ofbarryallen

          “Happy Birthday to me.”

          The half-whispered song echoed over the empty rooftops of a midnight-am New York. The exhausted words drifted from a shadowed figure, crouched on the molded, stone edge while white lensed eyes looked out over the city that never shuts up. He was in a vantage crouch, but the small boxed cupcake next to him said he had been here for a while. He had spend the past few hours cycling the police radios and whatever actual entertaining frequencies he could pick up. No one told him Hawthorne Heights was going to be in town. Then again, he’d still be having half a mind on patrol if he was going to treat himself to a concert night. He hadn’t been to one in so long, maybe he should take a break…

          Something shifted in his field of vision. Without hesitation, and in one near fluid motion, he got to his feet and flung three circular ‘rangs towards the possible assailant of his quiet time. Way to shoot first and ask questions later, Drake. 

          “Who the Hell’s there?” He grumbled, a snarl creeping onto his face. Sleep deprived, very low on coffee, and having an existential crisis all because of aging up one more year. Good grief, just be gentle. 

“Exactly, a gas release happened recently, and now this,” luckily they had heroes, he didn’t want to even think about what would happen to the city if that wasn’t the case. “Yeah, it was why I was out of the city, I needed a break,” he felt guilty about it, he should have been there, he should be helping since the beginning, but he wasn’t, the city needed him, and he wasn’t there.

What a great time to go back to NYC, in the middle of the chaos, he took a vacation, and when he decided to go back, the city was a complete chaos, not that he would have stayed in London if he knew, because if anything, he would go there earlier. He knew the city needed as many heroes as possible at that moment, and he was willing to help. The prison break out was probably on TV, but he was avoiding watching it, and just focusing on relaxing a little, he needed it, as he never got time for that, it was why, he just found out how things were after he set his foot back in the city. “Gosh, this city never catches a break, there’s always something happening,” Peter said it out loud, but not really to anyone in particular, just to himself.

looking at some old newspaper she got on the library 42 sat on the coffee shop and started to read some of the articles on the heroes and villains trying to understand if heroes were good or bad for the city, for what she undertood they were good because they stop the bad guys however it did seemed like with more heroes around the city more bad guys and more destruction always followed. “What you thing about having all these heroes around?” She asked to the person sitting next to her

Eve turned to him, and patted his arm softly. “I hope you are successful also,” she said quietly. She knew how it felt to fail, to let down the people who were depending on you. She had struggled to protect just one. He was trying to help so many more. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. The Flash,” she said softly. “I think I will be going home now.” 

“What was the wall made of?” Alfred was genuinely intrigued, he’d been present at many of the conversations Bruce had had in the cave about the probability of phasing, and the science behind it and now, faced with the possibility that it could happen, this could be a major step in human body modification.

“The Flash,” Eve echoed slowly. “That is a very good name.” She glanced up until her eyes met his. “Are you succeeding?” she asked. “It seems to me that this city is in a great deal of need.”

@ofbarryallen

What Wanda saw, she thought it was a trick of the light at first. She saw something –someone running faster than humanly possible. Pietro fast. And for a moment, there was a hope in her heart that in this universe, she had died and he had lived. Wanda flew after the streak of light, and when the figure stopped, she landed behind him, dirt scattering as she settled on the ground. “Pietro—” Wanda took an eager step towards the man dressed in red before she realized that this wasn’t her brother but another speedster. Wanda tipped her head to the side and continued her approach. “Who are you?”

If Grant Ward weren’t particularly calculated, the first thing he would have done when he regained consciousness would have been to find Phil Coulson and kill him. When he first woke up, it was all he could remember. The feel of his mechanical hand pressing on his rib cage, the panic that set in as he lost his breath, and then nothing. He knew better, though, and that was why he was planning the entire ruse. If there were any hopes for him truly redeeming himself, they’d been sent out the window a long, long time ago. Revenge was sweeter when it was least expected and he’d get his revenge. Ward was sure of that. 

Once he was sure the plan was foolproof, he set foot in New York. This seemed to be where everyone was residing now, lucky for him. Grant sat at the bar, eyes flickering between Hydra’s latest target and the beer in front of him. His attention flickered to whomever sat down beside him and he apologized politely, “Sorry, didn’t see you there. Buy you a drink to make up for it?” 

Getting up and walking around wasn’t exactly the best of ideas. Especially with everything going on, but he was beginning to feel a little crazy pent up in one place and with Sofia off doing- whatever it was she was doing. And Ecco off on an errand, he was alone to do whatever he pleased. And he wanted to go outside. 

Now, he was sat on a bench. Not too far from his townhouse. Sunglasses hiding his eyes, his hat on and blocking the view of his face as he glanced down. The streets weren’t exactly safe after what happened with the Raft and then with Arkham, but that hardly mattered to him. He was taking a short walk and getting a little air. Only stopping for a break when it had become too much for him. 

Hearing someone on the bench beside him, he glanced up at them. “You know…” Jeremiah said with a small smile. “It’s really not as safe as it used to be.”

“Is it to do with a lady?” Alfred sighed shaking his head. “I still can’t fathom how you heroes happily throw yourself into burning buildings and intergalactic fisticuffs but when it comes to telling someone your true feelings you suddenly become so shy. You’re willing to be seen in that skin tight red number, you of all people should have nothing to fear.”

“I hope you are not a bad person too,” Eve said quietly. She took a long look at him. “Your costume is very impressive,” she murmured. “Are you one of the heroes of the city? A person who likes to fix things?”

“Help with what?” Nobody wanted help from Bruce, he was generally a last resort, owing to his incredibly bad way with people and being oddly scary for a guy in a cape.  Alfred could only ponder what Barry needed help with, but if he came to the Mansion and not some kind of super HQ it must have been a pressing matter.

Eve jumped a little at the sudden voice, turning cautiously towards the man. “You are not one of those bad people, are you?” she asked, withdrawing from him. She shook her head. “How could someone like to break things? That does not make sense.” 

Alfred felt a whoosh of air go past him and before a word was spoken, knew exactly who was there. “Mr Allen as I live and breathe. Bruce isn’t here right now, he’s in New York, did you need something?” As fast as he was, Alfred knew Barry took a long time to get to his point, his ability to pay attention to something was oddly hard.