Hi, friends! Here we go, into the action.

So, the internet in my house went out today, so I am struggling-but I'm hoping the situation will be resolved soon so I can update normally. I feel like a broken record, but bear with me (also in terms of the trademarked Questionable Science, which shows up in full force in this chapter!).

This one's dedicated to Hedgi, probably the greatest supporter I've ever had-I know you're in a tough place right now.

Enjoy the chapter!

"If you're going to vomit, do it out the window. This is a company car."

Caitlin gave Cisco a feebly derisive look and strapped herself in. Even his jokes felt a bit too hollow. Considering the circumstances, it was amazing he could still attempt one.

Besides, he was right. Just being back in that van made Caitlin's stomach turn in knots. Cisco revved the engine and her heart skipped. She idly kicked at the thin carpet to distract herself as Ronnie jumped into the passenger seat.

"Ready."

The van jerked forward. Wells, hooked through the modified earpieces they all wore, spoke. "Good luck to all of you. Keep me updated."

"Likewise," Ronnie said.

The communication clicked away, and Caitlin switched to chewing on her nails. In the front, Cisco's knuckles had turned white, and Ronnie pried open the box on his lap. The long silver device inside glinted under passing streetlights.

"This feels wrong," Caitlin said. "All of it—using enemy technology for our own purposes? Doesn't it feel…"

"What, unfair? Manipulative? Morally wrong?" Cisco added unhelpfully.

"Necessary," Ronnie corrected. "What else are we supposed to do? It's either using what we have or letting Stein and Barry die."

Caitlin hmmed. He was right, she knew. But she chewed her nail down to the quick all the same.

The night, if possible, grew darker. Ragged edges of the city limits disappeared behind them, giving way to straight highway and suffocating emptiness on either side.

Ronnie's leg jiggled.

"I've got the floorplan," Wells said through the comm. "Best to begin bracing yourselves. There's no way of knowing how many people Eiling has under his control."

"Enough," Ronnie said, and he gripped the silver device more tightly.

Barry skidded to a halt in a sea of broken glass, and the sparks shot like thousands of comets across the reflections. Someone had cut the main power of the café, and the "s" of "Jitters" had fallen to the ground on the far wall.

He found Caitlin quickly. She had picked herself off of the floor at the sound of his entrance and now lifted herself up gingerly by the edge of a table. She had glass in her hair.

"You're too late," she said. "They took him."

Once, when Barry was little, he'd asked Joe about polar bears. He'd seen a show on Discovery Channel about arctic creatures and he was convinced he wanted to be a polar bear.

"They get to play in the snow all the time and they get to sleep right out in the cold."

Joe had laughed, his eyes crinkling into little slits like they always did.

"I don't think you would make a very good polar bear," he'd said.

No, Barry reckoned now. He had been right. He wouldn't make a very good polar bear.

Had anyone contacted Joe?

"We may have a problem," Wells said.

"Why am I not surprised you said that?" Cisco said, slowing the van marginally.

"Professor Stein has not activated his sonic device," Wells continued. "It is possible he is not able to, in which case it is imperative that you find him first." He paused, and Caitlin could practically hear the gears spinning in his head and the keys clicking on the keyboard in front of him.

"I think I can still access it remotely," he continued. "I can link its frequency to the main PA system. Knock down anyone within range of the speakers."

"Including Stein," Cisco said. "I know how much these frequencies hurt—he's not going to be much help to us until we can get hearing protection to him."

"Not to mention," Caitlin said, furrowing her brow, "that kind of prolonged exposure can cause permanent damage."

"How long do we have before that happens?" Ronnie asked.

Caitlin chewed her lip, weighing the factors of their plan. "Fifteen minutes, safely," she said. "No more than twenty."

"Right," said Cisco. "So from the moment Wells activates that device, we have twenty minutes to get in, find Stein and Barry, and get out." He uttered something that might have been a laugh but actually sounded more like a choke. "Easy enough."

"You and Caitlin are the two who single-handedly escaped from Deathstroke a year ago," Wells said. "I believe in you."

Caitlin had heard those words often enough in relation to Barry, but now she had to admire the effect Wells could have with a simple declaration of faith. No wonder he had always managed to push Barry harder, make him run faster, inspire him to achieve miracles.

Ronnie passed a hand over his face. "We're close," he said.

"How do you know?" Caitlin asked.

Disorientation flooded Ronnie's eyes, but he looked back at her and she could sense the change in his posture, the dawning realization.

"I can feel it," he said. "I also feel cold."

"Well, the heat doesn't work in this van," Cisco said, "but your creepy Ringwraith premonition is true." He nodded forward.

Just in the distance, an old, gray stone building rose up into existence. A few lights, white and harsh even from that distance, dotted the exterior and guided them like a landing strip.

"Classic horror movie location," Cisco muttered.

"On my count," Wells said. Perhaps it was Ronnie's premonition, but the entire van seemed to ice over.

Barry was able to perform miracles under Wells' guidance—Caitlin only hoped they could do the same.

Though Barry wasn't sure where his consciousness began and where it ended, he was confident he knew when the havoc started.

He was drifting, sucking in razor-sharp gasps of air, trying to curl his fingers around whatever reality he was now living in. By that point, most of his body was blissfully numb, save for the deep, resonant throb that bubbled up every few minutes and the unbearable weight of frost on his eyelashes. He could only think in terms of the gray walls and the gray door he faced—one minute they were framed in his imagination by the silhouette of Cisco, the next of Caitlin, then Dr. Wells and Joe. The next, Eiling.

And, worst of all, nothing.

An action as simple as a cough was not allowed; his daydreams were interrupted by a tightening in his lungs and a feeble puff of crystalline air that evaporated at a disturbingly fast pace.

Then, chaos.

The sound, audible and inaudible at once, barely penetrated the heavy door of his now-cell, but he recognized it immediately. It tossed him back to that night on the overpass, the wet pavement and the ripples that passed effortlessly through his body. Blood on his lips, like now. Organs, shredding themselves apart, as he writhed on the ground and clutched his ears.

The same ringing, piercing noise now echoed behind steel and concrete, not quite loud enough to set him into agony, but just enough that he recognized the shrieks of soldiers in the hallway.

He closed his eyes. The chaos was deafening, the hope sickening, but he couldn't muster the strength to root for either one.

Thank God one of them had the sensibility to wear a watch that day. Cisco, brandishing an iPad in one hand, motioned forward with the other. The building schematics blazed bright blue on the screen, although at this point they were unnecessary: Ronnie was drawn perpetually forward by the magnetism of his connection with Stein, his face drenched with sweat from some pain neither Cisco nor Caitlin could feel.

There was no way to speak to one other, not even to shout warnings or give guidance. Caitlin had obviously never been in a war zone before, but this felt something like it. As they sprinted through gray-washed hallways and flashing red lights, she was thrillingly deaf. The specialized hearing protectors that they all wore effectively neutralized the world around her. She knew, in theory what was happening—the sonic frequency was being blasted through every loudspeaker in the facility, incapacitating everyone in their path—but she still felt as if she was dreaming as she passed dozens of writhing men and women on the ground, all clutching their ears.

All of it seemed too easy, and yet she couldn't bring herself to fault their fortune. She passed blindly past the silently wailing people on the ground and forced herself not to think.

Cisco motioned again, but Ronnie had already taken the turn down a slightly darker hallway. It wasn't true that Caitlin couldn't hear anything—she could hear her heartbeat, thick and monstrous in her ears.

They passed into a small passageway, and instantly the temperature dropped. Maybe Ronnie's premonition had been right; it was likely, given that he now led the way to Stein without any need of a map or GPS coordinates. A woman against one of the walls dug the heels of her hands into her ears, face distorted. Caitlin averted her eyes and kicked away the gun that had fallen to the ground.

Finally they reached a steel door, partially ajar, which Ronnie disappeared into without pausing. Cisco and Caitlin rushed to follow him, Cisco lowering his iPad when he registered where they were.

In the center of the room sat Professor Stein, cuffed by the wrists and ankles to a metal chair, his teeth clenched in a grimace. Though there weren't any speakers in the room that Caitlin could see, the open door allowed for plenty of the sound waves. Besides, he had the origin of it all on his person: the small sonic chip Cisco had given him back in the lab.

Ronnie appeared to be frozen on the spot, so Cisco rushed forward to undo the cuffs. Once freed, Stein reached into his pocket and pulled out his own hearing protection, similar modified earpieces like the rest of the team wore. He relaxed slightly and wiped away the sweat from his forehead, then nodded to indicate he was ready. He looked out of place, Caitlin thought, with fringes of panic in the creases of his face, his clean button-down, his skewed glasses. He didn't belong here, in this dark military base. Then again, none of them did.

The proximity between Stein and Ronnie frightened her, so she stepped between them to get Stein's attention.

"Where's Barry?" she mouthed.

Stein pointed to the door and led them out. They jogged down the hallway, Stein clearly exhausted but doggedly pushing ahead. Caitlin checked her watch. Five minutes left.

They hadn't gone very far before Stein came to a halt. It was the steel door they had passed before, the one that seemed to radiate cold. Stein nodded at it and stepped out of the way as Ronnie hefted the silver device and aimed at the handle.

All doubts about the moralism of their weapons departed in that moment; the makeshift gun, which Cisco had modeled after Pied Piper's sonic gloves, was remarkably efficient. The concentrated waves rippled forward and, within seconds, the lock of the door burst. Ronnie passed the gun to Cisco and rammed his shoulder against the metal. It swung open, and the rush of freezing air that emptied into the hallway pricked up the hairs on the back of Caitlin's neck. Even that chilled her less than the sight that met them.

In the middle of the tiny gray room, a familiar maroon suit appeared faded, riddled with metal, the face above it tinged white and purple.

Caitlin wanted to cry, or throw up, or scream, but mostly she wanted to run to Barry—run to him and never let him go again.. However, while everyone else dashed toward the barely-stirring figure held tightly to the vertical backboard, she could not.

A door crashed closed behind her, a gloved hand caught her around the throat, and the cold barrel of a gun pressed into her temple.

Without looking back, she knew who it was—and without looking back, she knew that Eiling was grinning.

Thanks again for reading. Hopefully the internet is back up soon-in the meantime, let's bond in the face of my new favorite line in Flash history: "Hello, kids."

Till next time,

Penn