The library being closed on Sundays, Mallory found herself stealing Internet from the pizza place so she could get her latest batch of work done. It wasn't her preferred place as there was usually more people than made her comfortable but there was pizza. That at least made the indie folk soundtrack they insisted on playing bearable.

She had taken over a corner table for a number of reasons, mainly it was near an outlet, she had her back to the wall and no one tried to crowd her. It made getting through quantitative physics much easier when she could concentrate on it. And it helped that she liked the work. It was only an intro class but it was still a lot easier for her to understand than English.

She eyed the book she still needed to read with disdain. Trying to get through Jane Eyre had been causing her all sorts of misery. She had barely survived Madame Bovary. Everything was just so dry and the teacher wanted some sort of compare and contrast essay. But every time she picked up the book all she could do was compare herself to Jane and think she was nothing but whiny and ridiculous.

She picked up the book with a heavy sigh. She was going to have to read it anyway. First person narrative was making her head hurt. Pizza. She needed brain food and a coke.

“I'll deal with you and your crazy ass fantasies in a minute.” she put the book down and went to go order more another slice.

Tags: Walter West

Two full-time jobs, Walter thought as he blew through the doors of Central Slices, And neither one of them gives Sundays off.

The local patrons of the pizzeria erupted into the usual lovefest when they saw their city's protector take his position of honor in front of the register. Walt smiled, flashed a piece sign, and waited for the tastefully brief round of applause to cease before ordering. 

"Just the one for today, Lisa. Pineapple and ham should do me fine. Take your time, I don't expect my next bank robbery until at least four-thirty." The girl behind the register smiled and snickered at the joke, and after placing his order first on the chef's line, they settled into the usual pleasant small talk; her schoolwork, his recent gallivanting through time, new toppings.

"So, yeah, I don't know if you heard, but my friend exploded-" Walt was cut off by the perfunctory "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" from Lisa, but he quickly recovered the conversation's lighthearted pace.

"No, it's fine, she's back now!" Walt smiled, waving his hands apologetically. "She's back now, this kinda thing happens all the time. Yeah, but, so the other day, my boy GL and I-" Lisa giggled again at his choice of words- "We went back in time, we thought we were pretty slick, y'know, because-" Walt paused.

"Well, I'll be damned." The girl who, along with the Red Hood, had robbed (with his conditional consent) an armored escort, stood beside a corner booth. The one who somewhat explicitly expressed her urge to, if not kill him, then at least freeze him solid. The same girl who, apart from hijacking a vehicle filled with valuables bought and paid for by dangerous criminals, had last been seen traveling with a man who by now had earned quite the reputation as a hired gun.

Lucky me, Walt thought. He smiled.

"Pineapple and ham for the Scarlet Speedster!" The chef's grandstanding announcement prompted another round of cheers from the customers. Leaning over the counter, Walt quickly grabbed his pie and stuffed a hundred-dollar bill into the beaming chef's palm with a handshake.

"You're my guy, Lorenzo!" Walt flicked a fraternal finger at the owner of the restaurant before turning 180 degrees to walk a few paces towards the girl, and dropping his voice to a personal volume. 

"D'you like pineapple?" He held the pie out as an offering. "My treat. It's the least I can do to repay you for your graciousness last time. And I'm not here in a law-upholding capacity," Walt's expression turned meek, but still cheerful. "You can totally say no and not go to jail."

Mallory stopped dead in her tracks and just stared. She was so hungry she was hallucinating, right? Or maybe she had been stuck in the books too long. Everyone else in the place seemed to be happy to see Central City's favorite hero. She was...less excited. But she wasn't breaking any laws, so he couldn't really toss her in jail. She looked back at her table and her boring literature homework she had been neglecting and sighed. Maybe he wouldn't notice her or wouldn't recognize her. Everyone else seemed rather enraptured with his story.

She found herself listening to it, only slightly interested. She hadn't really seen him since her little heist. he seemed to have had a busy schedule. She'd heard about Captain Marvel putting on a fireworks show in New York, Aaron wouldn't shut up about it, said it was rude. They were considered "bad guys" but there were lines that shouldn't be crossed.

This is ridiculous. Leave now, while everyone's attention is focused on the guy wearing the bright red suit. You'd think he was Santa Claus or something. She shoved her money back in her pocket and was about to turn around and leave when- "Busted."

She looked at the pizza discerningly, trying not to show that yes, she did like pineapple and she was hungry. She looked back up at him for a moment before snagging a slice and taking a bite. She jerked her head toward her booth and walked back, speaking between bites. "Well we are both without our sidekicks today. And you don't have an appointment anywhere until 4:30. Might as well sit down, Sassypants," she said as she slid back into the booth.

Walt smiled, bemused at first as the girl tried to hide her pizza-envy from him, then explicitly pleased at she nonchalantly led him to her table.

"Might as well. Can't rely on criminals to keep their appointments nowadays, anyway. You being the exception, of course," Walt finished with genuine appreciation.

Good thing I came in uniform, he thought. Definitely would've blown my cover, if not. 

Would that've been so bad? He countered himself, and kept smiling, considering the question semi-seriously.

As he slid into the booth across from her, he balanced the pizza on the wire riser at the end of the table. Turning his attention to the literature strewn across the surface, Walt acknowledged the scattered schoolwork. "So this is what you do when you're not... uh, shopping?" Walt nodded, encouraged. "I approve! Not of this, specifically, obviously," Walt lifted the Charlotte Bronte novel off the table.

"I hated reading this. Worst four seconds of my life. But, silver lining, it means you don't have to worry much for the midterms." Walt took a piece of pizza, leaning back away from the book and swallowing the slice at a slightly-less-offputting speed than normal.

"So what's new with you..." Walt's expression froze.

"I don't know your name. I guess that comes with the territory, doesn't it?"

Why even ask? Walt thought, somewhat disappointed. Would you tell her yours?

Depends on how she justifies the Bronte. He grinned.

This was, by far, one of the strangest days Mal had ever had. She still was half convinced it was a dream of some sort, waiting for something to happen, the other shoe to drop or something to explode. Or for Aaron to jump out and say “Gotcha!” But conversation continued like normal. Well, normal-ish. He was still wearing a mask and was still a weirdo with powers who had a penchant for thievery. Not really a lot of normal there.

This is insane. she thought. Aaron’s gonna laugh at you. Or call you crazy. Or laugh at you and call you crazy. But she closed her laptop and pushed it aside so there was more room at the table, and less things she could hide behind. She thought of it as a test of her control, checking outside every once and awhile to make sure the weather didn’t go as crazy as she was feeling.

“It’s…something I recently started doing. Apparently supervillainy will not pay the bills forever. I was told to have a backup plan.” She watched Flash pick up the laborious novel with distain and cracked a small grin.

“Yeah, well, some of us can’t read that fast. It’s been like four days and I can’t get through it. Mainly because it’s not science. Or science fiction. Bu-u-u-u-t if you wanna write my essay and put me out of my misery, I may owe you a small favor. One. Tiny. Super small.” She held up her thumb and forefinger making the smallest gap she could before snagging another piece of pizza. She wondered, briefly how fast his metabolism went through all those calories and how many he’d need to stay active. But she’d already finished her quantitative physics homework and she doubted the teacher would allow that kind of extra credit.

“Ah. My name. I guess we’re even there.” She debated for a moment, briefly, on whether to give him a break or make him work for it. He gave you pizza.

He also gives me a headache when he is in law-upholding capacity.

“It’s Mallory. Mallory Marden. And yes, I am related to that Marden. He is my father. In a purely biological sense. But as you can see, supervillainy runs in the family.”

"Yeah, that's true. I ever lose my touch, you may see me tossin' dough behind that counter."

He wriggled imperceptibly with self-satisfaction when he saw the girl grin at his joke, and he grabbed a pen and paper from the stack of materials from the corner of the table. "Deal."

Then a hundred instincts affected Walt at once when he heard her speak her name. He ignored a rough seventy percent of them, but the remaining thirty still almost gave him a heart attack.

You knew it couldn't be a coincidence. Not in this city.

Followed closely by:

"Mallory.", and a sense of warmth.

While he inwardly negotiated his reaction, his facial expression remained pleasant and attentive. When Mallory alluded to her strained relationship with her father, Walt held two hands in front of his chest in a gesture of innocence.

"Loud and clear. We are our parents' children. Although it seems to me that the apple fell pretty far from the tree, in your case. I hope you don't mind me saying so."

Walt took another slice.

"Not that, y'know, you couldn't excel in his line of work. Especially now that you've got me under your thumb." Walt gestured to himself and smiled coyly.

Glancing outside, he noticed the sun breaking through the skyline and streaming through the window, and his smile widened. Gesturing to the pool of sunlight gathering at the base of the glass doors, Walt spoke.

"Lovely day. How much did you have to do with that?"

How much did I? , he thought.

Mallory knew the kind of knee-jerk reaction her last name got out of most people, she was used to the surprise, followed by a distrust of her as a whole even as they tried to hide it. She usually shrugged it off, not really caring, or used it to her advantage when she thought she could get away with it. This time was quite different. Though she feigned indifference at his initial reaction, she did try and watch it under the guise of grabbing a napkin. He was, it seemed, irritatingly unaffected.

"Well, if you're saying I could excel at being a homicidal maniac, yeah that's true. But I actively try not to kill people. Not usually what I'm after anyway, and when I make plans I try to avoid it. It's messy and causes more problems, like you becoming a bigger pain in my ass." She gave him a sarcastic smile as she leaned back in the booth, trying to avoid being annoyed at the stares she was getting from the other patrons and staff. That bright red suit did attract a lot of attention, but so did the words "homicidal maniac".

I better still be able to come back here for pizza.

Looking over at the sun shining through the windows, marking it as another perfect day in Central City, Mallory shook her head at his question. "Not a whole lot. I've been...trying to keep a handle on things. It'd be bad for everyone if I had a bad day or was PMSing and caused a natural disaster. Something about needing to be responsible with all this power." She tried making light of the possible devastating consequences that came with her powers. But she knew exactly what she was capable of, and sometimes it scared even her.

Walt made to intercept the remark about becoming a murderer, but then Mallory ended on a smile and a more interesting segue, which he received with a grin.

"What, me?! A pain-" Walt shook his head with mock sorrow. "Outrageous. In any case, I applaud your sense of criminal nobility. What's a little grand larceny between friends, anyway?" 

Anticipating her response, Walt responded to his own misstep.

"A bit of a jump, I know. But, y'know, with friends like these..." Walt abandoned the cliche smoothly and looked up at Mal across the table. "... We could achieve some truly memorable shenanigans, you know what I mean? I mean," Walt exhaled sharply, holding his hands up to convey that he was impressed. "I've seen what you can do, and I can't say I wasn't taken aback. And I have seen things." He indulged this final line with comic seriousness.

Next he attempted sincerity, and found that it came with surprising ease.

"Listen. You have power, and that complicates things. No doubt. All I mean to say is that you can really be something special. And I'm not just talking "rich and famous", either. You could change things." He tried to keep his tone light so as not to seem grandiose, but as he spoke, he found himself wondering what exactly she was capable of.

"It's certainly something I'd like to see."

Mallory's eye brow rose questioningly at his mention of friends. That really wasn't the word she would use. "Friendly"? Maybe, on a good day. Today, she supposed, could count as a good day. She tilted her head a bit, resting it in the palm of her hand as she gave him a slightly amused half smile.

"But, y'know, with friends like these..."who needs anemones? God, I’ve got to stop watching Disney movies with Aaron when he’s drunk.

I need more friends.

...not him. Could be? Maybe. How the hell would that even work?! This conversation is already massively complicated and now he wants to be “friends”

You just said you needed more of them.

Dear god, am I in the twilight zone? Just roll with it, Mal. Your life is one giant twilight zone episode.

Oh crap he's talking...

Mal grabbed at her almost empty soda to to hide her inattention, sucking down the fizzy drink as she watched him shift, ever so subtly into something more serious and sincere. Could have been the way he held him self or how he was looking at her, even through the mask, but she could tell he was genuinely trying to talk to her about something other than surface level banalities.

She sat back, nodding her head slowly along with his suggestion to "change things". She had thought about it, once, back when she fist got free of her dad but it never went anywhere. Too many variables. Mal sighed and put the now empty cup back on the table.

"Yeah...well...Nature is fickle. So are people. I go stop a drought somewhere, get blamed for the mudslides that happen. I give people sunshine, they blame me for drought. People want a white Christmas, I get the blame for icy roads. There is no winning. If I try and be a good guy, I'll become a bad guy. So I skipped the whole heel turn and just stuck with my life of crime. That way the only person I have to worry about disappointing is myself."

Before he could stop himself, Walt held a hand over his chest.

"Oh, you're breaking my heart. So here we have a miracle-worker whose hands are tied by her critics." He bore a patient expression, but he revealed his frustrations freely. "Listen, I've been there. One time, I caught a jumper, alright? On principle. It's what you do. The next day, I visit him in the hospital, and his attorney's there. He hands me a restraining order."

Walt leaned back, flipping his hands in a what-can-you-do motion before immediately leaning back in.

"Number one- hilarious. I mean," Walt chuckled and shook his head in fresh disbelief at the memory. "I can't even restrain me. But number two," Walt's tone turned serious again.

"Number two is that some people care less about what you do than about what you could have done. Of course, you don't owe anyone anything, even if they think you do. Your life could be anything: retire. Get a house on the beach. Collect seashells- or whatever you'd do." Walt smiled, regaining the humor in his voice.

"But I've gotta say, I'm not convinced you have a fair idea of just how nice things can be on my side of the line. You might think you've got it made with the occasional diamond heist, but the perks I get?" The Flash gestured around him and grabbed a final slice of pizza.

"People love heroes. And people would love you. The only disappointment you have to worry about is missing out on what you're meant for. And if I haven't made this abundantly clear, there is a place for you."

Walt swallowed the slice, took a short breath, and just looked at Mal for a moment- long enough for his patience ran out.

"Mallory." Walt's grin broke wide once more, giddy at the enterprise he was considering.

"Come on. Please. I'm asking you straight- let me show how this city treats its heroes. And if you don't like it," Walt held his hand up, signifying scout's honor, "It's a freebie from the warden. Hell, I'll even help you lift some poor mobster's stash. Lots of ways to help this town."

Listening to the optimism spewing forth from the man on the other side of the table, a part of Mal wished she think like that. Have that much faith in other people like that. But she didn’t, mainly because no one had ever given her a reason to. Well, ok that wasn't completely true, but she considered Aaron and Owen outliers as they had all kind of banded together in mutual misery.

Her laugh was short and bitter. People love heroes. That was true. ”People love heroes cause they think they'll get something out of it, and then turn on you when you fail. But I admire the optimism. It's kinda refreshing.” she sat back, picking up her books and starting to put them away. She put the strap over her head and crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table. He was right about one thing, she didn’t owe the world a thing.

She matched his stare, having an infinite well of patience to draw from after years of dealing with Aaron’s antics. She figured a speedster wouldn't last long. She was right.

She considered, for a moment, her answer, but she heard the sirens just before she saw the police whiz by, counting three or four cars going somewhere in a hurry. She shrugged and and stood, figuring she had nothing better to do now that he'd done her essay for her.

”Y’know what? Sure. Why not?” she pulled her goggles out of her bag and slipped them onto her head. ”Show me what all this hero business is about, Flash. I suddenly find myself with a free afternoon.”

Walt waited with literal baited breath. When Mal agreed, he allotted himself one miniature Tiger Woods fist pump, and he jumped to his feet. 

"That... is... wonderful. Great choice. Let's right some wrongs." Watching the police cruisers roll past, his expression perked up even more. "Can I give you a lift?" 

He walked outside the establishment with Mal, around the corner of the building, and sped straight up the side of it holding the girl as gently as possible as he could at Mach 1. From there, he peered over at the direction the police were heading, and noticed a familiar warehouse a few dozen blocks away. Nice, he thought semi-ironically. Can always count on these guys for a decent date.

He leaned slightly towards the girl as he pointed. "Don't take my money on this, but I'm guessing my friends over there made it a few blocks from a neighboring gang stash before either their rivals, the boys in blue, or both caught up with them. It happens more than you might think," he finished with a shrug. "Obviously, there are a few moving parts here, but at the very least it's a good introduction to my end of the cops-and-robbers dynamic." He smiled.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'm sure you'd fit right in! I mean, obviously you can handle yourself, and it should go without saying, but I'll have your back. And you'll have mine, right?" He nodded his head once softly, still smiling.

"You wanna drive, or should I?"

Mal let out a strangled cry of surprise as she found herself going up the side of the pizza place in the blink of an eye. She didn't even really have time to register what had happened or that he had touched her until after they had reached the roof. She scurried sideways, away from the Flash as the wind around them kicked up and the sky started to darken, matching her anxiousness and agitation. Gone was the confident, somewhat sarcastic Mal, left in her place was someone who was terrified and fidgeting, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Something you can see, something you can taste, something you can touch and something you can smell, she repeated to herself, grabbing for a roll of half eaten life savers in her pocket, popping one into her mouth and playing with the wrapper a moment. Flash was bright red and kind of hard to ignore so she focused in part on one of his hands as she got herself to calm down. He didn't know. No shoving him off the roof. He'd probably just come back up here anyway, looking all confused and hurt.

"I-I'll drive...and I promise not to hurl you anywhere. Just...I don't do well with touching, and your method of travel would require that. So, I'll fly. I can take you along or you can run. Your choice."

Her heart was still pounding a mile a minute, but the wind was starting to die down as she focused on her breathing. When she had decided to let this be a test of her control, she had not expected it to be such a hard exam.

The weather around them grew violent rapidly, and Walt winced inwardly as he realized his mistake. 

Yeesh, he thought. Strike one. 

"Yeah! No problem. Sorry, I, uh..." He fumbled for words before resetting himself. "I should've asked. Got a little ahead of myself. Not the first time. But I would love to travel by hurricane, or windstorm, or whatever you... do. Is it like a Flying Nimbus situation, or...?" Walt's clumsy embarrassment was quickly replaced by curiosity, so he swiftly finished kicking himself over his misstep to focus on experiencing the novelty of this new method of travel.

So she doesn't like touching. Big deal- not everybody is as used to whiplash as the crowd you run with.

"I mean, feel free to hurl me! I already owe you one, and it's not like you couldn't pass it off as an accident." He grinned, still with some semblance of apology on his face. He also bent his knees and held his arms straight out in a comical stance he hoped would make her laugh, or at least smile.

"Ready!" He stated confidently. "So is this- how does this work? Believe it or not, this is a first for me. I mean, it's kinda hard to believe, actually. I really thought I'd seen it all. Do you usually take passengers? How many puns am I allotted? Can I circle back to the Flying Nimbus thing? Because I don't want to tell you how to do you, but that'd be awesome." 

"No, it...it's fine," she scratched at the back of her head awkwardly. "My dad, he-you know what, never mind." she waved it off, the strange feeling of needing to give him an explanation at war with her need to be sarcastic about everything. She didn't want to say she felt comfortable divulging her deepest, darkest secrets, but she also found herself not wanting to censor much either.

"Um...a Flying Nimbus? Well...I mean, clouds aren't really solid enough to hold anything of substantial mass so...I just manipulate wind currents." She gave him a slightly bemused smile as he offered to stand still for her to toss him somewhere. She mildly considered actually tossing him, simply because it would keep their good guy/bad guy relationship simple. She even motioned at him, manipulating the currents around them to pick him up only a few inches.

"Well, with enough lift, anything can be picked up. Or hurled." Mal was starting to feel more like herself now, more in control. "You're allowed unlimited puns, but if they're not up to Trickster's level, I reserve the right to drop you." She actually had to think for a moment about the passenger question as she guided herself up off the roof, tapping her finger to her chin in concentration.

"You know, I don't think I've ever actually taken a willing passenger. Should be interesting." She brought them both higher into the air, and after a moment's concentration, had a small cloud forming just under him as she moved them both forward. "Trickster has his boots so I just fly on my own mostly." It was definitely an interesting test of her concentration, carrying both herself and someone else a long distance. It was harder than she anticipated, but not something she couldn't commit to, she was just glad she already ate the pizza. She leaned them toward the warehouse and the bright, flashing lights she usually ran away from.