The streets of Central City were drowned in darkness, rain hammering the pavement without mercy. Sirens wailed through the storm as ambulances screeched to a halt outside Central City General. The back doors flew open and two paramedics jumped out, hauling a stretcher slick with rainwater.
"What's his condition?" a nurse called, her face drawn and weary.
"Male, mid-twenties! Severe electrical burns, unresponsive! BP unstable!" one of the paramedics shouted as they rushed the stretcher through the sliding doors.
On the stretcher, Victor lay motionless beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, his skin charred and cracked. Patches of flesh were mottled with burns that still faintly smoked, the acrid scent of ozone and scorched fabric hanging heavy in the air.
Inside the ER, chaos reigned. Nurses rushed forward, shouting over one another as stretchers rolled past. The corridors were already overflowing with patients, each demanding urgent care. From the side halls, doctors appeared, issuing quick, practiced commands.
"Move him to Trauma Bay Three! I need an IV line, now!"
A nurse pressed an oxygen mask over Victor's face while another cut away the remnants of his burned shirt.
Behind them, Jennifer burst through the doors, soaked to the bone. Her hair clung to her face, rainwater dripping from her chin as her voice cracked. "Victor! Oh my God, Victor!"
"Ma'am, you can't be here!" a nurse shouted, stepping in front of her with outstretched arms.
"That's my nephew!" Jennifer cried, struggling against their grip. "Please, he needs me! Let me go to him!"
Two orderlies gently restrained her as the medical team closed in around Victor. His body convulsed suddenly, muscles jerking beneath charred skin as a defibrillator was rushed in.
"Charging to two hundred!"
Jennifer froze, her breath catching as she pressed trembling hands to her mouth, staring through the narrow window of the trauma room door.
"Clear!"
Victor's body arched violently, a flash of light glinting off the surgical instruments. The heart monitor flatlined for an instant before a weak, fragile blip broke the silence.
"Pulse returning! Faint but steady!" one of the nurses shouted.
Jennifer collapsed to her knees, sobbing with relief, tears mixing with the rain still dripping from her clothes.
But none of them noticed what was happening beneath the surface. Inside Victor's body, cells were breaking down and rebuilding at a rapid pace, restructuring in ways no human body should. Under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, a faint shimmer of energy rippled across his skin, like static crawling just beneath the surface.
That night, January seventh of 2014, would be remembered as the day Central City changed forever.
One Month Later
The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. Each soft beep echoed through the sterile silence, a reminder that life still lingered within the motionless figure on the bed.
The faint hum of machines filled the air, their green and amber lights blinking in sync. A thin ray of morning sunlight crept through the half-drawn blinds, dust motes dancing lazily in its glow.
Victor lay still beneath the crisp white sheets, pale and unmoving, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. Electrodes clung to his skin, a line ran from the IV in his arm, and an oxygen tube rested under his nose. A month had passed since the explosion, thirty days of nothing but stillness.
Beside him sat Jennifer, Victor's aunt, a middle-aged woman whose jet-black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, slightly tangled from long nights spent in the same chair.
She stirred awake from a short, restless nap, blinking as her neck protested from the awkward angle she had been sleeping in. The soreness ran down her shoulders, but she ignored it. She had far heavier thoughts pressing on her mind.
"When will you wake up?" she wondered, her eyes softening as they lingered on her unconscious nephew. The doctors, for all their expertise, had offered no answers, no explanation for why Victor remained trapped in this mysterious coma.
However, that wasn't the only question they couldn't answer. One mystery was how his burnt, scorched skin had somehow healed completely, leaving not a single scar behind. Another was the shocking transformation of his once jet-black hair, now pure white.
These changes were strange, unnatural, and they only deepened her worry. The only comfort she could find was in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest as he slept.
Just then, as Jennifer reached out to gently ruffle Victor's hair, the sound of wheels creaked against the floor. A man in a wheelchair entered the room, immediately drawing her attention.
She turned toward the figure, curiosity flickering in her eyes, only for it to vanish almost instantly. Confusion crossed her face, followed by realization, and finally anger. Her once gentle gaze hardened as she shot to her feet, fists clenching.
"What are you doing here? What do you want?" she demanded, her voice trembling with restrained fury.
The man paused, a weary exhale escaping him as his expression shifted to one of regret and sympathy.
"I am Dr. Harrison Wells. I believe I can help your nephew," he said, cutting straight to the point. He knew if he didn't, he might never get another chance.
Jennifer, ready a moment ago to unleash her anger, froze, her mind racing. "What are you talking about?" she asked, forcing her voice calm for Victor's sake.
Wells removed his glasses, as if weighing each word. "The doctors… they don't know what's wrong with your nephew."
Jennifer's glare sharpened. "And I suppose you do… since this is your fault?"
Wells met her eyes steadily. "Yes," he admitted, his voice slow, deliberate. "I'm… sorry for that night. It was never my intention. I'm trying to make amends, and helping him... this is the only way I know how."
Jennifer considered his words, her mind trying to reason, but her emotions surged faster. "Out!" she snapped, her finger jabbing toward the door. "Get out."
Wells exhaled slowly, nodding, then slid his glasses back into place. "I understand your anger, Ms. Miller," he said calmly, his tone gentle but firm. "But think about your nephew... at Star Labs, he'll be in far better hands." He began to turn toward the door, pausing at the doorway. "Give it some thought. My offer still stands."
Jennifer ignored the man leaving the room, pretending not to care. But the way her eyes lingered on the door, lost in thought, said otherwise.
---
"For God's sake, he's in perfect health! His brain activity shows he should be waking up, but for some reason, he's not," Caitlin said, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Don't stress it, Caitlin. Dr. Wells has it handled. They're gonna wake up in no time," Cisco replied, trying to sound reassuring.
"It's been four months now," she murmured. "I'm starting to think they won't."
"Come on, Caitlin, have some hope, will you? Dr. Wells says they just need time."
"I really hope so," she whispered.
---
Inside Victor's motionless body, consciousness stirred. Darkness surrounded him, thick, endless, and silent. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't even open his eyes. Yet he was awake. Aware.
The voices he heard confirmed one thing: he wasn't dead. His aunt Jenny had probably rushed him to the hospital. Guilt twisted in his chest; his reckless stunt had likely kept her awake for countless nights. He could only hope she and his cousins weren't too worried.
"So... I'm in a coma?" he thought, piecing it together. The man's and woman's voices were proof enough.
"It's really been four months?" he repeated inwardly, the weight of time pressing down on him.
Then a name echoed in his mind, one that made his blood run cold.
"Doctor Wells?" Victor froze, panic rising before reason pulled him back.
"I'm... in S.T.A.R. Labs," Victor realized, his awareness slowly expanding beyond the haze. "And so must Barry. But what could Eobard Thawne possibly want with me?"
The thought sent a chill down his spine. Thawne wasn't just any man, he was a speedster who could twist time itself, a manipulator who treated the timeline like a chessboard. Whatever reason he had for keeping him here, it wasn't simple.
Still, lying helpless in a coma left him with few options. Worrying would achieve nothing. For now, he forced himself to set the thought aside.
Instead, curiosity began to stir. "What is my ability?" he wondered. He focused, as if flipping some invisible switch in his mind. He didn't expect anything to happen, until it did. The world flared to life.
The world around him ignited like a switch had been flipped, suddenly he could see, though not with his eyes. It was something deeper and more complex. The entire layout of the bay unfolded inside his mind, a glowing map etched in lines of pure energy.
S.T.A.R. Labs rose before him in translucent shades of red, its structure pulsing faintly like a living organism. Beneath it, he saw rivers of electricity snaking through the walls, bright threads dancing along copper veins.
"What... is this?" Victor whispered, awe and confusion warring within him. He didn't know what to call this strange perception, only that it felt both alien and familiar.
His attention drifted to the three figures nearby. Their forms shimmered differently, two standing close together, one outlined in a pale, flickering blue, the other a deeper hue, vibrating softly. Caitlin and Cisco, he guessed.
But the third... that one burned differently. His energy flared gold, alive and crackling like contained lightning.
"That's got to be Barry," Victor thought, pulse quickening. "That... must be the Speed Force I'm sensing."
He was excited but also confused. "What's the point of all this?" he wondered, excitement dimming as curiosity took hold.
Driven by curiosity, he turned this newfound sight inward, and the result was unexpected. What he saw was himself. Not just the faint energy he felt crawling through his being but his body, his life at its fundamental level, every cell, the very flicker of bioelectric charge, every atom of his being revealed itself in stark detail.
He watched blood flow through his veins as streams of glowing red, each molecule shimmering with vitality. His nerves lit up like a network of wires, carrying faint electrical impulses that flickered rhythmically.
And deeper still, he saw his body changing, cells breaking down, rebuilding, trying to adjust to the strange energy coursing through his body. He finally saw why he still hadn't woken from his coma, it was for his safety. His mind was instinctively protecting him. Until his body fully adjusted, he likely wouldn't be waking up soon.
"Is it biokinesis?"