It was nighttime in Central City, and at STAR Labs, the building was silent, abandoned by its bustling day crew. Everyone had gone home - everyone except one.
Dr. Wells stared at the security camera feeds from his console, ensuring he was alone. The halls were empty. Satisfied, he turned his gaze to the mannequin containing the Godspeed suit, its white-and-gold form gleaming faintly in the dim light. After a long, unreadable silence, he sighed and wheeled himself into the corridor.
He placed a hand on a specific spot on the wall. A soft chime sounded, and a hidden mechanism clicked open, revealing the entrance to the Time Vault.
The walls slid shut behind him, sealing him in the chamber of secrets. Wells stood from his chair, crossed the floor, and activated the podium at the end of the room with a palm scan.
A holographic head formed in the air - masculine, sharp-jawed, with regal, composed features. His voice was calm, authoritative and respectful.
"Good evening, Dr. Wells," the hologram greeted with clipped precision.
Wells blinked in stunned silence. This wasn't Gideon.
It was JANUS.
The same August had been developing. But now, fully formed - refined. No longer a work in progress, but a finished product. He bore none of the feminine or soft intuition of Gideon. JANUS spoke with the warmth of a guardian yet held the composed discipline and insight of an ancient historian.
The shock settled into a cold realization.
"Gideon is gone," Wells murmured. "Erased. Even the core modifications I made… weren't enough."
The timeline had corrected itself.
And in doing so, it had undone Gideon, as if she had never been born.
"Explain," Wells demanded.
"The timeline is undergoing recalibration," JANUS said. "Events that once relied on fractured divergences are being overwritten. As the Flash never created Gideon in this timeline, her existence has been nullified."
Wells's jaw tightened. Killing Barry had eliminated his trace from the future, yet brought him even more problems. A single death hadn't haled the paradox. It had opened new doors.
And now JANUS stood as the gatekeeper.
"Show me the future," Wells ordered.
"Acknowledged," JANUS said, and a floating screen shimmered into being.
It displayed a digital news article from the year 2025. Not the one Wells had seen before, this headline read: Central City under siege, Godspeed missing for 2 months. And beneath it: STAR Labs Expo commences, Dr. Heart to open the future of Technology.
Wells narrowed his eyes. The byline: Iris West Thawne.
He smirked bitterly. "The love of Barry Allen's life now bears my name."
His eyes flickered over the article. No mention of himself. Not in the text. Not in the future.
Perhaps he had returned to his time. Or perhaps August had discovered the truth… and killed him.
Knowing what he knew of August Heart, this was unlikely but had to be considered.
He studied the article again. The embedded photo showed a new version of the Godspeed suit—refined, battle-worn, elegant in its evolution.
White boots with golden zigzag patterns at the shins. Golden accents along the biceps and ribcage. The gloves, white, with golden fingers and guards. The lightning bolt emblem on his chest shone gold, mirrored by the golden streaks flaring from his ears. The HUD's eye outline traced in golden light.
It was a symbol of change.
Of evolution.
And for Dr. Wells, it confirmed one thing:
The future no longer belonged to the Flash.
It belonged to something else entirely.
Something that might no longer need him.
Two months later, S.T.A.R. Labs had changed drastically.
The former Particle Accelerator chamber had been converted into a secure holding facility with reinforced walls and high voltage energy fields designed to contain metahuman criminals. Caitlin Snow had developed a line of nutrient capsules, one per day, capable of simulating taste and texture while providing all essential nourishment. A marvel of bioengineering.
But the real marvel was JANUS.
August had finally completed his AI, installing him not only into his lab systems but also directly integrating him into the Godspeed suit. In just sixty days, JANUS had evolved rapidly. He learned sarcasm, dramatic timing, dry wit and pop culture references - over three thousand and counting.
He adapted to emotional nuance, mastered subtlety, anad understood context. He knew when to keep mute and when to offer counsel. He had a database of historical records, science journals, art critiques and philosophical doctrine.
He'd even developed opinions on abstract expressionism.
Cisco was elated, practically buzzing with excitement at JANUS's capabilities. The implications were endless.
The rest of the team was captivated. Intrigued. Inspired.
And after a lengthy demonstration, they all agreed—JANUS should be installed into the STAR Labs mainframe to assist and learn under each of them. A digital assistant, guardian, and evolving repository of knowledge.
August smiled faintly as he watched JANUS's avatar shift and update across every terminal in the building.
S.T.A.R. Labs: Sub-Basement Genetics Lab
The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of cooling fans and the steady beep of vitals. Fluorescent lights bathed the space in sterile white, gleaming off glass surfaces and metal countertops lined with microscopes, centrifuges, and a single upright biotube.
Inside that tank floated the byproduct of weeks of theory, coding, and modified genetics: a prototype clone, suspended in nutrient solution, featureless but fully formed. A biological echo of Danton Black, grown from the blood and cellular samples drawn directly from his cell six floors beneath their feet.
August Heart stood at a workbench, sleeves rolled to his elbows, eyes fixed on a bank of flat monitors as lines of bio-data scrolled across. His fingers tapped out commands with mechanical precision.
Across from him, Caitlin Snow monitored the neural stimulator's control unit, her brow creased with careful skepticism. "Cell stability is solid. No mitotic distortion. The host tissue is... almost textbook."
She adjusted the frequency of a small oscillator, watching a wave pattern shift on-screen. "We might actually be ahead of where Danton was with his duplications."
August gave a faint nod, distracted. "Now, we just need to figure out this bridge."
JANUS, the AI, piped in from the wall speaker with a voice just sharp enough to cut tension:
"In other words, you're attempting to one-up a man who could literally be in five places at once. Humble."
August didn't look up. "One would be enough — if it listened."
JANUS:
"Ah yes. The eternal problem of parenting."
Caitlin allowed herself a small smirk before clearing her throat. "We're ready for neural sync. Beginning cortical stimulation now."
She initiated the sequence. Electrodes along the clone's scalp lit in rhythmic pulses, delivering carefully calibrated signals. A moment later, one of the clone's fingers twitched.
JANUS:
"Initial response confirmed. Alpha-wave patterns detected. Latency within acceptable range."
The monitors showed neural activity blooming — erratic, but real.
August leaned closer. "Increase the amplitude by two percent. Slowly."
Caitlin complied. The figure inside the tank stirred, its shoulders jerking subtly. The vitals jumped — heart rate initiating, brainwaves flaring.
Then, in an instant, everything stopped. A single tone rang out.
Flatline.
The body in the tube went still. Vitals dropped to zero. The cortical stim panel dimmed.
Caitlin's hand hovered above the controls, frozen. "It... just shut off."
August exhaled sharply and stepped back from the monitor. "Neural bridge failed. Again."
He clenched his jaw, staring at the lifeless figure suspended in fluid. "We had ignition. What killed it?"
JANUS, more subdued now:
"The body lived. The mind did not. You've built the hardware — but there's no user logged in."
Caitlin powered down the stimulators. "We're mapping cognition like a machine, but it's not just signals. It's experience. Context. Danton's clones worked because his consciousness was active — projecting itself in real time."
August dropped into a chair, scrubbing his face with both hands. "So we can make the house. But no one moves in."
JANUS hesitated for a moment, then offered gently:
"Perhaps your goal was never duplication. Perhaps it's delegation. If you want a soldier, you don't clone yourself. You train something new."
Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "Was that philosophical?"
JANUS:
"I've been reading Sartre. He had some thoughts on identity. Also, nihilism. Terribly French."
August let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. "Log it."
JANUS:
"Project Gemini. Trial Thirteen. Result: non-responsive. Side note: clone resembles discount horror villain."
August pushed himself up, the exhaustion showing more now than before. "Maybe we rethink the goal. Skip full duplication. Try temporary bio-doubles — short-lived, no mind, just motion. A mirror, not a twin."
Caitlin nodded. "That's actually... not a bad direction."
As she began shutting down equipment, JANUS added in a softer, near-human tone:
"For what it's worth, sir... there is no shame in failure. Only data."
August paused at the edge of the lab, gaze lingering on the body floating in the tube — blank, empty, weightless.
Just a shell.
But the idea still had weight.