The warm, satisfied glow from his night with Patty evaporated the second Barry phased them through the front doors of STAR Labs. The usual quiet hum of the building was gone, replaced by a tense, staticky energy.
The Cortex was a snapshot of controlled panic. Cisco was hunched over the main console, one hand pressing his comms link, speaking in a low, urgent voice. "Okay, kid, you're in the right grid. The energy signature is messier than a toddler with spaghetti, but it's there. Sweep east from your position."
Across the room, Joe West paced like a caged tiger, his footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Iris was leaning against a desk, arms crossed tightly, her knuckles white. She looked up as they entered, her eyes wide with relief and fear.
"Barry! Thank god," she breathed.
Joe stopped his pacing, his gaze locking onto Barry. "Where have you been?" he asked, his voice rough with worry.
"Date night," Patty answered for him, her smile fading as she took in the scene. "What's going on? You guys look like you've seen a ghost."
Cisco swiveled in his chair, his face grim. "Wally's missing."
The name hit Barry like a physical blow. Wally. In the whirlwind of his new life—Patty, Billy, he hadn't even met Joe's son yet. But he knew the name. He knew it carried weight.
"Wally?" Barry asked, looking between Joe and Iris. "Your...?"
"My son," Joe said, the words heavy. "He was supposed to meet me for dinner. Never showed. Doesn't answer his phone. Then his friend called, said some weird guy in a stone mask jumped him outside his apartment and just... took him."
A cold dread, familiar and acidic, began to pool in Barry's gut. A stone mask. A kidnapping. A missing person connected to the West family.
No. No, no, no. It's too early. This isn't supposed to happen yet.
Cisco cut back in. "We got a break, though. A weird energy spike in the old industrial sector, same freaky signature we saw when those metal monsters attacked. Billy's on it." He spoke into his comm again. "You getting anything, Captain Marvel? And for the last time, stop vibratin' your 'S's', you're blowin' out my eardrum."
Barry's mind was racing, pieces of a terrible puzzle clicking into place. A cult. A stone mask. A prisoner. A god of speed. The memories of a show he'd watched in another lifetime screamed at him. This was the plot. This was how Wally got his speed. And it was the opening move of the one enemy he knew, in his soul, he could never beat.
It can't be him. Please, let it be anyone else. Let it be a rogue speedster, let it be another timeline refugee, let it be a meta-human with a grudge. Anything but my own future staring back at me.
Because that was the unthinkable truth. Savitar wasn't just another villain. He was Barry Allen. A Barry Allen twisted by loss and isolation into a literal god of motion. How do you fight that? How do you outrun the man who is not only faster and stronger because he's you from years ahead, but who knows every single move you will ever make? Every thought, every strategy, every desperate, last-ditch plan. He was fighting a mirror that could see the future.
"Barry?" Patty's voice was soft, her hand on his arm. "You okay? You look like you're gonna be sick."
He blinked, pulling himself out of the spiral. He couldn't tell them. Not yet. The sheer, demoralizing horror of it would break them. He had to move. He had to see for himself.
"Where's Billy?" Barry asked, his voice tighter than he intended.
"Grid 7, old subway maintenance tunnels," Cisco said, pointing at the map on the screen. A single, blinking red dot showed Billy's position. A faint, shimmering cloud of orange static pulsed over a section of the map a few blocks away. "The signal's coming from there, but the rock down there is playing havoc with the sensors. We can't get a precise lock."
"That's all I need," Barry said.
He didn't wait for a response. The world sharpened, colors bleeding into streaks. He was a bolt of gold lightning tearing through the corridors of STAR Labs, down into the garage, and out into the sleeping city. The wind roared in his ears, but it couldn't drown out the screaming in his head.
He's faster than you. He's smarter than you. He's felt every pain you're about to feel. He built the trap you're running into. You can't win. You can't win against yourself.
The city became a blur. He ignored stoplights, weaving through late-night traffic with an instinct he didn't know he possessed. His prayer was a single, repeating mantra.
Don't let it be him. Don't let it be Savitar.
He hit the industrial sector, the landscape shifting to decaying warehouses and chain-link fences. He followed the psychic scent of wrongness, the same oily, orange energy he'd seen on the map. It led him to a boarded-up entrance to the underground tunnels.
He didn't slow down. He vibrated through the rusted metal doors, the world flickering for a split second before he was inside.
The darkness of the tunnel was absolute, but his senses painted the picture. The air was cold and stale, thick with the smell of damp concrete and something else… ozone and burnt hair. And then, he heard it. Faint, but unmistakable.
A low, rhythmic chanting.
His blood ran cold. It was exactly what he feared.
He pushed forward, a silent ghost in the dark. The chanting grew louder, resolving into words he couldn't understand but whose intent he knew all too well. Praise. Worship. Fear.
He rounded a final corner and saw a sliver of flickering torchlight spilling from a cracked-open service door ahead. This was it. The nest. The birthplace of his nightmare.
He stopped, pressing his back against the cold, damp wall just outside the door. He took a breath he didn't need, trying to steady the tremor in his hands. Inside that room was Wally West. And inside that room was the truth.
He closed his eyes for a second, gathering himself. The Flash, the hero of Central City, was terrified. Because he was about to look into the eyes of his own end.
Then, he moved. A blur of motion, he slipped through the crack in the door and into the chamber, his own golden light a defiant challenge to the oppressive orange gloom within.