Be There In a Flash (Speedster Male Reader)

Being a Hero Isn't Easy

What's this? Another chapter? Why yes, it is.

Disclaimer: Now everybody. As I've said before, and I'll continue to say. I don't own RWBY or the Flash.

Y/n Pov:

It's been weeks since I fought Thawne. In that time, I realized it'd be more trouble than it's worth if I hacked the Atlesian Military's servers. So I had to start from scratch when it came to my goggles. But now that I can summon my suit whenever I need it, I didn't have to worry about tech being able to shrink down into a ring when I made my new goggles. I don't need to have them shrink down. So I added more features than I could have with my old goggles. And I made a pair of earbuds that are hooked up to a communication system I made. It lets me hear police, firefighter, and paramedic communications and allows me to talk back. I haven't used that feature yet.

I can listen to what's going in Vale, be it a car crash I wouldn't know about because I'm on the other side of the city, a hostage situation, an apartment fire. And the cherry on top is that I hooked it up to the new scroll Ozpin gave me. I can't be there for everything, but for what I can, I will. My scroll buzzes. I put in an earbud and start listening. "Attention all nearby units, we have officers under fire on 7th and Green, proceed with caution," I hear. I get into my suit and start racing over to the shoot-out. The HUD I have in my new goggles shows that a fire is happening on 12th Street. I decide to head to the shoot-out first. It's on the way to the fire. I get there in seconds and see cops taking cover behind their cars and firing at some of the most basic-looking gang members I've ever seen. Maybe I've been around super-criminals and their henchpeople too much? Anyway, I knock them out and leave them for the cops to pick up. I also grab any bullets flying through the air and set them on the ground.

'Now about that fire.' I speed over to where it's happening and get people out as safely as I can. Until I see a raging inferno in what's left of the fifth floor and hear several more people than I can carry out and drop off in time without making the flames worse. "Somebody help!" I hear followed by more people screaming. I spread out my arms and plant my feet, phasing my boots' soles into the floor for good measure, and start spinning my arms fast enough to create a vacuum to kill the flames. Once the flames are gone, I get everyone out of the building just before it collapses from the damage the fire caused. I don't need to look behind me to see the sadness of the people who lived here. I feel it, this was their home, and now it's nothing but a pile of rubble. I take a deep breath and prepare to do something illegal because of a lack of funds, but morally sound. I race to the library and read all the modern construction textbooks I can find. Once I'm done, I gather all the materials and start building once I clear the debris. To them, it's done in seconds, to me, a hell of a lot longer. But, doing good, it's worth feeling time slow to a crawl and having to wait for it to catch up before I can talk to someone. When I stop racing around, I turn and see the shocked faces of firefighters and civilians.

"So, how'd I do?" I ask once I see them moving in real-time.

"How?" I hear a firefighter ask.

"Why?" I hear from one of the old building's residents.

"How?" I ask with a small laugh. "Well, because I'm the fastest man alive, that's how. As for why I rebuilt the place, well, it was the right thing to do." I get a notification on my HUD, "I better get going. There's been a car crash on the other side of town," I say before racing to the crash site. When I get there, I see a wreck. One car is upside down with people struggling to crawl out of it, blood streaming from the sides of their heads, mouths, or noses. Another car is smashed into a light post, the airbags thankfully deployed. I check on car number two, starting with the driver, a man in his mid-thirties wearing a wedding ring. I move his head to the side to check for a pulse, but it moves too freely. I check for a pulse anyway, begging to whatever higher power there is that I'm wrong. I can't find one, not even after checking on the other side of his neck and his wrists. I arc some lightning between my fingers and bring them close to his eyes. His pupils don't dilate. This man is dead, and not a thing I can do to change that. I look around and see a woman in her early to mid-thirties wearing a matching wedding ring in the passenger seat and a kid, a seven-year-old girl, in the back seat. I feel tears burning my eyes like they're about to light on fire.