T1 = 15.02.45
"I wanted to be here to see your darkest hour, Flash—and the best part is, I don't even have to defeat you. Time will do it for me—and you'll let it happen!"
After almost fifteen hours of relentless efforts around the world—shielding Chile from a tsunami, helping refugees escape a volcanic eruption in Russia, of all places, helping in South Africa during an earthquake, evacuating a considerable fraction of Northern Ireland due to another, among countless others—the Flash had got a call from Cisco that a yellow blur was destroying the levees along the river between Central City and Keystone. Barry knew it would be Thawne, drawing him home to fight. He went anyway.
The fight was brutal, as it always was—when speedsters of comparable power clash, their speed becomes near-moot. It always left Barry forced to fight Thawne as normal humans fight—to his perception, slowly and with deliberation—but with considerably higher levels of collateral destruction. For Barry and Eobard, the rhythm was clear—swing, duck, swing, repeat—with no side gaining a significant lead.
That is, until Barry knocked the legs out from under the Reverse-Flash and punched him out cold in mid-air.
Barry hardly had the time to catch his breath before he felt that same bizarre drop in air pressure and leapt reflexively out of the way before he could think to stop himself.
The flash of light was blinding, but Barry was still there.
Oh, dear.
"Flash!"
It was Mari.
"Vixen. Shouldn't you be in Michigan?"
Mari ignored his vague rank-pull.
"New instructions. He's fine, Arrow," she suddenly spoke into her earpiece. The Flash tuned into the JLA channel with his own.
"—good news. Congratulations, Flash, you've just changed the future."
"Whether or not I've changed it for the better remains to be seen," said Barry, with uncharacteristic cynicism.
"Hey, if you're still around, how bad can it be?" Barry heard Wally cut in and smiled despite himself.
