Running Over Water

[7 - Poker Face]

Percy

Out of absolutely nowhere, I remembered Barry was a CSI. But I thought to realize how hard it must be to have two jobs that have a somewhat connection to criminals. Obviously, I had assumed that like most mortals, he would have a normal job that didn't include monster-fighting and quests, but being a CSI? He's a vigilante and he works in the police force? That's quite concerning. How does he manage to do both? Before I could wonder more on that question, another piercing (and frankly annoying) alarm rang through the room.

I immediately covered my ears, doing my best to protect myself from the noise. Why did they have to make the alarm so dam loud?

"What is that noise?" Annabeth yelled, covering her ears as well.

"That would be our crime-alarm once again," Cisco yelled back, running to the computers. "Central City Bank on Park Ave is being hit by Snart, and our facial recognition is saying that he's accompanied by an old partner of his, a guy named Mick Rory."

"Who?" Annabeth and I asked in unison.

"They're just some really annoying thieves," Caitlin shouted while she ran to another computer and started tapping away at it. These people really loved their computers. After she typed on her computer, the alarm stopped. Yet the ringing still echoed in my ears.

Barry grumbled at that.

"Yeah, genius thieves who have outsmarted me in the past. Anyways, you ready Percy?" he asked, zipping over to his armor stand (can you call a stand for spandex an armor stand?) and put his suit on.

"Wait, I need to hide my ident-" I was interrupted by Barry whooshing around the room, before feeling a hoodie and mask placed over my head, "-ity. Also, why do you have a mask and hoodie my size?"

"I have a friend who uses these. I'm like sixty percent sure he won't mind sharing," he replies. That makes me wonder who this friend of his could be.

"Sixty percent?" I ask uncertainly, "He's not going to, you know, kill me or anything, right?"

"Well. . ." started Barry, causing me to groan internally. Dr. Wells chose that moment to speak up, "Now's not the time, go stop them and then you can argue over Percy's possible death."

Before I could retort about not having a death wish, Barry grabbed me and, in a flash, brought me to the intersection near the said bank. I realized something was missing. After a few seconds, I noticed that Annabeth wasn't with us.

"Why did you not bring Annabeth?" I asked Barry, confused as to why he chose to leave her behind.

"She doesn't have powers, and the people we're fighting are dangerous. I've fought them before and we can't risk it," He responded, presumably looking around for the men named Snart and Mick Rory.

"You really should head back and get Annabeth, she may not have powers, but she can still fight really well," I protest.

"Yeah, well, too late, look," he said, pointing behind me. I wanted to tell him that in his terms, there can never be a "too late." But I needed to focus at the task at hand.

I turned around and saw two people. The thinner one was dressed in a thick winter coat, as if he was living in Alaska. He carried a rucksack filled to the brim with what I assumed was cash over his shoulder and a gun with glowing blue highlights. The bigger one had more muscle, as if he regularly worked out at the gym. He was wearing a thinner green jacket that I imagine the military uses. He also carried a rucksack and a gun, but his weapon had an aura of red rather than blue. I resisted the urge to scoff at their ridiculous fashion sense.

But I was questioning their choice of weaponry. The guns they held looked so advanced and upgraded. I knew it did just more than shoot bullets. But Barry barely had time to tell me anything about these guys.