A Welcomed Discussion

Here I am.

Face-to-face with two young adults, both staring back at me from their positions on the front porch. One of them's a male sporting a lengthy amount of dark flowing hair. And with his reflective sunglasses, he'd easily be able to project an air of confidence if he wasn't fidgeting with himself. The other's a brunet woman with an attractive face; though, her skin seemed to be bridging on the line of creamy white to somewhat pale. But unlike her coworker, she appeared to be composed and sure of herself. Her own sunglasses adding to her professional look.

"Hello there!" The woman greeted after she softly cleared her throat. "I'm Dr. Caitlin Snow, here with my partner Dr. Cisco Ramon, and we're--"

"I'm not a doctor." The guy who's named Cisco interjected, raising his hand halfway into the air before retreating it back to his side. "I have a Ph.D. biomechanics...But she is a doctor, so that part was correct."

"Right..." Caitlin's face lost its professional-edge as the brow above her shades furrowed for a millisecond. "Anyway, do you happen to be..." Her head shifts downwards to a tablet cradled in her arms, causing her brown hair to bounce in beat. "Robert Brown?"

"No," I say simply and shut the front door in their faces.

Yeah, I've never been that much of a fan when it comes to S.T.A.R Labs. But I can't be expected to can I? Whenever they show up for something everyone knows shit's about to go down. And besides, my mother disappeared when their accelerator malfunctioned for god's sake! Sure, The Flash teams up when them regularly, and they have assisted in his heroic activities here and there. But my mom's still gone, and she's not coming back.

Nothing good ever comes from them, and their antics. And that's coming from a pervert for over four years.

"Hey, dude." The voice of the guy breaches through the door.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

"We have stuff to discuss."

I released a sigh of annoyance.

I'm just a regular dude, nothing remarkable in the slightest. If they came all the way out to me on this Wednesday afternoon, it better bloody well be important. But then what? Did the house get ransacked by some meta-human while I was out? What could they possibly want here?

Re-opening the door, I see the two standing in the same spots as before; though, this time the guy has both hands in his pockets, seeming a bit more bored than before.

"Look, I'm not Robbert Brown alright? So if--"

"What about Jessie Brown?"

"Cisco! Why are you even asking him that?"

"I dunno," Cisco shrugged, "He could be a shapeshifter."

"Shapeshifter? What, are you guys high!?" I bewilderingly sputter. "Wait, you think my dad's a fucking meta?"

"Well--" Caitlin begins.

"Okay, goodbye." I move to slam the door again, fully full of their bullshit at this point.

"Wait!" The women's foot jutted out and blocked my attempt. "So you're his son? That would make you Mason, am I right?"

".........No..."

"He's lying," Cisco whispers.

"Okay," I swing open the door recklessly, causing it to slam hard into the wall. "I've had a shit day, and I'm not in the mood for any more shit right now. So if you guys don't leave, I'm calling the police."

"Please." Caitlin starts while reaching into her rather hefty coat. A coat that seemed to be excessively broad given the summer heat. "Give us thirty seconds of your time." She withdraws a scanner-like-device and directs the head towards me. After typing something incoherent into the miniature machine, a blue light flashes over me. It continued to grow brighter for ten long seconds before it suddenly died down.

"Shit..." Cisco mumbled as he looked over Caitlin's shoulder to the device in her hands.

"Yeah, that's a lot..." Caitlin added.

I stood there, momentarily befuddled, trying to blink the blue brightness out of my vision. "What's a lot?" I ask after comprehending what they said.

"Well, Mr. Brown." Caitlin looked up at me. "I think you might be a meta-human."

"No, not might, you definitely are." Cisco corrected.

---

"Yeah, no. I'm no meta."

After they slapped me with this bullshit I had to transition their interrogation, or 'conversation' as they see it, to the family room. Caitlin's seated in an armchair, quite uneasily, as if she's not sure if she intends to have a thoughtful conversation or bailout of the house on a moments notice. I'm personally hoping for the latter. She did remove her thick overcoat to reveal a clear white blouse that's holding a surprisingly pleasant body underneath. Though her breasts aren't anything significant, the outline of her bra underneath is very noticeable through her top; which is doing numbers to my psyche. Seeing the simple and innocent frame of her bra's causing my brain to raddle into overdrive in an effort to guesstimate the very shape and size of the scientist's package.

Luckily my internal leering was interrupted before I'd overstep my bounds and blurt out something entirely uncalled for. Especially since I could feel salivation forming at the sight of her skirt riding up her slender legs.

"Are you ignoring the blatant facts?" Cisco's voice begins to bridge on that of annoyance. He has been leaning against the back wall ever since we entered the family room. "With the amount of dark matter flowing through ya', you're either a walking corpse or a meta-human! Pick one."

"What my friend here is trying to say." Caitlin gave Cisco a slight glare through the corner of her eye. "Even though you might not realize it yet, you do have properties that have consistently led to meta-human activity. So it isn't too farfetc--"

"Okay," I interjected, a bit peeved at their accusations. Maybe if someone else of significance came knocking at my door I'd be more inclined to indulge them. But I've never been fond of S.T.A.R Labs, and I never will. "Even if I was technically a meta-human, I would be a meta with no freaking powers! Because I'm not anything special in the slightest, and I never have been! Unless you consider being normal an ability?"

Caitlin cleared her throat. "Well--"

"Can't you people realize that, with all of your high-end technology and money, you're not always right?! Hell, you were wrong before when you fuckers fucked up and got my mom fucking.....Ugh.." As my heated wrath gradually subsided, I let out a groan and flopped on the cushioned couch behind me. "I wish..."

"Listen, we're just here t--"

"I wish you guys would stop fucking bothering me!" I interrupted Caitlin. "Is that too much to ask?"

At that very instant, as if a switch was flipped in the internal workings of my brain; everything, jumped out of wack. It was minute, and could easily be passed away as a multitude of symptoms. But my vision began to blur and my head started to spin. All sounds around me suddenly come off as a low static-like hum, with my nose similarly losing its ability to smell. It felt as though my three main sense forgot how to function, simultaneously, leaving me entirely dazed for a short moment.

During my internal headache, the two S.T.A.R Labs employees glanced towards each other, and nodded to themselves; or at least, I think they did. I was a bit pre-occupied by my sudden aneurysm.

But as soon as the headache hit me, it vanished. Returning to me the use of my senses in time to see Caitlin and Cisco on their way out of the house.

"W..Wuh...Where... You, you guys are leaving?"

"Mhm," Caitlin hummed, "You were clearly becoming adjudicated, so we'll be taking our leave."

"Ah! S... So." I shake myself out of my stooper. "So yah' admitting that I'm not a meta?"

"Oh... No... No, no you definitely are a meta-human." Cisco shrugged. "But we can't help you if you don't even want it in the first place."

Caitlin was sorting through her overcoat that she had draped around one arm. "Though," She continued spelunking until she came across a miniature card that was pulled out from one of her coat pockets. "If you ever do change your mind, our doors are always open." She placed the business card onto a small table holding nothing more than a flower jar near the front door.

"Sure..."

"Alright then," Cisco nodded then faced, Caitlin. "Let us go! The night is still young!"

"Mmhm... Okay, thank you for your time Mr. Brown and enjoy the rest of your day."

With a *Thunk* the door was closed.

"Well, that happened..." I groan to myself whilst idly rubbing the back of my head. "Could they be right?" They are the 'experts.' For all I know, I might very well have latent meta-human abilities. Abilities that have been hiding dormant for the majority of my life. Abilities that could change the very way I, and everyone, experience their day-to-day lives... Abilities that would put me there with the likes of... "Pfft, Ha! Yeah right." I convinced myself, "This wouldn't be the first time a poor guy was accused of being a meta."

My musing was interrupted by a compelling yawn which eventually brought me to my miniature bedroom. It's the smallest room in the house, sure, but it is better than nothing. Especially since my parents are planning on giving me the big boot after I graduate; so I probably shouldn't take the space that I do have now for granted. Besides, in my current state, I'm far too tired to complain about anything. That random headache, my prolonged stay at school, and the meta-human bullshit did quite the number to my energy reserve.

Which is the very reason why I am resting my head for a short nap. I've got shit to do, but time is relative, and they can be done later; a little shut-eye never hurt anyone.

---

"Mason!"

Except for me, of course, obviously, everything has to hurt me. Why? Because why not. Even an act as harmless as resting comes packaged with its own set of repercussions. Such as causing one to not tidy up the guest room before said person's step-mother returns home.

"Fuuuccck....." I let out an exacerbated stream of annoyance as my mother's voice cuts its way into my personal space. In an effort to drown her out I flip over my one and only pillow and shroud my face in comfort. Which seemed to have the intended effect, since her shouts failed to reach the sound modules that I call ears.

A sigh slipped out of me as I frenziedly attempted to claim as much peace as I possibly could before my step-mother inevitably destroys any semblance of a relaxful evening. "Just... Three more hours... is that too much to ask?" Cool air passed over me from the low hum of the A.C vent on the ceiling. If it weren't for the nagging protruding from the background, this might just be the peek of relaxation.

"Mason Brown!"

But alas....peek relaxation is overrated anyway.

"Look, Mom..." I begin to mutter from beneath my pillow but find myself swiftly interrupted by a **** removing the said cushion. "I know I need to clean the--"

"Trash. Out. Now!" Stacey, my step-mom, demanded. With her now being a few feet away from where I am, or was, resting.

I slowly blinked myself out of my slumber and peer up towards her. "Uh...What?"

"The garbage is.. You know what, no, I'm not repeating myself. I want it gone, or else." She spun around on her heels and began to swiftly stride out of my room, not even bothering to let me respond.

Whatever, the sooner Stacey clears out the better. I can only stand so much from her bitchy personality. She works at an insurance firm of which I never cared to get the name. In fact, she's a manager, and every day she brings her boss mindset back home. She's actually quite attractive, and she keeps herself presentable and pleasant to look at. If only her personality was as pleasant as her looks... My eyes drifted down to her ass fitting firmly in her genes as she walked away from me. Each step caused her bountiful posterior to bounce slightly.

"And clean your room when you're done," Stacey stopped at the entrance to my door. "It's a fucking mess in here."

"Meh, it's my mess." I hurriedly maneuvered the pillow over my crotch to hide my now stiff stiffy. My step-mother's upper half isn't anything too special, her breasts are average-sized for a woman in her thirties. But her goddam ass and fucking legs are something to be gawked at. At a reasonably far distance, of course; no one wants to get caught staring, or they should prepare to taste her wrath.

"Well you're living in my house, so fix this place up." She squatted down to lift a discarded piece of clothing carefully as if she were picking up toxic waste. The action caused her tight genes to reach their limits and reveal the outline of her panties beneath; to say my eyes bulged wouldn't be an understatement, because my eyes did not bulge, they just widened. "Shit like this is disgusting." She stood up, faced me, and tossed the cloth onto my bed; making me quite glad that I was concealing my erection. "I tidied up the guest room, so keeping this place presentable would the least you could do."

Yeah yeah, of course, she'd say... What? "You did what?" I prang up to my feet in utter surprise.

Her iris rolled throughout her eye as she crossed her arms. "Yeah, I realized you sure as hell weren't reliable so I got off work early to do your job." She emphasized the clutter of my cramped room by kicking an empty box to the side. "But I'm not doing any more favors for you, this mess is your problem mister, I didn't work my ass off for thirty years just to become some maid."

"Pft.." I ignore her sassy self and push my way past her. She did work for her career, I gotta give her that, but even so, why does she have to be such a bitch? I lose my actual mother and get a stuck up replacement. What my dad sees in her I'll never understand. Oh, wait I know! Money! One glance at her paychecks every month can make any man fall in love. And her attractive figure is the icing on the cake. Yeah, men can be gold diggers too, who would've thunk?

"I wish you were my personal maid..." I seethed under my breath the moment I found myself out of earshot. "Oh, that'll be the day, she'd...FUCK!"

My forward stride through the expansive hallway cut itself short the moment a similar sensation from earlier came back for more. And boy did it hit me a second time with a fucking vengeance. Like a drunk man on acid, I floundered into the kitchen. "What the hell?" I clutched my head the moment I found the countertop to rest on. "God... I need more fucking sleep. Holy shit...."

"What was that?" Stacey's voice echoed from somewhere. With my current headache, I couldn't care where she was; probably still residing in my bedroom to fully soak in the extent of the mess if I were **** to guess.

Ignoring her, I stayed there long enough to recuperate myself. The migraine was reminiscent of that from before, but this one, in particular, seemed to last a tad longer and be an overall harsher experience. For the life of me, I can't come up with a valid reason for these spontaneous strikes. "Oh for god's sake, please don't let those scientists be right..." If their claims turned out to be true, well, I'd might have to end it there.

Certain individuals would commit multiple acts of homicide for the meer off-chance of gaining special abilities. And why not? The life of a super seems that of a dream.

Or at least, it should.

But coming from someone who resides in the very city responsible for the outbreak of meta-humans; it isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Your typical meta goes through some serious shit. One day they get shunned, because of the actions of some other meta-human, who decided to knock up a convent store. The next, there's a criminal dedicated to painting the street's red with super-powered blood.

Simply put, for a meta-human, if they're not a recognizable hero, their life is distended to tank. Everyone will assume they're up to something, no one will higher them, people will be afraid of them. And if they happen to stumble and make the simplest of mistakes they better kiss the sun goodbye and prepare their asses for life in Iron Heights.

Yeah, there are some upsides here and there.

But the downsides overshadow those few positives and then some! At least, that's my opinion on the matter.

And if I did happen to gain meta-human abilities, I would definitely end up abusing them for selfish reasons. I'd give myself two months tops before my ass ended up locked in Iron Heights. I'm not a bad person or anything. It's just that I'm not good either; hell, my current situation is practically perfect for your everyday villain's backstory.

So yes, that is why I refuse to believe I'm a meta. It doesn't even make sense anyway, the Particle Accelerator went off ages ago; and then the meta-humans began appearing a few weeks after. Now since then, it's been five years, five freaking years! I would've noticed something odd by now; unless my enhancements happen to give me the strength of a slightly below average man. Then I am powerless.

And it wouldn't be anything new for someone to falsely accuse another person of being a meta. My school had to enforce a strict policy; inappropriately crying wolf, and shouting 'Meta' when there isn't a real need to do so, will result in an instant suspension.

I would rather not stick my toes in that pool, thank you very much.

In, who knows how long, the headache passed and I headed over to the overflowing trash bins situated evenly to the side of the backmost door exiting the kitchen. Each of the plastic containers contained their fair share of unneeded waste; most of which have found their way to the surrounding kitchen tiles.

*Sigh*

"Okay, she has a point, this is fairly messy," I admit as I reach down to carefully retrieve a used ball of moist paper towel. "Yuuck..."

"What was that sound?" Stacey suddenly said from the kitchen's entrance, causing me to jump within my pants and drop the wet litter back unto the ground.

"Oh, I was... Um..." I lazily slurred my word while my brain juggled for a valid response that would please my step-mother's demands. "Well, I saw the mess, and I was... Holy shit!" Turning around to face her, I figuratively, and maybe even literally, lost my shit upon what I saw.

My step-mother, clad in a traditional black and white housemaid outfit; something one would could a moderate young woman wear during Halloween. What, the fuck? Here she looked back at me as if nothing were amiss, as if she didn't somehow change out of her work attire and switch to some absurd maid costume in however long I was out during my headache.

There's not a single lick of embarrassment on her features; if anything, it looks as though she's peeved at me for interrupting something.

"Wait..." Stacey squinted her eyes suspiciously as if she caught me hiding something. Sadly I'm having trouble taking her seriously in her ludicrous get-up. "Were you about to take out the trash?" She said with one clenched fist resting on her slanted hip, and the other pointing towards me and the two waste bins a few feet away.

"I... Well..." One audible gulp later, "Yea I was... You told me too..." My eyes couldn't tear themselves away from her usual no-nonsense self in that stupid, stupid, stupid, outfit. There was even a small feather duster, with a few other cleaning items, protruding from the three pockets of her white apron.

"Oh please, Mason." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm not daft enough to make you do something so idiotic. Everyone knows it's my responsibility to clean up after you."

"What?! You... You look like a fucking idiot!"

A flash of anger jumped onto her face. "So now you're making fun of me!? Get out of here before I think of a punishment for that mouth of yours!" I found myself forcefully shoved to the side as she stormed past me and swiftly got on fours to remove each piece of litter from the floor. "I might be your maid but I am still your mother, so that lip is unacceptable."

"W... what the fuck is going on!" Stacey, the woman who refused to do any form of dirty work; the woman who sees herself above menial tasks... Is now hands and knees on the dirty kitchen tile, picking up after the mess of others, all in a maid outfit that looks as if it was purchased from a costume store.

Stacey let out a sigh as she sat up on her knees, and craned her neck back to face me. Blond hair bobbing in her face "I'm not going to ask you again." Her face signified that of annoying defiance, that would've worked if she didn't have a ridiculous white headband fixed in her hair. "Leave." She turned back to the floor, not even bothered enough to check if I left.

"Okay, alright..." I take a final glance at her, for the first time paying attention to how her figure fills the outfit. But sadly her maid uniform does nothing for her body, the dress is quite baggy and does a decent job in covering her entire body. Not a hit of her pleasing legs gets to be displayed; hell, even while she's on all fours her mature ass barely gets to shine. "That outfit is too dam conservative," I mumble. "I don't understand what type of dream this is, but I wish she was my sexy french maid instead. Oh boy, now would that be hot."

Before I could leave the kitchen on my own right a third headache jumped back into action, causing my vision to blur and head to ring. Shit, everything foggy I can feel myself going adrift. Somehow, I managed to blunder my way out of the kitchen and collapsed onto the nearest couch; hoping beyond hope that the migraine would dissipate just as quick as formed.

And with all the throbbing my head was going through, I wasn't able to notice my step-mom's conservative attire shift into something a bit more sensual...