"But you are the Flash, right? I mean, that's what Joey said, and his cousin was there when--" I cut him off with an annoyed gesture and looked him over. Assuming he was human, and there was no reason not to, he was about twenty years old. Not a body builder, but a decent amount of muscle under his tee shirt. Track pants and worn sneakers. Short hair, and a decent tan. He smelled like Gatorade and sweat. My mind clicked back to the last time I dealt with that combination, and returned the label "jock."
"I'm not wearin' a mask, am I? Now, what can I do for you?" I leaned against the wall next to the door to the closet I sometimes called my office. The chairs in the hall made it a makeshift waiting room.
"Alright, listen. There's this guy, keeps making passes at my girl. She says he's harmless, but I'm getting tired of dealing with him, you know?" He gestured vaguely, like he expected me to say something to agree with his sentiment. Instead, I just fixed him with a level gaze. I was getting the definate impression that this guy was wasting my time. He coughed, getting uncomfortable. "Well, anyway, I was thinking. You could, like, tell him to lay off. As the Flash. Scare him a little, maybe. I can pay--"
That time I cut him off with a muted snarl and straightened up to loom over him. "Let me get this straight, yeah? You want me to put on a costume and go scare this kid who's flirting with your girlfriend. That about right?" He shrank back a bit, nodding. "Your girl thinks he's harmless, though. So I take it she hasn't told him to stop?" He seemed to have gone mute. He just blinked and shook his head. "What's he doing? Just chatting her up? Or is he gettin' too touchy for your tastes? Stalking her, followin' her around, anything like that?"
He swallowed, then shrugged. "He talks to her, flirts... I seen him touching her arm and back. And he checks her out when she's not looking." I sighed and shook my head. "He doesn't, like, follow her or anything like that. They're friends from school."
"You want me to scare this guy off for you. This guy who's done nothing that actually bothers your girl, who's been her friend for years. You want to pay me to terrorize this kid." He nodded, and I pointed down the hall toward the front door of the building. "Get out." He blinked and opened his mouth to protest. "Now." He finally got the message and made tracks.
...
A few days after the kid wanted me to play an intimidation game for him, I was looking over my notes about a runaway. A lot of them I can track down by scent, but this one had gotten into a carriage, and that meant I had to do actual work. I'd have to track down some of her friends and see what they'd be willing to share. If I'd be lucky, I was thinking, I'd find her boyfriend and catch her scent on him. I was contemplating which of the four "young hooligans" her parents told me she liked to hang out with to talk to first, when the phone rang.
"McTirin." I was a bit annoyed with this case; I doubted the girl's parents were actually abusive, but they were tightly wound enough that I could see why a fifteen year-old would want to put distance between them and herself. I frowned when I heard fabric moving on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I got a smoky feminine voice in response.
"Crim? Crim, is that really you?" I was about to offer what I half-knew would be an ineffectual protest, but she didn't wait for an answer. "You... You probably don't remember me. I can't forget you, though..." That bit was a whisper. "Ever since you pulled me out of the way of that runaway horse, I can't get you out of my mind." She giggled, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. "That tight outfit... I just... I've had this fantasy..." I don't know what she was going to say after that. It was already more than enough for me to be uncomfortable about it. I hung up on her. I decided not to answer the phone when it started to ring a moment later.
...
I was apprehensive about answering the phone when it rang the next day. I didn't want to deal with the fantasy girl again. But, I reasoned, it might be something actually relevant to business, so I decided to chance it.
"Mr. McTirin?" A different woman. The voice sounded familiar to me, though I couldn't place it. "This is Vera Warren. You told me to speak with my husband about..." When she trailed off, I nodded; a habit, even when the person I'm talking to can't hear me.
"Your condition, yes." Mr. Warren had hired me to look for his wife a few weeks back. After I found out that she'd been turned by a vampire, I convinced her to go to him about it. I have my own experience telling me that running away from that sort of thing wasn't the best idea. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Warren?"
"I just wanted to thank you. Henry was very understanding. I... I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be." She hesitated. "We've discussed it, and we want to take you out to dinner, and discuss something with you." I made some sounds of protest. After all, I'd been paid for my time. "I insist. Wherever you like."
"That's entirely unnecessary, Mrs. Warren." She insisted again. "Alright. Nothing big, though. We can discuss business at a diner as easily as at some overpriced place."
"Thank you for not making me beg, Mr. McTirin." She paused again. "There is something else I wondered about. This business about you being the Crimson Flash..."
I rolled my eyes. The Warrens, too? "A lot of rumor and hearsay, Mrs. Warren. It's become a bit of an inconvenience, in fact."
"I'm sure it has. My sister had a bit of a scandal some time ago, and I think her solution might work for you, as well. Simply change your name." I blinked. It seemed almost too easy, but it wasn't bad. It could at least cut back on some of the crazies. "Then you just need to worry about people who already know what you look like. You can tell anyone else who comes looking for Grem McTirin that he doesn't work there any more."
"That's actually a very good idea, Mrs. Warren. Thank you."
The next day, I swapped out the sign on my door. I'd gone by "Mac Jameson" once, when I was on the run back on Earth, and I decided it would suit my purposes just fine. I slipped behind my desk and tossed the old name plate into my desk drawer, then got ready to start telling people that my partner, Mr. McTirin, had left for another city.
"I'm not wearin' a mask, am I? Now, what can I do for you?" I leaned against the wall next to the door to the closet I sometimes called my office. The chairs in the hall made it a makeshift waiting room.
"Alright, listen. There's this guy, keeps making passes at my girl. She says he's harmless, but I'm getting tired of dealing with him, you know?" He gestured vaguely, like he expected me to say something to agree with his sentiment. Instead, I just fixed him with a level gaze. I was getting the definate impression that this guy was wasting my time. He coughed, getting uncomfortable. "Well, anyway, I was thinking. You could, like, tell him to lay off. As the Flash. Scare him a little, maybe. I can pay--"
That time I cut him off with a muted snarl and straightened up to loom over him. "Let me get this straight, yeah? You want me to put on a costume and go scare this kid who's flirting with your girlfriend. That about right?" He shrank back a bit, nodding. "Your girl thinks he's harmless, though. So I take it she hasn't told him to stop?" He seemed to have gone mute. He just blinked and shook his head. "What's he doing? Just chatting her up? Or is he gettin' too touchy for your tastes? Stalking her, followin' her around, anything like that?"
He swallowed, then shrugged. "He talks to her, flirts... I seen him touching her arm and back. And he checks her out when she's not looking." I sighed and shook my head. "He doesn't, like, follow her or anything like that. They're friends from school."
"You want me to scare this guy off for you. This guy who's done nothing that actually bothers your girl, who's been her friend for years. You want to pay me to terrorize this kid." He nodded, and I pointed down the hall toward the front door of the building. "Get out." He blinked and opened his mouth to protest. "Now." He finally got the message and made tracks.
...
A few days after the kid wanted me to play an intimidation game for him, I was looking over my notes about a runaway. A lot of them I can track down by scent, but this one had gotten into a carriage, and that meant I had to do actual work. I'd have to track down some of her friends and see what they'd be willing to share. If I'd be lucky, I was thinking, I'd find her boyfriend and catch her scent on him. I was contemplating which of the four "young hooligans" her parents told me she liked to hang out with to talk to first, when the phone rang.
"McTirin." I was a bit annoyed with this case; I doubted the girl's parents were actually abusive, but they were tightly wound enough that I could see why a fifteen year-old would want to put distance between them and herself. I frowned when I heard fabric moving on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I got a smoky feminine voice in response.
"Crim? Crim, is that really you?" I was about to offer what I half-knew would be an ineffectual protest, but she didn't wait for an answer. "You... You probably don't remember me. I can't forget you, though..." That bit was a whisper. "Ever since you pulled me out of the way of that runaway horse, I can't get you out of my mind." She giggled, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. "That tight outfit... I just... I've had this fantasy..." I don't know what she was going to say after that. It was already more than enough for me to be uncomfortable about it. I hung up on her. I decided not to answer the phone when it started to ring a moment later.
...
I was apprehensive about answering the phone when it rang the next day. I didn't want to deal with the fantasy girl again. But, I reasoned, it might be something actually relevant to business, so I decided to chance it.
"Mr. McTirin?" A different woman. The voice sounded familiar to me, though I couldn't place it. "This is Vera Warren. You told me to speak with my husband about..." When she trailed off, I nodded; a habit, even when the person I'm talking to can't hear me.
"Your condition, yes." Mr. Warren had hired me to look for his wife a few weeks back. After I found out that she'd been turned by a vampire, I convinced her to go to him about it. I have my own experience telling me that running away from that sort of thing wasn't the best idea. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Warren?"
"I just wanted to thank you. Henry was very understanding. I... I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be." She hesitated. "We've discussed it, and we want to take you out to dinner, and discuss something with you." I made some sounds of protest. After all, I'd been paid for my time. "I insist. Wherever you like."
"That's entirely unnecessary, Mrs. Warren." She insisted again. "Alright. Nothing big, though. We can discuss business at a diner as easily as at some overpriced place."
"Thank you for not making me beg, Mr. McTirin." She paused again. "There is something else I wondered about. This business about you being the Crimson Flash..."
I rolled my eyes. The Warrens, too? "A lot of rumor and hearsay, Mrs. Warren. It's become a bit of an inconvenience, in fact."
"I'm sure it has. My sister had a bit of a scandal some time ago, and I think her solution might work for you, as well. Simply change your name." I blinked. It seemed almost too easy, but it wasn't bad. It could at least cut back on some of the crazies. "Then you just need to worry about people who already know what you look like. You can tell anyone else who comes looking for Grem McTirin that he doesn't work there any more."
"That's actually a very good idea, Mrs. Warren. Thank you."
The next day, I swapped out the sign on my door. I'd gone by "Mac Jameson" once, when I was on the run back on Earth, and I decided it would suit my purposes just fine. I slipped behind my desk and tossed the old name plate into my desk drawer, then got ready to start telling people that my partner, Mr. McTirin, had left for another city.