Tommy’s cleared most of the room by the time the man gets his attention. Cuts through the rush and blur and looooooooooong stretched out syllables by talking fast enough to not Doppler. Another speedster. Another speedster?!

Oh, shit. It’s really not Tommy vibrating the table.

The only speed rules he knows how to play by are his own, and he wouldn’t be able to affect a table that he couldn’t see. Molecules are molecules when it comes to vibrating them until they explode.

“Aspeedsterlikeyou.” Tommy grabs the man’s arm. “Run.”

And he doesn’t give him an option. They’ll run, or Tommy will fucking drag or carry him until they find some decent space where this idiot can’t blow people up. The alarm’s kicked on, the bank will be fine.