Chapter 8 : Contact
The business card sat on my kitchen counter for six days.
Dr. Caitlin Snow. STAR Labs. A phone number I hadn't called and an email I hadn't used. The temptation to reach out pulled at me constantly—the system's objectives aligned too perfectly with my desires, and waiting felt like wasted time.
But rushing would destroy everything.
Caitlin was perceptive. That moment in the coffee shop—when I'd apologized too quickly for touching a nerve—she'd noticed. Filed it away. A man who reads emotions that fast is either empathetic or calculating, and calculating people were exactly what someone working with the Flash would watch for.
I needed to be patient. Let her come to me. Or create another "coincidence" natural enough to avoid suspicion.
The week passed productively.
My sync rate improved with daily training—thirty percent, thirty-two, thirty-five. The strength enhancement responded to focused practice, becoming more reliable with each session. I crushed fewer objects by accident. The gym workouts drew less attention as I learned to calibrate my lifts.
The hunger remained constant. Six meals a day minimum. More when I trained hard. The power burned through calories like a furnace consuming coal.
[SYNC RATE: 35%] [ACCIDENTAL ACTIVATION RISK: REDUCED]
Progress. Slow but measurable.
Between training sessions, I scouted new targets.
The Diamond District had attracted an interesting player. Street name "Shimmer"—some kind of light manipulation that let her bypass security systems. She'd hit three jewelry stores in ten days, never taking more than she could carry, never hurting staff or customers. A professional with standards.
I observed her third job from a rooftop across the street. Watched her simply... walk through a wall of laser grid sensors. The beams bent around her like water flowing around a stone.
[METAHUMAN DETECTED: DESIGNATION "SHIMMER"] [ABILITY: LIGHT/PHASE MANIPULATION — ESTIMATED D-TIER] [EXTRACTION COMPATIBILITY: LOW — COMPLEX ABILITY STRUCTURE]
Not a good second target. The system's warning about complexity made sense—phasing abilities probably required precise control from the start. At my current extraction level, I'd likely get partial results with higher risk.
I filed Shimmer away for later and expanded my search.
Another enforcer worked the Glades, running numbers for a bookie operation. Enhanced reflexes, from what I could tell—he caught a thrown bottle from behind without looking. But his organization had connections to bigger players, and extracting from him would create ripples I couldn't predict.
Neither target was worth compromising the STAR Labs approach.
I waited.
Day nineteen.
Jitters. 6:12 PM. I arrived early, claimed the counter seat with a clear sightline to the window tables.
Caitlin walked in at 6:15. Scanned the room. Found me.
She waved.
Not the cautious acknowledgment of a stranger—an actual wave, accompanied by a small smile. Recognition. The beginning of familiarity.
I raised my coffee cup in response and gestured to the empty chair across from me.
She crossed the room and sat without hesitation.
"You didn't call," I said.
"I've been busy." She set her bag down, ordered her usual from the passing barista who apparently knew her schedule. "Lab work doesn't follow regular hours."
"I remember that from my hospital stay. Doctors appearing at three AM to check vitals like sleep doesn't exist."
"You were hospitalized?"
The question was casual, but her eyes sharpened. I'd revealed something.
"Nine months." I kept my tone light. "Coma. The particle accelerator explosion caught me at exactly the wrong angle. Woke up in February, spent most of my time since then relearning how to be a person."
Understanding softened her expression. Shared trauma—or close enough.
"That must have been difficult. The adjustment."
"Has its moments." I shrugged. "But I'm here, drinking mediocre coffee, so I can't complain too much."
"The coffee's not mediocre."
"You're right. It's aggressively average. The kind of average that takes real commitment to achieve."
She laughed. That same surprised sound from last week, pulled from somewhere beneath the armor. I'd made her laugh again.
Something warm spread through my chest. I ignored it.
"What about you?" I asked. "Still buried in work?"
"Always." She accepted her chai latte from the barista with a murmured thanks. "The lab's been... challenging lately. New developments that require a lot of attention."
"The metahuman situation?"
"Among other things." She watched me over the rim of her cup. Testing. "You mentioned security consulting. Do you follow the meta-powered activity in the city?"
"Hard not to. My clients certainly do." I leaned back in my chair, projecting casual interest. "Insurance companies are terrified. Can't exactly write policies for 'what if a guy who shoots fire accidentally burns down your warehouse.'"
"That's actually happened."
"I believe it. Central City's become a very interesting place since the accelerator." I paused, considering my next words carefully. "STAR Labs must be at the center of a lot of that. Understanding what happened, why some people changed."
"We're trying." Her voice carried weight. Pride mixed with exhaustion. "It's complicated science. Most of what we learn raises more questions than it answers."
"That's how research usually works, isn't it? The more you know, the more you realize you don't know."
She studied me for a long moment. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it—or at least not find whatever would make her pull away.
"You know, we could actually use outside perspective sometimes."
My pulse quickened. I kept my face neutral.
"On security?"
"On everything. The lab's been operating in a bubble since the explosion. Everyone inside knows too much about the situation. Fresh eyes might see things we're missing."
"That's... an interesting offer."
"It's not an offer yet." She smiled slightly. "More like thinking out loud. We're having a small gathering tomorrow. Technical demonstration for some potential consultants we're vetting. If you're interested in metahuman security from a professional standpoint..."
She let the invitation hang.
I pretended to consider it. The pause needed to feel thoughtful, not eager.
"I'd be honored to attend. Professional curiosity, if nothing else."
"Good." She pulled a pen from her bag and wrote an address on a napkin—as if I didn't already know exactly where STAR Labs was located. "Tomorrow. Six PM. It's not formal, but maybe leave the gym clothes at home."
"I'll try to look presentable."
We talked for another hour. Easier now, with the invitation extending between us like a bridge. She told me about her research in general terms—cellular biology, meta-gene expression, the science of impossible people. I told her about my pre-coma work—security assessments, threat modeling, the psychology of vulnerability.
Neither of us mentioned Ronnie. Neither of us mentioned the particle accelerator directly. Some wounds didn't need reopening.
At 7:45, she checked her watch and gathered her things.
"Tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow." I stood as she did. "Thank you, Caitlin. For the invitation and the company."
She paused at the edge of the table. Something in her expression shifted—a crack in the armor, quickly repaired.
"I don't usually... talk to people. Outside of work. It's been nice having someone who isn't trying to understand my research or asking about the Flash."
The Flash. She mentioned him casually, like common knowledge.
"The Flash seems to be handling things well enough without my input," I said. "I'm more interested in the science. And the coffee rating system I'm developing."
"You're rating the coffee?"
"Every cup. This one's a 6.5—improvement from last week. Apparently Wednesdays have better beans."
She laughed again. The third time. I was keeping count.
"Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Caitlin."
She walked out into the evening crowd. Didn't look back this time—but her posture was different. Lighter. Less burdened.
I watched her disappear around the corner, then finished my coffee in three long swallows.
Tomorrow I would walk into STAR Labs for the first time. Meet the team that supported the Flash. Begin the infiltration that would give me access to everything this city had to offer.
The system pulsed with something that might have been approval.
[OBJECTIVE PROGRESS: STAR LABS ACCESS IMMINENT]
But for a moment—just a moment—I wasn't thinking about objectives or extractions or power accumulation.
I was thinking about her laugh.
That's dangerous, I reminded myself.
The thought didn't help as much as it should have.
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