archimedes |b. allen|

stranger

stranger

Fuck. Okay.

This was it. I was here.

Now it was time to get to work.

Wells had briefed me on as much as he could, given me as much information and material as he could, and toward the end, simply tried his best to prepare me considering he was locked in the pipeline for stealing Barry's speed and giving it to Zoom.

He really wasn't doing his part to make our partnership worthwhile.

But I kept reminding myself I'd have a cure by the end of this. So maybe I shouldn't be bitching.

The only thing I had to go off of was Wells' hunch that Zoom was hiding out on the outskirts of town, considering he'd never been able to locate him in the city. And then he had gifted me a prototype of something he had been rolling out on this Earth: a watch that alerted when a metahuman was within twenty feet of you. The only caveat was that I was a metahuman, so the damn thing was damn near defective. It was constantly, steadily going off at a gentle level.

He tried! I guess!

(I currently had the thing on vibrate.)

This world was weird. Because even though it was overcast, the whole world seemed to glitter. Everyone was dressed up (in my opinion, at least). It had the same kind of feel as the forties or fifties. Everyone looked so formal in their casual attire, everything looked so vintage. Even the hairstyles, with pins and large curls, were reminiscent of another time. Maybe fashion and culture wasn't what they were focused on advancing, like my world was. And I think I was sticking out like a sore thumb.

Here I was in dark jeans, a black tank, with a navy flannel thrown over the top. The brown satchel bouncing on my hip was filled with throwing knives, a gatorade, an old hoodie, and my iPod from high school.

What more could a girl need?

The city streets are bustling as I try to make it to the edge of town. My plan was to start from the outside and work my way in, searching any building I came across for signs of Zoom. But damn, I really didn't know exactly what I was looking for. Surely, I'd find a girl who vaguely resembles Wells tied up in one of them, and that'd be enough.

I do my best to keep my head down, while also keeping my head on a swivel. Central City was reminding me a lot more of New York here. Everything was just so much more alive.

I was finding it hard to believe I was still in the midwest.

As my eyes are flitting to every corner around me, worried I'll run into some unfriendly people in this foreign city, someone collides with my chest. I'm knocked right on my ass, my bag spilling open, and a few of my knives as well as my iPod clattering onto the sidewalk.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I'm late for work, and I—I wasn't looking where I was going. Here, let me—" the man ceases his rambling as I scramble to put the knives back in my bag as quickly as possible before he sees.

His hand grabs mine by accident, as he reaches for my last knife that I had grasped first, and it's then that I realize I know that voice.

"Sam?"

My breath hitches in my throat as my eyes raise to lock onto a steely blue pair. My chest goes cold, and I can't stop it as his name falls from my lips, barely audible, but it's obvious he heard me.

"Barry."

His eyes, now behind thin framed glasses, widen, and he looks pale, like he's seen a ghost as we both stand, him guiding me back up, though he stumbles on his feet as he reaches his full height. I'm hurriedly closing my bag, eyes unable to leave his body. He's dressed in a way I've never seen: sweater vest, bow tie, dress pants. And his hair's gelled back in a way I'd only seen him do for formal occasions, not just on his way to work.