DC: Zoom

Barry pushed himself up, his entire body screaming in protest. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his limbs, as if his nerves were on fire. He had no idea how long he had been lying there, but there was no time to waste.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his legs to move. His steps were slow and unsteady at first, each one a battle against exhaustion. But he couldn't stop. With sheer willpower, he pushed forward, his pace quickening until he was sprinting—faster, faster—until S.T.A.R. Labs was finally in sight.

He barely made it through the doors before his body gave out. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold floor, breath ragged and shallow. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. Then, everything faded.

When Barry woke up, the bright lights above him made him squint. A dull ache pulsed through his ribs, a reminder of the toll his body had taken.

Caitlin sat beside him, scanning him with a mixture of relief and concern. "You're healing at a normal rate, but you've got a few broken ribs," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You'll be fine in a couple of days."

Barry exhaled, letting his head sink back against the pillow. Great. Just another day in the life of The Flash.

Wells rolled into the room in his wheelchair as Barry let out a frustrated groan, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His mind swirled with doubt, the weight of failure pressing down on him.

"Wells… how am I supposed to stop him?" Barry muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "He's faster than me. Way faster."

Wells didn't immediately respond, his eyes distant, thoughtful. Then Cisco's voice cut through the silence, sharp and eager. "Maybe there's a connection to his speed."

Barry, Caitlin, and Wells turned toward him, confusion in their eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Barry asked, his voice hoarse.

Cisco leaned forward, his mind clearly racing. "Think about it—three years ago, when S.T.A.R. Labs was attacked, there were reports of a figure with yellow lightning. A few days before that, there were sightings of someone with orange lightning. That can't be our speedster, because you were in a coma."

He paused, his eyes widening as he pieced the information together. "Then, two years after the yellow lightning man disappeared, reports of blue lightning started cropping up. What if—what if they're all the same person?"

Barry winced as he sat up, his ribs aching. "Okay… but how does that explain why he's so much faster than me?"

Cisco exhaled slowly, his hands rubbing his temples. "There's a lot we don't know. But we do know this—you tapped into a force that's been around since the beginning. The Speed Force, if you want to call it that."

He pointed at Barry. "The dark matter from the particle accelerator explosion helped you connect to the Speed Force. But what if Zoom's connection is even stronger, causing his lightning to turn blue? What if, just like you, he was struck by lightning."

There has to be a way to strengthen my connection to the Speed Force, Barry thought, determination flickering through his exhaustion.

Wells pressed his fingertips together, his sharp gaze locked onto Barry. After a brief pause, he spoke, his tone calm but resolute. "Barry, you need to get faster. We'll figure this out together. But for now, rest."

Barry nodded, but just as he was about to settle, a thought sparked in his mind. His eyes widened. "Wait—if he was struck by lightning like me, there should be hospital records."

Cisco nodded and immediately pulled out his phone. "Let me call Felicity."

The room fell into silence, everyone waiting with bated breath. Moments later, Cisco's phone buzzed, breaking the stillness. He grabbed it quickly, eyes scanning the message.

His expression shifted to one of frustration. "She says there aren't any records. But if there were, they've been wiped clean."

Barry exhaled sharply, frustration seeping into his voice. "Of course. Nothing's ever easy."

Back at Jason's apartment, Charlotte sat hunched over her desk, completely absorbed in her latest project. The soft glow of her monitors bathed the dimly lit room, the rhythmic tapping of her fingers against the keyboard the only sound—until Aether's voice broke through.

"Miss Charlotte, someone attempted to access records related to individuals struck by lightning. Per your instructions, I am informing you immediately."

Charlotte's hands stilled. Her eyes flicked to the screen. "Did you track the hacker?"

"Yes. The breach originated in Star City."

Her stomach twisted. Star City. Her thoughts jumped immediately to her brother. Coincidence? No.

Aether continued. "The search specifically targeted your brother's identity. I located nearby cell phones and infiltrated their messages. One stood out: "Yo, can you do me a huge favor and hack into all the hospitals? I need to find someone who got zapped by lightning Four years ago—like, ASAP."

Charlotte's jaw clenched. "Who sent it?"

"The message came from S.T.A.R. Labs. I am currently breaching their system, but it will take time. Shall I proceed?"

She exhaled slowly, drumming her fingers against the desk. Two choices. Kill the doctors who saved my brother—an option that left a bitter taste in her mouth—or eliminate whoever was searching for him. She tilted her head. What to do, what to do…

"I'll let Jason handle it," she muttered. Killing the doctors felt… wrong. Killing the Flash, though? That was a more direct approach. Or maybe… a third option. Threaten them. But heroes never back down, do they?

Frustration burned through her as she raked her fingers through her hair. "This is infuriating. My gut tells me to wipe them all out, but—"

A voice cut through the room. "That won't be necessary."

Charlotte whirled, heart lurching. Jason stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"How long have you been standing there?" she snapped.

"Long enough to hear everything." He stepped forward. "Aether, disengage from S.T.A.R. Labs."

"Affirmative, sir," the AI replied.

Charlotte glared at her brother, but the frustration in her eyes had shifted—just slightly—into something else. Uncertainty.