Chapter Three
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Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies. 

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.


“Kick his ass, break some of his fingers even. Just don’t cripple him”

“Will do,” Thomas nodded, going down into the Batcave. He was miffed that Barry interrupted our very first family dinner. And I might have implied that the cause of everything that went wrong in this timeline was Barry. So, it would suck to be him right now. 

“Bruce? Argh!” Crash!

Thud! “Bruce wait it’s me! It’s Barry!” Slam! “Ugh! Bruce stop!” Crack! “AHHH!!”

“B-Bruce please stop, it’s m-me” That was the sound of a man about to cry. 

“Stop mentioning my son’s name.” 

“…My god, you’re his dad. You’re supposed to be dead. Bruce told me how his parents died in that alley that night—OW!” Oh, Barry. You and your big mouth.

“Shut up!” Thomas yelled. 

“He’s going to kill him if you don’t get down there.” Martha said. 

“Fine, I’ll go down.” I helped her gather the plates in the sink and approached the entrance to the Batcave, the one behind the massive grandfather clock. 

Barry was on the floor, a battered and bruised mess. He was trying to reach his flash ring to offer some proof to Thomas. But Thomas just wouldn’t let him crawl in peace. 

“Dad, stop. You’re going to kill him.”

“I know.”

“If you kill him, we all die.”

“…mmmrr” He mummed, reluctantly letting Barry go. It was time to play good cop. 

“Barry are you okay? I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

“Yes, Barry it’s me. Well a version of me.”

“How?” He asked, confused and dazed. I helped him to a seat.

I pointed at Thomas. “His world’s Bruce Wayne died that night in the alley instead of his parents.” I pointed at myself. “My reality faded, but due to an unexplainable anomaly I was able to become unmoored and survived long enough to find myself here.”

“Who could’ve done this?” He asked. 

I pushed the button on his ring that released his suit. His pupils constricted when he saw the aptly named, reverse flash costume come out of it and drift to the floor. “Thawne” He whispered at first “Thawne” He gritted his teeth, his eyes burning in rage, staring at the yellow costume as though he’d be able to burn through it if he stared hard enough.

“No, not him Barry. This was you, this was all you” 

“What!?” He whipped his head to face me. 

“Barry, if we’re talking about Thawne, you should know him better than this. You should know that he’d always misdirect you, Barry. He’s sadistic, he wants you to suffer first, he won’t make it so blatant.”

I got his full attention, and I could see dread slowly creeping into those eyes. Good. “Listen, can you think of something you did Barry, something that involves travelling back in time to save someone? Because I checked Barry, and you mom is alive in this timeline”

“I-I just saved her. It couldn’t have led to all this.”

“Oh, but it did Barry. By going back in the past, you created catastrophic shifts in the spacetime-continuum like a bullet through a windshield, you shattered history. You created this unstable universe that’s way past it’s half-life.”

“No, no, no, I didn’t know. I, oh god, I did all this. All this suffering and pain.” He was on the verge of a breakdown, muttering words, shaking his head in denial and then in acceptance. 

SLAP! I hit him so hard my hand stung—My god I just slapped the flash, priceless.

“You can sit there and feel sorry for yourself, or we can find a way to fix this.” When I say ‘fix this’, I mean get the fuck off this timeline. “It’s not too late.” I offered him my hand.

“You’re right.” He nodded, accepting my hand with his left which had unbroken fingers. “Maybe don’t hit me so hard next time, Bruce.” He rubbed his reddened cheek.

“I had to snap you out of it.” I smiled, dusting dirt off of him. Thomas really went to work on him. “Barry, we really have little time on our hands, it is essential that we get you your speed back. Any ideas?”

“Exactly what I was thinking. I do have one actually—we replicate the process that gave me my powers.”

“There’s a high chance of failure there. This world isn’t exactly like yours, some rules governing reality won’t be the same.”

“I’ve run some calculations and the science is sound, as long as we have the chemicals and a lightning bolt.”

“You’re in luck. We have the world’s finest chemist in the kitchen upstairs. And as for the lightning, well.” I pointed outside at the dark and rumbling Gotham sky. “We’ve got plenty.”


I now know how to create a Flash—a speedster. I knew the chemicals needed and in which order they had to be arranged. I knew their exact quantities down to the minute details. And I also knew something Barry did not, the speed-force equation. Was I going to tell him? Not a chance in hell. I wanted to see this process, to become so intimate with it that I’d be able to reconstruct it even in my sleep.

Martha placed the last of the tubes on the wooden chair that looked suspiciously similar to an electrocutioner’s seat. Thomas winded the lightning rod, which pointed skywards against the seat. I plugged in the generator and strapped Barry down to the chair.

“You know how dangerous this is right?” I asked, staring him in the eye. I know it worked in the cartoon, but this was reality, and the Flash was my ticket to a better life, if he dies now then things would get exponentially more difficult.

“It will work.” He said with finality.

“I hope so, or you’ll be crippled.” I 

Martha stood next to Thomas and said to him “Are we sure this guy is sane?”

“He’s either telling the truth, or we get to see the rare sight of a man getting struck by lightning.” He quipped, earning him a chuckle from Martha.

I hit the switch and the machine came to life with a soft hum. I held a fire extinguisher on the ready. 

The clouds rumbled above, a lite drizzle of rain poured down to the earth. Wetting the balcony, the machines and us. 

Before today, I never knew just how fast lightning fast was. if it wasn’t for the enhancements granted by the Dionesium bath I took, even I would’ve reacted at a snail’s pace. 


The lightning struck the rod and Barry in turn. The rain drops turned to vapor in that instant, the glass tubes and canisters burst open with a ferocity that sent their shards flying like bullets. 

Barry’s scream was drowned out by the screech of electricity dancing all over the chair and his body. The chemicals ignited, the fire latched onto his clothes. I pointed the hose and pulled the trigger. The white cloud of compressed CO2 strangled the raging flames to embers.

Thomas doused the rest with his cloak. Barry had harsh burns on his arms and neck, as opposed to full body third degree burns—a result of my timely actions. 

“We go again.” He said, grinding his teeth in pain.

I nodded “Chemical batch number #2 please.”

“On it.” Martha replied, replacing broken vials and containers with new ones. I could give him some Dionesium, but he wasn’t that badly hurt. No one was going to stop him from going through with this, we all knew the severity of the situation at hand, or rather I did, and I explained it to Thomas and Martha as dreadfully fear inducing as I could. 

The machine hummed to life. Lightning fell without delay. Barry screamed and he was on fire again. White smoke spewed from the extinguisher and the flames were doused. 

He was hurt badly. Still alive, just barely so. It was good enough. I could see the resignation in Thomas' eyes, he must have thought that Barry was just a dead man walking. Not on my watch. I pried his mouth open and poured half a vial of Dionesium into it. 

His injuries didn’t heal outright, but his eyes regained life. He shook his head weakly—the signal for ‘No’. I acted like he nodded it.

“Chemical batch number #3” I said. Martha repeated her earlier actions, replacing broken vials and setting the chemicals in place. What happens if Barry dies? Well, there’s a Dionesium pit right beneath the Batcave. I’ll bring his ass back as a zombie if I have to. 

The machine hummed. And hummed and hummed. I stared up to see if the dark clouds had dissipated, rendering the lightning rod useless as there would be no lightning for it to attract. My vision went white, proving that I nearly burnt out my corneas upon laying eyes on the super massive bolt of lightning that descended from the heavens above. 

If I was religious I would say that Zeus was taunted by our attempts at drawing forth his lightning and decided to display a fraction of his awe-inspiring might.

It shook the manor to the foundations. It rattled my bones, swept me off my feet and sent me sailing from the balcony. My ears popped so hard that I felt the warm fluid dribble down them. Flash would die here, all I hoped for was that his remains were left relatively intact so I could attempt a resurrection. 

While falling I gazed at the charred remains of the chair, not finding any evidence that a body sat on it moments ago—Barry might have been dead. I reached for my grapple gun but felt a hold on my neck and lower back, before I could begin to question what it was, I was back on the balcony. Barry had electric currents arcing all along the length of his body, his hideous wounds healed and closed at a speed visible to the eyes. 

“Told you I was fast.” He said to Thomas. Oh, look who’s standing up to the big bad. Guess now that he’s got his power back, he could just as well kick Thomas’ ass.

“Mmmrrr” Thomas grunted. Martha held her hand over her mouth to stifle her chuckle. And I was thinking about a way to kill a certain demigod made out of clay and a mermaid man.


Whoo! Hoo! Things are picking up for the boy! 

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