"The man in yellow exists!"

 

Barry seemed equal parts angry and hopeful. Nathan could understand that, with this single claim, he had sufficient incentive to bail his father out. Of course, that would still need to be proven, but he didn't think it would impede Barry from finding this guy. 

 

If he could catch up to him, Nathan frowned. He still remembered the man as a red blur. A speedster, even faster and more skilled than Barry was. How could a speedster like that exist? It shouldn't be possible unless he had been living as a Speedster for a long time, which sounded even more absurd.

 

But he knew him and wanted him to know that he knew him. Why? Why beat him so much but not kill him? 'Why did he let me live?' Nathan couldn't understand.

 

"It shouldn't be possible." Cisco muttered in disbelief. But he wasn't the only one with such thoughts. The rest didn't speak, but Nathan could easily discern what they were thinking. He turned to Dr. Wells.

 

"It's hard to make assumptions without sufficient information." The man in the wheelchair moved to one side. "It's likely that the goal of this man was to provoke a response from us. Why? I cannot understand."

 

Barry seemed agitated at the response. "But we can stop him right, using the cold gun." He turned to Cisco. "Can you build another one like that?"

 

Cisco opened his mouth but seemed lost as to what to say. He turned to others, finally looking at Dr. Wells for help.

 

He rubbed his temple and pulled off his glasses. "Listen, Barry, we understand how you feel. But being hasty won't help in this case. I promise you, we will do everything we can to capture this man."

 

It seemed like Barry wanted to say something, but his mind couldn't form the correct words. He turned and left the lab. Nathan sat there for a while, then turned to leave.

 

The chill wind of the night caressed his face and ruffled his hair. His suspicions were finally rearing their head. It didn't take a genius to guess that Dr. Wells was especially biased toward Barry. Was it really because he thought Barry's superpowers could help revolutionize the world? Nathan scoffed.

 

Dr. Wells was an enigma. Nathan had read about him and tried to dig for what he could but hardly found anything before he turned into Central City, almost at the same time as Nora Allen's death. He created a particle accelerator that accidentally blew up and made Barry into a Speedster, the same guy who had an encounter with a Speedster. How coincidental.

 

He could almost understand his line of thinking. He desired to get Barry faster, and it was showing. But he wasn't pushing so as to not appear obvious. But with him, he was almost pressing him, reminding him that he knew that Nathan was different. He wasn't a hero like Barry; he didn't care about the Central City like others, and he craved the power of others. Harrison Wells was a man who only saw benefits.

 

No, that wasn't right. If it were just benefits, then he wouldn't have been so cautious. He was working toward something—what? Nathan had no idea.

 

The man in the yellow. One thing he was sure of was that Dr. Wells knew that guy and probably even worked with him. It was entirely possible that before Barry, he actually created that freak of nature. Although he didn't know what game the doctor was playing, Nathan wouldn't back away.

 

Harrison Wells was smart—probably the smartest guy Nathan had ever met. But smart people had egos, were arrogant, and didn't place less intelligent people in their eyes. Nathan would take advantage of that. Even if the man proved significantly tougher, he would still fight. And he would show him why Nathan was better when it came to surviving.

 

...

 

The Central City had changed, for better or worse, and people were beginning to realize this. Even now, new metahumans were rearing their heads. Agitated, they were unwilling to sit still and wanted to take action. Nathan understood.

 

He also knew that this was an opportunity for him to get even stronger. He climbed up to his desk and stared at the compiled data from the reports using the algorithm he had designed.

 

"Bette Sans Souci, a former United States Army EOD." Nathan frowned, opened a few tabs, and tried finding any information he could, but there was hardly any public information on her, almost like her information was being hidden. "Intresting."

 

What he found suspicious was that there were certain incidents that happened in multiple places over the last few weeks—all cases of bombings—without any concrete evidence. Like the things just blew up on their own with an external oxidizing agent. Weird as heck, Nathan realized. It's almost as weird as a meta-human.

 

He sipped on his coffee and started going through anything that he could find on this Sergeant Sans Souci. As it turned out, there was something interesting to be found after all.

 

Bette Sans Souci was a bomb specialist stationed in Afghanistan. But ten years ago, she got into an accident and was returned to Central to get treated. Around the same time, the particle accelerator went kaboom. Highly suspicious.

 

"Ok, time to put this supercomputer to the test." Nathan cracked his fingers and grinned. He was feeling exceptionally excited about the task that lay before him. Finally, he could get one step ahead of Dr. Wells.

 

His fingers were a blur as line after line was written on the terminal. Firewalls were broken, and he was getting access to all the data he could. It didn't take long for him to find a medical emergency report filed on Cameron Street in Inglewood by the name of Bette.

 

'Found you.' Nathan smiled and started working on his A.I. algorithm. He couldn't finish all the work in a single night, so he did the rudimentary groundwork and set it on automation to collect as much data as it could.

 

It was late at night, so he donned a jacket and left his apartment. He didn't board a taxi but instead followed the streets that he had memorized. He was in no rush, so he walked slowly and soon came upon the street.

 

"Alright, now where are you, Bette?" His eyes roamed over the buildings, but he couldn't make out anything particular. That was to be expected, and Nathan didn't think he would easily find her home.

 

Having super speed came in handy. He made the rounds around the neighborhood and found her nowhere. He stopped in an alley with a frown marring his face. It was likely that she wasn't home.

 

Nathan thought for a second and was about to leave when his phone received a notification. It was a message from the police line, and apparently there was fire somewhere in a building. He thought for a moment and then shook his head. Barry would be there before him, so he didn't need to play hero. He just waited.

 

At last, his patience was rewarded when he saw a woman holding a manila folder come around a corner. Since Nathan wasn't exactly hidden, her eyes instantly bore into him. Nathan could see her eyes track his movements; her steps were stiff and her hands ready; she was an army sergeant, alright.

 

"Bette Sans Souci?" He called to her. The woman stopped and took a step back, her eyes darting around. She was looking for a way to escape.

 

"I am alone." He took a step toward her, and she backed away. Nathan stopped, putting his hands in the air. "I just want to talk."

 

"How did you find out where I live?" She looked at his hooded figure, her hands holding the folder tightly. "Who sent you?"

 

Nathan sighed and put his hands down. "Listen, I just want to talk. I will tell you what you want to know. And believe me, no one sent me here."

 

He took a step towards her, and she raised her hands. "Don't come forward; it's dangerous."

 

Nathan stopped. He looked behind her, and suddenly something clicked in his mind. His gaze fell on the folder. "That's your home, right?" He pointed to the only empty apparent he had found. "We could really use some privacy."

 

She had a frown on her face. "You don't understand." She turned toward the staircase. "Just leave me alone."

 

"I know that you have powers." That got her to stop. That was a bluff on his part, though he was somewhat suspicious after reading about her. "I can help you."

 

Bette took a deep breath and, without turning, said, "Follow me."

 

Nathan smiled and went after her.

 

...

 

"Alright, you got five minutes; start talking." As the two stepped foot inside, she leaned against the dining table and gave him a dangerous look. There was a certain air of strictness to her attitude, and Nathan was sure that she wouldn't accept half-assed answers.

 

"Before that, I have a question."

 

Bette frowned and then nodded stiffly.

 

"What happened in Afghanistan?" At Nathan's question, her back turned straight, and she seemed on edge.

 

Her silence lasted for minutes longer, and then she finally spoke. "It was an accident. The bomb went off, and I almost died. They transferred me back to Central City, but then when I woke from the coma, I had these powers."

 

He kept silent for a few moments, thinking. "You remember the S.T.A.R. Labs incident ten months ago?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"It released a wave of dark matter into the Central City, and some people were affected." Nathan gave her an explanation about how the meta-humans came to be. He explained that her powers must have been triggered during the time when she was undergoing surgery. "What's your power, by the way?"

 

Bette seemed lost in thought, and at his question, light returned to her pupils, and she told him. She shook her head. "All this time, I thought it was Dr. Hadley and General Eiling."

 

"Who are they?" Nathan asked.

 

"My superiors." She started talking about the experiments they had done. How she was treated like a lab rat and how she managed to escape their clutches—now her only solace lay in the revenge she sought. She then started talking about her bomb making powers, Nathan listened with rapt attention.

 

Nathan nodded. His eyes fell on the folder she was carrying, and he finally decided to ask. "You stole that, right? The explosion down the street—that was you?"

 

Bette stared at him with narrowed eyes. Nathan shook his hands and said, "I am not being judgmental; I just wanted to conform."

 

She nodded. "How do you know all this? Who are you?"

 

"My name is Nathaniel Williams; no middle name; don't remember one." He put his palm forward, waiting for her to shake his hand, and then the realization dawned on him. "Oh?"

 

"What?" She asked, frowning.

 

"You can't touch me in case you accidentally blow me up, isn't that it?" He shrugged.

 

"What?" Bette stared at him with an open mouth, surprised. "No. How do you think I change my clothes if everything I touch explodes?"

 

"Oh." Nathan raised a brow. "That does make sense."

 

"So are you also a meta-human?" At her question, Nathan smiled and then pointed at the vase behind her. She turned to look, only to meet a gust of wind, and then the vase was gone. She turned her head back and saw him holding the ceramic. "That's cool."

 

He laughed, his hands juggling the china trinket, when suddenly his hand slipped and the sound of something breaking filled the room. Nathan glanced down at the pieces of white ceramic and then at the expressionless face of the millitary woman. He smiled. "Sorry."

 

...

 

"So you are with the S.T.A.R. Labs, meaning they can help us?" The two sat on the dining table, and Bette calmly picked up a fry from her plater. Nathan was silently eating his own when he heard the question and shook his head.

 

"No." At his denial, Bette frowned.

 

"Why?"

 

"You want a cure, right?" She nodded. "You can't find it at S.T.A.R. Labs; it doesn't exist, at least not yet. Besides, going there doesn't mean you will be safe."

 

Bette frowned and wanted to ask further when he raised a hand for her to stop. "Listen, I came to find you because I want your help. If you do help me, then I promise that I will also do whatever I can to help." He pointed at his hands, and purple sparks sprang forth. "You, me, Bette, people like us need to rely on each other, and to S.T.A.R. Labs, you are no different from a lab rat, just like how you spent those days with Dr. Hadley and General Eiling."

 

Bette leaned back; memories of that time made her angry. She shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts and asked, "Why should I trust you?"

 

"Because I can help you." He leaned forward and extended his hand. "Give me your hand."

 

Bette looked him in the eye and then gingerly put her hand forward. He didn't take his eyes off of her, and the two started to stare at each other, trying to read each other. Suddenly she frowned, her heart beating fast, and she looked at her hands and saw a dark gaze covering their hands. "What are you doing?"

 

Nathan didn't answer. He had always wondered what would happen if he actually managed to siphon all of Barry's dark matter. Would he die? Revert back to normal human? Or would he just be exhausted and recover in a few days?

 

The truth was, he already knew the answer. The dark matter was the reason metahumans existed, but it wasn't the only reason. Those who had abilities had their DNA mutated; their very human genetics was twisted in such a way that it granted them their abilities. So no matter how much they used their abilities, they wouldn't lose them.

 

If they were totally exhausted, however, they would find it difficult to use their abilities. But the base would always remain. So as long as he didn't suck her dry, Bette wouldn't lose her powers; at most, she would grow weak.

 

Of course, aside from gaining her bombing powers, there was another reason why Nathan was feeding on her powers. With his unique senses, he could somewhat understand meta-human physiology and how their powers worked. He could see the bomb particulate that had fused with Bette following her exposure to dark matter.

 

If he guessed right, then as long as she lost her abilities or died, she would absolutely go supernova in this city. She was a walking and breathing, giant nuclear bomb. He couldn't let that happen, so he only took around 80% of her powers.

 

He retracted his hand and handed her a toothpick. "Usually a mass this size won't cause a big explosion, but the power of the explosion also depends on your ability; try using it on this."

 

Bette picked up the toothpick and looked at him. "I can't use my power here, in my house. They are not very domestic friendly."

 

"Don't worry, I got it." He lifted a hand, and a small glass container rested in his palm. "This is made of enhanced carbon fiber tubing; it can handle the explosion with ease."

 

Although she frowned, she still nodded and stood up. Bette moved into the middle of the room and used her power on the toothpick, causing it to glow purple. Nathan hurriedly caught it and put it in the container. The duo watched as the wood lit up with sparks and splintered. The explosion was rather mild.

 

Bette stared at it in surprise, and Nathan smiled.