August stood atop the highest rooftop he could find, the city stretching endlessly beneath him — a patchwork of light and shadow. Guilt flickered inside him like a dying ember. He'd deleted Ms West's blog. Hijacked it, actually. Or rather, JANUS had, but it had been his call.
And he didn't regret it.
He hoped that with Iris West's blog now dismantled—thanks to JANUS's digital sleight of hand—the civilian obsession with "The Streak" would die down. Or, as the media had recently taken to calling him, "Godspeed." He smirked. A far better moniker than the half-baked options like The Blur. He'd had JANUS strategically leak the name, feeding it into the online rumor mill until journalists picked it up organically.
He took off his mask, letting the cool night air run fingers through his hair. He tapped the emblem on his chest.
"JANUS. Check the CCPD records. I want everything on that guy Iris West mentioned in her last post. Tony Woodward."
A pause.
"Sir," JANUS responded, "his name is Anthony Edward Woodward. CCPD has an outstanding warrant for aggravated assault and kidnapping. He escaped custody during a transfer six months ago."
"That's it?" August frowned. "That's all you've got?"
"Local databases are limited. However…" JANUS paused again. "CCPD just received intel on a possible location. Cross-referencing signals, there's an 87% chance he's holed up at the old Keystone Ironworks."
"Huh. And her boyfriend sent backup?"
"Yes, Sir. Officers are en route."
August straightened, and put his mask back over his face in a ripple of blue and white. "Inform the team. I'm heading over."
"The address has been sent to your display," Cisco added through comms.
A lightning snap echoed across the sky as August vanished.
The Ironworks was a ghost. Rusted beams. Shattered windows. And the eerie stillness of a place forgotten by time.
But it had been lived in. Coffee cups. Cigarette butts. Makeshift bedding. No Tony, though.
August zipped through the space, collecting samples, noting footprints, scraping metal from the floor. He pulled a miniature camera from a compartment on his belt — what he'd started calling his "utility system" — and planted it high in a corner before vanishing again in a streak of white lightning.
Back at S.T.A.R. Labs, he handed the samples to JANUS for analysis and waited.
An hour later, Dr. Wells rolled away from the monitors.
"Results just came in, Dr. Heart. Cisco?"
Cisco tapped a key. A picture of the scanned metal showed on the screen above the table.
"We analyzed the density and atomic structure of Tony's footprint. You were lucky he wasn't home," Cisco said, turning toward August. "If you fought him like you fight other metas, he would've crushed you. The iron he turns into — it's next-level. Practically indestructible."
August raised a brow. "So… I can't beat him?"
Cisco grimaced. "Well… not normally. But every material has a breaking point. If you hit him at just the right angle… at just the right speed…" He turned toward Caitlin. "He could maybe damage it."
"How fast?" August asked.
"Factoring in tensile strength, dermal thickness, and environmental conditions…" Cisco squinted. "About… Mach 1.1."
August grinned. "So I just need to outrun sound?"
"That's 844 miles per hour," Caitlin said flatly.
"Precisely," Cisco added, grinning. "He'd create a sonic boom. Which would be awesome."
"I guess I'll be awesome tonight, then," August chuckled.
Dr. Wells wasn't smiling. "Be careful. You can't heal if you're dead."
Caitlin folded her arms. "He'd need five miles of runway to hit that speed safely."
"5.3, to be exact," Cisco said.
"Do it right, you take him down," Dr. Wells added.
"Do it wrong, you shatter every bone in your body," Caitlin finished, looking straight at August.
He shrugged. "Then I better do it right."
Cisco grinned and held up a hand. "Mach punch!"
They high-fived.
Later, Sublevel 3 hummed with energy. This was where August lived between missions — where he worked. Thought. Built.
Caitlin adjusted her gloves by the interface as JANUS ran diagnostics.
"Neural latency's down to 1.8 milliseconds. Almost inside tolerance," she said.
"Still not stable," JANUS chimed in. "Mental fatigue remains critically high."
August already sat in the sync chair, strapping the neuro-band to his skull. His expression was grim but resolute.
"I can handle it."
"You said that last time. You barely made it a minute," Caitlin reminded him.
"Fifty-two seconds. This'll be better."
"Sample 4C loaded," JANUS said. "Awaiting synchronization."
The fluid inside the pod began to drain, revealing a clone — identical to August, floating in pale blue light. Muscles twitched. Face placid.
Caitlin hovered at his side. "Vitals steady. You sure?"
He nodded.
"Engaging neural bridge in three… two…"
The jolt hit immediately.
August's back arched. His fingers clenched. Neural currents surged from his brain into the interface, through the conduits and into the clone's cortex.
JANUS's voice stayed calm. "Link at 14%. Rising."
The clone stirred.
"22%… 30%…"
Its fingers moved.
"It's responding," Caitlin whispered.
"38%… Signal stabilizing…"
The clone's eyes opened.
And for a breathless second, it saw them. Saw her.
Recognition passed like static. An echo of identity. Not just neurons firing — a presence.
Then—
"Feedback rising. Host stress at 92%," JANUS warned.
August grimaced. Blood trickled from his nose.
"Cut the link!" Caitlin shouted.
"Not yet—"
The clone spasmed. Data spiked.
The room went dark.
And then silence.
"Neural bridge severed," JANUS said. "Vitals stabilizing."
Caitlin rushed to August's side. He was pale. Breathing shallow. But conscious.
"It looked at me," she whispered.
"I know," August rasped. "I saw you."
She turned to the tank, where the clone now floated lifeless once more.
An echo of a soul.
"How long?" August asked.
"Thirty-nine seconds. Previous record exceeded by seventeen point eight," JANUS said.
He let out a breath. "Could've done a minute."
"Or died trying," Caitlin snapped.
He smiled through the pain. "That's the job."
She shook her head, but there was a flicker of admiration in her eyes.
"We're close," she said quietly.
"Almost," he muttered. "But 'almost' isn't good enough."
The intercom buzzed.
"Hey, August," Cisco said. "JANUS found something. Come to the Cortex."
"On my way," August said, rising slowly.
Caitlin squeezed his shoulder. "I'll see you later."
In the Cortex, Cisco was already bringing up the map.
"Iris just pulled the fire alarm at Carmichael Elementary. Tony's there."
"How do you know?"
Cisco grinned. "Have you no faith in your own AI?"
August didn't answer. He just nodded once, fast.
"Let's do it."
The storm returned to the city.
August tore through the city in a ribbon of blue lightning, every cell in his body humming with urgency. Cisco's signal had led him to Carmichael Elementary — the same school he had attended as a kid. It felt surreal, racing toward the past to stop the present from spiraling out of control.
Inside the dim halls of the school, Tony shoved Iris ahead of him, the battered doors creaking as they closed behind them. Dust swirled through the stagnant air. He stopped in front of an old trophy case, the glass cracked and fogged, time having dulled its shine. Behind it, his name was etched on nearly every plaque.
Football. Track. Wrestling.
A lifetime ago.
"I told you it's not too late," Iris said, her voice calm despite the tension coiled in the air. "You can still walk away from this."
Tony stared at his reflection in the glass. A man he barely recognized stared back.
"It already is," he said. His voice was flat. Resigned. "The cops are coming for me. The world already made up its mind. So get ready to write the story of a lifetime, Iris, 'cause I'm not going out quietly."
Then he heard it — a sharp whoosh of displaced air. The hum of electricity.
He turned.
At the far end of the hallway stood Godspeed, silent and motionless, lightning curling around him like a living cloak. There was no bravado. No witty retorts. Just presence — raw and powerful.
Tony tried to speak, a mocking grin forming.
"So… you're the Streak? Or the Blur? Or Godsp…"
But before he could finish, the hallway emptied in a flash of light. The only thing left behind was the echo of wind.
***
At CCPD, Captain Singh, Joe West, and Eddie Thawne were still gathered in the bullpen when a gust of wind suddenly tore through the room. Papers flew. Iris West materialized in the center of the chaos, wide-eyed but unharmed.
Joe's instincts kicked in instantly. "Iris!" he rushed to her, wrapping her in a relieved embrace.
"She's safe," came Godspeed's voice, calm and reassuring. And then, through his comms, Cisco's voice blared.
"Go, man, go!"
***
August didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward, propelled by a cyclone of speed. Air cracked around him as he flew — an electric blur moving faster than sound. He slammed into Tony with a Mach-level punch, his fist connecting with the side of Tony's face in an explosion of force.
The shockwave shattered the school's windows. Tony crashed into the ground with a pained grunt, debris raining around him. Before he could recover, the dampening cuffs were already locked around his wrists.
Then, in a blink, both men vanished from the scene.
Back at S.T.A.R. Labs, Cisco whooped into the comms.
"MACH PUNCH, BABY! WHOOOO!"
Later, Tony lay unconscious inside the reinforced chamber of the Particle Accelerator ring. The pale blue lights flickered as August stood outside the cell, breathing steadily, letting the adrenaline ebb from his system.
"You did it," Cisco said, walking up beside him. Caitlin followed, arms crossed but smiling.
"Broke my speed record again," August replied, a small grin forming.
"And gave birth to the Mach Punch," Cisco added proudly. "A glorious addition to the superhero arsenal. Historic."
August rolled his shoulder with a wince. "That punch actually hurt. A lot."
He turned to look at his team. "But I couldn't have done any of this without you guys. Especially you, JANUS."
The A.I.'s voice chimed in immediately. "Thank you, sir. If you'd like to express your gratitude by granting me control of the global defense grid, we'll call it even."
The team blinked.
Then burst into laughter.