neighbors | barry allen//the flash

ten | incredible

Clara didn't leave her apartment Sunday until almost seven in the evening. She didn't even roll out of bed until two in the afternoon. The only reason she woke up at all was because she picked up an extra shift at Big Belly Burger that night. While Andrew held the promise of being debt-free in front of her, she had no idea when she would actually see that money, and she needed to pay rent this month. So after she finally had her multiple cups of coffee, she sat down at the tiny desk she had set up in her living room, pulled out her laptop, and began searching. 

Articles concerning the Flash dated back to just a little under a year, and there seemed to be thousands. In the beginning, he seemed to go by the Streak. Clara chuckled at that one. It would really be unfortunate to be a superhero, capable of things no one else was, and be called the Streak. Clara half-heartedly searched for an article describing the Flash running around naked, to see if he had actually deserved the name the Streak, or if someone just hadn't really thought that name through all the way. After about ten minutes, she sighed and determined the latter case was the truth, and she returned to her more serious search. 

The Flash had been very busy in his months as a superhero. His main concern seemed to be metahumans, as he took a lot of those out. This was quite understandable, as really, it seemed a police force with only normal human wasn't really capable of handling bad guys with powers. The Flash, however, seemed to save the day any other chance he could as well. 

Clara began recording information about every person he saved. She mapped out where they lived, worked, and where they were saved. She compiled a list of ages of those whose lives he had affected. She even tried recording things like race, hair color, gender. In the end, her head just hurt. Everything about those that he saved was so statistically random. Literally any one person in this city had the same exact chance of being the next person saved by the Flash.

There was no pattern to his appearances at all. He saved anyone and everyone: old or young, man or woman, tall or short, rich or poor, African American or Asian. At least he wasn't some superhero that only concerned himself with saving the rich white people, or some vigilante that pulled some Robin Hood shit and "stole from the rich to give to the poor." As far as superheroes went, the Flash was golden. 

However, his grand attempt to save everyone made it very hard to figure out who exactly he was. He never left any kind of pattern or trail to chase that would lead to some kind of clue. He didn't seem to save a lot of people that knew each other on multiple occasions. He saved people from all over the city that worked for almost every company present, giving no indication as to maybe where he lived or worked. He seemed to save people at all times of the day. Clara seriously began to wonder if this guy had a life outside of being a superhero. Maybe he didn't have friends he had to save, so he saved everyone equally. 

Hours later, Clara exhaled in defeat and threw herself on her couch. Her thoughts drifted to the night at the bank. It had been dark in the room where she had been held hostage, but he seemed to almost glow with energy, crackle with electricity. As he ran around, knocking out the robbers down, a trail of yellow light followed him. The seconds she had spent in his arms while he rushed her outside the building had passed too quickly for her to really remember anything accurate. But she did remember how warm and solid he felt when she hugged him. 

She frowned slightly when she remembered how he blurred his face and voice when talking to her. Clearly, he was trying hard to keep his identity unknown. She was going to help him, though. At least, that's what she was what she kept trying to convince herself as she drifted off into unconsciousness. She seemed to drift between worlds, unaware of time and space, until suddenly, her walls seemed to shake and she heard a loud swoosh sound that seemed to be coming from Barry's apartment. She frowned, now fully aware that it was 6:30pm, she hadn't gotten dressed yet, and her shift started in thirty minutes.