In the quiet halls of S.T.A.R. Labs, a wheelchair rolled steadily forward. Dr. Wells sat calmly as he moved, stopping when he reached the curved part of the corridor.
He paused for a moment, glancing left and right out of habit. Then he placed his palms against the wall. The wall shifted immediately, panels sliding apart to reveal a hidden white room, empty except for a single pillar standing in its forefront. He rolled in casually, his expression contemplative.
"Good day, Dr. Wells," a soft, gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Good day, Gideon," Wells replied as he rose from his wheelchair. From his pocket, he retrieved a ring with a lightning bolt etched onto its frame. Sliding it onto his right middle finger, he pressed it into the slot before him.
After a short chirp, a hologram flickered to life, its image stabilizing to reveal an article titled "Flash Vanishes in Crisis."
The tension on his shoulders eased, his expression growing even calmer. "Gideon, bring up my log, will you."
"Certainly... Go ahead, Doctor," the artificial intelligence replied, already recording his words.
"New entry... it has now been two hundred and forty-seven days since lightning struck, subject is in a coma, showing signs of waking soon.
"The anomaly is under observation… subject's ability to produce, tame dark matter is…" Wells paused, searching for the right phrasing, "There is… potential, unmistakably so."
Over the years, he had watched the boy named Victor, an anomaly in his calculations. At one point, he had even considered eliminating him back when Victor was still just a young adult. But the boy's lack of influence on the set timeline convinced him otherwise.
And now, with Victor neatly positioned within his plans, he could serve as a contingency or a catalyst to push the Flash to become stronger, faster. All that remained was patience. Time would reveal the rest.
Meanwhile, life was going surprisingly well for Victor. On the streets of Central City, a blur cut through the morning air, leaving a misty silver-blue ripple in its wake. As he ran, Victor allowed himself a small smile, adrenaline rushing through him. The world streamed past in streaks of light and shifting shapes.
Two weeks had passed since he'd awakened from his coma. Not much had changed during that time; he simply lived without incident, spending his days quietly searching for new biological templates to merge with his own.
Although he hadn't managed to acquire any metahuman samples, he wasn't concerned. For now, while keeping things low-key, he'd shifted his focus to animals, creatures with senses so sharp they bordered on the supernatural.
His natural speed, even without biokinetic enhancement, now hovered just below the speed of sound. That alone meant his goal of never being caught off guard by a speedster like Eobard Thawne was already halfway achieved. All that remained was the final piece: developing multiple senses to keep up.
In simple terms, his hearing had become superhuman. At its peak, he could detect sounds from kilometers away, though he doubted he'd ever want to experience that level of input again. Even his feet had grown sensitive enough to pick up seismic vibrations.
But the ability he valued most was the electroreception template he'd adapted from a shark, pushed to its absolute limit. Now, whenever a speedster came even remotely close, he could detect them instantly, just as a shark senses prey in the water.
His visual abilities were equally impressive: night vision, long-range sight, even thermal imaging, all at his disposal. His sense of smell had also been enhanced to superhuman levels, though it remained at a baseline most of the time, letting him navigate the city without being constantly overwhelmed by its noise and odors.
Finally, Victor came to a halt in a narrow alley, glancing left and right to be sure he was alone. He patted down his jacket before stepping around the corner, his eyes immediately landing on a familiar spot, Jitters.
He slipped inside quietly, taking in the lively scene. His gaze quickly found a familiar figure, Iris, carrying a tray as she made her way toward a blonde-haired man, Eddie Thawne, with an endearing smile.
Victor clicked his tongue, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. The feeling wasn't directed at himself, nor at Iris; it was Barry who drew his ire.
Having been Barry's longtime friend, Victor knew Iris well. They had met on several occasions, and he didn't dislike her. Yet, despite that, he couldn't help but feel a negative outlook on the future of her relationship with Barry.
It was one of the things he had already planned to change in this timeline. Caitlin, Patty, hell, even Linda, were all options he intended to make sure Barry seriously considered.
Frankly, Iris was a hypocrite. While she maintained a healthy relationship with Eddie, she constantly guarded Barry against pursuing other women. And though Barry was certainly at fault in some cases, Iris's actions had played a part as well.
While she kissed Eddie, Victor averted his gaze and made his way to the counter to place his order. A short while later, he collected his coffee and swiftly headed back home.
Victor's house was both practical and sophisticated. After his parents' death, the property had been transferred to him. It sat in the same quiet neighborhood as Joe's house.
Stumbling into the kitchen, Victor began preparing breakfast. Superspeed made life effortless. The past few weeks had mostly been spent mastering a large repertoire of dishes, catching up on series and movies he had missed, and planning for the future. Since his early investments had made him well-off, he didn't need to work anytime soon.
Victor's kitchen was sleek, all stainless steel and clean lines, with a large island in the center and an assortment of gadgets neatly arranged. He moved around it with a fluidity that made his actions almost dance-like.
He cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them rapidly with one hand while chopping vegetables with the other. The rhythmic sizzle of a pan on the stove filled the room as he poured in a touch of oil, the surface shimmering instantly.
On the counter, a tablet displayed a news broadcast, the familiar voice of the anchor narrating a story about a minor traffic accident downtown. Victor didn't need to strain to hear; it registered in his enhanced auditory senses anyway, but he enjoyed the visual, occasionally glancing up while adjusting the heat or stirring the pan.
Just then, Victor's ears picked up the sound of a car rolling to a stop in his driveway, followed by the sharp, deliberate clicks of high heels. His nose caught the scent a moment later: the perfume, the natural undertone he recognized immediately.
His expression cooled in an instant.
When the hesitant knock finally reached the door, Victor paused, debating whether to answer at all. After a moment, he stepped forward and opened it. On the other side stood a stunning woman, dressed immaculately.
Her dress highlighted every contour of her figure, and her dark, curly hair framed her face in a way that made her look untamed, almost feral in her beauty.
The moment their eyes met, a wide smile bloomed across her face. "Victor!" she said, immediately leaning in for a hug. Victor didn't move, allowing the gesture but making no effort to return it.
His expression tightened for a moment. During the four months he'd been aware inside his eight-month coma, his girlfriend had not visited him once. It didn't take a genius to realize she'd moved on. The faint, unfamiliar scent lingering on her was more than enough confirmation.
"Madison. What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.
At the cold edge in his voice, her smile faded like ink in water. She hesitated before finally speaking. "I… I just heard you woke up from your coma. I thought it was only right to come and see you."
Victor stayed silent for a few seconds, his gaze distant as he considered how to respond. He'd had two weeks to process everything he'd learned the moment he woke up, two weeks to accept the simple truth that whatever they had before his coma no longer existed.
When he finally spoke, his tone was calm.
"You thought it was right?" he repeated quietly, "after eight months."
"You've moved on, Madison. What more could you possibly want from me?" Victor asked, his voice steady but guarded.
"I still love you, Victor," she said it plainly, her earlier hesitation falling away like a mask she no longer needed.
Victor frowned. The sudden shift in her tone, the clarity in her eyes…it didn't feel right.
"Madison, it's too late for that." His brows rose slightly as he studied her, unease threading through his calm exterior. Something about her was off.
"I'm not holding a grudge, Madison. You couldn't have known when I would wake up, and you had your life to live. I understand that. But expecting us to happen again is something that will never happen."
Before she could respond, Victor turned away and shut the door behind him with enough force to end the conversation for good. He walked straight back into the kitchen, pushing the moment out of his mind.
Madison sat in her car now, the engine silent, fingers gripping the steering wheel far too tightly. Her expression shifted every few seconds, cycling between guilt, anger, longing, and something far darker.
A brief, unsettling smile flickered across her face before twisting into a frown. It was clear she was not well. Something was wrong with her in a way that went beyond emotions.
Her eyes were the clearest proof. The colors kept changing, pulsing in tune with whatever spiraled inside her: blue with sadness, green with envy, yellow with fear. Then the color finally settled to a startling crimson.
A deep, burning red. Her face hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.
Inside the car, her breath steadied. The trembling in her hands vanished, replaced with an unnatural stillness that did not belong to the woman that once sat there. The quiet hum of her heartbeat sharpened, quickened, then fell into a rhythm that mimicked focus rather than emotion.
Her lips curled upward. Not in sadness. Not in longing. In certainty.
"Victor," she whispered to no one, her voice low and entirely unlike the one she had used moments ago, "you will understand soon."