The next morning, CCPD was crawling with agents. Yellow tape, high-ranking detectives, even a few suits in black. August watched the newsfeed from his lab as reporters speculated wildly.
"Terrorist attack?"
"Metahuman warfare?"
"Foreign interference?"
August frowned.
"JANUS, I want full access to CCPD's report on the bombing. Cross-reference it with our meta-database."
JANUS beeped.
"Accessing... Done. Displaying now."
The case file popped up on the glass screen. August skimmed through rapidly, his eyes narrowing with every line.
No explosive residue.
No oxidizing agent.
No fragmentation pattern.
Just a floor that… imploded.
The only eyewitness reports mentioned a red-haired woman seen near the stairwell moments before the blast. No security feeds to confirm it. Strangely, one of the file cabinets had a handle blown clean off—as if someone had targeted it.
She was searching for something.
Before August could dive deeper, another update hit the screen. JANUS's voice took on a curious tone.
"Notice: Investigation into Incident #4721 has been halted by external directive. CCPD file access revoked. U.S. Army jurisdiction enacted by direct order of General Wade Ellison."
August stepped back, stunned.
"The army? Since when do they step in on a building explosion?"
He clenched his jaw.
"JANUS… I need you to poke around. Discreetly. See what the army's hiding."
"Attempting to bypass military firewalls. This may take time."
"Take your time. I've got training to do."
***
They'd converted an old lab deep in the sublevels of STAR Labs into a high-tech training room. The kind of room that looked like it belonged on a spaceship, not under a city.
August changed into his workout gear and stepped inside, surprised to see Dr. Wells watching through the observation window, hands steepled in thought.
"Didn't think you were into gym class," August quipped.
"Today's training won't be about your speed," Wells replied. "It'll be about your mind. Reflex. Perception under pressure. Cisco has something special prepared."
The lights in the room dimmed. A spotlight activated, illuminating a red X at the center of the room.
"Step on the mark," Cisco's voice echoed over the intercom, sounding far too smug.
August sighed and did as instructed.
Click.
A panel on the wall slid open. A small black barrel emerged.
"Is that—?"
The assault rifle fired. August barely dodged in time, the BB pellet slicing past his cheek.
"A BB gun?!" he yelped.
"Cheaper than bullets," Cisco said with a grin. "Still hurts though. Real enough for what you'll be facing."
Suddenly, ten more guns slid out of different panels in the walls.
"Of course."
The room erupted.
August zipped and flipped across the space like a white-gold blur, dodging BBs as they ricocheted off the walls. He rebounded off surfaces with kinetic bursts, forming whirlwinds behind him as he danced through the barrage.
Caitlin monitored his vitals.
"Heart rate steady. No arrhythmias. Speed just passed 550—"
"Correction," Wells interjected, eyes narrowing. "He's pushing 600."
August ducked, slid, kicked off the far wall, and spun mid-air like a cyclone. His eyes gleamed behind his visor.
Then Cisco pressed a button.
From the ceiling, a small launcher dropped, releasing a rope bolo—a high-tension tether designed to trip him mid-run.
Whip—Snap—CRACK!
Caught mid-step, August lost his rhythm. The bolo tangled his legs, and he crashed hard into the ground. A second later, a storm of BBs pelted him from all directions.
"Ow—ow—OW!"
***
After the training, Caitlin tended to his bruises with a cold compress and light antiseptic.
"You're healing quickly, but you'll be sore."
"Sore's good. Means I lived."
They reviewed his performance stats—faster reaction times, tighter maneuvering, minimal energy waste. But August was still focused on something else.
"That last volley," he said. "The one I dodged? I didn't see it. I felt it. Like… a tingling at the back of my skull. A warning."
Caitlin looked intrigued. "Precognitive reflex?"
He shrugged. "Could be. Or just dumb luck."
From the doorway, Wells wheeled in silently, half in thought.
"Or perhaps something else entirely," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Instinct. Evolution."
He turned and left without another word.