Barry Allen

"So, do you know anyone in Starling?" Regan asked as we walked down the puddled pavements of Central on our way to CC Jitters for lunch.

I smiled thoughtfully, "Yeah, I know a few people."

She raised an eyebrow before asking, "Who?"

I pursed my lips, not wanting to seem condescending, "Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, and Oliver Queen."

She simply laughed, "No offense, but you, of all people, know the flipping Oliver Queen and co.?"

I shrugged, "Well, yeah, I knew him from my investigation in Starling a while ago."

She seemed to ponder about what I just said, "Is that why I've never seen you at the SCPD? You were working in a case in Starling with the Queens?"

I sighed, knowing that I had revealed too much information, "Yes and no."

She exhaled a breath, probably realizing that I wouldn't break to tell her the classified information.

Simply put, Oliver was the Arrow, and he didn't exactly want anyone to know about him being the vigilante and so forth.

Once we reached Jitters, I opened the door for Regan, and we took our seats by one of the windows.

Before long, a waitress came by and took our orders.

"Hi, what can I do for you today?" She smiled warmly at me. "The usual?"

Slightly abashed that she memorized my usual order, I replied, "Yes, Please. Thanks."

"How about you, Miss?"

"Um," Regan pondered for several moments as she looked through the menu. "The spicy chicken sandwich, please. Thank you."

The waitress then smiled at the both of us, collecting our menus, before she left to the kitchen.

Regan looked at me playfully, "She memorized your order?"

I scratched the back of my head in an embarrassed manner, "I come here a lot."

The very same look was still plastered across her face, "Who's the lucky someone?"

"No, no, no," I waved my hands about nervously. "There's absolutely no one."

"M-hm," she eyed me with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes at her reaction, before asking her in return, "How about you?"

She laughed, "I haven't really dated yet to answer that question."

I raised an eyebrow, "You haven't dated yet?"

She shook her head lightly, "No, not really. Why, have you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah. Why would you think I haven't?"

She shrugged, "You never know."

There was a small silence between us as the restaurant's background music was heard. It was playing a soft, lenient staccato melody as the accompaniment played graceful scales. It created a satisfying atmosphere for a café- to both eat, drink, and talk.

"So," Regan tarried as we were still waiting for our food to arrive.

I raised my head to her as I crossed my arms against the circular, white table- my attention now spanning only to her instead of blankly at the scratching marks on the table.

"I forgot to buy a drink, so I'll do that now," she flashed me a small smile, feeling the awkward tension. "If you'll excuse me."

I simply nodded my head as I watched her cue in line to buy a drink. Soon afterwards, once Regan was halfway through the line, my phone buzzed in my pocket, signaling a text message had been delivered to me.

Message from: Iris West

Hey, Barry.

My shift at the CC Picture News just ended, want to grab something to eat at Jitters?

Sent at 12:03 P.M.

Message to: Iris West

I'm already at Jitters with a co-worker.

Meet up here if you want.

Sent at 12:04 P.M.

Message from: Iris West

OMG, you dummy!

Who are you with?

Is it Felicity?

Why didn't you tell me she was in town?

Trivia night was sooo fun with her, you, and Eddie.

We should totally double date again next time!

Sent at 12:05 P.M.

I deadpanned at Iris' sudden conclusions. She was always jumping at what she thought happened without a second thought. It was, at times, reckless . . . but this was Iris West we were talking about.

Message to: Iris West

First of all, no, my co-worker isn't Felicity.

I would have told you if she was in town.

Not all my co-workers are girls, you know.

Sent at 12:06 P.M.

I chuckled with a silly, embarrassed smile plastered across my face. Iris was always the one who managed to crack me a flustered smile. That was just the way things were. Iris and I . . . We were best friends. Nothing more and nothing less. When my mother died and my dad was sent to jail for the supposed murder, I was devastated, but something brightened up my day afterwards. I got to live with my elementary crush- Iris. Since then, I was never down, but I never managed to tell her how I really felt either.

It was so complicated. One moment I would feel like I would never have a chance with Iris, and hte next, I would feel as if I had it all. She would lead me on, and then let me go. And then after I was struck by lightning and woke up from my coma, everything tumbled down. Iris was now with Eddie, and I was suddenly a superhero. I was a hopeless romantic . . . Okay, I'm not romantic at all, but that's [not] the point.

As I was pondering about my unsuccessful love life, I failed to notice Regan return with two drinks in her hands.

"I got you a cup of coffee," she told me, placing the drink in front of me. "I didn't know whether or not you preferred coffee or tea, so I just got you coffee."

I shook my head lightly, "You shouldn't have."

She laughed, "But I did, so live with it."

"How do you like Central so far?" I asked her after I took a sip of the coffee.

Regan chuckled, "Considering the fact that I've only been here for three to four hours . . . Not bad."

I grinned, "Miss Starling?"

She replied, shrugging, "Somewhat, but, surprisingly, not really."

I arched an eyebrow, "You don't miss your hometown at all? That's a first."

Groaning, Regan deadpanned, "Trust me, Starling City is one of the gloomiest places on earth, if not the gloomiest. Central City has little to none crimes, actual sunlight . . . and you can actually see the flipping sky! At Starling . . . pft. There's literally no sky to even see."

I laughed, flashing my white teeth, "That's so true! Central does have a brighter and more positie atmosphere than Starling, I must admit."

We both stared at each other in the eyes before quickly looking away. I shuffled my feet as I waited for the waitress to present our lunch. But I wasn't hungry. I felt weird. Much weirder than normal.

Before long, the waitress came by and handed us our dishes, "Here you go. Sorry for the wait. One of our ovens wasn't working . . . In any case, three plates of Smoked Ham Club Sandwiches for Mr. Allen, and the Spicy Chicken Sandwich for you, Miss."

I smiled, "Thanks . . ." I eyed at her nametag. "Maria."

Regan nodded her head, "Thank you."

"No problem," Maria smiled before dashing off behind the counter to help out with the coffee line.

I took another sip of my coffee before diving into my sandwiches.

Regan snorted at my hogging down my sandwich, "You're going to choke, and I doubt you'd want someone doing the Heimlich maneuver on you. It's much more painful than it looks. And why did you buy so much food?"

I stifled a laugh, "What can I say? I have a large apetite."

She eyed me warily, "I still highly doubt that someone can eat that much, Mr. Allen."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, I'm unique."

This time, it was Regan who was stifling a laugh, "That's sure a light way of putting it."

I simply chuckled at her reaction, and several seconds of silence followed thereafter.

"So does anything interest you here in Central City?" I asked her, sparking yet another segment of conversation.

She chuckled, "Not that I really believe it yet . . . but I've heard something called the Streak, saving people's lives from day to day. If the Streak is real, I'd like to meet him. But, you know what I think?"

I shifted in my seat unnervingly, "Sure."

This conversation was not going as I planned. I remembered the time when I was in Starling for the first time and was with Felicity. I had told her who I thought the Arrow was and what kind of accomplices he had. Now, I felt like I was stuck in the exact situation as Felicity was. Except, now, I was the vigilante, and Regan was talking about me- the Flash.

"If he's real, then I think he wears red because the fabric is a reinforced tri-polymer and is heat and abrasive resistant, organically designed to replace firefighter suits, since his supernatural speed is over the charts, probably ranging from zero to eight-hundred miles per hour."

I drank my coffee, shielding my nervousness with the cup. No wonder she was in forensics . . . She noticed the little details of every scenario like I did.

"Any other theories?" I asked her, suppressing a smile but still drinking my coffee.

She broke out in a smile, "Yeah, definitely."

"Like what?" I inquired as I put down my coffee cup.

"I think he has accomplices," she smiled. "Geniuses, in fact. I think they're experts in bio-engineering, mechanical engineering, anatomy, and forensics. I had this thought that maybe, since there is supposedly someone who is good at forensics on the vigilante's team, that- just maybe- one of the police officers here at the CCPD could be working with the Flash. Of course, it's a long shot, but that's what I think."

I, again, suppressed a smile, "If you think that one person on the vigilante's team specializes in forensics, how come you don't think it's me?"

She chuckled, "You run late often. I kind of doubt that the Flash would be late, thanks to his super speed."

I mentally noted to run late to everything not so important from now on. It was a small action that misguided everyone into thinking that I was the Flash.

"Is that all?" I asked her before shoving the last bits of my last sandwich into my mouth.

Regan muttered, "I still don't understand how on earth you can eat so much, and that leads to my next point. I think the Flash has a constant need to consume high levels of carbohydrates. Otherwise, he'd constantly faint from malnutrition."

I nearly choked on the last bits of the sandwich I was eating. Damn was she accurate.

I then proceeded to ask, "You don't like the Arrow?"

She shrugged, "I have my suspicions, none of which I can be sure of though."

I chuckled, "Trust me. I know what you're talking about. I used to be obsessed with the Arrow . . . Until I realized that he was a pretty bad guy."

Mentally, I was smacking myself on my forehead. I was badmouthing one of my close friends- Oliver Queen, a.k.a. the Arrow. Alongside Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, and Roy Harper, he saved the city from all sorts of evil, though his circumstances of "protecting" was much more brutal. Sometimes, he would torture information out of suspects, all of whom were wrongdoers, but it was still pretty cruel. I worked alongside him once. Even though it was one of the best moments of my life, it was also one of my worst. Oliver and I made a deal that I would do things his way. Little did I know how torturing it was to even watch him torture others into giving him information. Ultimately, Oliver realized his ways were somewhat (you have to admit that, now, he's conscientious about it) wrong and changed for the better.

Either way, that was then, and this was now.

Regan looked at me, "You think he's bad?"

"Not necessarily bad bad, but pretty close to it. I mean, he does good things, but the way he does it- torture- that's just outright cruel."

She exhaled a breath audibly, "That's a shame. I've always thought that he did for the better of the people, though I have to admit that shoving an arrow down someone's hand for information is somewhat outright cruel."

I chugged down the last bits of my coffee before returning my attention to her.

"Think the facial analysis is done yet?" I asked for her opinion.

She glanced at her watch before responding, "Yeah. I think so. We've been here for roughly an hour, so . . . Yes, I believe the process is complete."

The moment I noticed Regan pulling out her wallet to leave a tip for the waitress and pay for our meal, I stopped her in her tracks by gripping her hand- firmly, yet gently.

"I leave the tip," I stared straight into her eyes. "And pay for the meal."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Are you sure? We can split the bill if you'd like."

I shook my head, trying to hide my smile to sound serious in front of her, "No, you already bought me coffee. Now it's time for me to pay for once. Let me a gentleman for once, Regan."

She hesitated, "Alright, if you say so."

"And I do," I chuckled, before heading to the counter to pay.

Regan Williams

I mentallyslapped myself for letting Barry pay. I didn't want to seem helpless, and I definitely didn't want to owe anyone anything. He did have a point, though. I did already pay for our coffee, and he did have a right to be a gentleman for once, though he already was. Barry was kind, thoughtful, smart, clever, and, not to mention, adorable. He was the essence of the typical cute guy in the universe . . . Well, at least in my eyes.

I mentally slapped myself again. Why was I even thinking of such things? After all, I had only known him for several hours, and I was repressing the SCPD. Any relationship would degrade my commanding officer, and, trust me, you do not want to get on Lance's bad side. The link between Barry and I should be strictly professional- nothing more and nothing less.

Once Barry finished paying, we both slid on our coats before heading outside. Under the lean, Barry puffed out his umbrella and took my arm in his so that we could both stay dry. The small gesture made my inner teenage self scream out "omg I think I like him!"

For the third time that day, I mentally slapped myself yet again.

"Are you excited to see the results?" Barry asked me on our way back to the CCPD.

"Considering that it's the chief reason why I'm here," I tarried. "I suppose so."

Barry chuckled at my response, flashing me his white teeth, "Funny, Regan. Funny."

I smiled, "That's what I live for . . . Well, in a literal sense, anyways."

Before long, we reached our destination, and quickly headed into him the building to avoid the downpour.

After stomping our feet against the mat, Barry and I scurried upstairs to see the test results as we shrugged off our coats.

We rammed the steel-plated doors wide open, not even bothering to close them, before rushing straight to computer, which was ringing nonstop that it had found a match.

Barry quickly typed in the password before clicking on the facial recognition application. A window popped up with the suspect's image, name, and personal information in bold and italics.

Barry's eyes widened once he read the name in a whisper, "Leonard Snart."

I scrutinized at the name, "Who's he?"

Barry quickly re-put on his cloak again, "I think this is a job for the higher-up authorities. Stay quiet about this one, will you? This guy's dangerous. Really dangerous."

Concerned, I asked him quickly, "Why? Leonard Snart has a pretty bad criminal record, but even that's not enough to be so racked up about."

"Oh, boy," I heard him mutter, though he probably didn't intend for me to hear. "If only you knew."

"Um," I looked at him weirdly. "Okay. I guess I'll check into my hotel, then."

Barry replied distractedly as he struggled to button up his coat, "Um, yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow," I muttered. "See you."

However, he didn't hear me say goodbye. He was already out the door.