After asking around in both Heaven and Hell, Roland still failed to find Bart's soul.
"Father Roland, Speedsters aren't our responsibility after they die," a Demon reminded Roland. "We simply can't catch their souls. They're too fast, especially once they're free of their bodies' limitations—but the Speed Force has a special way of collecting them: Black Flash."
"Tch, I already knew that—" Roland frowned. Lola had even told him how to exploit a bug
to summon Black Flash against Speedsters. But the problem was that this thing was the concept of death, and it couldn't understand a word anyone said. Could he really make it hand over a soul?
"Then I won't say any more. These conceptual entities are always a headache," the Demon said. "There's nothing we can do about it either—perhaps you could look for some ancient magic?"
"All right." Roland sighed. He knew a little magic himself, but he had never studied that field.
"How did it go?" The Flash asked Roland.
"Bart's soul is in Black Flash's hands. Getting it back won't be easy." Roland looked troubled.
"Let me think—" The Flash frowned as well. This really was a tricky problem. "How did Lola bring Black Flash out before? Do you know?"
"As a matter of fact, I do." Roland nodded. "But even if we bring it out—"
"As long as you can bring it out, I'll figure out the rest," The Flash said. "I've dealt with that fellow for hundreds of millions of years. I know a thing or two about it."
"Isn't that too risky?" Roland was worried. This was the embodiment of death for Speedsters. One touch would kill The Flash, and it was so fast, too. What if something went wrong?
"Don't worry. Black Flash can't keep up with my speed anymore,"