Cisco's POV shifts into someone else's towards the end… YAY? I think you'll like it ;)

-.-.-

9. Another spandex-clad weirdo

Cisco eyed the board with a bit of disgust, banging his head against the table. This whole process was getting out of hand. For some reason, he had been hoping it would be easier now when they had Caitlin with them. And in a way, it was.

But their exhaustion – the mental kind mostly – was rubbing their nerves and not in a good way.

Harry was being snappy, suddenly realizing finding Zoom and killing that son of a bitch – preferably after beating the shit out of him until he would give up the location of Harry's daughter – should be the priority. With Catlin who had nearly got blood in her hair when stitching up Vera, with Barry out of sugar from all that running in the mix and with the process of not getting closer to its solution, the frustration was climbing to a point of insanity.

"Ramon, that noise is really annoying," Harry complained and Cisco just shot him an incredulous look and resumed proceeding in his calming process.

Something hit the back of his head in response; he glanced up only to see a marker rolling away from him, while Harry just took a new one and continued writing equations. Cisco squinted at the man murderously.

Seriously?

It hurt!

"Right. Why don't we take a break? We're being useless. We need coffee. Sugar. Change of scenery. Just… for a while," Barry's hesitant voice echoed in the space, interrupting Cisco's periodic bangs.

"Sure, go have a snack, Baby Flash," Harry snarked, barely looking up from his work, "it's not like we're trying to earn every minute we can so we can move to the really important things…"

Yeah. The pressure of time was not helping either, let's be honest here.

"Alright, a break it is," Caitlin decided before Cisco or Barry could snap back at the other scientist.

"Whatever. Go, pseudoscientists."

Cisco rolled his eyes and shuffled out of the workshop, following his friends, while Harry stubbornly stayed. Cisco was actually grateful for more than one reason – at least he wasn't feeling too guilty for taking a short break, knowing there was still someone working on the solution to their not so little problem.

Oh man, Cisco's brain probably spoke in delta waves constantly now. Stupid synchronizing. He painfully needed something else to do.

"Hey, why don't I check on Vera and Matt, Cisco gets the snacks from his secret stash and you get us some caffeine?"

"Maybe Matt would like a coffee-"

"I'm good," a voice cut off Barry, making them all jump and almost run back the corridor. Cisco clutched at his chest.

"Jesus, man! Don't do that! Just because you have superpowers, you don't get to sneak up on people!"

"Sorry. Just… I heard you. I know you're trying your best. You're sure there's nothing I can do to help? It's… frustrating to just sit here and wait," Matt admitted miserably and Cisco nearly forgave him for scaring the shit out of them.

"Not really. But we need to figure out what do we do when we actually make it. The goggles, I mean. We what, just kidnap the guy from prison?" Cisco questioned, earning three sour looks. "What?"

"Way to improve the mood. Just throw in another problem to solve."

Heavy silence fell and Matt nervously shifted his weight, clearly sorry for figuratively kicking them even lower. Cisco felt the same.

"We could do it the same way like the Starling accident. Joe could go – with Barry or Cisco. You are cops, after all, or consultants at least," Caitlin shrugged and Cisco's mind gladly switched to something else than the goggles.

It wasn't a bad idea – a bit of investigation from CCPD, it could be a good cover story. Once they would make up an actual reason for the Central City Police Department to be interested in a random case of kidnapping in New York City.

Then again, it wasn't like the NYC cops hadn't met the Flash, either in the costume or in his everyday-

Cisco's lips spread in a grin as the idea hit him like a train – a very exciting train.

"Or… we could get ourselves a Jim Gordon. An inside cop."

Matt tilted his head curiously, intrigued by Cisco's tone. Or heartbeat. Whatever, Cisco wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Meaning?" Caitlin asked, not following.

"The detective from the café… he knows, right? Who you are, I mean?"

He had seemed to know a lot about DD and his girl. What was his name again?

"Oh! That guy!" Barry exclaimed, suddenly excited as well as he caught up. "Matt?"

"He's not gonna be happy about it. But it could work. He can be trusted," Matt said, a hint of hesitant smile on his face.

Wow. A hint of a smile. Must be Christmas.

"That settles it then. I get the coffee and-"

They all turned at the sound of approaching footsteps – Matt sooner than any of them, obviously –, and Harry's figure dramatically emerged from the poorly lit part of the corridor.

"Forget coffee. I got it. These need a test ride. You offer, Loverboy?"

Matt's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he didn't comment on the nickname. "I could. Not sure how much Cisco will like my consciousness, given how much he enjoyed the last demonstration of my world."

All Cisco hair stood on its ends at the memory of the cacophony of noise, smell, taste, vibrations and shit. Nope, no world on fire for him.

"Nope, not doing that again."

"Barry's could be too fast," Caitlin sighed, resigned; she knew Harry would never let Cisco even sneak a peek ever again. The last time Cisco had vibed him, he had seen his daughter. There was one option left.

"Sorry, Cait."

"I'll live, I guess. It's for a good thing," she added to Matt's benefit when she eyed his guilty, yet hopeful expression. She smiled even when he couldn't see it.

"Thank you, Doctor Snow. I-"

"I know, Matt," she stopped him softly, her hand hovering – not touching, Cisco noticed, smart girl, after all – above Matt's arm. He shakily returned the smile. "Barry, why don't you and Matt talk to the detective while we'll test the device?"

Barry snapped his fingers. "Good idea. I think I'll pay him a visit. Matt, you okay with being a voice in my ear?"

"Much better than being carried with superspeed again," he admitted sheepishly and Cisco just nodded in sympathy. He could only imagine how terrible the experience could be with Matt's senses.

Walking through someone consciousness was the strangest experience in Cisco's life – and that was saying something, with him being Flash' superpowered sidekick. Seriously.

Caitlin's mind was quiet in comparison to Matt's world and rather organized. Cisco could hear Harry talk to him, hearing it somehow as Caitlin ears where perceiving the voice. It was like… supercool and superweird, but Cisco was just cheering that the goggles worked.

As Harry was talking, Caitlin's mind itself was opening for Cisco – when Harry spoke of pizza, Cisco was lead through several memories of his friend eating pizza – with Ronnie, on her own, with Barry and Cisco in STAR labs; when he spoke of Matt Murdock, Cailtin's brain obediently offered a memory of the MDDC and the reunion of Vera and her man, Matt's desperate plea in the hotel, his face in the labs as the blood was dripping from the bag by Vera's bed...

Cisco could see it all and it was pretty freaking awesome.

"Guuys, it's working," he squealed, full of delight, eyeing the bracelet on his right wrist that Harry had added. "Now I should… erase something?"

The solid ground under his feet slightly shook as Cait's mind probably didn't like that kind of talk.

"Yep. Let's go back to pizza again…"

Like magic, the scenery changed again, and Cisco found himself standing in the cortex of STAR Labs, seeing Barry eating his fourth pizza. Cisco took a deep breath.

Okay. He could do this.

"Sorry, Caitlin," he whispered, closing his eyes. He curled his right hand into a fist, which was supposed to activate the device on his wrist.

The echo of his and Caitlin's laugher at Barry faded away and Cisco found himself in the dark, until Harry said pizza again and Cisco was welcomed in a different memory and another one, one melting into another just like before.

Expect the one. The one he had tried to wipe away. It didn't show. It was truly missing.

He ripped his goggled off, swaying at the harsh return to reality.

"Holy mother of dragons," he gasped, staring at the devices in his hands with shock.

They did it. They really did it. What. The. Hell. Were. Their. Lives?!

Harry smirked. "Yeah. You're welcome, Ramon."

Cisco was too awed to be annoyed at the other man's smug. Harry was entitled, okay.

They just erased a memory.

-.-.- Brett -.-.-

Brett was not by any means having a good day.

Why? Because Fisk had somehow broken out of prison. Wilson fucking Fisk.

But the name itself wasn't the worst part. It wasn't that the man, who had corrupted half of the city including his co-workers, was free again. Nope. The way the NYPD had found out about it was; by an anonymous tip.

Not from the guards of the prison (which Brett suspected now was being controlled by the lunatic, because not noticing Fisk missing was be simply impossible), no, but from some Good Samaritan, who had called the station to tell them about a criminal lair, where Fisk and several of his companions were lying unconscious and tied up.

Judging by the M.O. – read the lack of broken bones –, it was not Daredevil who had left the present for the NYPD. If Brett was being honest, he didn't think it had been the Avengers either.

Actually, the cops who had got there before Brett, were talking about a man in a red suit, with blurry face and somewhat vibrating voice. Right. Just when Brett thought he had seen it all. How presumptuous of him. How naïve. The man had supposedly introduced himself as the Flash. Brett had no clue what that meant neither he had had the time to google it.

Instead, he was stuck with a scarily calm Wilson Fisk in their interrogation room, blankly staring at a wall, his minions in the cells and with too many FBI agents lurking in the precinct.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Oh, and he knew that there had been a kidnapped person in the lair, very much injured person judging by the amount of blood, but apparently the Flash had said that he had delivered her to safety to get medical attention. The cherry on top was that Brett was ninety-five percent certain it had been Vera, because when he thought of Fisk's possible female targets, all he could think of was Murdock's girlfriend and Murdock's former secretary. And he had had people to get in touch with Nelson and Page and there were fine.

So, given Vera's not-so-secret connection to both Nelson & Murdock and Daredevil, Brett was thinking maybe he should make it hundred percent sure. But hey, Fisk was a slippery bastard and hell if anyone knew what was going on in the crazy head of his.

So yeah, not a good day at all. Or night.

Brett was sitting at the desk in his office, staring at the screen blindly, the words swimming in front of his eyes. He needed coffee dammit. When he glanced at the clock – almost one a.m., he needed it even more. The precinct was quieter now, the agents guarding Fisk and company had changed shifts at midnight, dutifully standing by the door while some very fancy investigators were still questioning with no result.

Brett sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

A sudden gush of wind woke him up, the door to his office clicking, the blinds falling shut. His head snapped up that direction, but he saw no one.

"Detective," a strange voice resonated behind him, nearly giving him a heart-attack.

"Holy-" he let out as he spun to the intruder and instinctively reached for his gun. Another gush of wind and the gun was nowhere in sight. Brett's blood ran cold. "What-"

"I'm not here to hurt anyone."

Brett stared at the figure in a red suit – suit? –, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't see the face of the stranger, which made him even creepier. The reassurance the man – if he was a man – had given him didn't help in the slightest. A lump grew in Brett's throat.

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm not the bad guy," the figure exclaimed after a beat of silence.

Brett wanted to grind his teeth at the familiar line. Was this guy like Daredevil? He sure was a mask wearing spandex weirdo, they had that in common. Except he had a lightning bolt on his chest instead of the horns. Were the Halloween costumes some sort of a membership card to the vigilante club? Was this man a vigilante? Was he friends with Daredevil or was the line only coincidental?

Brett Mahoney did not believe in coincidences. Not anymore. Not in the world of Fisks, aliens, Avengers, Daredevils and other insanities.

"Yeah, I heard that before," Brett grunted, less confident than he wished he was.

To be fair, this guy could apparently move very fast. So yeah, Brett stood no chance. There was nothing Brett could draw confidence from.

"And it was the truth, wasn't it, Detective Mahoney?" the man spoke up again and Brett just huffed in exasperation, because of course.

"You've got to be kidding me. You're actually friends with him, aren't you?"

A vigilante club. What happened to good the old fight clubs?

"Depends who's him. I'm surely not friends with Wilson Fisk," the man in red protested, sounding almost insulted.

While Brett felt like he was being mocked, he explained for the guy's benefit.

"I mean- the Devil. You're the one who took Fisk's guys down. The Flash, the guys said."

The Flash seemed surprised by the conclusions Brett had made and to be honest, this time it was the cop who was insulted. He wasn't completely stupid, okay?

"Yes. A friend of yours came to me, asking for help."

"Well, wouldn't be the first time… I bet he asked the two crazy Robin Hoods too…" Brett murmured absently, trying to imagine Murdock actually seeking allies. Somehow, it seemed rather improbable.

Silence fell, the space crackling with something that felt almost electric. Brett couldn't tell why.

"…actually, that was his fiancée."

"How do you know- oh. Right. That's just great," Brett mused. So it was a bit like the fight club. They knew each other and just didn't share with people outside the club. Mostly. "So you know who he is, you know his fiancée and he's probably listening right now. And he's not here why exactly?"

The pause was shorter this time, but the vibrating voice was heavy when responding.

"Because he's with her. She's… not conscious."

Well, shit. So much for the ninety-five percent. Vera was down for certain.

"Where is she?" How is she?

"Safe and being taken care of by people I trust with my life," the Flash replied, sounding honest. Brett nodded absently.

Okay. That… was weird, but probably good. With this thing out of the way, Brett continued to the next logical question.

It was simple, really. Surely, this vigilante hadn't come here to chat about the exclusive club or Vera. So the question was… why?

"And why are you here?"

Brett had a hunch before he even received the answer. It turned out to be right. Really, why people in masks – the good outlaws, mostly – paid visits to officers of the law? It was always the same; unless they were Matt Murdock and their girlfriend had been used as bait for the creepiest group of Satanists Brett had ever encountered.

"I need your help."

-.-.-.-
I'm sorry it took me rather long. But ya' know, the Endgame (and coping with it by writing other stories), a trip to Venice (with crutches – it's possible, who would have thought), the end of the term creeping in… the usual stuff.

Leave a comment if you enjoyed or you have anything to say to me. I'm always ridiculously happy when you do :-*