Chapter 3

Iris rushed along the sidewalk, heading for the bank in the middle of the block. She kept her head down, avoiding the rain. She splashed through puddles and shifted her bag. She was a woman on a mission.

The best part about Iris studying journalism was that it was actually a good fit. She was inquisitive and pretty insightful. She noticed trends and put things together. She thought she would have made a good cop, but that was another story.

One trend she had noticed was the "angry people" that had surfaced all around the same time of the Flash's own angry episode. While he was usually very closemouthed about ongoing cases, she remembered Eddie telling her about his day at work the day before. He had been shocked at a young mother's actions at a bank, firing a gun and almost killing someone. "I'm telling you, babe, people are crazy." From the sketchy information she could glean, The Flash had intervened. She was almost positive. She remembered the bank robbery that had occurred in the same time frame and the "riot" that had occurred inside that never really made sense. There was more to this story, she knew it.

And she just couldn't let it go. She tried, she really did. A few days had passed since she and The Flash spoke on the roof. But in all that time her brain kept coming back to it. Analyzing, reflecting, wondering, questioning. She poked around Starling City's news reports and found not a whisper of The Arrow. Nothing on his activities in the very recent past, nothing on his death. Iris had easily put together that Starling City was the city in jeopardy if it became widespread news that their vigilante hero was dead. That would be nothing more than a billboard-sized invitation to every criminal and enemy of The Arrow to show up and start wreaking havoc. So she kept her promise not to blog about it. Journalism was one thing, risking innocent lives was quite another. But this story, this one she could pursue. She tried to ignore the fact that she was feeling the first thrill of excitement she had felt in weeks.

Iris was also smart enough to know that even if her father had more information on this case, he would certainly not be sharing it. The man was a closed book when it came to that. She also didn't want to tip him off that she was looking into it.

So, being without police reports, names or a really good hacker, Iris went with what she knew: The name of the bank. She had waited until the end of the business day, hoping she could get an employee to talk to her alone. There was no way she could ever guess which customers had been at the bank that day. She was fully aware that she was completely winging it, but considering she had so little information, that seemed to be the way to go.

Iris stepped into the bank and shook off her coat in the lobby. She carefully surveyed the scene and the employees. Three tellers, what looked liked maybe a manager on his way to the back vault and a security guard. She tried to look inconspicuous as she approached the table with deposit and withdrawal slips and picked up a pen. She tossed her hair back and used the opportunity to surreptitiously size up the three tellers.

One looked angry already. Maybe that was her usual face, Iris mused, but she didn't look like she'd be willing to talk to a stranger. Another was cheerfully chatting with a customer while she typed into her computer. The last looked like she could not wait for closing time. She kept looking at the clock as she quietly waited on customers. Iris noticed she was sporting a light cast on her left forearm, and had just zeroed in on her as a possible candidate when her gaze fell on the security guard at the door.

She wasn't sure what it was about him that drew her attention, other than his utter stillness. That was a bit familiar. She dug into her bag, pretending to be searching for something as she appraised him up and down. He wasn't The Flash, she was sure of that, his height, build, age and color were wrong. He looked about the age of her father, actually. But the stillness was eerily similar. He stood at the front of the bank with his hands clasped in front of him, his shoulders slumping. He cautiously watched the lobby and the customers it contained as his job dictated, but he looked far away. He looked…ill? No, she decided. He looked ill at ease. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin. Like he didn't know who he was or what he could do anymore. He looked hopeless. She knew that look. As she studied him through her lashes, he adjusted his waistband. He took great care to avoid touching both the gun and the holster holding it.

This was it, she decided triumphantly. This was the guy she should talk to.

She waited for the bank to close, leaning against the building near the employee parking lot. The rain had started to abate some, which she was very glad about. She pondered different approaches. Say she's a journalist? Sadly that would probably scare him away. People didn't like talking to the press much. Grad student, doing a research project? Maybe. He finally came out of the back entrance and headed towards his truck. Iris approached with her most winning smile. He halted when she greeted him but didn't look too happy to be stopped. Oh boy…

"Hi!" She smiled again and held out her hand. "I'm Iris and I…um…wanted to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

He looked like an animal ready to bolt. "About what?"

"Well, I wanted to talk about the incident that happened at the bank a few weeks ago, you know the one where-"

That was all she could get out. He moved past her and started to unlock his truck. "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't know who you're with but I am not talking about that. Sorry." He pulled open the door.

"Wait!" She grabbed his arm. He waited for a moment, out of politeness she could only assume. She took a deep breath and dropped all pretense. "I have a friend who I think went through something similar and I'm looking for answers. Please. I need answers. Please talk to me."

He looked away for a moment and swallowed. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

Iris relaxed. "Again, I'm Iris. What's your name?"

"Robert."

Iris smiled a genuine smile. "Nice to meet you Robert. Let's go find a place to sit out of the rain."

They found a coffee shop around the corner. It wasn't Jitters, but maybe that was a good thing, Iris decided as they found a table near the back. She really didn't want to advertise that she was investigating this. Robert still looked ill at ease as he sat across from her, refusing to remove his coat. Though it was possible, Iris thought, that it was less because he was ready to run and more because he still had his security guard uniform on underneath.

They ordered something warm to drink and smiled awkwardly across the table at each other. He seemed to be waiting for her to open the conversation. Fair enough. She took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Robert, I know that something bad happened a few weeks ago at the bank. I think my friend had the same thing happen to him. Can you tell me what happened?"

Robert looked down at the table. "It was an ordinary day at work. I was on guard near the front of the bank in my usual position. A man in dark clothes came in wearing sunglasses, which is an automatic red flag. I asked him if there was something he needed, and he took off his glasses." Robert drew in a deep breath. "All I remember is everything going red for a moment. And then all I remember is being angry. So angry. I punched a nearby customer. I think I was going for my gun when it was knocked out of my hands. Someone else body slammed me and I hit the ground, but I remember kicking someone's feet out from under them after that and punching them too. It all happened so fast. Then I heard two gunshots, and the charity collection money shattered. The rage just faded away and I was looking at this young blond woman holding my gun, she'd just fired it at someone. I'm so glad she missed. Everyone looked so shook up, like they had all just experienced the same thing I did. I told the police what happened and they did an MRI on me, didn't find much. I don't even know if they believed me."

Iris stared at Robert, her brain sliding the pieces into place. That man had to be the metahuman. The one that had messed up The Flash. It was very possible that The Flash had been there and deflected the bullet from the gun. Knowing him, The Flash had probably set out to find this man immediately. Obviously he had found him.

Robert had been staring at the table the entire time. Now he looked up at Iris, as if checking to see that she was still there. He couldn't disguise the faint pleading tone in his voice. "Does that sound like what your friend had happen to him?"

"Yes, actually. Yes it does."

Robert had been holding his breath waiting for her answer and suddenly realized it. He let it out in a great gust as the waitress delivered their drinks. Iris smiled at the waitress and thanked her, then blew on her coffee. Robert ignored his drink. He leaned forward towards Iris, suddenly intent.

"I have wanted to talk about this since it happened but I didn't know what to do. I thought about seeing a counselor or something, but how am I supposed to explain what happened? They'd think I was nuts. No one at the bank even wants to acknowledge that it happened and the police weren't any help. So now I'm just going through the motions, but the truth is this has messed up my entire life. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

And suddenly, she was on the receiving end of a second outpouring.

"What I mean is that I don't even know who I am anymore. I always thought of myself as pretty laid back. I'm not an angry person. I had never hit anyone before or since, but now that I know I am capable of that I don't really know if or when it will happen again. I'm afraid of a relapse all the time. And I'm a security guard! I'm supposed to keep people safe from danger, not cause it. I'm supposed to protect! I feel like a sham every time I put on this uniform. I don't deserve to wear it. Someone almost got killed with my gun! I can't go back to what I was before, but I don't want to be this." He was breathing hard, close to tears. Iris held her silence, sensing that he wasn't finished.

"And the worst part," he continued, "is that whatever that man did to me just magnified something inside me. While I was angry, all these emotions I never let take hold welled up inside me. I was angry with my parents for getting divorced when I was 10. I was angry at the last job I had, how they treated me and then laid me off. I was angry at that first customer I hit for bumping into me and being rude about it. All those feelings were there, but I never spent time dwelling on them and they just came bursting out with so much violence. It was horrible." Tears were welling up in his eyes. "I can't trust myself anymore. I've been thinking, maybe I should just quit my job. Maybe I should leave. My daughter doesn't need me in her life if I can't be trusted."

"Your daughter?" Iris pressed.

He nodded. "Samantha. A few weeks before the incident, she had my first grandbaby. Beautiful baby girl named Clarissa." He hung his head. "I haven't been around to see them since it happened."

"Why not?"

He looked down at the table. His voice was almost a whisper as he confessed, "I don't trust myself. My granddaughter is so tiny and fragile. How can I hold her when I might be dangerous to her?"

"Robert." Iris's eyes shimmered with tears as she leaned forward and placed her hands over his, which were clenched together on the table. She waited for him to look up and meet her gaze. When he finally did, she tried her best to show him her genuine concern and caring. "Robert. This was not your fault. Even if the emotions were yours, the actions were not. That man did something to you and it is his fault. You are still you. You are not the guy who exploded that day. It's over. Have you ever seen red since then?" He shook his head. "Have you ever felt the need to hurt someone since then?" He thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "Your daughter needs you, and so does your granddaughter. Please don't continue to punish yourself for something out of your control." She searched his face, anxious to see if he was accepting any of this. "Call your daughter. See if she's free tonight."

Robert held on to her hands as if they were a lifeline. "Do you think I can be trusted? Do you trust your friend, after something like this?"

Iris stared at him. She really wanted to be honest. Any bit of artifice now could drive him in the wrong direction. But in order to be honest, she really had to consider his question. Did she think The Flash could be trusted?

She thought of all the times he had saved people. The train wreck. The time he had slid through Tony's legs and put her as far away as possible before standing in front of her, protecting her. She thought of the first time she had actually laid eyes on him, flashing up the side of a building to rescue an anonymous window washer. The account of the scarlet angel bearing the injured armored truck guard to the hospital. The way he had apologized for not being there when the Clock King had taken her and her father hostage. She remembered his rage, his anger, Eddie on the ground, and her own words floated back to her. "I know that you have risked your life to help people, to save them. Someone who does that does not just suddenly turn around and want to hurt people!" Again, his helpless apology came back to her. Did she think he could be trusted?

The short answer was: Yes. She did. If she hadn't she would never have gone up to see him this last time, while he was standing on the roof so still.

"Yes." She said firmly, staring Robert full in the face. "Yes I do."

That did it. Robert looked like a wall had broken down somewhere. His shoulders lifted. He smiled so wide at her, squeezing her hands gently. "Thank you." He whispered. "Thank you so much."

Iris laughed. "For what? You did most of the talking."

He chuckled in return, and then turned serious. "Yes, but you actually believed me. Believed in me. I don't know who else would believe a crazy story like that and take it so seriously. You are one in a million, Iris."

She smiled back. "Guess you just needed someone like me, to believe in the impossible."

"More than that, you gave me hope. Thank you."

"Anytime, Robert. Now call your daughter."