Post 13

Post 13 is a blog post from The Chronicles of Cisco. It was released on October 5, 2015.

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Is this thing on?

Heyyy, Cisco here, comin' at you live from my parents' house.

Good news first: I'm alive and no one is pressing charges – shout-out to my main man Joe over at CCPD for having my back! Bad news? I accidentally burned down my apartment.

Let me catch you up. Ever since Dr. Wells – AKA Dr. Evil – told me I was affected by the particle accelerator explosion, I have been freaking out. Now I know Barry's a hero, but most metahumans are evil jerks who like to steal, maim and kill (see my earlier entries about the pipeline). I had to find out 1) if Dr. Wells was telling the truth and 2) what kind of powers I have (please please pleeease let me fly). So, I decided to run some preliminary diagnostics on myself... in my apartment.

Lemme tell ya, not having the state-of-the-art setup (and budget) I had going on at S.T.A.R. Labs makes experimenting on myself tricky, to say the least. My latest undertaking was to test my protoplasmic conductivity. The human body already absorbs and emits electricity, so by utilizing proprietary frequency-sequencing, I figured I could determine whether or not I had any enhanced electroreception capabilities. To test conductivity, I needed juice. LOTS of it. With the help of additional resistors, some amp breakers strung in parallel, and some Cisco finesse, I was able to MacGyver my humble abode into Central City's smallest power station. Success! For a hot second. Did I mention that the landlord's idea of throwback décor consists of fabric wallpaper and shag carpet? Put the two together and you've got an incendiary disaster.

Now my apartment is gone (along with most of my eyebrows) and I'm back to living with the rents. It's not too bad, I mean Mom is trying to make me eat healthier, but it's easier to coordinate viewings of our favorite show – Jane the Virgin.

I am hella bummed about being no closer to discovering what my alleged metahuman capability is. So far, I've discovered that I'm not flame retardant, I can't move objects across the room with my mind, and as far as I know, I have no ability whatsoever to communicate with sea creatures (womp womp). I can just see Dr. Wells smirking at me with those deceptively twinkly eyes.

Oh, crap! I hear Mom fumbling at the door. Probably balancing an armload of vegetables and sprouted whole grains. Time to duck out and make a beeline for the nearest Big Belly where the only veggie is deep-fried and dipped in ketchup. Holla!

Cisco Ramon, over and out.