Tap-tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.
The soft but frantic rhythm echoed through the cavernous underground base, the sound bouncing off steel beams and concrete walls like a nervous heartbeat. The dim overhead lights flickered occasionally, casting jumpy shadows that made the entire place feel on edge.
Alex slowly withdrew his gaze from the unconscious personnel sprawled across the floor—soldiers, techs, guards—each one knocked out so cleanly they looked like they'd simply fallen asleep mid-shift.
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening muscles that didn't really need loosening, and activated both his x-ray vision and telescopic sight.
The world shifted instantly—walls becoming transparent, layers of reinforced plating turning into glass, distance collapsing into clarity.
And there—deep in the next corridor—he saw them.
Green Arrow, younger than the version Alex remembered from later years, was hunched forward over a terminal. His posture was tense but confident, his fingers a blur across the keyboard as he tried to brute-force Luthor's security systems. His bow was slung across his back, quiver half-empty—evidence he'd fought his way inside.
Beside him stood a young man in a red suit emblazoned with a golden lightning bolt across the chest. Electricity crackled faintly at his heels, like static begging to erupt.
The Flash.
Though this one—the early version—was still closer to a kid trying to prove himself than the legendary Speed Force master he would one day become.
> "Oliver, you said you had thirty seconds before the base goes into lockdown.
Just a reminder… you've already used twenty."
Barry's voice held that signature mix of anxiety and impulsiveness, like he wasn't sure whether he should help hack the door or just kick it down.
Oliver didn't even bother glancing up.
> "Relax, I've got it."
His tone dripped with confidence—the kind that came from surviving far too many situations he shouldn't have.
> "Just a few more seconds and everyone Luthor's locked up will be free. Piece of cake."
Tap!
His fingers struck one final key.
Beep-beep-beep!
The console chimed in triumph—access granted.
Barry's eyes lit up like a kid seeing fireworks.
> "So why isn't the door opening? Doesn't it pop automatically at this point?"
Oliver scoffed, shaking his head.
> "Manual override. Luthor's new system is a pain."
He pulled a secondary device from his utility belt—a slim micro-computer wired for direct hardware bypass—and bent down to start prying open the armored panel over the door's locking mechanism.
Then—
> "Oliver, Barry—someone's coming!"
The warning crackled over their earpieces.
Oliver didn't pause. He simply waved a hand dismissively.
> "Barry, go greet our guest."
Barry exhaled once and nodded.
> "Cisco, location?"
> "Entrance Three. And uh… Barry?
This guy's too calm. Something's off."
> "Got it."
BOOM!
Barry disappeared in a flash of yellow lightning—
and reappeared a heartbeat later right in front of Alex.
---
Barry lifted both hands, palms outward, as if trying to diffuse tension before it started.
"Sorry, man. I know this is your job… but I can't let you go inside."
His voice wasn't hostile—just determined, apologetic even.
Alex smiled faintly, almost indulgently.
> "You're confident."
"But unfortunately… if I want to go in, you can't stop me."
Barry let out a half-laugh.
> "Trust me, buddy—you have no idea who you're dealing with."
Alex's eyebrow lifted.
> "Do you know who you're dealing with?"
Barry sighed as though life was cruel.
> "Look, I'd love to chat. Seriously. Friendly conversation with strangers?
I miss that.
But right now?
I have to knock you out. Sorry."
He vanished.
---
Alex didn't blink.
He didn't shift his stance.
He didn't so much as lean aside.
> "The Flash?"
"Too slow."
Barry streaked forward at seven to eight hundred meters per second—blindingly fast to the naked eye, fast enough to be a rumor to most humans.
To Alex?
He was crawling.
Snap!
Alex reached out lazily and caught Barry by the throat mid-charge, his hand closing around the speedster's neck with the ease of someone plucking a kitten off a couch.
Barry's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
> "W–what!?
You're a speedster too!?"
Cisco's panicked scream exploded through the comm line:
> "Another speedster!?
Barry—what the hell!? When did Smallville get a second speedster!?"
Barry didn't have time to answer.
CRACKLE!
Lightning surged violently around him as he slipped free in a burst of Speed Force energy—his escape so fast it left a shockwave.
This time he ran flat-out.
Nearly a thousand meters per second.
Close to his early-career limit.
But—
It still wasn't enough.
A blur flickered—
and Alex appeared beside him effortlessly, as if teleporting.
Barry's breath hitched.
> "Impossible—"
Alex kept pace with him like they were jogging side-by-side.
In reality, Barry was tearing through the air at near-Mach 1.
Alex… was barely trying.
Barry strained harder—lightning erupting across his suit, electricity dancing between his fingertips as he pushed deeper into the Speed Force.
But Alex matched him.
Easily.
Effortlessly.
Mockingly.
Every move Barry made—Alex was there first.
Barry's heart hammered. His mind screamed.
> "Who… what are you!?"
Alex smirked.
> "This isn't 'friendly conversation time,' Barry."
Barry skidded to a halt, stunned.
He knew his name.
He knew him.
> "W–who are you!?"
Alex didn't bother answering.
He moved.
Barry didn't see the punch.
There was no telegraph. No blur. No wind-up.
One moment he was upright—
the next, darkness slammed over him like a curtain.
Alex's fist tapped his forehead.
Barry collapsed instantly, unconscious before gravity could claim him.
---
"Barry! Barry!"
Cisco's voice shrieked through the comms—distorted, frantic, helpless.
> "Oliver! Barry's down! Barry's been taken out—someone jumped him!"
Oliver froze mid-hack, the micro-computer nearly slipping from his fingers.
> "What!?
Barry was taken down?
By who? That's impossible!"
To Oliver, Barry was a one-man army.
A living cheat code.
Untouchable.
What kind of monster could take out the Flash?
He didn't get long to ponder the question.
BOOM!
A sonic boom cracked behind him—sharp, violent, unmistakable.
Oliver spun—
And Alex stood there.
Silent.
Still.
Unbothered.
Like a ghost.
Or death, wearing a casual smile.
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