The city likes to pretend that there was no crime before the Flash, but they're just trying to fool themselves. Yes, the crime is more obvious now, people punching through bank walls and picking up or even throwing cars around. The crime is more obvious, but it's always been there. Small time gangs have always been there; now they're just hiding behind the people with powers and abilities. People like the Rogues. And people like the Flash.
Some of those gangs use the new chaos to keep themselves going. Make a bigger name for themselves. Use the violence to bring in more protection money from innocent people. The Snakeheads are just one of many gangs profiting from the sidelines.
The Snakeheads had set up a major drug deal with an outside party, and it was just Cisco's duty to take the Vertigo off the streets. Well, it's both a duty and a pleasure.
But thinking about this was a luxury Cisco couldn't afford as he frantically ducked a swinging fist and he cursed internally, pulling himself out of his introspection. He couldn't afford to get philosophical right now; he had to get physical first. There was only one person left standing out of a dozen, but that didn't mean he could go easy on them. He ducked again, but a little too slow, his assailant's fist catching him in the face and re-splitting his lip. 'Pay attention Cisco!'
Cisco pulled his bandana down, spat blood onto the filthy alley floor and cracked his knuckles as he rounded on the last standing gangster. He smirked as he swung his fist into the face of the last criminal standing, feeling the skin of his knuckles bruising and splitting in the process. The thug fell to the ground, knocked out cold from the force of his fists alone.
No guns were needed right now, it was just a simple drug deal. Small time thugs who were going to double-cross each other anyways. Cisco pulled a can of spray paint from his pocket and left his tag on the wall. He hadn't even brought his voice modulator; he hadn't seen the point of it.
He picked the black duffle bags off of the ground and walked away with his head held high. It didn't matter that the police wouldn't ever know about this, it wasn't about the police. This was just to send a message.
The streets didn't belong to the two-bit thugs and the dime-a-dozen lowlife. The streets belonged to him now. But they didn't belong to Cisco; they belonged to 'Paco .' They belonged to Los Lobos.
With every step, the bag of money felt lighter and lighter. There had to be over fifty grand in the bag, and there was no way it could be traced. This was his chance to start over. He could just take the money and get out of town. Just take the money and leave, forget about Central City, forget about his past and start over. Change his name and open a computer repair business in a different state. Work for twenty years and retire young. He could be free from this. 'Don't you know this is your fate? You can't escape the past amigo.'
A bag full of Vertigo in one hand.
A bag full of dirty money in the other.
But no, he couldn't leave this city, he still had unfinished business here.
Cisco stopped in the middle of the alley exit. The moment he left here he had to make a choice. He could go back to the apartment, or he could turn tail and run away like a coward. Which one was it going to be?
"Hey, yo, Cisco!"
"What? Who-" Cisco looked up in a half panic to see a familiar face standing in front of him. "Oh, it's just you. Why are you out here, Lamont?"
The liquor store clerk gestured to the small paper bag he carried, "I was planning to get drunk and smoke a bowl before I go to work. You interested in joining me?"
Cisco shrugged, tightening his grip on the two duffel bags. "I might as well."
"Man, you look like shit, you should see a doctor. Cool, it's been a long while since you came into the shop, haven't seen you for a while, dude." Lamont grinned a lopsided grin. "Well, haven't seen you in the store. On the TV, though…"
"Yeah, I've been, I've been busy. And don't go shouting my name out while I'm on patrol." Of course, the man he bought booze from knew who he was, he was there almost every week in and out of costume. He stared up at what was visible of the city skyline as they set off towards the liquor store. Did he really have anywhere else to go?
"Yeah, whatever, let's go get turnt!"
Cisco rolled his eyes, "don't say that."
"Cool beans, yo."
"Or that."
"You know what's wrong with teenagers?" Lamont blew a cloud of smoke directly into Cisco's face as he picked up a bottle of beer. "You wanna know?"
The two of them definitely weren't friends, but it was nice having another person who knew about his alter ego. Cisco glanced around the empty alley and pulled his vibe goggles up to his forehead when he saw that it was empty. Not having to pretend to be someone else was calming, and more than he deserved.
"Fine, what is it?" Cisco downed his own bottle of beer in one long draw, "what's wrong with teenagers?"
"They're all, mm, they're all just assholes. Self-entitled little pricks. Thinking they rule the world and shit. Not yet they don't." Lamont waved his pipe at Cisco, smoke still rolling from the bowl, "you wanna hit, dude?"
"Might as well," Cisco grabbed the pipe and lighter from Lamont and raised the blown glass to his lips. It took a few tries, but he was able to spark it up, the musk of good weed combining with the chemical stench of the butane lighter. He took a deep draw, feeling hot smoke fill his lungs.
"Anyways, teenagers are terrible." Lamont suddenly turned serious and stared knowingly at Cisco as he spoke. "I know I'm not someone you know or even trust, but people know that you're doing the right thing out there, bro, but you need to be careful. I've heard some things around town. You should keep an eye out whenever you're on the streets. You know what I mean man?"
Cisco passed the pipe back to Lamont and picked up a fresh beer. "What have you heard out there?"
"Not much, just whispers. Since SnowFlame got killed, it's just been crazy out there." The darker skinned man shrugged, turning the pipe over in his hands. "I only know what I've heard. Weird shit has been happening all across the country. Clowns in the streets. Something about a man made out of plants, and maybe a little something about the Skulls moving into the territory of the Snakeheads."
Cisco spat out a mouthful of beer in surprise and gaped at Lamont. "Did you say the Skulls? As in the Detroit Skulls?"
"Your guess is as good as mine on where they came from; I just know that their boss, Slice, is one bad fucker. Say she got her name from what she did to all her victims. It's pretty fucked up, dude."
Cisco stared up at the sky, the sun was still high, and tried to ignore the fact that his old rival gang was in town. He just hoped they didn't see the tags he's left across the city. Hell, who was he kidding, they were probably the first things they saw. Cisco thought of the aged wound on his back, remembering how it had happened. A blood feud between the two gangs escalating into a full war and a fight to the death between the two leaders. He'd won the fight and had even gone so far as to spare his opponents life. That had been a mistake on his part. But hindsight is 20/20, or that's what people say.
And now the woman who's gang had challenged him back then was back, and she's soon be coming for more, and just like last time Cisco didn't intend to be the loser. Cisco sipped at his beer in silence before a question sprung to the front of his mind. "Dude, who the hell brews this? I need to know because it is just fucking disgusting. This is shit; this is a garbage beer, and you should be ashamed. It's bad, and you should feel bad. Why are you giving me this?" Cisco took another sip. "Why am I still drinking it?"
"I dunno, some weird sense of duty that all vigilantes seem to have? A bizarre need to see things through to the end? Hell, maybe you just I dunno, want to be drunk?"
Cisco rolled his eyes and finished off the beer, tossing the bottle into the overflowing dumpster and pulling his vibe goggles back over his eyes. "Maybe a yes on the last one, but I doubt the rest." He grabbed a few extra bottles of beer and sighed when his gaze fell back on the two duffel bags. Cisco stood and grabbed the two bags, "I should get out of here, and you, you should forget you saw me."
Lamont blew a billowing cloud of smoke in Cisco's direction. "Forget I saw who?"
"Perfect."
Cisco stood in the tiny bathroom with the lights off, finishing off the last of his beer. He was already half drunk, and he stood silently, staring into the duffle bag sitting in the sink. The blue glow from his vibe goggles shone down on rows upon rows of double-chambered needles which stared back up at him, but all Cisco saw were shades of grey. He watched as without any kind of permission his hand reached down into the bag, grabbing a needle with desperation. His other hand was shaking as he rolled up his sleeve. Cisco caught the eye of his reflection and whispered hoarsely. "Why am I doing this? I really shouldn't…" he whispered as he uncapped the needle and held it against his skin. "I should just toss the needle in the trash, just get rid of all of it."
"What, do you want my input? I'm just a hallucination created by your fucked up mind. You're already drunk, don't do drugs, especially not Vertigo."
"Shut up, Thawne." His eyes fluttered shut as the drug hit his system, and immediately he reached for another needle. He hadn't felt so good in so long. Vertigo wasn't something you can easily forget. The floating feeling was nowhere near as amazing as the emptiness in his mind. No thoughts, no visions, no pain. Just nothingness. No worries about his past coming back to haunt him, no fear.
Slumped on the floor and back to the wall, Cisco rifled through the second duffle bag, amazed at how much money was there. He was right; it was over fifty grand. Far more than fifty and closer to eighty. Experiencing the Vertigo for himself explained why they were willing to pay that much. High purity, but cut just enough so you don't die in agony. Nice. Whoever was producing this, they sure knew their shit.
"Cisco? Are you here? I forgot my phone, have you seen it?"
Cisco cursed under his breath, but he didn't move from his spot on the bathroom floor, too far gone from the Vertigo to do anything but feel the promises of tranquility being carried out. There was a reason he always came back to Vertigo, and this was it.
"Cisco? Hello?"
Footsteps settled in front of the bathroom door, and Cisco knew he was busted. Cisco sighed softly and whispered, "I'm in here, Hartley."
The door swung open with a creak of old hinges, and Hartley flicked on the light. He gasped when he saw Cisco slumped on the floor, needle still in his arm and another primed and ready in his hand. His jaw dropped when he saw the bag of drugs and fell even further when he saw the bag of money. "What the hell is going on in here?"
"Heh, whoops, looks like I'm busted!" Cisco lazily tugged the empty needle out of his arm and tossed it haphazardly into the waste bin. He rolled his head onto his shoulder and waved at Hartley. "Welcome to the Pain Train!" Not caring that he was being watched he pushed the second needle under his skin, his eyes rolling back as the second dose of the drug hit his system. "Fuck, that's the good shit."
"What? What is all of this?" Harley pointed at the money and the drugs, finally noticing a fresh bruise on Cisco's face and his recently re-split lip.
"Like I said, it's the fucking Pain Train! Whoot-whoot, all aboard! Next stop, Cisco-is-a-shitty-friend-ville!" Cisco mimed pulling the cord of a train horn, an icy smile that didn't reach his eyes plastered on his face.
"I'm serious Cisco, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Hartley was so conflicted, he'd thought that he'd been managing to get through to Cisco, he thought he'd actually been helping him get better.
Cisco wiped drool from his lip and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, I'm obviously not sitting on the floor reenacting my favorite scenes of Supernatural, so that's out of the picture. So I think, not so sure how well it's working for me, but I think that I'm getting high and trying my best to forget about the fact that I got repeatedly raped by the Reverse Flash." Moments after the words escaped Cisco's mouth did his thoughts manage to catch up. Instead of trying to say more Cisco just leaned back against the wall and stared at Hartley as nonchalantly as he could while panicking internally. "So, yeah, that's 'bout it, mijo." 'He knows now, he knows that you're weak.'
"You, what ?" Hartley felt the world as he knew it come to a complete halt, everything stopping and falling to the ground to shatter in an explosion of sin and misery. "You… Oh God, Cisco.o" Who could do something so awful, so morally repugnant?
"What?" Cisco tried to pretend he didn't know what Hartley was talking about, instead busying himself with tossing the second needle into the garbage. He closed his eyes and prayed that when he opened them back up, Hartley would be gone. That he would just leave and never look back. He prayed that he wouldn't have to face the truth. He wished that he could take it back; make it so he had never said those words, he didn't want another person looking at him like he was broken.
But none of that happened. When he opened his eyes, Hartley was still standing there, a look of horror mixed with a bone aching sadness. It was more than just sadness and had moved past pity, it was sorrow. But it was still the same to Cisco, someone looking at him like he was broken beyond repair. Like he was a wounded animal that needed to be put down to stop their suffering.
"Oh, no. Come on, don't look at me like that. Fucking hell." Cisco sighed, seeing the tears begin to fill Hartley's eyes, "stop that, there's no reason for you to be crying over me. You'll get dehydrated."
Hartley said nothing, tears continuing to fall, and Cisco grew anxious knowing he was being stared at. He didn't want to see Hartley cry, he actually cared about him, even if he refused to think about it. But this moment, this moment of truth, his own feeling of shame and Hartley's feeling of sorrow, it wasn't right. It felt almost intimate in ways it shouldn't have. An emotional closeness, not a physical one. And it was a closeness Cisco knew would only cause more pain to them both.
"Don't cry for me; I'm not worth it. Besides, it was my own damn fault." Cisco pulled his knees up against his chest and avoided Hartley's gaze. God, seeing Hartley crying, it hurt. Deep in his chest, it hurt. Cisco failed to fight back his own tears and covered his face so Hartley wouldn't see him cry. He didn't want to be weak.
"No." Hartley shook his head in shock, "don't say that. Don't you ever even think about saying that. It's not your fault Cisco, never say that it's your fault." Harley wiped futilely at his tears, trying to make sense out of everything.
Cisco shrugged, "why not? I've got so many gaps in my memory that I can't say it's not the truth. Who fucking knows, Thawne might have had a point; I'm just worthless. No good for anything. I'm just a mistake ." Cisco's voice cracked pathetically, and his shoulders shook as he just let go and broke down in tears that had been held long at bay. "I mean, why else would he do what he did? Why would nobody even try to find me? Why didn't anyone save me ?" He sobbed softly; he didn't care anymore. He didn't care that he looked weak, he just couldn't keep everything locked up anymore. "I just, I just can't do this anymore, Hartley. I can't do it!"
The small bathroom was filled with quiet sobs, and Hartley felt useless; he didn't know how to help. He knelt down next to Cisco and slowly reached towards the other man's shoulder until he made contact softly. Cisco flinched but didn't push his hand off his shoulder. Instead, he leaned into the contact, slowly at first until suddenly the dam broke and he turned and buried his face in Hartley's chest, his quiet sobs masked in Hartley's sweater. Cisco whispered quietly, words interrupted by his sobs, "I don't know what to do anymore, Hartley. I don't know how I'm supposed to move on from this."
Hartley said nothing, only wrapping his arms around Cisco and holding him closer to his chest, trying to help him feel some kind of comfort. He gently rubbed Cisco's back with one hand, and he ran the other through his hair. Cisco's breath hitched, and Hartley unconsciously tightened his hold on the other man, trying to do his best not to break down himself. He had no way of knowing anything that Cisco was feeling, and he wasn't going to pretend to understand his trauma.
"I can't live like this, Hartley. I can't live scared anymore." Cisco struggled to get his breathing back under control, and he kept his face hidden in Hartley's chest, muffling his words. "I can't hide behind who I used to be, I need to move forward, but I can't."
"You don't have to live like this, Cisco. I'm going to help you get through this; I swear it." Hartley thought back on the promise he had made in that filthy warehouse. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was all so recent. But no matter what he needed to do, he was going to keep that promise, even if it took him to the ends of the Earth, he would keep his word.