he had with "Wally West."

"When you run, you can feel it, can't you? A force, more powerful than anything you've known".

...
Joe ran faster, and sparks began to appear around him. Yellow lightning bolts, but not electricity. Pure velocity given appearance

The memory continued: "Beyond sound, beyond light, beyond time. The dimension of infinite speed. The Speed Force. Embrace it, Joe. Ride the lightning. Become-"

Cyborg 009 ran even faster, much faster than his acceleration module could even dream of granting him. The feeling was there. He was one with All Speed. He was-

A Flash