Being woken by a needle sliding into my hand is one of my least favorite things. It just feels… creepy. Faster than the human eye can follow, I use my unoccupied hand to grab a wrist. A pretty red-haired woman gasps and looks up into my eyes, caught in the act. Her heart rate skyrockets, fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins. I soften my grip just a little, listening to her thoughts.
Oh, God, I should have told Barry to stay… So the Flash is not in the building. How fortunate for me.
"Let me guess," I say drily. "Star Labs?"
She nods jerkily, still staring at me.
"I assume you used anesthesia to make sure I was unconscious before you worked on me?" Another nod. "Sorry to disappoint you. That stuff doesn't affect me."
Her lips thin into a line, and she pulls back against my hand. I let her go; I'm not worried about anything she might do.
Looking around, I see a clean, sterile room. Lots of white. Computers and scientific equipment are set up at various points, along with a couple of large TVs and a display case with the Flash's suit inside. Really? They just leave it there in the open? I'm sitting back on something reminiscent of a hospital bed, with several machines next to me, though I'm not hooked up to any of them yet. I realize with a mild sense of surprise that I am still wearing my own clothes.
"You're Dr. Caitlin Snow, right?" I ask. "Or is it Raymond now? Congratulations, by the way."
She flinches. "How do you know all this stuff?"
"Now, that would be telling." When she just looks at me, I sigh. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Forgive me if I don't take your word for it."
I restrain the violent urge to roll my eyes. "If it makes you feel better, you can handcuff me while you run your tests." I don't tell her that I can rip through a set of handcuffs in a heartbeat if I want.
She walks backwards to the desk with the computers, keeping her eyes on me, and pulls out two sets of metal handcuffs. When she tosses me a pair, I cuff my left hand to the left rail on the bed, then repeat the process with the second set of cuffs and my right hand.
"Better?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, and Dr. Snow exhales deeply before coming back to my side and picking up a clean needle.
"I'm going to take a blood sample," she tells me. "Do you have any problems with needles?"
"I don't particularly like them, but they don't bother me anymore. Do what you need to do."
She efficiently draws a sample from the crease of my left elbow, which has faint, tell-tale scars from countless needles before. I lay back and close my eyes, and I hear her relaxing, bit by bit.
"What's your name?" she asks.
"I don't have one."
She stills, and I open my eyes to look at her. "Everyone has a name."
"I don't."
"That's just not possible."
"Why? Because you've never met someone without a name? I assure you, I'm telling the truth."
"Well, didn't your family name you?" She looks so confused, unable to grasp the concept.
"I don't have a family; I never have."
"Then where did you grow up? Who raised you?"
I close my eyes once more. "I thought you were supposed to be figuring out how I tick, not my childhood memories."
I heard her mouth open, her breathing changing in anticipation of speaking before she snapped it shut again. Was I really about to apologize to this psychopath…?
"I'm not insane," I tell her. "A sociopath, sure, but I'm not crazy. And Bowman had it coming, one way or another."
"But you didn't have to kill him."
"Yes, I did. His brother is a senator, and Bowman was never going to even be charged with all those murders, let alone serve time. Everyone involved knew he was guilty, the evidence was incontrovertible, and yet he walked. Over and over. Do you know how many girls he murdered, Dr. Snow?"
"…No."
"We've found seventeen bodies so far. Seventeen young women who will never return to their families. They had parents, siblings… boyfriends and girlfriends. What I did tonight prevented more of the same, and I will not apologize for it." My eyes are open by the time I finish speaking, staring straight at her. She can't meet my gaze, shifting her eyes down to where she is taking a small tissue sample from my forearm.
"We don't just go around killing people here," she says after a moment.
"How nice for you to have such a luxury," I reply, beginning to tire of her judgment.
In the uncomfortable silence that follows, Barry Allen blasts into the room. I cock my head at him with a smirk. He looks pissed off, and I mentally calculate how long it will take me to break my handcuffs, rip out the IV needle Dr. Snow has left in my arm, and dodge an attack. Too slow. I'll have to take a couple hits.
He doesn't attack me, though. He just starts pacing back and forth in front of me, running his hand through his hair. I gather that it's a habitual gesture.
"Did you have a question for me, Barry?" I ask after a moment.
"What makes you think you can be judge, jury, and executioner?"
"I'm usually not. This was a special case that the police couldn't be trusted with. Plus, I don't exactly answer to you."
"Who do you answer to?"
"No one you've ever heard of."
"Who are you, really?"
Dr. Snow pipes up. "She said she doesn't have a name."
"He wasn't asking my name," I say, "were you?"
I receive a terse head shake from him, and I sigh deeply before opening my mouth again. "I'm someone who takes care of the worst threats. And I operate from the shadows. I'm not a hero; I have no illusions on that score. I was trained, created really, for a singular purpose."
"Which is?"
"Eliminating targets. Sometimes they can simply be turned over to the police, but there are occasions when, like tonight, that's not enough."
His frustration and borderline exasperation with me is palpable. "This is my city. I can't just allow you to execute targets here."
"What are you going to do about it?" I ask him very seriously. "There is no prison on Earth that can hold me, and even if you decided to go the darker route of, say, torture, you'd discover pretty quickly that my will is a lot stronger than yours." He tenses almost imperceptibly, and his mind begins to shift towards a sort of conflict mode unique to him. I hurry to continue.
"On the other hand, if you give me a chance to convince you, I think you'll see that I am a necessary, neutral force. I only enforce justice, Barry. Let me show you."
I sense his hesitation, and I'm somewhat surprised by it. I actually didn't expect him to possibly go along with my suggestion.
While he paces some more, Caitlin runs a portable X-Ray over my body. I glance at her a bit quizzically, but she won't meet my eyes.
A long moment later, Barry comes to stand in front of me, looking stressed and serious at the same time. "I'll give you one chance," he says, "but only because I think I can change your mind about killing people."
"Very well." I agree with a nod, knowing he cannot persuade me. As I begin to sit up off the bed, two loud snaps ring out. I look down.
Damn it. I forgot that I was still cuffed. Now two separate halves dangle from the bed rails, while their mates are still attached to my wrists. Barry and Dr. Snow gaze at me with wide eyes, while I freeze, trying to look as far from intimidating as possible. I hear beeping at the same time as Caitlin, and she looks down at the display she's holding. If possible, her eyes get even bigger, and she taps Barry, who hasn't taken his eyes off me, on the shoulder.
"What?" he asks.
"These readings…" she says hesitantly. "They aren't possible."
"What are they?"
"Well… she doesn't have any injuries from your fight. It was only an hour ago, and there isn't a mark on her."
I shrug under the weight of their combined stares. "This can't be the weirdest thing you've ever seen, right?"
