25
Ralph Dibny, I know
Barry zipped into CCPN and tapped Iris on the shoulder, making her scream and throw her proofs all over the place. Only for the thrown papers to add in on the flurry of sheets he'd managed to blow off the surrounding tables of her co-workers. All eyes turned toward Barry and Iris, the former grinning madly, while the latter shot a glare at him and stooped to gather her papers off the floor.
"You okay?" Barry asked, trying and failing to hide his laugh.
"Oh, I'm great," Iris said sarcastically. "Just got scared nearly half to death by my best friend who almost revealed his identity to everyone!" She stood and looked to her co-workers, who continued to stare at her. She waved a hand, closing her eyes for a long second as she tried to thin of an excuse. "As a jerk," She clarified. "That my best friend revealed his identity that he's a jerk."
"Come on, Iris, it was funny," Barry said. He stooped next to her and started to help her clean. When no one was looking, he super speeded them together into a stack and handed them to her. Iris snatched them out of his hands, continuing to glare.
"Yeah, yeah, just stick around for my hospital bills if my heart suddenly stops." She sat at her desk, bringing over an empty chair for him to sit as well. She placed her papers on the desk and leaned back, folding her arms. "So, what's up?"
"I wanted to come by and see if there was any other news that was going out about the hit list." Iris gave him a look. He held up his hands defensively. "I know, I'm worrying over nothing—"
"—It's not nothing, Bare," Iris broke in. "Even if this didn't have to do with metas, you'd still be worried about everyone in the city." She shrugged calmly. "And that's one of the best things about you. But I don't want you worrying over something you shouldn't be worried about."
"Yet," Barry reminded her.
"That's exactly my point, Iris. I don't want to have to worry about when 'yet' is coming up. None of us can. We need to be prepared now. Especially because there's that hit list out there that knows our identities and probably knows everyone we've ever come into contact with. I don't want anything to happen to you."
Leaning forward, Iris placed her hand on top of Barry's and squeezed it gently. She looked him in the eye. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Barry. I know you wouldn't let that happen. So, I'm not afraid. And you can't live in fear, either. If you let it overrun you, you'll just let whomever doing this win. That's what I put in my article anyway."
"How's it going?" Barry asked. He pointed with his chin toward the computer. "The way Mayor Bellows went about everything…" He trailed off, shaking his head. He couldn't finish the sentence, not when the idea was so preposterous. Not when there was a chance that anyone listening could jump in on their conversation and misconstrue things. But, then again, how were you able to talk about the fact that you think the Mayor of the city may be in on what was going on with the hit list.
It hadn't been his first thought, but the way Mayor Bellows blew off the concern, as nothing more than a 'mugging gone wrong' and that Cadence and Brady were simply 'in the wrong place at the wrong time' angered him more than he thought it would. Especially when Iris had pointed out the recent string of attacks on innocent bystanders that had been in the way of Barry and Cadence when they were attacked.
It wouldn't take long before they looked at the reports, or even traffic cams, and put two and two together. Not much longer after to find out about their metahuman abilities and superhero identities. Especially, if he were being honest, anyone paid a little more than a bit of attention to his becoming the Flash in the first place, as well as the return of the Flash and his return from 'sabbatical' coinciding. It threw him for a loop when Cadence had done it when they first met.
He remembered how it'd surprised him so much that he couldn't come up with a good response when she flat out told him. He was The Flash. Uh…no I'm not? She scoffed and smiled at him, explained how she knew. (Though he still wasn't quite sure if it was something she found out on her own or if it had been from the Assassination Bureau following him).
"That's just how he's handling things to the public," Iris reassured him. "He doesn't want to cause any unjust worry for the citizens. I interviewed him for over an hour and his processes seem to go along with what we've already been doing because of the metas."
Barry leaned back in his seat, pulling his hand away from hers. He folded his arms, looking to his feet, missing Iris do the same, but for a different reason. "You mean with the nightly curfews, the the increased security in almost every building, the CCPD increasing patrols of the city for any meta related activity. Or, how about people ratting on each other; their family, friends, neighbors, classmates because they don't want metas around?"
"I get your point—"
"—Do you?" He burst out with emotion he didn't realize he was holding, and held his breath, waiting for the eyes that turned their way once more to turn back to their weekend work. He lowered his voice, practically hissed at her. "Do you know how many people…what the likelihood there are that there are metas out there! In here, even?" He looked meaningfully at her. His eyes roved over her face and hands, working to determine if she was exhibiting any signs of being one. "How do I know you're not a meta?"
Iris gave him a look filled with attitude. She tightened her folded arms and looked him in the eye. "What makes you think I would keep that a secret from you?" She demanded. "If I were a meta I'd tell you guys right away so that we could figure things out. Like a team. I wouldn't keep you in the dark. Especially with how dangerous it is. But not everything is up to you to fix, Barry. You have a whole team behind you, if you'd let them act like one."
"There's more to it than that, Iris. They weren't the ones who released an entire wave of dark matter onto a bus filed with innocent victims. And that's what they are now. Victims. Victims of becoming something they never asked for."
"I don't know if you've noticed, Barry, but we were the ones who released the wave of dark matter into the city and onto that bus!" Iris snapped. Barry pressed his lips together in, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Onto those victims! Not you! We were trying to get you out and bring you back from the prison you were stuck in. So, no, Barry, I'm not going to allow you to put all of this on you. It's not going to bring your parents back."
Barry started; stared back at her. His mind ran a mile a minute. That was normal for him, his thoughts, movements, reactions were always slow since receiving his powers. That time, however, his thoughts raced even faster, working to figure out how she got to that point. "What…do you mean?"
Iris shook her head. She stared at Barry for a long moment then sighed heavily. "What do I mean? Barry…you always need a reason to save someone. You saved Julian Albert and other geeky kids from bullies at school. You tried to save your mom when she was murdered. You tried to save your dad from prison when you kept running away from home. You tried to save me when my laptop was stolen the night of the Particle Accelerator explosion. And all of this, all that you're doing now, is just a way for you to come to terms with the fact that you couldn't save your parents, and that you're still reeling from Flashpoint. Nothing you do, Bare, is going to bring your parents back. And it's not like doing all of this, now, is going to make anything different. You can't go back in time again-"
"-But I can make sure no one else ends up living a life they don't want," Barry insisted. "It's bad enough that we already have to handle anti-meta propaganda every time we leave the house or look through social media. And it's bad enough that we have people who were going to be meta because of the original explosion, but the ones who had no choice this time?" He shook his head. "I'm not going to let them live in a life of fear."
"So, what? You're going to make some sort of a cure and let people make their own decision of whether or not they want to live a normal life?"
Barry didn't respond. Not right away. He brought up his hand and ran it through his hair. "I don't know," he said, honestly. "But there has to be something we can do. And it all goes back to Mayor Bellows. If…if we can let him know that there's a chance more people could get hurt…"
"We'd have to tell the CCPD, too. But that would mean telling Chief Paulson. Which would give him yet another reason to dislike metas and The Flash and…" Iris let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I get your point. But how can we do that without you telling him you're The Flash?"
"I could always make a Speed Mirage and try to be in two places at once. Though, I don't know how long I can keep that up or how it'd affect my speed."
"I guess it's back to the drawing board, then."
"We'll think of something. But, Iris, I really came by to tell you that your article was great." Barry leaned to the side and grabbed the most recent newspaper off her desk. He folded it around and found her byline with ease. "It really gives a voice to metas, and even non-metas to help out."
"Well, I wouldn't say it's one of my best, it's pretty good." She positively beamed, clamping her hands on the side of her seat as she sat up. She leaned forward to see her own hard work. "I hope you don't mind me quoting you—er, The Flash—for my article."
"The Flash doesn't mind. It's not like he's going to be posing for any magazine covers anytime soon, right?" He waited for Iris's positive response, then looked at her closely from the corner of his eye. "Right?" He pressed.
"I don't know." Iris grinned. "I think that cowl is very photogenic."
"Oh, haha."
"Hey, I told you before that you could be a model if you really wanted." She reached out and swatted him on the stomach. "Now that lightning gave you those abs, you could really make a career out of it." She laughed when Barry rolled his eyes and tossed the newspaper aside. "Whatever, I better get back to work. The Sunday newspaper is always the biggest and we need to get everything prepared for print for tomorrow."
"Alright, I'll leave you alone." Barry stood and prepared to leave, racing out of CCPN, but stopped when Iris continued to speak.
"But thanks for coming to visit me," she said. A small smile was on her face. "It really felt like old times, just the two of us. Hanging out."
"You making fun of me," Barry said.
"You letting me make fun of you," Iris teased.
Barry laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do let you do that. And…it hasn't been that long since we've last hung out, right?" It was a silly question. He knew it was true, that the two of them hadn't hung out by themselves in a long time. But there was a lot going on that he had to get used to. Every time he would try to get a sense of normalcy, even something else would come up.
Some, huge, cataclysmic event that he couldn't stop long enough for. And that was after she found out about his identity. He kept her in the dark for so long…it was hard to remember a time where she hadn't known about it. But, then again, Breathtaker and most of the city had had their minds erased after the first time they'd faced off against Breathtaker.
"Long enough," Iris insisted. "You haven't come to West Family Game Night in a while, either. It's just been me, dad, and Wally."
"I was in the Speed Force, Iris…"
"After that. You know what I mean, Barry. You used to be at our place a couple times a week and now we're lucky if we even see you outside of Team Flash."
"I have a lot on my mind, a lot that I need to work with…" Barry shook his head. "And I don't know if you've forgotten, but I've also got another speedster in my head who decides to make my life a living hell when he thinks its convenient." There was no telling how nice it was for Savitar to have silent the last couple of days. His brain quieter than it had been in a long while. (Not that it mattered much, when Savitar wasn't plaguing him, the life that repeatedly flashed before his eyes—Savitar's personal hell—was).
"I'm just saying you don't have to be the Flash all the time, and that there's more people here for you than you're letting in." For a moment, Barry was worried she was angry, but she gave him a sincere, kind smile that made him smile back. "We're all here for you, Barry. We're a team for a reason."
"I know. Thanks." He stood and wrapped his arms around Iris in a tight hug, which she gratefully returned. "Let us know if there's anything else you find out with Mayor Bellows or the hit list or anything."
"I heard you and dad are going to talk to Ralph again," Iris remarked when she let go, gently resting her hands on his shoulders. "If you hate him as much as you hated Julian, then I already feel sorry for the guy. Especially with Dad going to talk to him, too." She moved her hands up and placed them on Barry's cheeks, laughed to herself, then stepped away, shaking her head. "I would pay big money to see that."
"And I'm sure Dibny would take you up on that offer," Barry said, voice turning flat. "If you saw his office, you'd know there's a pretty good chance he needs it." Waving goodbye to Iris, Barry left CCPN and headed to where he and Joe had agreed to meet. Once he was away from CCPN, he took a quick lap around the city to ensure there wasn't anything going on before running to the nearest laundromat.
Joe and Brady were standing outside, tossing balled up socks into the baskets that stood by their feet. Joe jumped, turning away to place a hand on his chest when Barry suddenly appeared at his side, throwing out his arms to keep from pitching over with his speed suddenly coming to a stop.
Brady didn't pause in his throwing socks into his basket. "Hi, Barry."
"I swear, Barry, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," Joe said, resting his free hand on the wall of the store. He took a couple of deep breaths while Barry shook his head. "One of these days very soon."
"You know, that's the same thing Iris said to me when I went to see her," Barry said. He patted Joe on the shoulder, smiling all the while. "Your impending death aside, thanks for meeting me here."
"No problem, Bare. It was my dream all through my tenure in the police academy that I'd spend a day at the launder mat." Joe's sarcasm wasn't lost on Barry, who glared at him in response. "What are we meeting here for, anyway?"
"Because there's a pretty good chance we'll run into Dibny here," Barry said. Joe looked at him curiously. "Look, I know the last time we talked to him, things didn't go well. But if there's a chance he's a meta, or he as on that bus, then we have to let him know that he may be a target on the list. As for why we're here at the launder mat, he hasn't been in his office since we visited him and this is one of the places he frequents."
"Have you been stalking him?" Joe demanded. He lowered his voice, watching as some seedy looking guys walked by, giving the three a passing glance then kept going, lifting their collars as they went. They continued down the sidewalk, glancing back at the three men, practically running away when Joe flashed his badge. "Let me rephrase that, has The Flash been stalking him?"
"No!" Barry said emphatically. "I've just been looking." He picked up the laundry baskets from the ground and shouldered his way into the launder mat. He stumbled, nearly fell across the threshold when the door swung open, loose on its hinges. The manager barely glanced at the three as they entered, only let out a guttural sound when he cleared his throat, then slammed his fist into the wall when the lights flickered.
"You sure he's going to show up here?" Joe's eyes roved over the dirty and dusty machines, as well as the mysterious brown sludge that seemed to be seeping out of the machine closest to him. He took a large step over the puddle and looked back to Barry.
"Even if he doesn't, we still need to do the laundry," Brady said. He picked up a basket and set it on a nearby dryer, then whipped open the washing machine, roughly shoving a pile of clothes inside.
"Why don't you just use the washers at STAR Labs?" Joe suggested.
"Cisco made those washers study enough to wash our suits, it would've ripped our actual clothes to shreds.
"Besides, Barry broke our washer and dryer trying to 'fix it'." Brady used air quotes around the words before throwing everything inside the machine. He frowned, leaning over the missing knobs to figure out how to turn the machine on. "I can't imagine what he'd do to the STAR Labs washers."
Joe gave a deep rumbling laugh while Barry folded his arms and looked away. "Oh, that's classic Barry. Even without his powers, he kept trying to fix things and make them worse before it got better." Then his laughter stopped, and he looked at Barry in warning, wagging his finger. "You better not do this with Dibny. If we're looking for him for the reason you say we are, then you have to give him a chance."
"If he's a meta, Joe, he's dangerous," Barry insisted. Brady walked over to Barry, holding out his hand. Without taking his gaze from Joe, Barry reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters, slapping it into his palm. "He's just going to go out and hurt people."
"He hasn't done anything," Joe reminded him.
"Yet. Trust me. I know this guy. He's a bad guy."
"Bare, you don't know that." Joe pulled out his phone when it buzzed with a text. He looked at it for a moment, a smile coming to his face. Barry lifted an eyebrow, watching hm carefully. He hadn't seen Joe grin so widely—or happily—since he'd returned from the Speed Force. And unless he had gotten news of winning the lottery, there wasn't any means for him to be smiling at the moment. Barry thought of using his superspeed to check the screen, but quickly decided against it. An angry Joe was a scary Joe. Finally, Joe put his phone away and added, "You haven't seen him in five years."
"As far as I knew, things with him would've changed with Flashpoint and that did nothing," Barry said dryly. He shook his head. "Every person that was on the bus the day I came out of the Speed Force has the potential to be 1,000 times more dangerous than they were before. Dibny included."
"And what if he changed?"
"People don't change."
"Mom did," Brady piped up. He punctuated his sentence, slamming the door to the washer and placed his foot against it to hold it shut against a trickle of water that threatened to spill out. "She tried to kill you. More than once." He shrugged. "Hell, I'm pretty sure she even tried to kill me once. And that was just an accident." He paused, eyes widening as he turned back to the two men, waving his hands back and forth. "Don't tell her I said 'hell'."
"So long as you don't tell her I brought you here," Barry replied.
His face screwed up. "To the launder mat?'
"To this side of town."
"Oh."
"Yeah, why did you bring him along, anyway?" Joe asked, tilting his head toward Brady. "I understand it being the weekend and there's no school. But's not the best place for a young kid to be. He's not too old for a babysitter."
"Yes, I am!" Brady insisted. He answered Joe's question," Connor went to visit his grandparents and mom is training Wally and Jesse at STAR Labs and she thought I'd stay out of more trouble with Barry." He folded his arms. "Obviously not considering we're going on a wild goose chase after this Dibny guy."
"It's not a wild goose chase. He'll be here! And your mom is a good person, he's not. A guy like Dibny has people how want to throw him off rooftops."
"Why do you?"
Barry hesitated. He sucked in a sharp breath and looked to Joe. Joe waved him off, silently saying, "This is your problem, not mine," making Barry sigh. He knew he had a problem with Dibny, but it couldn't have only been him that had a problem. Dibny singlehandedly embarrassed the CCPD, the city, and anyone who would have put trust in the CCPD all in one fell swoop. And that wasn't something that was easy to recover from, If ever.
"It was one of my first cases as Junior CSI," he explained. "Dibny was the Detective on the case. A woman named Judy Gimlin was stabbed to death."
"Kind of like that woman whose house was on fire," Brady said. He frowned, seeing the water come out faster and leapt up onto the top of the washer, pressing the heels of both of his feet against the door. "Mom said you were investigating a fire when you met. Before you found me."
Oh yeah. How could he forget that? It was before he found thins out about Michael Bloom. A woman had been found dead in her house, covered up by a house fire. Cadence had worked on the case due to her position at the hospital. He'd never asked her if that had been one of the victims, she had been dispatched to murder with the Assassination Bureau, and, honestly, didn't want to know the truth. There were many times she'd expressed remorse for what she'd done, he seen her to go the cemetery to visit graves with names he didn't recognize and, at times, would fall into lapses of silence with a faraway look to her eyes that all but proved the same.
The only difference for that case, and what Dibny did, was that Barry didn't know the results of the case. He'd become so engrossed by Cadence's abilities that he'd given the case over to the rest of the CCPD. Dibny's case, however, affected him more than any of the other cases he'd worked.
"Her husband, Reagan, was the prime suspect in the case," Barry continued. "But there was no evidence, nothing to tie him to the crime scene." He folded his arms, crossing his legs at the ankle as he leaned against another set of washers and dryers. They wiggled, making loud, rickety squeaking sounds when his weight pressed against it. "And then, Dibny miraculously found a knife with the husband's fingerprint. Case closed. Dibny was a hero." He looked toward the ceiling and shrugged. "I don't know, maybe because my mom was stabbed, I wanted to be sure. I analyzed the blade, the serrations on the knife didn't mactch the wound on the vic."
"He faked it?" Brady asked, eyebrows coming together. He curled his hands around the edge of the washer, knuckles turning white as the seconds passed. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to do something like that? But then again, he knew guys like Chad, who absolutely hated to lose even something as tiny as a game of tic tac toe.
"Yep. And then he lied about it under oath."
"When you go up on the stand, you're asked to tell the entire truth about something," Joe explained to Brady. "And if you lie after you've made that promise and you're find out, you can get into a lot of trouble."
"He didn't just bend the rules," Barry agreed. "He committed perjury—evidence tampering. He was thrown off the force." Then he looked to Joe once more and said firmly, "Point is, he was crooked then, he's crooked now."
"You don't know that for sure," Brady pointed out. "You haven't seen the guy in five years. As far as you know, he's doing good doing…whatever it is he's doing now." He lowered his chin. "I mean, you thought Julian was a bad person, too, and it ended up being that he was brainwashed by Savitar. You may be smart, but you're not right about everything, you know?"
Barry blinked at him, noticing the sudden edge that came to the young boy's tone. As if he were annoyed about something. Joe looked to the two then went to do his own laundry as they waited. It wouldn't have been the first time Brady had been mad at him, Barry practically walked on egg shells on around him in case he managed to become as upset as he was when Barry first returned. But this was something different. He could tell.
"Brady, are you okay?" Barry asked him.
"I'm fine."
"No, I mean, are you really okay? I know we're better since I came back from the Speed Force and we talked but…" He held his breath, watching the young boy closely. He continued to stare across the dilapidated store, occasionally glancing at the front door whenever someone would walk by. It was the longest Barry had seen him without his nose buried in his phone, either. "You haven't really been yourself for a while." He's not the same eight-year-old kid you met, Barry reminded himself. He's not going to be as happy and excited as he used to, but still…
"What do you mean?" Brady's eyes shifted. He lowered his head and started to chew his lower lip, the same way his mother did when she was thinking very hard.
"I mean, you haven't been yourself." He waited for Brady to speak, only continued when Brady continued to stay silent. Thought of a different angle to get through to him. The same way Joe had done for him years before. "But then again, you're going through a lot more than other people have. Especially at your age. A lot more traumatic things than anyone should; you got powers, you have people who are after you because of your powers, your fought against your mom, you've been attacked at school, your doctor's office may be trying to leak your information of being a meta, you've had friends die, your thought your mom died—"
"—I get the point, Barry," Brady interrupted, turning away.
Barry quickly understood what it was. "You never talk about it," he said quietly.
"So?"
"So, keeping things like that inside isn't a good thing. Trust me." Barry placed a hand on his chest, felt his heart beating rapidly. Could even feel the little ridge of the upraised scar from being struck by lightning that continued to stick around. A reminder of the path he'd gone down since having been struck by lightning. "I didn't really talk about my mom's death and constantly ran away from home and lashed out at people around me. With Dad, I went and created Flashpoint. It may not be evident at first, but that trauma starts to show up in ways you don't expect."
Brady paused, his shoulders slowly but surely sliding upwards. "Like…becoming a different person?"
"Sort of, yeah. People can act differently."
"Um…" He started to kick his legs back and forth, the heels of his shoes making low 'thunk' sounds as it continued to hit the metal door. He reached out and started to drag his finger up and down the side of the washer, a squeaking sound emanating each time he did so. "Can it affect our powers?"
"Yes."
Brady continued to run his finger along the side of the washing machine as it hummed and bounced. "Uh, Barry. I think I have something I need to tell you." He looked over as the door to the launder mat opened, setting off the sound of a ringing bell. Ralph backed into the launder mat, carrying a basket in one hand and brushing crumbs off his fingers against the door frame with his other. Barry looked to Brady. "It can wait."
Turning, Ralph noticed Joe and Barry staring at him and blinked once. He rolled his eyes before lasering his gaze onto Barry. "Geez, Rookie, never thought I'd see the day where you slum it over to this side of the city." He brushed his hand across his front, smearing a blob of jelly against his skin as he did so. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Nothing," Barry replied, trying and failing to keep his irritation out of his voice. "I'm just doing laundry. Mine broke."
"You mean you couldn't just use all that fancy money from your parents' settlement to pay for it?" Ralph continued. Barry tightened his grasp against the handle of the basket in his hand. It started to crack under the pressure. "There's gotta be something good that comes out of that tragedy, right?"
"You know what, Dibny—"
"—And I stopped caring." Ralph held up his hand, immediately cutting Barry off. He turned to the manager behind the counter, greeting him with a, "What's up, Ramone?" and kept going to another washer dryer. Ralph nodded to Joe. "Joe."
"Ralph."
"Who's the short stack?" Ralph asked, nodding toward Brady. "I'd hate to say he doesn't look like you, Rookie. But sometimes that'd a good thing." Then he looked closer. "Seems kind of old, though. Don't tell me a guy like you was sewing your wild oats during the best years of your life!"
Barry's upper lip curled. "He's my fiancée's son."
"Fiancée?" Ralph flipped open a lid to a washer and started to haphazardly throw his clothes into the washer. Then he picked up a box of detergent an dumped a small mountain of soap inside. "Oh, I get it. You ruin my life and then go on to live yours merrily." He folded his arms. "How's that for irony?" He looked to Joe. "And Joe you…" he tilted his head. "You're glowing!"
"Uh—" Joe faltered blinking rapidly when he saw all eyes turn his way. "No, no I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Barry insisted.
"Um, uh, didn't we come here to talk to Ralph?" Joe interrupted.
"Ah. So you have been following me!" Ralph turned to Brady, gesturing toward Barry. "I'd be careful with this guy, Shortstack. I don't know what he's told you about what he did, but he's ruined my life once, I really don't need him to stalk me to do it again." He brought up his hand, tapping at his lips, eyes shifting back and forth. "Maybe I should find a new laundry place. Don't want him to snoop around ol' Ramone's livelihood and destroy that, too."
Ramone waved his hand toward the group, continuing to keep his head shoved into the rumpled magazine—that Barry could now see was an adult magazine—he held tightly in his hands. Barry grimaced. They really needed to get out of the launder mat as soon as possible. And if that meant forcing the answers out of Dibny, then that's what they would have to do.
Besides, Ralph had, indirectly, insulted his parents. "I'm sure you've got a lot of experience in helping him land on his feet," he said.
Ralph glared back at him. His cheeks bulged when he clenched his teeth. Lifting a finger, he jabbed it into Barry's shoulder. Repeatedly. Hard. "Isn't that easy for you to say? With your good job and your fiancée." Ralph turned back to his washer and flipped the lid closed, sending a cloud of detergent into the air. Joe coughed, leaning away from the cloud. "People like me, people like us,"—he gestured toward Ramone—"Are trying to get from one bill to the next. And I wouldn't have to do that if you hadn't caught me your job."
Barry sucked in a deep breath but it wasn't enough to quell the fury that exploded toward Ralph. "You got yourself fired!" He shouted, finally drawing Ramone's eyes their way. They peeked out over the top of the magazine, beady and bug-liked, glinting in his obvious entertainment. "You tampered with evidence! You framed that guy!"
"Because he was guilty!" Ralph shouted back, cheeks turning red from the effort. "And he was gonna get away with killing his wife and then you let him go." He thumped himself in the chest with his hat. "I was a good cop! I was a good detective!" His voice lowered to a hiss while he moved to stand in Barry's face, encompassing the speedster in the smell of sugar and jelly and giving him an eyeful of the crumbs left around his mouth. "I lost everything. And it was all because of you."
"Good people don't destroy lives and call it noble," Barry hissed back. "You were dirty then, you're dirty now. Live with that."
"I don't have to take this." Ralph held up his hands, palms out, and stood a step away from Barry. "I come here on my days off to do some laundry and hang out with my friend, Ramone. I don't need the do-gooder to follow me around and continuously accuse me of things that he doesn't understand. I've already got this annoying voice in my head that won't shut up. I don't need yours, too." He snapped toward Ramone and headed toward the door. "Ramone! Watch my stuff!"
Barry reached out as Ralph turned and grabbed Ralph's arm, holding him in place. "You're not going anywhere."
"Bare," Joe warned. "You can't force him to stay."
"Listen to the Detective, Rookie," Ralph snarled back. "Don't you know? Holding someone against their will is holding a hostage. Didn't they teach you that when you took the oath to join the police force? Or were you just too good to listen to your elders."
"Barry!" Brady's voice got his attention, a warning, worried cry. Barry turned to look at him at the same time Ralph moved, trying to slip his hand out from Barry's grasp. Barry blinked inside, seeing Ralph walking toward the door…with his arm still in Barry's hands. Brady's eyes widened at the same time Joe brought up his hand to cover his mouth. "Uh, Ralph?"
"What is it, Shortstack?" He turned back and gaped, staring at the arm in Barry's hands. The fleshy, malleable hand that practically sagged through Barry's fingers like Silly Putty.
"What the hell?" Ralph gasped. "Wha—I—wh-?" He wiggled his fingers, making Barry gasp in surprise and drop his hand to the floor of the shop. Joe leapt backwards, trying to keep from stepping on Ralph's hand, but managed to stomp on his fingers. "Ow! Watch it!"
"Sorry!" Joe quickly apologized.
"You should be! I need those fingers to write more IOUs!" Ralph then turned back to Barry and glared at him. "Do you see what happens when you're around me? First, you ruin my life. You cost me my job! Then you barge into my office and accuse me of being on some stupid bus because you found and IOU I wrote someone? And now you turned me into…some sort of freak! I don't know how you did it, Allen, but I know you did something! Now, get away from me before you do something to get me killed!" He turned around just in time to face two guys dressed like mobsters standing in front of him with guns pointed in his face. "Ah, crap." Ralph's shoulders slumped in defeat. He chuckled nervously, looking back and forth between the men. "Guys, you don't want to do this." He held up his free hand defensively. "I don't know what you want." He started to pull his other hand forward to hold his hand up as well. "But I know it's nothing to do with me—whoa!"
With the force of his pull, Ralph's arms stretched and extended wildly, flapping around the launder mat. Barry ducked out of the way, His arms extended wildly, crashing through the launder mat and striking the two men in the face. They fell to the side before getting up and cocking their guns at him once more.
"Guys, guys, we can talk about this."
Ralph's pleading fell on deaf ears. He took a step back then cried out, his feet sliding out from underneath him when he stepped in the puddle that leaked out from Brady's washing machine. Falling hard to the ground, Ralph's arms took another whirlwind around the launder mat, knocking jugs and bottles off the shelves above the dryers and crashed to the floor, where more puddles widened. At the same time, Joe ducked out of the way of the bullets that flew, the nearest ones ricocheting off the nearest washing machine.
Barry tapped into his speed, plucking bullets out of the air as he moved through the store, moving Joe, Brady, and Ramone to safety. When he tapped back into normal speed, he flinched, watching all of the carnage that continued to rampage around the launder mat.
"My store!" Ramone cried, grasping the sides of his head.
The mobsters cocked their guns and started to fire once more. Barry tensed his muscles, ready to move to run again, stopping only when one of them jerked their hand to the side and cried out in pain. Then the other cried out, slapping a hand over his neck where a bright red line appeared horizontally across his skin. Looking to the side, Barry saw Brady kneeling on the ground arm stretched back and one eye closed, ready to let loose another piece of weaponry from his slingshot.
Ralph looked at him as well. "What are you? Some sort of deranged Robin Hood?"
"CCPD!" Joe declared, whipping up his own weapon. "Freeze!"
The two men immediately backed out of the launder mat and disappeared down the street. Silence stretched over the store other than the dripping of liquids that stretched across the floor. Barry turned to Ralph. "You said you weren't on that bus," he said accusingly.
"What does it matter to you?" Ralph sneered.
"A lot," Brady replied.
"I hate to break it to you, Small Fry, but this is adult business and Rookie, here, barely passes as one. So I'm going to get out of here and pull myself together." He grunted, trying to bring his hands up from the ground, only resulting in his arms slinking across the ground in waves. "Oh, come on!"
But Barry wasn't going to let it go. "What did you mean, voices in your head?"
"You know, that voice in your head after you black out, telling you that you should've done this rather than that." Ralph shook his head. "The only good thing is that it's not always up there. But the last time I checked, the voice in your head was supposed to be your own, not some creepy old man's."
"He's delirious," Joe remarked.
"Or he's as normal as he's always been," Barry deadpanned. He shook his head, continuing to watch Ralph try to bring his hands back to his chest, dropping it every time he came close to holding them still. Barry's stomach lurched to the left and he reached out for the nearest dryer to keep him upright. "We need to get him to STAR Labs."
A/N: Once again, I had to split this chapter in half with how long it ended up becoming. It took me longer than I anticipated to have it up, but this story is being moved back to the one I pay the most attention to. (Don't worry, I didn't forget about my other Flash fic, Chase You Down, I'm going to update that one again soon). But there's plenty more coming that I hope you all are excited for!
Cheers,
-Riles
Review Replies
Ethan: Connor just doesn't know how to refer to Oliver. He's his father, but he hadn't been a dad to him in the time that he was born to the present. So he struggles with how to address it, if he does t all. You have to take into consideration, Cadence may look after him, but she's not Connor's mom or dad, so all of the big decisions she'd have to make for Connor will still have to go through Oliver and Felicity. She was just repeating what Oliver was basically telling her the last time he was around to see Connor. Also, this is the same thing that Cadence had said to Barry when they first met/first started dating. Barry wasn't Brady's dad and he shouldn't and can' t make decisions about or for him as it isn't any of Barry's business. Though you're not too far off with the comment that it's not like Cade at all.
DarkHelm145: Anime has and will always have a place in my heart. It had some of my earlier influences on fanfic.
