24 Years Old
"Hello, this is your Captain speaking, we have just arrived in Central City. The weather outside is 81 degrees Fahrenheit, and it is currently 6:10 pm. Thank you for flying Air Central, and we hope to see you again." I heard the pilot say over the speaker in the large airplane.
Leaning back in my first class seat, I looked out the window as a small smile graced my lips. I was finally home. The elderly woman who sat in the seat next to me turned to me and asked, "Are you from here?"
"Once upon a time, I was. Now I just hope it can be my home once more. What about you?" I answered.
The woman chuckled and replied, "Oh no dearie. I'm from New York, I'm just here to visit family."
Saying my goodbyes to the woman, I picked up my carry on luggage, and departed the plane. I had just arrived from New York City, where I had spent the last six years of my life. There, I attended Julliard College of Music where I had received a degree in musical composition. It took me two years to receive that degree. After those two years, I changed my name once again. Legally, my full name was now "Bartholomew Sebastian Smythe-Allen", but for all intents and purposes, I went by plain old "Barry Allen."
The final four years I spent in New York had been spent slaving away in Colombia University, where I had received a degree in Crime Scene Investigation. While I was in college I took an internship, so I am now able to work as a full time CSI.
It's been a while since I was last in Central City, in fact I haven't been back here since I left all those years ago after I was adopted. I've been to Iron Heights multiple times, but the prison is almost an hour away from Central City.
There was a reason as to why I was back. I had a plan. A plan I had been building since I was 11. A plan to prove my fathers innocence, a plan to find whoever it was that murdered my mother. But there was no way I could get the evidence I need without inside access.
My first idea was to become a detective, and work inside the force, but that idea was quickly put away once I realized how much I hated guns. Instead, inspiration came to me while watching an old crime show. Being a forensic scientist for the Central City Police Department would allow me access to all of my fathers case file, along with multiple other otherwise restricted tools and files. It was the perfect job.
It only took a few phone calls, and an online skype interview for me to get the job. I was to start tomorrow as the new CSI, since the last one retired.
As I entered a taxi outside of the airport, I gave the driver the address of a penthouse my parents bought for me after I told them my plans to relocate here.
It didn't take long for me to warm up to my parents after my adoption. They were both amazing people, who truly cared for me as a son. They will never replace my real parents, but mama and papa are as close to being my real parents as possible. It's part of the reason I kept the name they gave me, I wanted to thank them for everything they had done for me, so putting a hyphen in my name was well worth it.
"Take 22nd street, it's shorter, and usually has less traffic." I informed the taxi driver.
He looked at me through the rear view mirror before saying, "You're from around here? That's funny, I had you pictured as some big city kid."
"Well you're not wrong." I said.
He dropped me off in a large, and expensive looking apartment building. Walking into the grand lobby, I went up to the doorman.
"Hi, I'm Barry Allen, the new resident in 8A." I said, extending my hand.
The man had a clean-shaven face, dark black hair, and wore a pristine blue doorman suit, along with the hat.
"Good afternoon Mr. Allen, welcome to the building, and I hope you had a pleasant flight. Your parents called earlier to inform us about your arrival. My name is Gregory; so if you need anything please don't hesitate to ask. You're the sole resident on the top floor penthouse, I assume you have the key?" Gregory introduced.
"Yes, I do have my key, thank you Gregory. But please, call me Barry." I told him with a smile.
"My apologies Mr. Allen, but I cannot say that is possible."
With a dejected sigh, I said, "Yes, I assumed so, figured I'd at least try. Have a nice day Gregory."
"You as well sir." He told me before I got into the elevator, and pressed for the 8th floor.
Upon opening the door, and entering my new penthouse, I knew immediately that my parents have been here. It was an elegant two-story penthouse, with a floor to ceiling window covering an entire wall, and a large brick fireplace. The entire place was decorated and furnished with only the best money could afford, courtesy of my mother.
In the corner of the main living room, opposite of the fireplace, stood a grand, mahogany piano. Next to it, stood two stands, one holding a guitar, the other held a violin. I assumed that my parents had all of my stuff shipped from New York to here, since on a bookcase near the piano; all of my old pieces and work were placed.
Walking up the grand staircase, I found my bedroom, along with a large library. This was the perfect home. I had to remind myself to call mama later so that I may thank her.
I set my carry-on in my bedroom, and proceeded to change. I found all of my clothes in my closet, which must have been brought here just before I had arrived. After finishing my tour of the house, I decided to go to sleep, considering I was still jet-lagged from my flight, and my first day of work was the next day.
The next morning, I woke up earlier then usual, and prepared for the busy day ahead of me. I had the really bad tendency of being late to literally everything, but I was determined to be on time for my first day on the job, even if it meant borrowing some of Sebastian's habits.
Most of the time, I seem to separate Barry Allen and Sebastian Smythe as two separate people. Barry was always late, very nerdy, super kind, and slightly awkward. Sebastian was always on time, practically a drill sergeant, charming, mean, and socially adventurous. As Sebastian, I was willing to lie and be a villain just so that I may create some drama to ease my boredom. In high school, I even pretended to be gay since being straight at an all boy's school was too dull. At the end of the day, I realize that I am in fact both of these people, but considering the major personality differences I seem to adopt whenever I use a different name, it's quite easy to separate the two different personas.
After I finished my morning routine, I went over to a coffee shop I found near my apartment complex that also happened to be near the precinct. I remembered this place from my childhood, they served delicious cheesecakes. Entering Jitters, I took a seat at an empty table, when I noticed that there was a piano in the corner of the room, near the door. Pretty soon, a beautiful African American waitress came over, ready to take my order.
"Hi, welcome to Jitters, my name is Iris, what can I forget for you today?" She asked with a bright smile gracing her features.
I gave her a soft, shy smile in return as I replied, "Hey Iris. Can I get a caramel macchiato to go?"
Writing it down in her pad, she replied, "Of course! Would you like anything else?"
Smiling nervously, I asked, "Is there any chance you can add a shot of Courvoisier in my coffee?" Now, even I realize that adding alcohol in ones coffee is completely odd, and unhealthy. But spend enough time in Paris, and you pick up a few unhealthy habits.
"You want me to put alcohol in your coffee?" She asked incredulously.
"I have an incredibly high alcohol tolerance." I told her truthfully.
Chuckling, she said, "Alright, I'll trust you. I'll be right back with your coffee."
"Thanks Iris." I told her as she left. She certainly was beautiful. I guess Jitters was going to become my new daily hang out.
As I was waiting for my coffee, I couldn't help but eye the piano in the corner. I haven't had a chance to try the one at home, and now all I want to do is play. Getting off my seat, I made my way towards the piano. Sitting down on the bench, I closed my eyes, and let my fingers press down on they keys, composing a familiar melody.
Without realizing it, I was playing Canon in D, one of my mothers' favorite pieces before she passed away. I was lost in the music, completely unaware of my surroundings. When I finished the final notes, and opened my eyes, I saw everyone in the café looking at me and applauding. Getting up, I smiled at everyone and thanked them, before making my way to my previous seat.
Handing me my coffee, Iris said, "Well well well, it is isn't an alcoholic Mozart here in the flesh."
"I am no Mozart." I told her, giving her the money for my coffee.
She scoffed, "Oh please, you're really talented."
"Thank you."
"Seriously Mozart, is that what you do for a living."
"Not exactly." I replied before looking at my watch, and realizing that if I didn't leave now, I would be late to work.
"I got to go, before I'm running late for work. Bye Iris, thanks for the coffee." I say, before leaving in a hurry.
"Bye Mozart." I hear her calling after me. So much for not being late on my first day.