EDITED: January 23rd, 2025
As always, thank you to the following people for following and/or favoriting—you're the best (and a huge thanks to all my readers!): DarkAsNox, ralpholiviermarval, and H3LLF1R3IIOS. Also, a shoutout toAlive-In-Wonderland22 for reviewing!
Alive-In-Wonderland22: Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you keep enjoying the story!
This chapter was a lot difficult to write, for the simple fact that it is more filler than action. But it needed to be written to lay the ground for future events. As such, I'll try to publish the next chapter as fast as I can—and after this, it will be a rollercoaster. I hope to hear from all of you soon, and hopethat you're safe!
17 – Law and Order
Barry lingered in the reception area, absentmindedly swirling the remnants of his coffee, when the precinct's atmosphere abruptly shifted. D.A. Cecile Horton strode in, flanked by A.D.A. Mayson Drake, Chief Darryl Frye, and Director Julio Mendez, along with a cluster of sharply dressed officials Barry vaguely recognized from news broadcasts.
The usual hum of activity hushed as heads turned. Barry straightened instinctively when Director Mendez broke away from the group and made a beeline toward him.
"Look alive, Allen," Mendez teased. "How've you been?"
"Uh… alive," Barry replied awkwardly. It wasn't his finest moment, but Director Mendez chuckled regardless.
"Can't ask for more," he said, though his grin faltered.
Barry frowned. "What's going on? I thought you weren't due for another visit until next week."
It was unusual enough to see Mendez dressed so formally, his sharp suit and neatly tied locs a stark contrast to his usual laid-back style. Whatever was happening, it wasn't routine.
Mendez's voice dropped. "There's an emergency meeting. And you're coming with me."
Barry blinked. "What? Why?"
Before Director Mendez could explain, Barry's gaze drifted toward the elevators, catching sight of Captain Singh stepping out. He looked equally out of place in his tailored suit, his usual brisk efficiency replaced by a more deliberate focus as he joined the group.
"It's about the task force Thawne's been pushing," Mendez said, drawing Barry's attention back. "You know how it was treated like a joke at first? Not anymore —not since the Flash became front-page news. The mayor's office is getting involved."
Barry's stomach tightened. "What's the meeting for?"
"Funding and oversight," Mendez said grimly. "There's talk of privatization."
Barry frowned. "Privatize it? Are they actually serious?"
"They are. And we're here to stop it," Mendez said firmly. "I need you there, Barry. You've seen more of this metahuman situation than most people in the building. Hell, probably more than anyone in the city."
The weight of those words wasn't lost on Barry, though it made him uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily, remembering how Mendez had been one of the few people who believed in his father's innocence. During the investigation into his mother's murder, Mendez had been patient, kind—an anchor when young Barry felt adrift. Even now, Mendez treated him with the same respect.
"Alright," Barry said reluctantly. "Do I need to bring anything?"
"A notepad, maybe a flash drive with your most unusual cases," Mendez advised. "They might ask us to back up our arguments."
Barry nodded as Mendez clapped him on the shoulder before rejoining the group. Left standing there, Barry exhaled and headed to his lab to gather what he needed.
When he returned, his steps faltered at the sight of Captain Singh and Karen locked in a low-voiced exchange near her desk. Singh's frustration was evident in the sharp angles of his posture, but Karen seemed utterly unfazed as she packed her laptop bag.
"No," Singh said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Karen didn't look up. "It's part of my job. I'll sit quietly, look pretty, and let the bigwigs argue. Boss's orders."
Singh's eyes swept over her outfit—a relatively modest choice by Karen's standards: black pants, a crisp white blouse with ruffled detailing, and low heels. Despite the lack of flair, Barry thought she still managed to stand out. Singh must've thought the same because he sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache.
Karen was immediately alarmed. "Are you okay? Is it your blood pressure?"
"I'm fine," Singh replied, though the weariness in his voice was palpable. It dropped further, but Barry, perched on the staircase above, heard him clearly. "I pulled your name from all official documentation connected to the task force, including the sections on metahuman rights. I also told Thawne not to mention you."
Karen's hand paused mid-reach, her grip tightening slightly on the strap of her bag. "Did he ask why?"
Singh hesitated, his gaze flickering to the side. "I think he wants to hear it from you directly."
Barry leaned forward instinctively, straining to hear more, but Singh lowered his voice to a whisper. Whatever he said next made Karen's expression shift—subtly, but enough for Barry to recognize the tension in her shoulders.
Singh straightened and left, his steps heavy. Karen lingered for a moment before shouldering her bag, the corner of a sleek black "W" on the strap catching the light.
000•000
Someone had made a Flash sticker—not The Flash himself, but a simple lightning bolt resembling his emblem. It flashed in orange and yellow (a mimicry of his lightning's colors, she suspected) on the messaging app Karen closed before slipping her phone into her pocket.
What's next? Branded merch? A Flash action figure with a kung-fu grip? Or maybe a cereal line—"Lightning Loops," part of your balanced breakfast. Maybe he'd do an Oprah special. Hero worship was just starting to snowball, and she could already see the runaway train barreling toward idol status. At least Barry wasn't ducking CCPD manhunts like Batman or Hood. Yet.
Hurried footsteps snapped her out of her internal monologue. She relaxed a fraction when Eddie rounded the corner, looking as frazzled as she felt.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, aiming for irritation but the relief came out too obvious, so she cleared her throat and tried again with a half-hearted glare.
Eddie threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry! Have they started yet?" He peered past her toward the offices.
"No. You're five minutes early, and Bellows hasn't graced us with his royal presence."
He rolled his eyes at her casual dig. Karen didn't care. She'd known Bellows back when he was just Tony, pounding pavement as a beat cop. Fancy titles didn't erase old memories.
Eddie, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine. His tailored suit was sharp and dark enough to intimidate. The guy looked more like a Wall Street shark than a detective. Even freshly shaved, his ever-present stubble was already creeping back in, as if to remind everyone he wasn't that polished.
"I shouldn't be here," Karen lamented—for the nth time that week. The third that morning. "I should be at the front desk waiting for some desperate call. Organize the bills. Maybe even watch Viki."
Eddie didn't so much as flinch. "It'll be fine," he said, like he'd practiced the line in the mirror.
Then he squinted at her. "Wait. Since when do you wear glasses?"
Karen pushed them up, nose in the air. "Contacts weren't cooperating this morning."
A lie. The glasses had anti-reflective coating and just enough tint to change her features slightly. A tiny tweak to make her less recognizable. Eddie didn't need to know that.
"Didn't you used to brag about your 'perfect 100 vision'? Also…" His gaze narrowed. "Where's your cuff?"
Damn his elephant memory.
"Left it at home," she said, brushing past him toward the meeting room.
"You're jumpy." Eddie's voice softened, and she hated the concern creeping in. "You don't have to do this if it's too much."
"I'm fine," Karen snapped, gripping her bag strap like a lifeline. "Boss's orders."
Eddie raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A secretary at a political meeting? Makes total sense."
Karen sighed and unzipped her laptop bag, flipping it open to reveal a sleek black device with the silver Wayne Enterprises logo etched into the lid.
Eddie blinked. "You're kidding."
Her fake smile was so wide it hurt. "Why do you think I can afford designer dresses and thousand-dollar Louboutins?"
He squinted down at her black and red heels. Her only pair, worn for special occasions. A congratulations gift when she got into Gotham University. They were a little worn because she hadn't initially known their true cost, but once she did, they barely saw the light of day.
"This never came up at lunch." He sounded faintly betrayed. "Why are you a secretary, then?"
"Because David's here. And Gotham was…" She faltered. "Complicated."
"Complicated how?"
Karen dodged the question with a quick shake of her head. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, I need a favor."
Eddie groaned. "Another one?"
"I don't ask you that many," she retorted defensively.
"The last one got me my ass kicked," he reminded her.
"Well, this one actually is to avoid getting your ass kicked… again." She got serious. "You don't have to do it."
Eddie just sighed. "What is it?"
"Don't mention my name in there." She pointed over her shoulder with a finger.
He blinked. "That's it? Captain already told me not to. Which I don't completely understand, but I get it can be a little intimidating."
There he went again, being gentlemanly.
"I know David did. But I want you to know how seriously I don't want my name to be on the government's radar. Call it paranoia if you want—I don't care. But…" She closed her eyes. "As your friend, I'd really appreciate it."
She held her breath, waiting. When he didn't immediately respond, she looked up and found him smirking.
"Knew you'd come around," he teased. Then, more sincerely: "Alright."
"That's it?"
"I trust you."
I trust you. The simplicity of it took her aback. Had anyone told her that before? Not that she could remember. One of the first things she learned was that trust had to be earned. So why was Eddie so complacent about it?
Still baffled, she followed Eddie inside, setting shop at the empty table. They had deliberately left it for her, she realized, once she saw the obvious gap between the front desk and the row of smaller desks organized into a U, all facing her.
Then there was the more obvious divide: law enforcement on one side, government representatives on the other. She recognized most of the faces: Eddie, David, Chief Frye, D.A. Cecile Horton, and, once he arrived, Mayor Bellows. He looked antsy, keeping an eye on the door on the way to his seat.
"Apologies for the delay," he said finally, clearing his throat. "I was waiting for another guest."
The heavy thud of boots on tile set Karen's teeth on edge.
Scuffed military boots. She didn't need to look up. She knew exactly who it was.
Of course, she looked up anyway, just in time to catch Chief Frye slamming his hand on the metallic table.
"I knew it."
"Darryl—" Bellows began, but Chief Frye cut him off, jabbing a finger at General Eiling.
"London, 1918. Smallville, 1982. Gotham, 2004."
If Eiling felt disrespected, he didn't show it. He wore a genial smile, his sharp blue eyes sweeping the room like a predator sizing up prey. Karen's gaze darted away when his eyes brushed over her, but she peeked back just in time to catch him exchanging firm handshakes and accepting salutes with crisp nods.
Meanwhile, Frye was still shouting, his voice rising with every syllable.
"You think we haven't noticed the pattern? Freak events. Freak people," he spat, and the vitriol made Karen and some others recoil.
Eiling finally moved, settling into the seat beside Bellows as if Frye's rant were little more than background noise. Frye's face deepened to an alarming shade of purple as the general adjusted his cuffs with maddening calm.
Then Eiling glanced up, finally acknowledging the chief. "You're very observant, Chief. I can see why you've earned your rank." His tone dripped with condescension. "But my sole concern here is ensuring this task force is effective. The president has taken a personal interest."
Frye opened his mouth to respond, but the door swung open, cutting him off. Director Mendez strode in, his expression unreadable, with Barry trailing behind him.
Karen felt her stomach drop as Barry's eyes locked onto Eiling like a guided missile. To his credit, he recovered quickly, shifting his gaze to her. On the first try. He's learning. She gave him a quick shake of her head, her eyes darting to the row of empty chairs.
"Mendez, Allen," David called, gesturing toward the table. "Take a seat. We're still waiting on our virtual guests."
Barry hesitated, frowning at Karen—no, at her glasses. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Mendez nudged him forward, and Barry took the seat closest to Karen, ignoring the one by Eddie.
Karen shot him a withering look and mouthed: Move.
Barry frowned, then shook his head like a stubborn child.
She made her eyes wide and exaggerated, gesturing at the seat beside Eddie with the kind of expression that said, Do. Not. Test. Me.
Barry, of course, planted his feet and stared straight ahead, chin jutting out in silent defiance.
You absolute idiot.
With her hands steady again—Barry's stubbornness had at least burned off the jitters—Karen turned her focus to the laptop. A few sharp clicks later, the meeting app booted up, and two names popped onto the screen: Lucius Fox and Guest.
The first mic crackled, and a deep, composed voice filled the room. "Good morning."
"You're all set, sir," Karen said stiffly. "You just need to turn on your cameras."
"Thank you, Ms. Starr," the voice replied.
Both screens flickered to life. Lucius Fox appeared first, his warm smile belying the exhaustion in his weathered face. The second screen revealed Bruce Wayne.
If Fox exuded professionalism, Wayne was a totally different vibe—he might as well have stumbled into the call between mai tais. He sat with a beach in the background, some distant tropical paradise. But the real standout wasn't the beach—it was the impressive bruise covering part of his left jaw and cheekbone, vivid even on the small screen. The kind of injury that screamed bar fight or escaped mob hit.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Karen closed her eyes and started counting to ten.
Of all days… why the hell did he decide to call in looking like that?
D.A. Horton recovered swiftly. She addressed the camera.
"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox—I'd like to thank you for your assistance—"
"—and unexpected!" Bellows interjected eagerly. He glanced at Bruce with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But welcome nonetheless. Your involvement lends this task force an air of legitimacy that I think we can all agree is vital."
Horton's lips pressed into a thin line as she shot Bellows a sharp look. Turning back to the projector, she continued, "Yes. It was… certainly surprising to hear you were interested in funding the Metahuman Task Force."
Fox nodded politely, his expression neutral. "Wayne Enterprises has always been committed to innovation and public safety. Over the years, we've had to address unique challenges in Gotham, which has taught us the importance of balancing security with ethical oversight. The emergence of metahumans presents both opportunities and challenges, and our goal is to ensure this task force operates responsibly, with safeguards to prevent misuse of power."
A member of the city council spoke up. "Not to be rude, but it sounds like you believe there will be corruption from the get-go."
It was exactly what Lucius meant. He opened his mouth, but then glanced down. Unable to resist, Karen peered over her shoulder, just to see the little hand emoji floating up the wall and up to the ceiling. Then she glanced at the attendees, saw their perturbed faces—and swallowed back a sigh.
"I will cede the word to Mr. Wayne," said Lucius straight-faced.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, hands posed together in front of him. He smiled—and Karen felt she should be offended on half these people's behalf because it was the fakest she'd ever seen.
"Lucius is being modest. This is about staying ahead of the curve. It's true there have been extraordinary circumstances before, but not on this scale. Metahumans are a new variable—a game-changer. If we don't address this responsibly, it could go very wrong, very fast. So it's about setting a precedent for how to manage the extraordinary without overstepping boundaries." He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, with a disarming grin, Bruce added, "And besides, who wouldn't want to be part of something that could define the next era of human potential? Right, General?"
Eiling's smile tightened. "Right in one, Mr. Wayne."
D.A. Horton cleared her throat, reclaiming control of the meeting. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox. Your perspective is appreciated. For legal purposes, this and all meetings going forward will be recorded and archived."
She nodded to A.D.A. Mayson Drake, who passed around a folder. "Please review the meeting summary and sign the attendance sheet to officially confirm your presence today."
Karen glanced at the folder when it reached her, flipping through the pages quickly. The summary was thorough but neutral, carefully omitting anything inflammatory. She signed her name and passed the folder along to Barry, who gave her a brief, questioning look before signing as well.
When everyone had signed, Horton continued. "January 30, 2015. This is the first session regarding the creation of the Metahuman Task Force, proposed by Detective Edward Thawne on December 2, 2014. The members present are…"
As Horton listed the attendees, Karen kept her gaze fixed on her laptop, doing her best to fade into the background. But her name came up, of course.
"…Karen Starr, representing Wayne Enterprises…"
Karen felt the weight of curious glances but ignored them, focusing instead on ensuring the meeting's technical setup remained flawless.
When Horton finished, she cleared her throat again. "Let's start with the purpose of this task force. As proposed by Detective Thawne, the goal is to monitor and contain metahumans who pose a threat to public safety."
"And protect the ones who don't," Eddie added firmly. "We can't treat them all as criminals. Some, like The Flash, are trying to help."
Karen shot him a surprised look. Eddie was singing a different tune from the last time they spoke about the matter. Then again, Eddie had jumped into the fray and almost got his ass frozen for Barry.
Mayor Bellows leaned forward, his expression stern. "With all due respect, Detective, that's optimistic. We don't know who or what we're dealing with. This 'Flash' is one example. Like Chief Frye said, there have been several cases throughout history in which these… enhanced people caused more problems than solved them. I can even recall a few of the cases when I was in the force in which the M.O. was particularly shady because of the lack of evidence. But what about those who don't show restraint? How do we differentiate?"
Eddie didn't flinch. "We investigate, like any other case. We don't assume guilt based on powers alone."
Chief Frye's tone was colder, sharper. "And if those powers are dangerous? Do we wait until a city block is leveled?"
Eiling cleared his throat. "If we're talking about public safety, real oversight is needed. The task force can't just be under CCPD's control. There must be government accountability."
"Accountability is important," David cut in, not flinching when Eiling's eyes cut to him. Though David and Eiling knew each other pretty well, her foster father was doing a good job not showing it. "But we also need a legal framework. How will metahumans be processed before the law? Will they be given the same rights as civilians?"
Frye scoffed. "They are hardly human, David."
"They're citizens," Eddie argued. "We have to treat them as such, or we risk alienating them. Some might even see us as enemies."
"We already know some do," Frye muttered darkly.
Director Mendez raised a hand. "Let's not forget, we're not only dealing with metas. There are people like Snart and Rory taking advantage of these circumstances. If it weren't for S.T.A.R. Labs' technology, we'd have been hit much harder."
Bellows scoffed. "They're just two criminals. You're making them sound like masterminds."
"Underestimating them is a mistake. Snart has outsmarted law enforcement in more than two dozen cities over the last decade."
"Gentlemen," Horton interrupted sharply, "let's stay on topic."
Bellows cleared his throat. "Right, apologies." His gaze shifted to the screen. "Mr. Wayne, you've expressed interest in funding this initiative. However, LexCorp has also shown interest—"
"No."
The single word was chorused by several voices, including Karen's. She pressed her lips tightly, embarrassed by her outburst, but A.D.A. Drake's more forceful reaction drew everyone's eyes.
Karen hadn't paid her a lot of attention, but if someone asked her to describe A.D.A. Mayson Drake, the first thing that would come to mind would be her coppery hair. Under the light, it seemed to come alive like fire. But when Drake looked up with her hawkish eyes, it was hard to believe the whispers about how she came to the role at a young age.
"Mayor Bellows," Drake said, "LexCorp's involvement would be deeply problematic, given its CEO's history with illegal and unethical experimentation. Aligning with them could damage this task force's credibility before it even begins."
Bellows waved a dismissive hand. "Those are just rumors."
Drake didn't budge. "Rumors or not, the perception alone would be enough to tarnish this effort."
One of Bellows' advisors chimed in. "It seems short-sighted to commit exclusively to Wayne Enterprises. No offense."
"Fully taken," Bruce said with a cool smile, resting his chin on his hand. "But let's be clear: when Mr. Fox reached out to your office, Mr. Mayor, it was with the intent of providing full financial support. No strings attached. We're not here to debate funding sources."
Eddie seized the moment. "Our focus should be on establishing oversight. If we want public trust, we need transparency and accountability—no shady partners."
David, quiet until now, spoke up. "I agree. If we're serious about protecting this city, the task force needs to operate above board. No backroom deals with people like Luthor."
Bruce clasped his hands together. "Well, it seems we're all in agreement! Wayne Enterprises will support the task force, provided the objectives remain clear: protection of metahumans who work with us and containment of threats from those who don't. But—" His friendly smile didn't quite match the coldness in his eyes. "—no funding from LexCorp."
Bellows looked frustrated but didn't argue further. Horton, sensing the tension, stepped in to formalize the decision.
"For the record," she began, "the committee has reached a consensus: Wayne Enterprises will provide resources for the Metahuman Task Force, contingent upon the outlined objectives and legal oversight, to be further discussed in future sessions. Any potential involvement from LexCorp will be dismissed due to concerns regarding the company's reputation and legal standing. Are we all in agreement?"
000•000
"I forgot how much I hate political agendas," Eddie grumbled as they strolled back to her desk, yanking at his tie like it had just tried to choke him. "I didn't think Bellows would turn the meeting into his personal campaign rally."
Karen glanced at him, noting the sag in his usually confident posture. He looked like someone had told him Santa wasn't real. She gave his shoulder a quick, awkward pat. Comforting people wasn't her strong suit.
"Rich people problems, Eddie," she said dryly, flopping into her chair. "We're not supposed to understand. That's, like, the whole point."
Her eyes swept over her desk. Everything was exactly where she'd left it. Almost too exactly. Her frown deepened as a nagging sense of unease crept in.
"Kristen," she called, turning to the redhead at the next desk. "Did you touch my computer?"
Kristen barely looked up, her expression the perfect blend of sass and boredom. "Touch your stuff? What, like I have a death wish? No, thanks."
Karen squinted at her keyboard, pushing it back into position with one finger. The angle was off by maybe an inch. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was... off.
Eddie, leaning casually against her desk, gave her an amused look. "Let me get this straight. Your keyboard's out of place by, what, a hair? And you think someone's been snooping?"
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Eddie's smirk disappeared, replaced by a sharp, dark look. "What do you mean?"
After her breakup with Barry, things hadn't exactly been smooth sailing at work. A handful of officers—those loyal to Babyface and a few others who simply enjoyed chaos—had made her life miserable for a while. Karen had dealt with it in her own way: weathering the harassment, enduring warnings from HR, and eventually turning the tables with a series of cold, pointed threats that left her tormentors cowed. She never knew if Barry had picked up on it, but Eddie definitely had. His narrowed eyes and faint scowl now made that crystal clear.
"But everything looks fine," she said quickly, more for his sake than hers. She opened a program on her computer, scanning for any signs of tampering just to be sure.
Her phone buzzed, and Karen glanced down at the screen.
She froze.
A string of numbers stared back at her—seemingly random, meaningless to anyone else. But not to her.
"What's wrong?" Eddie asked, straightening when Karen abruptly shot to her feet. Kristen was also staring now, looking mildly concerned.
"I... Nothing. Bathroom break," Karen said hastily, already halfway to the door.
The second she was safely in the restroom, she pulled out her phone and dialed.
Barry answered on the second ring.
000•000
Alicia was already waiting when Barry and Oliver trudged into her apartment, both of them looking worse for wear. Her eyes—exhausted when Barry saw her earlier—were now wide open, flickering between disbelief and something that looked like hope. She barely noticed Barry as Oliver limped into the living room, shaking snow off his makeshift coat.
He couldn't tell who moved first—Alicia or Oliver—but when they hugged, it was like they'd forgotten the world was still turning. They melted into each other, no space left between them, just... them. Barry found himself looking away, uncomfortable with how intimate the moment felt. It was like he'd walked in on a scene he wasn't meant to see.
And, okay, maybe he was a little jealous. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. Definitely not Felicity.
"You're alive," Alicia whispered, her voice catching. "You came back."
Barry thought she'd add something more—maybe I thought I lost you or I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again—but no. It was Oliver's turn to speak, and he murmured something too low for Barry to catch. Not that it mattered. Whatever was said wasn't for him.
Honestly, he felt like he should leave. Just slip out, let them have this moment to themselves. But before he could move, Oliver broke the hug and turned to face him, limping closer. The man looked exhausted, but then Oliver Queen smiled—a real, honest-to-God smile. It wasn't big or flashy, but it was there, and for Oliver? That was like a full parade.
"Thank you," Oliver said.
For a second, Barry didn't know how to respond. Thank you from Oliver Queen was like a unicorn sighting. So he did what he always did when things got weird—he smiled. "You shouldn't be thanking me," Barry said, trying to make it sound casual, but there was a pointed edge to his words. "But I think you owe me an explanation. Remember when you promised me you wouldn't go near Karen? Yeah, that's kind of a problem now."
Oliver had promised, sworn, actually, that he wouldn't go near Karen. That was... one of those important promises, and now here they were. "After—uh, whatever it is you're dealing with—we need to talk. The three of us."
Oliver's smile disappeared, and his shoulders tensed like Barry had just slapped him with a reminder he didn't want to face. Barry didn't back down.
"Not now, obviously. But soon. You, me, and Karen—big awkward meeting. Put it on the calendar."
Oliver said nothing. He just gave another one of those noncommittal nods before turning back toward Alicia. Barry lingered for a moment, unsure if he was supposed to stay or leave.
The room felt smaller now, the kind of small where the walls pressed in a little too close, and Barry decided he'd had enough of that for one day.
"Okay," he said to no one in particular, clapping his hands together. "I'll just... yeah, I'll go." He pointed awkwardly at the door like it had just appeared, then shuffled toward it before anyone could stop him.
000•000
"You've been awfully quiet. Why does it feel like you've done something you shouldn't have?" Mattie's tone was teasing, but her eyes were sharp. She held her iced latte hostage, arm stretched halfway across the table like she wasn't sure whether to offer it or keep it as leverage. Her gaze lingered on Karen's defensive posture—arms crossed, legs tucked, expression sour enough to curdle milk. She gave the cup a little wave.
Karen sighed and snatched it. "Was I?" she replied, her tone deliberately vague as she averted her gaze to the bustling scene below from the second floor of Jitters, avoiding Mattie's raised eyebrow.
The silence hadn't been that long, had it? But she did have a tendency to fill Mattie's ear with a stream of chatter, whether they were sitting across from each other or across the country. Serious situations—or even brushes with death—had never stopped her from reaching out before.
Mattie sipped from her own cup, studying her friend. "You were. And now you're avoiding my question. Spill."
Karen deflected with a dramatic gesture toward Mattie's box braids. "That's a stunning hairstyle, by the way. The white tips? Bold. Very artful. Truly inspired."
Mattie lowered her coffee, unimpressed. "Okay, now I know you're hiding something." She leaned forward, her frown deepening. "It can't be that bad."
Karen winced. Mattie's frown morphed into a look of concern. "How bad is it, then?"
Karen raised her hand tentatively, then lifted one finger. "One: I may or may not have gotten involved with a cult."
Mattie blinked. "...Excuse me?"
Karen forced a nervous smile. "Remember the League?"
Mattie's thoughtful expression froze, and then her eyes widened in horror. "No."
"Yes," Karen replied, her smile tilting further into erratic territory.
Mattie groaned, covering her face with her hand.
Karen took a deep breath and added another finger. "Two: it's related to doing a little favor for the Arrow."
Mattie's hand slid down her face, revealing a deadpan stare. "Karen. Why?"
Karen tried to muster some dignity. "Blackmail, obviously. It's not like I had a choice."
Mattie sighed, clearly unamused.
Karen raised a third finger. "Three… I might've dragged the Flash into this."
"The who now?" Mattie said, the confusion cutting through her exasperation.
Karen unlocked her phone and handed it over. "Here." She pointed at an article from the CCPN: 'THE FLASH: HERO OR MENACE?' Beneath the headline was a blurry photo of Barry in his red suit mid-battle against Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.
Mattie squinted at the phone, then at Karen. "What am I supposed to be looking at here?"
Karen cleared her throat. "Well, about a week ago, Central City had a revelation. An enhanced individual with super speed—" she emphasized, gesturing dramatically—"fighting two criminals armed with weaponry far too advanced for their own good."
Mattie's frown deepened as she handed the phone back. "And you're… what? Writing his fan club charter?"
Karen pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, Mattie. Point Four: there's a task force being formed to handle people like him. You know, 'metahumans.' And… I'm part of the committee drafting the rules."
Mattie's jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, closed it, tried again, but all that came out was a squeak.
Karen gave her a knowing nod.
"But… but I was only gone for a month," Mattie managed faintly.
Karen shrugged helplessly. "Welcome back to Central City. Oh—and point five: Rob said yes to David."