Tiger Stripes and Lightening Strikes

7: In Discussion

Caitlin fought to contain an eye roll as Cisco bounded around like a child within the walls of Dr Mort's lab. The nearly all white room was blinding, glossy tables gleaming under direct sunlight from the gargantuan windows. All sorts of cutting edge tech and pristine machinery lined the lab walls. It was warm, the low hum of an operating machine permeating through the air.

"Look at all this stuff," Cisco squealed, padding over to a large, chunky machine. "This is a rotorgene rtPCR machine," he ran a hand through his hair and gave out an excited whoop. "S.T.A.R. Labs doesn't even have one of these."

"I know, Cisco. I'm the bioengineer, remember?" she chuckled.

"Right, of course," Cisco chuckled, returning to her side. "You know this lab a lot better than I do."

"But perhaps not as well as I," an older voice crackled, drawing Caitlin and Cisco's attention to the lab's entrance. An old and slight man slid in, wisps of white hair gelled back neatly. "Dr Reuben Mort," he offered a palm.

"Cisco Ramone," Cisco shook the hand firmly.

"Caitlin Snow," she shook the hand too. "We are both from S.T.A.R. Labs," she began. "We've been aiding an investigation into a string of murders that have happened throughout the city."

Dr Mort's brows lifted. "Murders?" his voice hitched. Pausing, he let out a low hum and motioned to a lab table. All three perched on the stools surrounding it. "How can I be of help?"

"The murder victims are all connected to your son's court case," Cisco told him calmly, clasping his hands together. The doctor's brows lifted. "We wanted to know, from you, what really happened?"

Mort's face paled, his deep set eyes dropping to the countertop. He blew out a long and unsteady breath. All that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. "In short, Jason was robbed," Mort leaned his elbows down on the counter top, pushing his forehead into his palm. "I know the court ruled otherwise, but-,"

"We've come to listen to your side of the story," Caitlin lifted a hand to halt his excuse. "We know Smythe has a knack for getting what he wants."

"Diddy too," Mort huffed, his jaw jutting out to one side. Caitlin and Cisco traded a long stare. "It was Jason who created Metriol, but he knew it had its flaws."

"It's flaws?" Cisco raised a brow.

"It's highly addictive, as I'm sure you'll have heard," a forlorn pain blossomed on his expression. "Jason didn't want to put it on the market. He thought it would do more harm than good." The corners of his lips twitched downwards.

"Diddy stole the formula, didn't he?" Cisco leaned down on his arms. Mort nodded gravely.

"He published it as his own and when Jason took him to court to try and take Metriol off of the market, he hired Smythe. Smythe payed off cops and chose judges he knew well," slouching, the doctor shook his head. "My poor Jason never stood a chance."

"We think someone might be revenge killing the law enforcement involved in the case," Caitlin continued.

"It's not me," the doctor told them firmly. "I know better than to fight meaningless battles." His hands curled into fists. "If you have an infestation, killing single bugs gets you nowhere."

"Do you know of anyone who might have the intent to do so?" Cisco lifted a brow.

"Even if my son was alive, he could never do something as foul as murder," the Dr's expression crumpled. "I can't give you any leads, I'm afraid."