By the time Jude pulled up the S.T.A.R. Labs surveillance feed on his phone, the initial chaos had settled into something resembling a conversation.
"So after the lightning hit me—" Barry was sitting on the edge of the examination table, processing, "—it also gave me eight-pack abs?"
"Your cellular structure is in a highly unusual state." Caitlin kept her voice clinical. "The abdominal definition is likely a byproduct of your body continuously self-regulating and repairing at the tissue level."
"The bigger point," Cisco said, "is that you've been out for a long time, Allen."
"Nine months." Dr. Wells' voice came from the doorway, measured and dry. "Welcome back, Mr. Allen."
Ten minutes later, Barry — now wearing a S.T.A.R. Labs t-shirt over the bare minimum — followed Wells through the facility to the site of the explosion. The space was still a ruin. Exposed conduits, scorched concrete, the ghost of something enormous that had gone catastrophically wrong.
Barry turned slowly, taking it in. "What exactly happened that night?"
"The particle accelerator came online on schedule." Wells kept his hands behind his back, his voice even. "For forty-five minutes, I achieved everything I had worked toward. And then the accident happened. The electrical discharge became uncontrollable — the containment ring fractured, and the energy vented upward. Into the atmosphere. It triggered a storm."
Barry connected the rest himself. "Which formed a ball of lightning. Which hit me."
Wells nodded.
Barry was quiet for a moment. His idol had built the thing that had nearly killed him. Indirectly, yes, and without intent — but the chain of causation was hard to ignore. Nine months. He'd lost nine months.
As they walked back toward the main hall, something caught up to him. "Wait — why did I wake up here? I was taken to a hospital."
"The physicians there were at a loss. Your condition didn't respond to anything they knew." Wells paused. "I heard about the case and went to see you. Detective West and his daughter agreed to transfer your care to us." A brief, almost imperceptible smile. "The name Wells isn't exactly popular at the moment, so I appreciate their trust."
Iris.
The name landed like a switch being thrown. Barry's whole posture changed.
Wells noticed. "She visits often," he offered.
"Very talkative," Caitlin added, not looking up from her clipboard.
"And gorgeous," Cisco added, with the precise inflection of someone who had been waiting to say it. He gave Barry a look loaded with implication.
At least Iris West is the genuine article, Jude thought, watching through the feed. No exaggeration required.
"I have to go." Barry was already moving. "I've been gone nine months — I have to get home. I have to—"
"There are still tests—" Caitlin started.
"I feel completely normal. Thank you. All of you. I'll be in touch."
He was out the door before anyone could finish a sentence.
Jude watched the camera track Barry across the parking lot, then out of frame entirely.
I can guess where he's going, he thought.
He closed the feed.
Because there was a customer at the cart.
"Jude. Ten pastries, the usual."
"Danton?" Jude looked up. "You look — actually, you look good. Did the research come through?"
"Almost." Danton was still unkempt — same wrinkled collar, same dark circles — but something behind his eyes had changed entirely. The hollowed-out exhaustion of the previous weeks had been replaced by something bright and barely contained. "I'm very close. Days, maybe."
If he wasn't on something, then whatever had happened in the lab recently was genuinely extraordinary.
"Groundbreaking research," Danton said, and he wasn't being modest. "The kind that ends up in the history books. You might even see me in the papers."
"Then I'll look forward to celebrating with you and Elizabeth."
Jude handed over the bag. Then, before he could stop himself: "Danton — what exactly is the research about?"
Danton laughed — a real laugh, the first one Jude had heard from him. He patted Jude on the shoulder. "You'll find out when the time comes. Elizabeth and I will have you over for the party."
He walked away with the energy of a man who had already won.
Jude watched him go and said nothing.
An old general returning to the stage, he thought. Flags flying. Drums playing. Completely certain of victory.
"Yomogi."
"Meow?"
"Do you think I should look into Danton's situation? Even though I said yesterday we shouldn't abuse the access we have."
"Has the boss changed his mind, meow?"
"I can't say. But the way he looked just now—" Jude paused. "It worries me. More than a little."
In the front end of the motorcycle parked at the curb, a quiet cascade of data began moving behind the headlight sensors.
Before anyone could say anything else—
"Ah — AH — AH!"
The scream came from up the block, sharp and abbreviated. Jude turned just in time to catch the tail end of it: a streak of light, moving faster than he could track, that hit the side of a laundry van at the alley entrance with a sound like a thunderclap. The shockwave pushed out in a ring. Folded garments erupted from the cargo compartment in a slow-motion fountain, drifting down like very clean confetti.
The whole sequence — impact to stop — lasted under a second.
There it is, Jude thought.
The laundry driver pulled a dazed young man from the side of the van. Barry Allen blinked at the sky, looking like someone who had just remembered they had a body.
"Honestly," Jude said quietly, "the ability is impressive. The acquisition method is insane, but the ability itself is impressive."
"He was running at 320 kilometers per hour." Satsuki's voice came through the earpiece, precise and slightly aggrieved. "By my calculations. Which means he has already surpassed my maximum speed." A pause. "I need you to acknowledge that this is upsetting."
"I genuinely don't understand why you're competing with a speedster."
"The principle—"
"He can't carry me, the cat, and a cart full of snacks across the city. You can. You win where it counts." Jude shook his head. "Relax."
The motorcycle's front end rotated pointedly away from him.
"Don't. We've talked about this." Jude kept his voice flat. "The tsundere mecha-girl bit only works if you can make a face. Transform into a human form and then we'll discuss it."
"I have a name."
"Satsuki." He let a beat pass. "Has anyone else picked up on what Barry just did?"
The sulk evaporated instantly, replaced by the brisk efficiency that was her actual default. "Not yet. But I've already pulled his movement data from the past hour. Two separate incidents — neither flagged by anyone on site."
"At the coffee shop where Iris West works: a plate was falling. Barry turned and adjusted his position in the same instant — faster than a normal reflex. No one registered it."
"At the Central City Police Department: a prisoner made a grab for an officer's sidearm. Half a second later, the gun was back in the holster. The officer thought he'd imagined it."
Jude said nothing for a moment, watching Barry dust lint off his borrowed shirt and look around in confusion.
Nine months unconscious, and the first thing he does with his abilities is crash into a laundry van.
The learning curve on this one is going to be something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~