May 16, 2015:

Barry Allen, Joe West, and Lois Lane all cross paths at a murder scene that points in an unlikely direction

Lower East Side

LES of New York


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# ]

Fade In…


I know it's a Saturday but I have some things I need to catch up on around here. It might feel like life is luxury when you can run as fast as I can, but I still have the same amount of problems I always did. I just have more. More and different problems.

One of them is falling behind on work. I like to come into my lab on Saturdays to do the things that I've let slip during the week. It's a trick I used to pull in Central City and one I've perfected into an art. What takes the normal guy a day can be done in minutes if I set things up properly.

Saturdays are some of my favorite days because they're so easy. I set things up, do my tests, get my work done. Everything has a system, a process. Easy in, Easy out.

But then something happens that goes and ruins my Saturday. My name is Barry Allen and I am the fastest man alive and I can feel my heart sink with dread.


"Allen, you in here?" Detective Petrov opens the office door. "Hey look, you might want to head down to Suffolk over near the water. They picked one up. I think it's one of yours. The press is there and everything. Even the SRD. You better take a look."

One of yours is a sort of odd way to put it, but Barry knows what he means. One of the things his father told himHenry Allen, his biological fatherwas to make sure and try and make New York his home. The only city he'd ever lived in to this point was Central City, so the move here was hard on Barry. After a few weeks, the criminal scientist began helping out as a Mentor at a local youth center not far away on the Lower East Side.

Barry nods grimly at Petrov, "Yeah, I'll be right on over."


By the time Lois Lane and Joe West arrive on the scene, it's a mess. Squad cars try and block the area off as best as they can but there are television crews and newspaper reporters and concerned citizens. Someone dumped a body here and everyone wants answers. There's a crowd that it'll take a bit to get through, but with the proper identification (or know how) it should not be too bad of a problem.

Nothing in the universe an stop Lois Lane. Neither jail nor armoed women with guns that make you dance; a man in red and blue with pretty eyes and a great disposition to boot, neither a cousin, who manages to owe you a dozen favors due to the secret being 'out' who tips her off in what looks to be the greatest story of the year. Aside from political advances and such..

Lois Lane, ace reporter was there. She didn't need a stinking news crew, all she had was a phone, a pen and often times a small piece of paper to write key notes down so she could get the story written for Clark who fixes the errors.

"Alright Chloe, I'm here." She mutters into her phone. "Yes. I'm going to do it. No, you can't talk me out of it, of course he'll be pissed. When was the last time I cared?" She laughs just a little, her eyes splaying across the scene as she approaches the yellow tape. "Clark? No. Just tell him that tomorrow is the start of the class. And it's all his fault. Okay, love you too cousin, bye."

The phone was toyed with for a moment until the recording app was switched on, promptly shoved into her pocket as she approaches the policeman, one hand drawing the wallet from the back pocket of her jeans as she flips it open to show her identification.

"Lois Lane? Of course. But no press."
"I'm here on the orders of General Lane."
"General Lane. United States Army."
"What? This is a.."
"Homicide.. yeah yeah. How sure are you?"
"Ugh. Fine. Put these on and go."

The officer hands her a pair of booties which she slips upon her boots, ducking beneath the police tape to approach the location of where the detectives were gathered.

How exactly it is that Detective West can maneuver a crowd like that may be a mystery. Call it a soft but authoritative voice, the friendly face, the colorless clothing that always helps him to blend in, but seemingly out of nowhere, the good detective is approaching his comrades in sleuth.

One hand draws back too hook itself upon his belt, revealing the shirt, tie and shoulder holster beneath his jacket. "What do we got, boys?" he asks the gathered officers. "Intact? Riddled with bullet holes? Fresh off the assembly line, or rotted and disgusting?" This ain't Joe West's first body dumping.

"Dammit, how does Lane always get in there?" says some chick from channel 8. "She's not even from the city!"

Lois is a few paces behind Joe, who just now is breaking through the line. Once he does, he sees a familiar face. Barry is kneeling on a short pad of grass just off the road. with his hand pressed up against his face, with his palm over his mouth and a pair of vacant eyes.

In front of him is the body of a young woman.

"Her name is Consuelo," Barry says absently when he hears his foster father's voice. "She was 18 and was getting ready to graduate." He closes his eyes and begins to scratch at his head, but his hand just keeps going as if it has nothing better to do.

Finally his eyes look over towards Joe, "Cause of death is not immediately clear. Looks like she's been stabbed." He sighs, "Stabbed a ton of times. But if you look at the skin, it's a darker shade. It's been cold. Frostbite."

Lane gets in because at times she's a dirty liar, and a total asshole. But that's beside the point!

Behind Joe, Lois was able to draw her phone from her pocket, drawing up the camera app to take a few quick pictures of the young girl that laid upon the ground, tucking it back into her pocket sight unseen as she shifts to bring her paper out into the open. She was writing now, her gaze avoiding the look of the young girl to focus upon the CSI, writing down the details in short-hand that only few others could possibly decipher.

She steps from behind Joe now, no questions were needed at this point. She'd only manage to get herself through the door, to try her luck at this point would be rather foolish.

"Hey, you guys see -" Joe is looking around for Barry, and cuts himself off when he finally spots the guy. Walking closer, the smile drains from Detective West's face at the sight of Barry's demeanor. He might have offered a hand in comfort, but they'd been down that road years ago. Not around the beat officers, and certainly NOT in a newer city.

"Consuelo," echoes West as he comes up alongside of Barry, looking down at the body with a half-cocked head. A grimace forms as he counts the number of stab wounds. "Jesus. Think it's pretty fair to call this either foul play or a passion killing. Look at all of those."

However, when Barry points out the dis colored flesh, Joe steps a bit closer, careful not to disturb the crime scene with his shoe. His brow furrows, and he looks down toward Barry with a frown. "Metahuman?" he asks quietly. That… might explain why SRD was here.

Barry straightens and leans in towards Joe close, but looking past him towards the throng of reporters. "You don't think it could be Cold, do you?"

Barry's eyes comes across Lois but then head quickly back towards Joe, hoping that she had not heard what he said. In truth, this doesn't really seem like Captain Cold's sort of bag. He was a thief and a manipulator. He wasn't a killer, and he sure didn't murder kids.

But the evidence is compelling.

"If there's some way he found out," Barry says cryptically.

It may or may not be hard to hear what was said. With the two main guys, she assuming since they're close, speaking quiet enough, her phones recorder may be able to pick up something her own ears does not. Chloe could amplify it, naturallly, but it would look rather silly for her to place a call to her cousin right then and there to tell her to do so. Besides, this sort of stuff needs to be analyzed later.

Rushing up towards cops and telling them to repeat themselves would get her shit-canned early.

So, she carefully walks along the perimeter of detectives, cops, and CSI's, gathering their own words into her recorder, writing down what she sees right off the back, describing the scene through pencil and paper. It was then that she stops, not directly behind Barry or Joe, but close enough to try to hear the quiet conversation.

Barry gets a doubtful look from Joe at mention of Captain Cold. "Doesn't fit the M.O." As in, Modus Operandi. It's a cop thing. He's noticed the way Barry looks past him, but for the moment, the reporters have gone unnoticed. West isn't about to do the obvious turn of the head routine.

A fresh frown forms at the cryptic words. "Found out what?" asks Joe, rather than inquiring behind the 'who' Barry is speaking of. He's not going to rule out the obvious, but he's sticking with his guns on this one. It's not Cold. It's not his style. "Doesn't mean someone else hasn't come across his tech," he offers.

Rising to his feet, Joe gives the area a visual inspection. "We dealing with a wash up, here, Barr? Or a bad dump job?" If the body washed ashore, then finding evidence regarding the actual dump location will become much more difficult. However, if the would-be perpetrator missed the proverbial mark, then there ought to be obvious signs close by. Tire tracks, shoe treads in the dirt, signs of a body being drug from Point A to Point B.

Joe finally turns away from the immediate crime scene and addresses the other detectives gathered. "Alright, boys. Show and tell is over. Start combing the water line. We're looking for tire marks, shoe treads, anything that might tell us whether the body was dumped here or not." It's only then when he tries to look toward the direction of Barry's subtle glance, and that is when his keen eyes alight upon Lois Lane.

"Hey Barr. Keep at it for a moment." West seeks to make eye contact with the reporter before walking in her direction.


"Dump," Barry says, looking down at her sadly. "Grass wasn't disturbed so it came from the road. We'd better see if anyone saw anything back at the precinct." He shakes his head, "She was going to be a veterinarian." He looks up at Joe, "She said she liked animals more than people. People can be cruel."

Apparently she was right.

As Joe goes off to talk to Lois, Barry begins talking to some uniformed police officers to give instructions about body transportation.

There was really nothing more for Lois to visibly see here. Though there were thoughts and ways at her disposal to gain the information that would be put into the police databases to find out more. But, what wasn't open to the public, she couldn't report. What was found in secret? Would be kept in her memories for later use. Or just for the sake of knowing.

She drops her pencil away from her paper with a sigh, looking towards the ocean, her gaze drawing back to catch the eyes of Joe, turning fully and straightening at his approach. Hey. She /could/ run away and play the avoidance game, but what use would that be? So she boldly meets him half way, paper shoved within her pocket, pencil tucked behind her ear, hands drawn and clasped at the small of her back.

"Detective." She acknowledges.

"Miss Lane." Joe opens his jacket to show Lois the NYPD badge attached to his shoulder holster. "Joe West. This is a crime scene, you know you aren't supposed to be here." Letting the jacket fall closed, he glances down to her plastic-wrapped shoes, then back up to the known reporter with eyebrows raised.

Then, without another word, he extends an arm and points with all fingers (because pointing with one finger is rude) toward an area behind Lois, behind the police tape, and back amongst the throngs of reporters where she belongs.

At least he does it with a polite smile. The SRD officers he's going to need to deal with next probably won't get the same level of respect.

Barry's words echo in his thoughts. Eventually, Joe's going to need to begin questioning the victim's friends and family. That part is never easy.

Crap. Sometimes it doesn't help to have a famous face. But his badge was noted, as well as the name, which was committed to memory. She didn't need a pen or a sheet of paper to write that down. Names, she was good at. Faces as well. Spelling? She'd probably name him Weist, or Wist.

"Oh, if I didn't know that then I wouldn't be here, now would I?" This was said all in jest, her eyes squinting as she puts on a friendly, and attempted disarming smile.

"My apologize, Detective West. But I think I've gathered everything I need here." And she walks on, careful, attempting to follow the same path that she walked from the end of where she put on her booties and to the start. She didn't need to leave any traces of herself in the crime scene; from the looks of things they already had enough to deal with.

"But, expect to hear from me soon, Detective. I'd like to interview you and that young man if and when I can." And with that, she was off, bypassing the other reporters with a slight snarky look.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License