I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling that familiar heaviness settle in. My thoughts spun around, not really going anywhere. Iris had been calm, but I could still feel the weight of what she said. Barry struggled too, she said. But I'm not Barry. I'm just… here. Just trying to fill a gap I didn't even ask for.

I mean, I think I'm doing the right thing, right? But maybe it's not enough to just *be* the Flash. Maybe it's not enough to hit hard and move fast. Hell, I'm not even moving that fast—just fast enough to make it feel like I'm stuck, watching the world crawl by.

And then there's the violence. The way it feels good. Too good, maybe. Iris wouldn't understand that. She couldn't.

It's not like I'm pretending to be Barry, even though I guess that's how it looks. I wasn't trying to wear his shoes, just trying to replace him—fill the hole, you know? But I wasn't doing it for the glory. I was doing it because someone had to.

And now, I'm just here. Stuck in my head. I say a lot, but it's like none of it means anything. Not even to me half the time.

Iris said it wasn't my responsibility. But if it's not mine, then whose?

It's not like I have much else going on. Not much else to live for. Maybe this is what's keeping me here. At least this gives me something to focus on that's not the usual noise in my head.

I stood up, feeling that familiar itch. Yeah, I might be doing this wrong, but I wasn't going to just stop. I wasn't going to wait for someone else to step in. The news guys could bring me down too if they want but if I don't do something who will?

Grabbing the hidden Flash costume, I made my way to the window. It was time to head out again.

Windsor Heights at night had a vibe all its own—a dark underbelly that most people didn't think about when they imagined Central City. Sure, the city had its clean-cut skylines. But out here, it was easy to forget about that and get swallowed by the shadows. Tonight, I wasn't here to punch my way through the streets recklessly. After hearing Iris and seeing how badly things had gone before, I knew I had to do better. Maybe less bruising, more… thinking.

I focused on slowing things down, letting the world crawl as I moved through the streets. It felt familiar now, this strange slow-motion reality I existed in. Everything was still at normal speed for me, but watching people, cars, and the wind drag through the air made it clear I was moving faster than everyone around me.

First up was a mugging in progress. A guy had some woman by the arm, dragging her toward an alley. The old me might've rushed in, fists first and god did I want to, but this time I took a breath, let time crawl. I grabbed the guy from behind and yanked him back before he even realized what was happening. The shock on his face as he turned to see me was priceless.

"Get lost," I growled, giving him just enough of a shove to knock him down. He scurried away, and I didn't need to throw a single punch, Iris was right.

I kept going, doing the same for a couple of other small crimes. I was faster, smarter—more careful. I could feel a small sense of satisfaction. Maybe I wasn't totally hopeless. Maybe I could actually pull this off.

That's when I saw it—a strip club, the neon lights flickering on the corner of my vision. I was just about to pass it when I heard a loud *whoosh, followed by an intense wave of heat that made my skin prickle. I turned around, and my heart sank as I saw a wall of fire shoot out of the alley next to the club.

Then, out stepped *Heatwave*.

The guy was a walking nightmare. Flame-resistant suit, a crazed look in his eyes, and the massive fire gun he carried like it was an extension of his arm. Heatwave wasn't just any thug—he was one of the Rogues, a dangerous pyromaniac with a love for destruction. He locked eyes with me, and his grin stretched wide as he leveled the gun.

"Been waiting for you, Flash knock-off," Heatwave snarled. "Thought you'd be quicker."

Before I could respond, he pulled the trigger, unleashing a stream of fire in my direction. I shifted into my time dilation mode instinctively, watching as the flames erupted toward me in slow motion. The heat was unreal, even in this altered state. It wasn't just the fire I had to worry about—it was the sheer force behind it.

I tried to move out of the way, but something about the fire gun's power disrupted my usual flow. I could see the flames creeping toward me, but it felt like they were too fast for me to fully evade. I managed to sidestep most of the blast, but the edge of the flames licked at my arm, burning through the fabric of my costume and searing my skin.

Pain shot through me, but I gritted my teeth and rushed forward. I had to close the distance between us if I wanted to stand a chance. Heatwave was laughing, almost giddy, as he swung the gun around for another shot.

This time, I anticipated the attack and dodged before he fired. I rushed at him, fist drawn back, ready to knock him out. But Heatwave was smarter than he looked. He fired a blast of fire at the ground between us, creating a wall of flame that stopped me in my tracks.

"Nice try," Heatwave sneered. "But I don't go down that easy."

He aimed the gun at my feet, forcing me to leap back as more flames erupted from the ground. Every time I tried to get close, he used the fire to keep me at bay, forcing me into a corner. It was like he'd fought speedsters before and knew exactly how to counter them, which he had, one much faster than me too.

In the chaos, one blast caught me full in the chest, sending me flying back into the wall of the club. My body hit the brick with a sickening thud, and I felt the air leave my lungs. The flames were scorching, and my vision blurred as the heat sapped my energy.

I barely managed to get to my feet, but it was too late. Heatwave had already decided he was done playing around. With a final burst of fire, he sent me sprawling to the ground, flames dancing around my body.

"Better luck next time, kid," he said, turning away after hearing sirens in the distance "If there is a next time."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me lying there in the aftermath.

As I pulled myself together, coughing from the smoke, I realized the building was on fire. The strip club, the people inside—it was all going up in flames. I forced myself to my feet and staggered toward the door, pushing through the intense heat.

Inside, I could hear the panicked voices of people trapped, trying to find a way out. My body ached, every movement felt like agony, but I couldn't just leave them. I activated my powers again, moving through the club in a time-slowed blur. One by one, I grabbed people—bouncers, dancers, patrons—and rushed them outside. The heat felt like it was cooking me alive, but I kept going, determined to get everyone out before the fire consumed the building.

The last person was stuck behind a small fallen beam, flames licking at her heels. I pushed through, ignoring the burning sensation in my skin as I lifted the beam off her with all my effort and carried her to safety.

By the time I made it out, the club was engulfed. I collapsed on the sidewalk, gasping for air as the flames roared behind me. My body was wrecked, my mind buzzing with exhaustion. But at least I'd saved them. At least I'd done *something* right.

As I lay there, staring up at the night sky, I couldn't help but wonder how long I could keep this up. How long before someone like Heatwave beat me for good? God what would happen if I fought someone like Captain Cold? Or Mirror Master?

I dragged myself home, every step sending waves of pain through my charred skin. Heatwave had done a number on me, and every inch of my body screamed for rest. By the time I made it to the backyard, the adrenaline had worn off, and I was left with nothing but agony. The window felt a million miles away as I struggled to climb back inside. My hands were trembling, burnt fingertips barely gripping the ledge as I pulled myself through.

I collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily, sweat mixing with the soot on my face. My costume was scorched, the smell of burnt fabric and skin lingering in the air. I couldn't help but wonder—was Heatwave waiting for me? It felt too convenient, too precise. He didn't just run into me by accident. The Rogues had to know I was out there. Maybe they wanted to take out the new Flash before I could even become a threat.

But as I lay there, thinking about how close I'd come to dying tonight, something weird started happening. The pain that had been shooting through my body began to dull. I looked down at my arm—the one that had taken the worst of the burns—and watched in disbelief as the charred skin began to heal. No, not just heal—rewind. The damage wasn't just closing up; it was as if time itself was rolling back.

My burnt flesh unscarred itself, and even the singed hairs on my arms were regrowing. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched it all unfold in real-time. I could barely process it. I wasn't just healing—I was rewinding my own body's state, undoing the damage like it had never happened.

I didn't have time to think about what it meant, or how it was even possible. All I knew was that my body was repairing itself, and fast. Within moments, the burns were gone, my skin was unmarked, and it was like I'd never fought Heatwave at all. The exhaustion hit me hard, though, like the power had drained everything from me. I barely made it to my bed before collapsing into it, eyes heavy as lead.

I had a new power. Something Barry had but in a different style basically. But with it came a lot more questions, what other time powers do I have?