Central City: 2011
The city felt lighter than Starling. The skyscrapers were cleaner, the air less burdened by the scent of industrial decay. But to John's Speed-Sight, the city was a grid of potential energy. He could feel the ley lines of the Speed Force humming beneath the pavement, waiting for the lightning bolt that was still two years away.
"John, stop moping and put on a tie," Caitlyn commanded, smoothing out her own professional blazer. She was sixteen now, already looking like the world-class bio-engineer she was destined to become. "We're going to the CCPD gala. Dad says the lead forensic investigator is giving a talk on trace evidence."
John sat on the edge of the hotel bed, tossing a black coin—his communicator—into the air and catching it in a blurred palm. "Forensics? Riveting, Cait. Truly."
"Barry Allen might be there," she added, checking her reflection. "Remember him? The skinny kid from elementary school? I heard he's an intern for the police now. He lost his father to... well, you know."
John's hand froze. The coin landed in his palm with a sharp clack. "I remember."
The CCPD GalaThe Central City Police Department was filled with the smell of cheap catering and expensive cologne. John moved through the crowd like a shadow, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He felt the Black Speed Force coiling in his chest, agitated by the sheer amount of "normal" people around him.
Then, he saw him.
Barry Allen was standing by a buffet table, looking awkward in a suit that was half a size too big. He was talking to Iris West, who looked radiant and far more confident than her childhood friend. Barry's eyes were darting around, always searching, always analyzing. He looked like a man haunted by a ghost he couldn't name.
John's POV:
I watched the way Barry moved. He was clumsy, stumbling over his own feet. It was the universe's great irony—the man destined to be the fastest alive was currently the most uncoordinated person in the room.
I felt the orb in my chest hum. It wasn't hungry this time. It was... curious. It recognized the "potential" in Barry.
I stepped out of the shadows. "You still haven't grown into that jacket, Allen."
Barry spun around, nearly knocking over a glass of punch. He blinked, squinting at John. "John? John Snow?"
"In the flesh. Mostly," John said, offering a small, tight smile.
"Man, it's been years!" Barry shook John's hand. His grip was weak, but his eyes were sharp. "I heard you moved to Starling. How is it? I hear the crime rate there is... intense."
"It has its moments," John replied. "I heard about your dad, Barry. I'm sorry."
The light in Barry's eyes dimmed instantly. The "Man in Yellow" was the wall Barry hit every single morning when he woke up. "I'm going to prove he's innocent, John. I don't care what the evidence says. Something impossible happened that night."
"I know," John said. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating at a frequency only Barry could hear over the party noise. "But the impossible doesn't like to be found, Barry. And when it is, it usually has teeth."
Barry frowned, looking confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The WarningBefore John could answer, a loud crash echoed from the front of the station. Three men in masks burst through the doors, brandishing sawed-off shotguns. The gala turned into a choir of screams.
"Nobody moves! Wallets and jewelry, now!" the leader barked.
The police officers in the room reached for sidearms they weren't wearing—this was a formal event, and most were unarmed.
John's POV:
I looked at Barry. He was frozen, his eyes wide. He wanted to help, but he was just a kid with a lab coat and a tragic backstory.
Time to show the 'Hero' what a 'Predator' looks like, I thought.
I didn't run. I entered the "Heavy State." To the room, the lights flickered for a billionth of a second—a brownout.
In that flicker, I was a god.
I moved between the gunmen. I didn't punch them; that would leave bruises and questions. I simply reached out and vibrated the firing pins of their shotguns until they snapped. I took the shells out of their pockets and placed them in the punch bowl. Finally, I tied their shoelaces together in a triple-nought knot.
I returned to my spot beside Barry before the first scream had even finished.
The gunmen tried to fire. Click. Click. Click. They looked at their weapons in confusion, tried to run, and immediately tripped over their own feet, crashing into the floor. The CCPD officers swarmed them in seconds.
"What... what just happened?" Barry gasped, looking at the tangled mess of criminals. "Did you see that? The air... it rippled."
"Must have been the wind," John said, patting Barry on the shoulder. He leaned in close to Barry's ear. "Don't look for the monster in the light, Barry. The real ones live in the friction. They're the ones you never see coming."
The DepartureAs the police led the mask-clad men away, John found Caitlyn near the exit.
She was looking at him with a knowing, terrified expression. She had seen the flicker. She knew.
"We're leaving tomorrow," she whispered.
"I know," John said.
As they walked out into the cool Central City night, John looked back at the station. Barry was standing at the window, looking out at the street, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
John's POV:
The seed was planted. Barry wouldn't just look for a "Man in Yellow" anymore. He would look for the blur. He would look for the impossible.
But as I stepped into the car, I felt a familiar chill. The Time Wraith's screech echoed in the back of my mind. I was changing things. I was interfering with the "Flash" before he was even born.
Let them come, I thought, my eyes glowing a deep, violent purple in the dark of the backseat. I'm not the scared kid on the New York streets anymore. I'm the glitch that the system can't delete.