“That’s rule one,” he muttered lowly lifting from the ground. “Don’t ever get too cocky because you get sloppy. You disarmed what you assumed to be the only thing I had,” he grasped the end of the arrow. The feathers tickled inside of his palm as he yanked it out of his shoulder. “This might hurt…”
“I wasn’t cocky. I was confident. I’m still discovering what I can do.” He said, hissing as Oliver pulled the arrow from his shoulder. “This might hurt, too.” Cisco grinned, pushing his hands against Oliver’s chest and focusing the energy to his hands. He pushed with all the strength he could muster, plus the strength of his powers.
Oliver felt the vibration quake through the floor, it moved viciously through his limbs. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing the way Cisco felt the ground and working through his confidence. Rolling out of the stumble, he tossed one of the small arrows sheathed in his sleeve.
Cisco was distracted as he watched the man roll on the ground, proud of his accomplishment of disarming the vigilante. He didn’t see the man toss one of his smaller arrows until it was feet from him. Cisco knew he couldn’t stop the arrow, so he tried dodging, but he was too slow. The arrow lodged itself in his shoulder and Cisco’s hand flew up to where it stuck. “Ow! Shit!”
With all the craziness going down recently – doppelgängers and breaches and Earth-2, oh my! – it’s no wonder my chakras have been all outta whack. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, my back spazzes every time I blink, and (keep it on DL) I’ve been suffering through some epic indigestion.
So, I cross-referenced some Yelp reviews with some Groupon deals and crawled my way over to the Gordian Knot, a three-out-of-five-stars yoga studio situated above a rundown Southern BBQ joint. I was all set to clear my mind, refocus my energy, and rejuvenate my soul – at least, that’s what the sign on the back alley door promised.
The place itself was cramped and stuffy, but it smelled like heaven. Wafts of smoked meat and fried chicken kept drifting in, totally wiping out that Patchouli incense burning in the corner. I was drooling before I’d even kicked off my shoes!
I made sure to bring my own yoga mat – CCPN did a freaky exposé a few weeks ago on a nasty brain-eating fungi that festers in those communal sweat sponges and there was no way I was risking that. Mama didn’t raise no fool!
Things started off pretty well. Child’s Pose? More like “child’s play,” amiright? Cobra, Frog, and Dolphin Pose? Just call me Vixen, baby! I could just feel my chakras realigning. Between the Enya on repeat, the flickering candles in the windows, and the contact high I was getting from the incense, I was in the zone. That is, until I opened my eyes mid-headstand and saw the last person I expected to see.
You remember Shawna, AKA Peek-a-Boo, the teleporting truant who broke my heart? There she was – looking like a goddess in her curve-hugging Lululemon, holding the most perfect One-Handed Tree Pose I’d ever seen. What was she doing here? Did she dump her dirtbag boyfriend? One can hope, right? I was so surprised that I completely lost my balance and toppled over, taking down the entire row with me. I dislocated my shoulder and by the time I popped it back in, Peek-a-Boo was gone. Any chance she didn’t see that wipeout?
I haven’t seen her since that afternoon, but I’m checking my six every time I walk down the street, hoping she’ll teleport back into my life. Maybe mama did raise a fool – a fool for love!
Dim
the lights, nuke some Pop Secret, and prime yourself for the epic (and overdue)
reunion of the S.T.A.R. Labs team. Parental discretion advised.
The
set-up: It had been lonely these past six months. Like, Titanic-soundtrack-on-repeat, lonely. Caitlin had buried herself in
work at Mercury Labs, Barry was Lone Rangering it up, and I was stuck spending
Friday nights at Zumba with my mom and her friends from the Historical
Preservation Society (Mrs. Martinez, you got the moves like Jagger, girl!). So now that the band is officially back together (and better than ever!), it
only seemed appropriate that we do a little celebrating. Or a lot of
celebrating…
Cut
to: A south side dive bar. Karaoke night. Anyone else think it’s totally unfair
that Barry can run faster than the speed of light and has the voice of
an angel? I was feeling all the feels and bawling like a baby when he belted
out Neil Diamond – then again, I was
on my third Blue Hawaiian, so my inhibitions were already more or less
abandoned. It was Caitlin’s earsplitting rendition of “Wrecking Ball” that
sobered me up enough to realize we needed to peace out before we were thrown
out…
We
stopped at a Big Belly to fill up on greasy goodness before hitting the next
joint, which ended up being a Hells Angels hotspot. Fun fact: big, beefy bikers
don’t like it when you hop on their ride and begin reenacting the epic chase
scene from The Matrix Reloaded. Oops.
I was seconds away from being taco meat at the hands of a Marlon Brando-wannabe
when my boy Barry stepped in and proposed a challenge: a drink off – he who is
left standing gets to decide my fate. Check it: Mr. Brando sauntered up to the
bar, thinking he’d demolish Barry after three shots. But little did he know
about Barry’s secret weapon: a lightening-fast metabolism. He could chug the
entire liquor cabinet of a well-endowed frat and feel nada.
Eleven
shots apiece later and the giant was felled! We booked it outta there (fully
intact!) and took refuge in S.T.A.R. Labs, where Caitlin used some copper
refrigerator tubing to make some nasty cortex cocktail that tasted like rocket
fuel. And for future reference: the acoustics in the pipeline are dope. We cranked some tunes
(Cisco Disco, baby!) and Zumba-ed the night away.
I’m
home now, praying to the porcelain god that my suffering will soon be brought
to and end. It kinda feels like there’s a horned beetle chewing its way through
my amygdala, but I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.
Heyyy, Cisco here, comin’ at you live from my parents’ house.
Good news first: I’m alive and no one is pressing charges –shout-out to my main man Joe over at CCPD for having my back! Bad news? I accidentally burned down my apartment.
Let me catch you up. Ever since Dr. Wells – AKA Dr. Evil – told me I was affected by the particle accelerator explosion, I have been freaking out. Now I know Barry’s a hero, but most meta-humans are evil jerks who like to steal, maim and kill (see my earlier entries about the pipeline). I had to find out 1) if Dr. Wells was telling the truth and 2) what kind of powers I have (please please pleeease let me fly). So I decided to run some preliminary diagnostics on myself…in my apartment.
Lemme tell ya, not having the state-of-the-art setup (and budget) I had going on at S.T.A.R. Labs makes experimenting on myself tricky,to say the least. My latest undertaking was to test my protoplasmic conductivity. The human body already absorbs and emits electricity, so by utilizing proprietary frequency-sequencing, I figured I could determine whether or not I had any enhanced electroreception capabilities. To test conductivity, I needed juice. LOTS of it. With the help of additional resistors, some amp breakers strung in parallel, and some Cisco finesse, I was able to MacGyver my humble abode into Central City’s smallest power station. Success! For a hot second. Did I mention that the landlord’s idea of throwback décor consists of fabric wallpaper and shag carpet? Put the two together and you’ve got an incendiary disaster.
Now my apartment is gone (along with most of my eyebrows) and I’m back to living with the rents. It’s not too bad, I mean Mom is trying to make me eat healthier but it’s easier to coordinate viewings of our favorite show – Jane The Virgin.
I am hella bummed about being no closer to discovering what my alleged meta-human capability is. So far, I’ve discovered that I ‘m not flame retardant, I can’t move objects across the room with my mind, and as far as I know, I have no ability whatsoever to communicate with sea creatures (womp womp). I can just see Dr. Wells smirking at me with those deceptively twinkly eyes.
Oh crap! I hear Mom fumbling at the door. Probably balancing an armload of vegetables and sprouted whole grains. Time to duck out and make a beeline for the nearest Big Belly where the only veggie is deep-fried and dipped in ketchup. Holla!
Eobard knew he was pushing himself too hard: cold, bruised, and exhausted, and it all added up to slow him down. But he had to know. He had to talk to Cisco. When he had a thought going around and around in his head like this, he could not possibly stop until he’d satisfied it. There was too much happening inside his head right now, anger, fear, betrayal, and even a trace of something that looked suspiciously like guilt.
The run to S.T.A.R. Labs took much longer than it should have, but his speed fortunately hadn’t cut out on him by the time he arrived. He approached the Cortex at a walking pace, but maintained the red eyes and low, threatening hum of his powers. Suit on, hood down, he rounded the corner, one hand brushing lightly against the door frame. “Cisco.” It took effort to drop the growl. “We need to talk.”
Cisco heard footsteps approaching the cortex, and he thought it was Cait or Barry, so he continued with his work. When he heard the familiar voice, his head whipped around. Thoughts in his head began to race. His alternate universe nightmare was coming true. The glowing eyes, the deep voice. He felt his heartrate increase as their eyes met. “What do you want?”
Mark should have been offended by Cisco’s rough treatment but it was more laughable and he couldn’t helped but be amused. For a moment he missed Clyde so deeply. He forced all thoughts of him away and focused on what was going on. “Neurotoxins? What the hell has Snart gotten into? He wanted to meet up and I get to his place and he’s gone and it looks like his sister has been kidnapped. Gold all over the alley says she put up a fight. I owe him so I’m here to help. And don’t get sassy with me Kid, I will kick your ass.”
“Dude. You’re in my territory now. Don’t tell me what to do.” He quipped, giving Mark a dirty look. “Someone kidnapped Lisa, and I know where they took her. I just need to get Len back on his feet so we can go get her.” Cisco took a step closer to the man on the table and brought his finger’s to the man’s neck, checking for a steady pulse.
Cisco backup 