Chapter 9 : Waiting Game
The six days between invitation and execution stretched like taffy.
Every morning I woke before dawn, ate enough to fuel the enhanced metabolism, and hit the gym by 7 AM. The strength training had become routine—careful calibrations of power versus normalcy, learning exactly how much I could lift without drawing attention.
Sync rate crawled upward. Thirty-five percent. Thirty-seven. Forty.
[SYNC RATE: 40%] [CONTROL ASSESSMENT: MODERATE]
At forty percent, the accidental activation risk dropped significantly. I could shake hands without fear of crushing bones. Could open doors without ripping them off hinges. Could exist in the normal world without constant vigilance.
Small victories. Essential progress.
The afternoons belonged to intelligence gathering. Shimmer continued her Diamond District operation—four more jobs, increasingly confident. The CCPD had created a task force, but she stayed three steps ahead. Her abilities made conventional security meaningless.
I watched from a distance. Catalogued patterns. Built profiles.
Not yet. Not until STAR Labs was secured.
The evenings were harder.
My mind kept drifting to the coffee shop. To a laugh that surprised its owner. To armor cracks that revealed something warmer beneath.
Caitlin Snow is a target, I told myself. A means to an end. Access point to the real prize.
The logic was sound. The execution was complicated.
Because I'd started to actually like her.
In my old life—the one before the truck and the darkness and waking up in a stranger's body—I'd dated casually. Office relationships that went nowhere. App matches that lasted three weeks before mutual disinterest. Nothing that mattered. Nothing that threatened my careful emotional equilibrium.
This was different. Caitlin was brilliant and broken and trying so hard to hold herself together. She reminded me of myself, in a way. Both of us wearing masks. Both of us hiding damage beneath professional exteriors.
The recognition created complications I hadn't anticipated.
[EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY DETECTED] [RECOMMENDATION: FOCUS ON PRIMARY OBJECTIVES]
The system's coldness helped. Reminded me what I was.
A predator wearing human skin. A transmigrator using borrowed bodies and stolen powers to survive in a universe that would destroy him without mercy. Whatever feelings stirred when Caitlin laughed—they were liabilities. Vulnerabilities. Weapons that could be used against me.
I couldn't afford sentiment.
I repeated that truth until it almost felt real.
Day twenty-three. STAR Labs.
The building looked different up close than it had on television. Larger. More imposing. The damage from the explosion was visible in repaired sections and scaffolding that hadn't been removed. A monument to ambition and catastrophe.
I parked in the visitor lot at 5:47 PM. Thirteen minutes early—eager enough to show interest, not so early as to seem desperate.
The security checkpoint was laughably inadequate. A single guard, elderly, more interested in his crossword puzzle than credential verification. He glanced at my ID, checked my name against a list, and waved me through without a second look.
If I'd been an actual threat, STAR Labs would have been compromised before I reached the elevator.
The cortex was exactly as I remembered from the show. Monitors displaying data streams. The central console where Cisco and Caitlin worked during Flash operations. The mannequin displaying Barry's suit—tucked away in a side room, visible through a partially open door.
I pretended not to notice it.
"Harry."
Caitlin approached from one of the side corridors. She'd traded her usual cardigan for a more formal blazer, but her posture was familiar. Professional. Guarded. The same armor she wore at Jitters, with an extra layer for the workplace.
"Dr. Snow." I extended my hand. "Thank you again for the invitation."
"Caitlin's fine." Her handshake was firm but brief. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the team."
The team consisted of three people.
Harrison Wells sat in his wheelchair near the central console, watching my approach with eyes that missed nothing. The man who'd created the particle accelerator. The man who was secretly Eobard Thawne—the Reverse-Flash—wearing a stolen face and plotting Barry Allen's destruction.
I knew what he was. He had no idea I knew.
The knowledge sat in my chest like a loaded weapon.
"Mr. Griffin." Wells extended his hand without standing—couldn't stand, as far as anyone knew. "Caitlin speaks highly of your professional credentials."
"Dr. Wells." I shook his hand, meeting his assessing gaze without flinching. "It's an honor to meet you. Your work on the particle accelerator was groundbreaking."
"Groundbreaking." A thin smile crossed his features. "An appropriate word, given the crater it left."
Self-deprecation. Humor as deflection. He was good at this.
"I meant the science, not the outcome." I released his hand and stepped back. "Sometimes innovation carries risks that can't be predicted."
"How very diplomatic of you." Wells gestured toward the second team member. "This is Cisco Ramon, our mechanical engineer."
Cisco was younger than I expected. Early twenties, shoulder-length dark hair, a graphic tee featuring some obscure band partially visible under his open jacket. His smile was genuine—welcoming without agenda.
"Harry Griffin, security consultant extraordinaire!" He shook my hand with enthusiasm. "Caitlin mentioned you're interested in metahuman security protocols?"
"Among other things."
"Dude, you picked the right place. We've got more meta-problems per square foot than anywhere in the city." He leaned closer, conspiratorial. "Last week a guy literally walked through walls to steal a shipping container. Like, phased right through solid steel."
Shimmer. They were tracking her.
"Sounds like a challenging security environment."
"Challenging is one word for it. Terrifying is another." Cisco grinned. "But hey, job security, am I right?"
The third team member arrived late.
Barry Allen rushed in at 6:08—eight minutes after the scheduled start time, slightly out of breath, apologizing profusely. Tall, lean, the kind of nervous energy that suggested caffeine dependency or something more fundamental.
I knew what made him fast. He had no idea I knew.
"Sorry, sorry." Barry shook my hand with genuine warmth. "Traffic was insane. Well, not insane, just... slow. Regular slow. For normal people."
"Barry works with the CCPD," Caitlin explained. "He consults on forensic analysis."
"Among other things," I said, echoing Cisco's earlier words.
Barry blinked. Studied my face for a moment. Then smiled again, whatever concern had flickered behind his eyes dismissed.
"Among other things. Exactly."
Wells cleared his throat and the informal introductions ended. The next hour was technical demonstrations—security protocols, containment procedures, the science of metahuman analysis. I asked intelligent questions, offered professional observations, demonstrated exactly the kind of expertise that would make me valuable.
None of it was fabricated. Harrison Griffin had genuinely known security assessment. The knowledge lived in his neurons, available when I needed it.
I performed competence. They saw competence. The mask held.
Throughout the presentation, I catalogued.
Wells watched everyone with predatory patience. He was assessing me the same way I assessed targets—calculating threat potential, vulnerability windows, usefulness versus risk. Our eyes met once, and I saw recognition there. Not of who I was, but of what I was. One hunter acknowledging another.
Cisco talked constantly, filling silences with technical jargon and pop culture references. His enthusiasm was genuine. His intelligence was formidable. And somewhere beneath the jokes, his own power lay dormant—vibration abilities that would eventually make him Vibe.
The system confirmed what I already knew.
[METAHUMAN DETECTED: CISCO RAMON — DORMANT] [POTENTIAL: VIBRATION MANIPULATION — ESTIMATED B-TIER]
Not a target. Not yet. Maybe never—Cisco was too connected to the team, too visible. Extracting from him would destroy everything I was building.
Barry radiated nervous kindness. He wanted to help. Wanted to trust. Wanted to believe that everyone he met was fundamentally good. The naivety would have been frustrating if it wasn't so genuine.
And Caitlin...
Caitlin watched me watching everyone else. Her eyes tracked my movements, catalogued my reactions. When I offered insights during the presentation, she nodded along. When I asked questions, she provided answers. But underneath the professional cooperation, I saw something sharper.
She was vetting me. Actively, consciously checking whether I was safe to have in their space.
I passed her tests. Barely.
The demonstration ended at 7:30. Cisco disappeared to work on some project. Barry received a phone call—"emergency at the precinct"—and left with apologies. Wells rolled toward his office, pausing to offer a final handshake.
"I hope we'll see more of you, Mr. Griffin. Your perspective could be valuable."
"Thank you, Dr. Wells. I look forward to contributing."
His grip was stronger than a paralyzed man's should be. Another detail that didn't match his cover story. Another piece of evidence I filed away without reaction.
Then it was just me and Caitlin.
She walked me to the exit, slower than necessary. The corridors were empty. The lighting was dim. STAR Labs felt different after hours—less laboratory, more sanctum.
"What did you think?" she asked.
"Impressive facility. Dedicated team. Significant security vulnerabilities that I could address with the right access."
"That's the professional assessment. What about the personal one?"
I stopped walking. Turned to face her.
"Personally? I think you're all dealing with something bigger than security consultants usually handle. And I think you're doing it with limited resources, limited support, and unlimited risk." I paused. "I think you could use help. Real help, not just fresh eyes."
"And you want to be that help?"
"I want to understand what's happening in this city. The metahumans, the science, all of it. STAR Labs is the center of that understanding." I met her gaze directly. "I also want to see you succeed. You and your team."
The words came out more honest than intended. The armor I'd constructed around my intentions cracked slightly.
Caitlin studied me for a long moment. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it.
"Come back tomorrow," she said. "We can discuss specifics. What you can offer, what we can share. See if there's a basis for ongoing collaboration."
"I'd like that."
We reached the exit. The evening air was cool against my face after the climate-controlled interior.
"Harry." Caitlin's voice stopped me at the door. "Tonight went well. Wells approved of you, which isn't easy. Cisco likes everyone, but he actually listened to your input. That's rare."
"And Barry?"
"Barry trusts too easily. I'm the one you need to convince."
A warning and an invitation, wrapped in the same sentence.
"Then I'll make sure tomorrow is convincing."
She almost smiled. The armor flickered again.
"Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Caitlin."
I walked to my car, waiting until I was inside and the doors were closed before letting the mask drop. The parking lot was empty. No witnesses.
[OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: STAR LABS ACCESS INITIATED] [NEW OBJECTIVE: ESTABLISH PERMANENT PRESENCE]
Tomorrow I'd return. Build the relationship. Embed myself in the team that supported the Flash.
Wells would watch me. I'd watch him back. Two predators circling in the same hunting ground, neither willing to show their teeth first.
Caitlin would test me. I'd pass her tests. Earn her trust. Become something she valued rather than merely tolerated.
And somewhere in the process, I'd find more targets. More powers to extract. More steps up the ladder that the system demanded I climb.
The game was just beginning.
I started the car and drove home through streets that belonged to a world I was slowly learning to conquer.
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