Karan was still processing the cosmic absurdity of his situation when he really looked at Barry Allen for the first time.
And immediately thought: *Oh, you've got to be kidding me.*
It was Grant Gustin. Not someone who looked *like* Grant Gustin—it was actually him, down to the specific way his hair fell across his forehead and that particular jawline that had launched a thousand Tumblr gifsets. Which meant either he'd landed in the Arrowverse, or the cosmic R.O.B. had very specific opinions about Flash casting choices.
*And honestly,* Karan thought, *who could blame him? Grant Gustin over Ezra Miller any day of the week.*
But if this was the CW universe, then that meant—
The door opened with a soft hydraulic hiss, and Karan's blood turned to ice water.
A man in a wheelchair rolled in, flanked by two younger people who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a science textbook's "Cool Researchers You'd Actually Want to Hang Out With" section. The man in the wheelchair had salt-and-pepper hair, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and the sort of gentle, paternal smile that would have put anyone at ease.
Anyone who didn't know he was actually Eobard Thawne, the Reverse Flash, and quite possibly the most petty time-traveling serial killer in the multiverse.
"Karan," Harrison Wells said, his voice warm with what sounded like genuine relief. "Thank God you're awake. We've been so worried."
*Act natural,* Karan told himself, even as every instinct he'd developed from watching far too much superhero television screamed at him to run. *You're supposed to be an eighteen-year-old who just woke up from a nine-month coma. You have no idea this man murdered the real Harrison Wells and stole his identity. You definitely don't know he's from the future and has a hate-boner for Barry Allen specifically.*
"Dr. Wells?" Karan's voice came out exactly as confused and shaky as it should have. The performance wasn't entirely fake—waking up in a different universe wearing someone else's life was disorienting enough without adding "your legal guardian is secretly a time-traveling psychopath" to the mix.
"Please, call me Harrison." Wells wheeled closer, and Karan had to fight not to flinch. "Your father and I were colleagues at university. When we heard about the explosion, about Bryan and Radha..." His voice caught, and the grief there sounded entirely genuine. Which was somehow more disturbing than if he'd been obviously faking it.
The woman with long, dark hair stepped forward. She was beautiful in that specific way that suggested she spent most of her time thinking about complicated scientific problems and occasionally remembered to eat meals. "I'm Caitlin Snow," she said, extending a hand. "I'm a biomedical engineer here at S.T.A.R. Labs. I've been monitoring your condition."
And the young man beside her—Latino, with the kind of eager energy that suggested he'd had at least three energy drinks for breakfast—grinned widely. "Cisco Ramon, mechanical engineering. Dude, you have *no idea* how glad we are that you're okay. We were starting to worry you'd be out as long as Barry there."
Both of them seemed genuinely happy to see him awake, which made the whole situation even more surreal. These were good people. Cisco and Caitlin were heroes in their own right, brilliant and loyal and brave. They had no idea they were working for a monster.
*And I can't tell them,* Karan realized with a sinking heart. *How do I explain that I know Harrison Wells is actually Eobard Thawne without revealing that I'm from another universe where their lives are a TV show? 'Hey guys, fun fact, your boss murdered the real Harrison Wells fifteen years ago and has been wearing his face like a party mask' is not exactly a conversation starter that ends well.*
"I... it's all a bit overwhelming," Karan said, which was the understatement of several centuries. "Nine months? My parents are really...?"
Wells' face crumpled with what looked like authentic sorrow. "I'm so sorry, son. The explosion... we lost a lot of good people that night. Bryan and Radha were investigating some artifacts when the particle accelerator malfunctioned. They were found..." He paused, seeming to gather himself. "They were found protecting you. Even at the end, they put your safety first."
*Because they were covering an artifact that turned out to be mystical armor,* Karan thought, but only nodded mutely. The grief in his borrowed memories felt real enough, even if he'd never actually met Bryan and Radha Matthews.
"The important thing," Caitlin said gently, "is that you're awake and healthy. Your vital signs are actually remarkable—better than we've ever seen, considering the length of your coma. We'll need to run some tests, of course, but preliminarily, you seem to have suffered no lasting effects from the explosion or the extended unconsciousness."
*That would be the divine armor keeping me in peak condition,* Karan thought, but just nodded again.
Cisco was practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Dude, you've got to be starving. Hospital food is terrible, but we've got this great pizza place that delivers to the lab, and—oh!" He snapped his fingers. "You probably want to see yourself. I mean, it's been nine months, and comas can be weird about muscle atrophy and stuff, but you look..." He gestured vaguely at Karan's general existence. "Really good, actually. Suspiciously good."
Caitlin shot him a look that suggested this wasn't the first time Cisco had said something medically questionable, but nodded. "He's right. You should probably take a look at yourself. There's a bathroom just through there with a full mirror."
Karan glanced at the door she indicated, then back at the three people watching him with varying degrees of concern and scientific curiosity. Wells was still wearing that paternal expression, but there was something else underneath it now—a sharpness, like he was cataloguing every reaction, every word, every breath.
*Of course he is. He's studying me. Trying to figure out if I'm another metahuman he needs to account for in his master plan to get back to the future and murder Barry Allen's mother. Again.*
"Yeah," Karan said, standing up slowly. His legs felt steady, which was more than he'd expected. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."
He walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs—not because he was weak, but because every step was a reminder that this body wasn't quite his. The proportions were wrong, the muscle memory different. He felt like someone had downloaded him into a computer that was running the same operating system but on completely different hardware.
The bathroom was standard hospital sterile—white tiles, harsh fluorescent lighting, the kind of mirror that showed every flaw in unforgiving detail.
Karan looked at his reflection and promptly forgot how to breathe.
*What the hell?*
The face looking back at him was... well, it was his. Sort of. The same basic bone structure, the same dark eyes that his mother had always said were too expressive for his own good. But everything had been refined, enhanced, like someone had taken his original features and run them through a filter labeled "Bollywood Leading Man."
His jawline was sharper, more defined. His cheekbones could have cut glass. His skin had a warm, golden undertone that seemed to glow softly in the harsh bathroom lighting. And his hair—still black, still with that stubborn cowlick that had plagued him since childhood—somehow looked perfectly styled despite the fact that he'd just woken up from a nine-month coma.
But it was his body that really made him stare.
Karan Chauhan had been in decent shape—all those morning runs and pickup cricket games had kept him reasonably fit. But this... this was something else entirely.
He looked like an eighteen-year-old Vidyut Jamwal.
His shoulders were broader, his arms corded with lean muscle that spoke of serious physical training. His chest and abs were defined enough that they would have made his gym-obsessed college friends weep with envy. Every line of his torso suggested power held in perfect control, strength that could probably bench press a motorcycle without breaking a sweat.
*This is not what coma patients are supposed to look like,* he thought, running his hands down his torso in disbelief. *This is what people look like after spending nine months training with the world's most expensive personal trainer and nutritionist.*
And then he noticed something else.
There, just visible at the edge of his collarbone, was the faintest trace of golden lines. Like someone had drawn the most delicate filigree pattern just under his skin. When he focused on them, they seemed to pulse gently, in perfect time with his heartbeat.
The armor. It wasn't just protecting him—it was enhancing him. Making him stronger, faster, more resilient. And apparently more aesthetically pleasing, because cosmic entities apparently had opinions about proper superhero presentation.
*The R.O.B. really went all out,* he thought, half-impressed and half-terrified. *I look like I stepped out of a fitness magazine. How am I supposed to explain this to—*
A knock on the door interrupted his existential crisis about his new supernatural abs.
"Karan? Everything okay in there?" Caitlin's voice carried that particular note of medical concern that suggested she was already mentally preparing to catch him if he fainted.
"Yeah," he called back, taking one last look at his reflection. The face in the mirror grinned back—that same crooked, troublemaker grin he'd always had, just now attached to features that belonged in a movie about demigods. "Just... processing. I'll be right out."
He opened the door to find all three of them watching him with expressions ranging from scientific curiosity (Caitlin) to barely contained excitement (Cisco) to something unreadably calculating (Wells).
"So," Cisco said, rocking back on his heels, "what's the verdict? Still got all your original parts?"
Karan managed a shaky laugh. "All present and accounted for. Just... different than I remembered. Did I always look like..." He gestured vaguely at his general existence.
"Like a Greek statue that decided to go into modeling?" Cisco supplied helpfully. "Dude, no offense, but you were cute before. Now you look like you stepped out of a superhero movie. It's kind of unfair, actually."
Caitlin elbowed him, but she was studying Karan with obvious scientific interest. "The physical enhancement is unusual," she admitted. "Coma patients typically experience significant muscle atrophy, not... the opposite. We'll need to run some tests."
Wells had been quiet during this exchange, but now he spoke up. "The explosion affected everyone differently," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "We're still discovering the full range of... changes... that occurred that night."
*Changes.* Right. The polite way of saying "people got superpowers and we're all just winging it now."
"Speaking of changes," Wells continued, leaning forward in his wheelchair, "I've taken the liberty of making arrangements for your care. Your parents..." He paused, that grief flickering across his features again. "They named me as your guardian in their will. If you're comfortable with it, I'd like you to come stay at my home while you recover. It's the least I can do for Bryan's son."
*The least you can do is not murder any more time-traveling speedsters,* Karan thought, but what he said was, "That's... that's very generous. But I don't want to be a burden."
"Nonsense." Wells' smile was warm, paternal, and absolutely terrifying if you knew what lurked behind it. "You're family now, Karan. Besides," his eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, "something tells me you're going to be far from a burden."
And there it was. The confirmation that Harrison Wells—or rather, Eobard Thawne wearing Harrison Wells' face—knew there was something different about him. Something worth keeping close and watching carefully.
Karan was going to be living with the Reverse Flash.
*This,* he thought, grin widening despite the terror, *is either the best opportunity I'll ever get to keep an eye on one of the most dangerous men in the multiverse... or the fastest way to get myself killed. Again.*
Looking at the three faces watching him expectantly, he made his choice.
"I'd like that," he said, and meant it. "Thank you, Dr. Wells."
After all, someone had to keep an eye on Eobard Thawne. And if his first life had taught him anything, it was that he'd never been very good at walking away from dangerous situations.
Some things, apparently, really were universal constants.
—
Harrison leaned forward in his wheelchair, his expression shifting to something more intense. "Karan, I need you to think carefully. Do you remember what your parents were working on that night? What they were examining when the explosion happened?"
Karan let his brow furrow, as if he were trying to dredge up difficult memories. In reality, he was frantically trying to figure out how to explain mythological armor without sounding completely insane. "It's... it's fuzzy," he said slowly. "But I remember Dad being really excited about something. He'd been obsessing over it for weeks."
"Obsessing over what?" Wells pressed, and there was something sharp in his tone now.
Karan rubbed his temples, playing up the difficulty of remembering. "Ever since he met Mom in graduate school... she was working on her dissertation about the Mahabharata, and there was this one story..." He paused, looking up at Wells with apparent surprise. "Wait, you know about this, don't you? Dad used to talk to you about it."
Wells' eyes lit up with recognition. "The Armor of Karna," he breathed. "Bryan never shut up about it. He was convinced it was real, that somewhere out there was actual divine armor from Indian mythology."
Cisco and Caitlin exchanged blank looks.
"Uh," Cisco said, raising his hand like he was in class, "translation for those of us who didn't minor in Ancient Awesome Things?"
Karan turned to them, slipping into the kind of storytelling rhythm his mother—both mothers—had used when explaining mythological concepts. "The Mahabharata is one of the great Indian epics. Karna was one of the greatest warriors in it—son of the sun god Surya. He was born wearing divine armor called the Kavach and Kundal—the Kavacha and Kundalas—that made him essentially invincible."
"Like, video game invincible or mythology invincible?" Cisco asked, genuinely curious.
"Mythology invincible, which is arguably worse," Karan replied. "The armor was fused to his skin and bones. Nothing could penetrate it. The only reason Karna ever lost it was because he gave it away to save someone else's life, because he was too generous for his own good."
Caitlin was frowning thoughtfully. "And your parents believed they'd found this actual armor?"
"Dad thought Mom's research had identified the real historical basis for the myth," Karan said. "They'd been tracking archaeological evidence across multiple dig sites. And that night..." He paused, letting his expression grow distant. "That night, Dad came home with this case. He was practically vibrating with excitement. Said he'd finally found it."
Wells' hands were gripping his wheelchair's armrests. "Where is it now? The armor—where did they have it when the explosion happened?"
This was the moment of truth. Karan let his face scrunch up in concentration, as if he were trying desperately to remember. What he was actually doing was reaching deep inside himself, toward that warm presence he'd felt since waking up, toward the golden sparks that danced at the edges of his vision.
*Come on,* he thought. *The R.O.B. said I'd have the power of Karna. That has to include the armor. How do I...*
He thought about protection. About strength. About the feeling of standing between danger and someone who needed help. About the moment he'd thrown himself in front of that truck, willing to die to save a stranger.
The warmth in his chest flared.
"They had it spread out on the coffee table," he said, his voice growing stronger as golden light began to emanulate from his skin. "Mom was translating the inscriptions, and Dad was taking measurements, and they were both so excited, and then—"
The light around him intensified, and suddenly Karan could *feel* it—the armor, not as a separate thing he was wearing, but as part of him, as natural as his own heartbeat.
"—and then the explosion hit, and they threw themselves over me, and the armor—"
Golden radiance erupted from his body, filling the room with warm, divine light. Cisco yelped and threw his hands up to shield his eyes. Caitlin stumbled backward, medical training warring with complete confusion about what the hell she was supposed to do when your patient started glowing like a small sun.
Wells' wheelchair rolled back a few feet, but his eyes never left Karan, and his expression was hungry, fascinated, *calculating*.
The light pulsed once, twice, and then began to coalesce, flowing over Karan's body like liquid gold. It settled onto his skin, hardening into plates and joints and articulated segments that moved with him as naturally as a second skin.
When the radiance finally faded, Karan stood transformed.
The armor was magnificent—and somehow familiar, as if he'd been wearing it his entire life. The upper body was primarily gold, each plate etched with intricate Sanskrit inscriptions that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. The lower body shifted to silver, the metal flowing seamlessly from one tone to the other. A crimson collar rose from his shoulders, elegant and regal, marking him as something between warrior and prince.
But it wasn't bulky or cumbersome like medieval armor. Instead, it fitted him perfectly, enhancing rather than hiding his enhanced physique. It looked less like protective gear and more like clothing made from compressed starlight and divine will.
The room was dead silent.
Finally, Cisco whispered, "Dude. *Dude.* Are you wearing actual mythological armor right now?"
Karan looked down at himself, then up at the three stunned faces staring at him. That crooked grin spread across his features, visible through the armor's face guard that had materialized to frame but not hide his expression.
"I guess," he said, his voice carrying a slight harmonic resonance now, "the explosion didn't just put me in a coma. It fused me with the armor. Made me..." He paused, testing the words. "Made me the new Karna."
Wells was leaning forward so far he looked like he might fall out of his wheelchair. "Extraordinary," he breathed. "Absolutely extraordinary. The energy readings from this manifestation alone..." His eyes were bright with the kind of fascination that was equal parts scientific and predatory. "Karan, do you understand what this means? You're not just enhanced—you're wielding divine power. *Actual* divine power."
Caitlin, meanwhile, was staring at her tablet, where multiple alarms were going off. "His bio-signs just spiked across the board, but they're not dangerous spikes. They're... optimal. Like, better than optimal. Like his body just became a perfect machine."
"Can you... take it off?" Cisco asked, circling around him like Karan was a particularly interesting piece of technology.
Karan concentrated, and the armor began to fade, dissolving back into golden light before disappearing entirely, leaving him standing in the hospital gown again. Then he focused once more, and the armor flowed back into existence around him.
"It's not really separate from me," he said, experimenting with partial manifestations—just gauntlets, just the chest plate, just the helmet. "It's more like... it's part of me now. Like it was always supposed to be."
Wells was practically vibrating with excitement. "The implications are staggering. This isn't just metahuman enhancement—this is mythological power made manifest. Karan, with training, with proper development of these abilities..."
He trailed off, but Karan could practically see the gears turning in the man's head. Eobard Thawne had just discovered that his new ward was potentially one of the most powerful beings on the planet.
*And now he's going to want to study me, control me, figure out how to use me in his grand plan to destroy Barry Allen,* Karan thought. *Well, at least I'll have a front-row seat to see him coming.*
"Dr. Wells," he said, letting just a hint of vulnerability creep into his voice, "what does this make me? Am I still... human?"
Wells' expression softened into that paternal mask again, but behind his glasses, his eyes were sharp as razors. "You're exactly what you choose to be, Karan. But with power like this comes responsibility. And I think... I think your parents would want you to use these gifts to help people."
*Oh, the irony,* Karan thought. *Getting life advice about helping people from a time-traveling serial killer.*
But what he said was, "Yeah. Yeah, I think they would too."
As he let the armor fade once more, Karan caught sight of Barry Allen's still form in the other bed. Soon, Barry would wake up with the power to run faster than light itself. And when he did, he'd find himself with an ally who carried the protection of the sun god and the stubborn loyalty of mythology's greatest warrior.
Eobard Thawne thought he was getting a powerful new piece to add to his game board.
What he was actually getting was Karan Chauhan, who had already died once protecting a stranger and was more than ready to do it again.
*This is going to be fun,* Karan thought, grin widening as he watched Wells' calculating expression. *Bring it on, Reverse Flash. You have no idea what you're dealing with.*
—
After the trio left him to rest—Caitlin promising to return with proper discharge papers, Cisco babbling excitedly about "divine metallurgy analysis," and Wells wearing that calculating smile that made Karan's skin crawl—he settled back into his hospital bed and turned his attention to Barry Allen.
The future Flash lay motionless, machines beeping steadily around him, looking younger and more vulnerable than the confident hero Karan remembered from the show. Grant Gustin's face was peaceful in sleep, that familiar jawline relaxed, brown hair falling across his forehead in a way that would probably make him self-conscious once he woke up.
"Nine months," Karan murmured, reaching over to adjust Barry's blanket with careful fingers. "Nine months you've been out, which means..." He did the math quickly. "You should be waking up any day now. Maybe even today."
He leaned back, studying the man who would become Central City's greatest protector. It was surreal, knowing what was coming. Barry would wake up, discover he could run at impossible speeds, spend some time angsting about his newfound abilities, and then throw himself headfirst into the superhero life with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that would either save the world or get him killed.
Probably both, knowing Barry Allen's luck.
"You have no idea what you're in for," Karan said softly. "Time travel, alternate universes, your mentor turning out to be your greatest enemy... and that's just the first few years."
A thought occurred to him, and he grinned despite everything. "Though I guess now you'll have backup. Divine armor versus the Speed Force—that should make things interesting."
He was settling in for what might be a long vigil when a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye made him tense. Through the small window in the door, he caught a glimpse of Harrison Wells wheeling away from the others, moving with purpose down a corridor that definitely wasn't the way to his office.
*Where are you going, Eobard?* Karan wondered, watching until the wheelchair disappeared around a corner. *Time to check in with your secret evil lair?*
---
Harrison Wells—or rather, the man wearing Harrison Wells' face—rolled his wheelchair through the abandoned corridors of S.T.A.R. Labs with practiced ease. Most of the facility remained closed to all but essential personnel, a casualty of the particle accelerator explosion that had destroyed his reputation along with half of Central City.
*Not that any of that mattered now.*
He reached an unmarked door, pressed his palm to a hidden scanner, and waited as multiple security systems verified his identity. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing an elevator that shouldn't have existed according to any building plans filed with the city.
The descent took exactly forty-seven seconds. He'd timed it often enough to know.
When the doors opened, they revealed a chamber that belonged more to science fiction than reality—a circular room dominated by a massive cylindrical console that pulsed with blue light. Holographic displays flickered in the air around it, showing readouts and data streams that would have been incomprehensible to anyone without a post-doctoral understanding of temporal mechanics.
"Good evening, Professor Thawne," a crisp British accent greeted him as he wheeled into the chamber. "How may I assist you today?"
The voice belonged to Gideon, the artificial intelligence he'd brought with him from the twenty-second century. She existed as a shimmering hologram above the central console, her avatar wearing the appearance of a professional woman in an elegant business suit.
"Gideon," he said, rolling up to the console and placing his hands on its surface. "I need you to run a comprehensive search through the temporal database. Look for any reference to an individual named Karan Matthews, born approximately 2006 in Central City."
"Searching now, Professor." Gideon's image flickered as she accessed databanks that spanned centuries. "May I ask what has prompted this inquiry? This individual does not appear in any of your previous research files."
Eobard's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Mr. Matthews has just demonstrated abilities that should not exist. I need to know if he's a threat to the timeline."
"Ah." Gideon's tone carried a note of understanding. "Another metahuman from the particle accelerator explosion. Shall I cross-reference with known historical figures?"
"Do that, but expand the search parameters. Look for any mention of divine armor, Indian mythology, specifically references to someone called Karna." He paused, remembering the golden radiance that had filled the hospital room. "And search for any anomalous energy signatures similar to what Barry Allen will eventually generate."
The search took longer than usual. Gideon's avatar flickered more rapidly, indicating the AI was accessing deeper, more obscure databases—records from civilizations that hadn't been human, chronicles from timelines that had been erased and restored, mythological texts that turned out to be historical documents.
Finally, she spoke.
"Professor, this is... highly unusual."
Eobard leaned forward. "Define unusual."
"I can find no historical record of Karan Matthews beyond his birth in 2006. No academic achievements, no significant life events, no death record. For all intents and purposes, he did not exist in the timeline prior to the particle accelerator explosion."
"Interesting." Eobard's fingers drummed against the console. "What about the armor? The mythological references?"
"That is where the situation becomes more complex." Gideon's avatar solidified, her expression taking on what might have been concern if an AI could truly feel such things. "I have found extensive references to the Armor of Karna throughout multiple timelines and realities. In most cases, it remains a myth. However..."
"However?"
"In seven distinct timeline variations, the armor manifests as an actual artifact. In each case, it bonds with an individual who demonstrates exceptional self-sacrifice. And in each case, that individual becomes a significant temporal focal point."
Eobard went very still. "What kind of focal point?"
"The kind that changes everything, Professor. In timeline designation Omega-7, the armor bonded with a warrior named Vasudeva, who prevented what your people call the Heat Death Crisis of 2387. In timeline Theta-12, it chose a young woman who single-handedly stopped an invasion from Earth-X that would have devastated this dimension."
"And in this timeline?"
"Unknown. This is the first time the armor has appeared in this particular temporal stream." Gideon paused, her image flickering with what looked like uncertainty. "Professor, there is something else. The energy signature I detected from Mr. Matthews during his manifestation... it does not match anything in my databases."
"Not even the Speed Force?"
"No, Professor. If anything, it seems to be the Speed Force's opposite. Where the Speed Force is kinetic, chaotic, temporal... this energy reads as protective, stable, *eternal*. It's as if the armor isn't just divine—it's from outside this reality entirely."
Eobard was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. An individual with no historical presence, wielding power from outside this reality, who had conveniently appeared in his life just as Barry Allen was about to awaken.
It could be coincidence. The particle accelerator explosion had created dozens of metahumans with impossible abilities. But in his centuries of experience with temporal mechanics, Eobard had learned to be deeply suspicious of coincidences.
"Gideon," he said finally, "I want continuous monitoring of Karan Matthews. Bio-signs, energy readings, behavioral patterns. And I want you to scan for any temporal anomalies associated with his presence."
"Of course, Professor. Shall I also prepare contingency files?"
"Yes." Eobard's voice carried a edge of cold calculation. "If Mr. Matthews becomes a threat to my plans for Barry Allen, I want options."
"Understood. Will there be anything else?"
Eobard stared at the holographic displays showing the current state of the timeline, his timeline, the one he'd spent fifteen years carefully orchestrating. Everything had been proceeding perfectly. Barry Allen would wake up, become the Flash, and eventually become fast enough for Eobard to harvest his Speed Force energy and return to his own time.
But now there was a new variable. A young man with divine armor and no historical footprint, who had been placed directly in Eobard's path with suspicious timing.
*Either this is the universe's idea of a gift,* he thought, *or someone is playing a game I don't understand yet.*
"Keep monitoring," he said finally. "And Gideon? Start running probability matrices on how Mr. Matthews' presence might affect Barry's development as a speedster. I have a feeling his involvement in our little Flash's journey is just beginning."
"Already in progress, Professor."
As Eobard sat in his hidden chamber, surrounded by the technology that had brought him across centuries to destroy his greatest enemy, he couldn't shake the feeling that his carefully laid plans had just become significantly more complicated.
Upstairs, in a hospital room, Karan Matthews sat watching over Barry Allen with protective instincts that had already gotten him killed once.
And in the space between dimensions, something that might have been the R.O.B. chuckled softly and made a note to keep an eye on how this particular chess match played out.
After all, he'd never seen what happened when an unstoppable force met an immovable object who was too stubborn to get out of the way.
This was going to be *very* interesting indeed.
---
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