Because Eobard Thawne is still my all-time favourite villain on The Flash and because I couldn't help but love the little scene in which Earth-2 Harry meets the speedster that steals his döppleganger's face, I present to you...

No One of Consequence
One-Shot

He was trapped inside a blue tiled cell. His powers were useless here. His plan to launch himself into the next century failed. So why was he so calm, so patient? The answer was simple: the Time Paradox. Thawne knew that sooner or later he would be let out of this prison and, once again, be free to run. That other Speedster – the Flash – had no idea what it was he was messing with. He was angry, that much was clear as day, and the anger was what spurred him into action before any logical reasoning could take hold in his mind.

Emotions. Obvious proof that they were ineffective in the decision-making process. Useful motivation perhaps, lying underneath the surface, but beyond that they always proved to be distractions from the main objective if allowed a too-present role in life.

His musings were cut short by the sight of the steel door sliding its way upward. He knew it, he called it; they had decided to let him free. A smirk threatened to come across the Reverse, but he held his composure, the reason being that it wasn't the Flash that stood there. Some other man in dark jeans and a sweatshirt, a sleek, white weapon in hand stood there confidently instead. There wasn't much to be confident in, however, as the weapon he held was still primitive compared to those in Thawne's day and, in addition to that, Eobard figured he was much too fast for its blasts to affect him.

This new man spoke first:

"Time to send you home."

"The Time Paradox," Eobard answered immediately, having rehearsed that line for the time he had been in the cell. It was an easy conclusion to make, it did not need as long of a time as he had locked up in there to reach it. "You've all messed with something you don't understand."

The two men were both smirking now, both for the feeling of superiority. One felt superior because he had suspected all along and – guess what? – he was right. The other – who knew? – but if Eobard had one guess, he would venture out and say, it was a smirk of amusement.

"Can you do me a favour," the armed man asked, "and just shut up?"

The smirk that had been threatening to show finally did, flitting across the Reverse's face despite the man's order, and Eobard didn't bother forcing it off. After all, even though the gun was out there, the power was not. The power was in here, the cell, where the speedforce was. A laugh slowly built up inside the yellow suit and less than a second later, it was spilling out, echoing off the walls of his tiny chamber.

"And how exactly are you going to send me home?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You fixed Doctor McGee's tachyon device?"

"No." The armed man moved over to one side. "I came up with a different method."

That got the speedster intrigued. If that wasn't a lie, which Thawne was almost completely positive it wasn't, then it meant that this man here was very much intelligent in addition to creative. Not even Thawne could imagine at that moment what was in store. With a single press of a button, the glass slid apart and freedom was one step nearer. Oddly enough, however, Thawne moved not. Something about this other man, with a gun unflinchingly, unblinkingly pointed forward, signaled that there was much more at play than just a genius IQ and an energy rifle; if there was anything Thawne wanted to know before he returned to his time centuries ahead, it was who this man really was. "Is that so?" he drawled.

"Uh-huh."

Reluctant to answer.

It definitely signaled there was something more here...

"Who are you?" the faux-speedster inquired with a step forward, now deciding to voice the question that had been growing in the back of his mind. The better question would be, and that he would have preferred to ask, was, how do you fit into this game? but words such as those were better left unsaid – figured out by himself as time rolled on in its ridiculously slow fashion. The man clad in yellow leaned forward, his steps slow yet methodical. He did not want to miss the next words spoken after this long pause was through.

Finally, with the rifle hoisted up to eye level, the mystery man answered:

"No one of consequence."

His silence spoke volumes. That was the moment Eobard could be certain that this man played a vital role in this time period's workings. A man with as much confidence as the way he held himself must have something to hide if he labeled himself as someone who could be tossed away like a pawn in this game of chess. He couldn't be that unimportant with the attitude he possessed, that intellect, that composure. He was important – he was at least a knight or a bishop in the great, century-long game. Thawne fought the urge to scoff at his response, No one of consequence. Please. It would be an insult to his intelligence if this bishop – this valuable piece on the table – expected him to believe that.

No one of consequence?

"Oh, I doubt that."

Man, it feels good to get back into writing. I'm starting to ease my way back into this life, one little one-shot at a time. If you liked this wee little thing, feel free to comment or favourite.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Flash and, therefore, certainly do not own the characters. Just a lowly writer with a keyboard and internet access...