Author's Note: Again, a huge thanks to all who reviewed. :) I know last chapter was a little slow, but it was just kind of a filler after all of that action. Here is the much longer chapter 7, as promised. Enjoy!


Barry had never felt so hungry.

As he bolted through the streets, weaving through traffic and around frozen pedestrians, he couldn't remember a time when his stomach felt more empty, or when he felt more light-headed. He had raided several grocery stores, restaurants, even houses, by running through the walls and vanishing without a trace.

It did nothing to help.

After he had left Detective West, Barry hadn't stopped running except for extremely short intervals. He hadn't stopped vibrating, and he found that he couldn't, for the most part, control when the world froze around him; or, worse, when it resumed its normal pace.

He felt like he was on an extreme caffeine high, with huge crashes that came quickly, without him noticing them. He would be running for three, four hours, and then suddenly he would feel the effects of dehydration, lack of oxygen, and lack of food. It hurt worse with every crash.

His shoes and clothes were another matter. His pants and shirt were soot-streaked and smoldering; his shoes had dissolved quickly, leaving him mostly bare-footed. His disheveled brown hair was a constant fire hazard.

Pain ripped through Barry's abdomen again, stopping him in his tracks. He hit his knees, gasping for air. He looked up quickly, afraid the world had turned back to normal and people had noticed him, but no, the world was still.

That explained why he couldn't catch his breath. He was still in speed-time; while he thought that he was taking a break, his brief respite would be faster than anyone around him could blink.

Barry felt anger and frustration rising within him. This had gone too far. He couldn't reign in the lightning to save his life. It controlled him, not the other way around. And there was no way for him to do anything. He could speed-eat all he wanted, it just wasn't enough fuel to sustain the massive amounts of energy his body used.

How long would it be before he passed out from hunger while running and the police found his body, locked him away or killed him before he woke up? What if his speed left him just before he vibrated through a wall, and he slammed into a building at nine hundred miles an hour? Even his rapid healing wouldn't be able to handle that.

What he had taken to be a gift was really a curse. As much joy as running gave him, he needed to be able to control it. He needed to able to stop shaking at unbelievable speeds and pull himself together long enough to communicate with other beings.

He needed someone to help him. He looked down on other humans now- how could he not, when they were constantly frozen helplessly around him?- but he couldn't do this alone. That he was sure of.

Who would have the knowledge and scientific capabilities to help him? Who would have the resources and insight into his particular problem?

Barry knew exactly who he would get to do it for him.

Though it caused his muscles to contract in pain, he forced himself to run, slowly and carefully, to STAR labs.


Caitlin stirred her coffee with a wooden straw, watching the creamer and steaming brown liquid collide and mesh together, the streaks of white transforming into caramel.

It had been exactly ten days since the particle accelerator exploded.

Not that she was counting, of course. The days seemed to smear together now, into one disorienting blur of heartache and confusion.

She mostly tried to just numb herself to the effects of the explosion now. But all the same she felt a twinge of sharp, fresh pain in her gut when she saw Dr. Wells' wheelchair, when she saw the reports of countless injuries and deaths on the news, when the silence of the lab seemed unbearable.

Cisco helped. He was always in the cortex, always trying to alleviate the damage and fix what had been wrong. He cracked jokes. He made puns. And he was a great engineer.

But it wasn't enough.

Caitlin could never bring herself to give him more than a halfhearted smile every few days, to let him know that she appreciated him but couldn't show it right now.

Dr. Wells was a godsend. Caitlin couldn't believe it when he had immediately arrived back at the lab just two mornings after he had first been stuck in a wheelchair. However, he attacked the pile of new problems with a renewed ferocity. She figured he was doing exactly what she was to cope; throwing himself into the work.

And what a mountain of work it was.

Caitlin jolted backwards sharply when she took a swig of the still-steaming coffee, Cisco yelping in surprise as the quiet of the cortex was broken. Liquid sloshed over the sides of the mug as she quickly set it back on the desk, fanning her burned mouth.

Cisco put a splayed hand over his heart and sighed in relief. "Caitlin, I know you're obsessed with coffee, but try not to give me a heart attack next time you get some?"

She nodded, trying to soothe her burning tongue. "Sorry."

Cisco snorted, but flashed her a toothy grin and turned back to his monitor.

They worked in comfortable silence together for nearly twenty minutes, Caitlin organizing data from sensors in the lab, Cisco reading through information on the damaged infrastructure of the city. It was dull work, but it kept them busy, and it was necessary if they wanted to be able to help.

She looked up from her screen at the sound of Dr. Wells' wheelchair rolling down the curved hallway.

The gentle whirring of motors grew closer until Dr. Wells was in the cortex, looking tired but calm. He rolled around to Caitlin's desk.

"Anything new?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "The particle accelerator floor dropped another ten degrees, almost down to normal operating temperature. We found more roofing damage, on the northwestern side of the building... it didn't interrupt any more wiring, though."

He nodded. "That's fine. Alert the repair crew as soon as they're done with the floors on the ground level."

Dr. Wells rolled to Cisco's side. "And any new information on the city?"

Cisco nodded. "Always is. A building in western downtown is showing signs of severe foundation stress, and it's worrying a lot of officials. They've evacuated the area."

Dr. Wells sighed. "That's not good. There's not much we can do about that, however, if it's already showing stress."

"I know. It just seems like so much damage."

Dr. Wells shook his head. "It is. But all we can do right now is help where we can, and hopefully assist further in the future. Is there anything else, Cisco?"

Cisco scrolled up his monitor. "Nothing else truly major. A few damaged stores went out of business... a meta was apprehended on 5th and Main for a robbery..."

He chuckled. "And the Flash had another sighting, just a few minutes ago."

Dr. Wells, who had been rolling through the cortex to the other side of the room, came to a sudden stop.

"The what?"

Cisco shrugged. "It's what a few people on this blog have been calling him. It's a meta with what the police think might be superspeed... which, you know, would be awesome. But it's a stupid name. Sounds like the name of a guy who hides in an alley in a trenchcoat-"

"A metahuman with superspeed?" Dr. Wells wheeled back up to his desk. " Are you sure that's what you saw?"

Cisco nodded. "Bad guy. He killed a few officers about a week back. But he hasn't been found not running since then, so the police haven't focused on him too much, as best as I can tell."

Dr. Wells stared incredulously. "Excuse me-did you say- that this metahuman killed several officers?"

"Yeah. It happened just a few days after the explosion, so it's no surprise it didn't make any major headlines. I only found it after a lot of scrolling in the CCPN. But there's an entire blog now focused on new metas, and that seems to be the only thing anyone on there's posting about. He's had six sightings today already. "

Dr. Wells removed his glasses, twirling them between his index and thumb. "And- you didn't think this was worth mentioning."

Cisco rubbed his arm nervously. "I mean- I was only really trying to look at infrastructure, and there have been dozens of metas, so I wasn't really-"

"Enough." Dr. Wells waved him off and rolled up to the unoccupied monitor at the curved desk.

He hadn't tracked down Barry Allen in months. He had been in prison for ten years, there was no reason to. He was certain Allen would no longer be able to be the Flash, he was simply too damaged, and besides, the Flash wasn't supposed to appear until nine months later-

Within seconds, he had found the snippet of story stuck into the CCPN.

"May third, four officers on CCPD task force murdered by unknown 'metahuman' at abandoned storefront in rural Central City."

His pulse began to rise. Surely, this wasn't him. This was a teleporter, or some other, lesser metahuman.

Wells soon found the link to the full-length article on the police department's database. With a rising sense of dread, he clicked on the source.

He felt the blood drain out of his face as a large image of the crime scene popped up on the screen. Four officers slumped on the ground, large wounds on both their backs and chests. All still with guns in their hands.

No.

A hand slowly rose to his mouth as he read as quickly as he could through the article.

Male - identity unknown - metahuman taskforce - Joe West - superspeed.

Superspeed.

The Flash.

Barry Allen- a psychotic, cold-hearted killer with no morals-his creation- had gotten superspeed.

"Damn it." He rolled backwards from the desk, quickly rotating and heading down the hall. "Damn it."

"Dr. Wells?" A deep voice called back from the cortex. Wells halted and reluctantly turned back, where Cisco and Caitlin were staring at him in confusion and a tall, African-American man stood behind them in the entrance to another hallway.

"Detective West, yes." He said impatiently, fiddling with the buttons on his chair, itching to head down the hall to Gideon. "And how, exactly, did you manage to enter my facility?"

West jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I called, and you all didn't answer. The main entrance wasn't even guarded."

Dr. Wells huffed. "Well, we're a little short on staff, as you might have noticed. What did you need from us, again? I haven't received any calls from the Captain."

Joe crossed his arms. "That's because he doesn't want anything to do with you all. I don't really either, but I figured you're the best group to ask about these- these meta-humans."

"I'm listening."

"I need someone with the technology and science to help the police catch the man with superspeed."

Dr. Wells smiled in wonder. How coincidental.

"This man- the Flash- is extremely dangerous, Wells. I've seen what he can do firsthand. He killed four officers faster than I could blink. It's insane. And he could take down all of Central City, if he wanted; there's nothing stopping him."

"You have to help us, after everything you've done. There's no excuse. We don't have the manpower right now, and you have a full working lab. You need to devote every ounce of capability you have right now into stopping this freak."

Dr. Wells rubbed his temple. "You blame us for the new metahuman."

Joe opened his mouth angrily to respond, but he cut him off before he could. "Of course, you do. Our particle accelerator caused his powers. But what do you expect us to do? We're three people and a cleanup crew working in an abandoned laboratory. You have the department."

"You have the technology," seethed Joe, "And you'd damn well be sure it's being used to help the city this time, not wreck it. As you're obviously not doing anything important, you need to help us stop this criminal."

Much to Joe's surprise, Dr. Wells nodded. "I agree. We can help the police stop this speedster, with our developed technology."

"Speedster?" Joe intoned. "That's an interesting name."

Dr. Wells froze, then gave a half-hearted shrug. "It fits the description of this man, no? It's no different than coining the term Flash or metahuman."

Joe nodded impatiently. "But how exactly do you plan on stopping him?"

Cisco spoke before Dr. Wells could respond. "Well, I'd need some more info on the meta, but speed is nothing more than heat, really. If we, say, created a device that could cool down this meta, his powers might not be effective."

Dr. Wells gave Cisco a pointed look. "I'll, uh, get right to building that, then." He glanced at Caitlin, then scurried out of the cortex.

Before Dr. Wells could respond, there was a strong gust of wind through the cortex. Papers flew off the desk, scattering throughout the room, and Caitlin and Cisco's hair blew back.

There was a man in the room.

Joe shrunk back instantly, eyes widening in fear. Caitlin and Cisco stood up, unsure of what to do about this metahuman with his back to them.

Wells took a second to look over the meta.

His clothes were charred, and the scent of burnt hair filled the room. He was incredibly thin and fairly tall, with a gaunt face and alarming green eyes.

He was absolutely a speedster. Yellow lightning flickered around his frame even as he stood in front of Wells, something he had not seen previously with the speedforce. Various limbs flickered in and out of sight, which troubled him.

"Barry Allen."

Detective West flinched. "What?"

Dr. Wells cleared his throat and spoke again. "Barry Allen. My name is Doctor Harrison Wells-"

The man began to vibrate faster. "I know- who you- are."

The speedster's voice was strangely echoed, as if a chorus of people were speaking at once.

"You- you're going to- help me." Each word seemed strained.

The lightning increased its intensity, nearly blinding Wells. Caitlin gasped as her coffee began to rise out of her mug.

"Dr. Wells-"

The man was suddenly less than two inches away from Harrison's face.

"What- what did you- do- me?"

His eyes were narrowed to slits. He repeated himself.

"What-did you-do-to me?"

Wells swallowed. Before he could reply, he was whisked out of the room.


Haha. I loooooove cliffhangers; don't you?

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