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Chapter 33 : The Trap Sets
Wells called the meeting for 10 AM.
The team gathered in the cortex with the casual energy of people who didn't realize they were about to be manipulated. Barry arrived late as usual, apologizing for a CCPD emergency that had probably involved super-speed. Cisco was already at his console, running diagnostics on equipment I couldn't identify. Caitlin stood near the medical station with Ronnie beside her—their presence together still creating that familiar ache in my chest.
I positioned myself near the door. Optimal viewing angle. Clear exit path. Old habits.
"Thank you all for coming," Wells said, wheeling to the center of the room. His voice carried the measured authority I'd learned to recognize as performance. "I have a proposal that I believe could significantly advance our capabilities."
He pulled up schematics on the main display. The particle accelerator—detailed cross-sections showing power conduits, containment fields, the complex engineering that had created the metahuman explosion three years ago.
"Barry, your speed has increased substantially since we began working together. But you're still operating well below theoretical maximum." Wells gestured at the display. "I believe I've found a way to change that."
"How?" Barry leaned forward, interest obvious.
"Controlled recreation of the conditions that gave you your powers." Wells' tone was clinical, academic. "A focused particle acceleration event, targeted specifically at your cellular structure. The energy surge would essentially... reboot your connection to the Speed Force."
The room went quiet. Everyone processing the implications.
"You want to blow up the accelerator again," Cisco said slowly. "On purpose."
"Not blow up. Activate under controlled conditions." Wells smiled the reassuring smile of someone selling a used car. "The original explosion was chaotic, uncontrolled. This would be different. Precise targeting, contained parameters, minimal risk to the surrounding area."
"Minimal isn't zero," Caitlin interjected. Her medical training made her cautious about anything involving radiation and cellular manipulation. "What's the actual probability of something going wrong?"
"Less than three percent, based on my calculations." Wells pulled up another display—probability matrices, risk assessments, technical documentation that looked convincing to anyone who didn't know it was fabricated. "The potential gain significantly outweighs the danger."
Barry studied the schematics with the expression of someone being offered everything they wanted.
More speed. More people saved. The power to be the hero he desperately needs to be.
It was exactly what Thawne wanted him to feel. The perfect bait for the perfect trap.
I raised my objections in the most professional manner I could manage.
"What happens if containment fails?" I asked, stepping forward from my position near the door. "The original explosion affected a significant portion of the city. Even a 'controlled' detonation could have unpredictable consequences."
"The containment protocols have been substantially upgraded since the original accident." Wells' response was smooth, practiced. "The probability of cascade failure is negligible."
"Negligible isn't impossible." I moved to the display, pointing at the power conduits. "These junction points were the failure points in the original explosion. If the energy surge exceeds projections—"
"Then the automatic shutoffs engage." Wells' tone carried the slightest edge of irritation. "Really, Mr. Griffin, I appreciate the security perspective, but these are engineering questions with engineering solutions."
"And if the solutions fail?"
"They won't."
The confidence in his voice was absolute. The kind of certainty that came from knowing exactly what would happen—because he'd planned every step.
I pushed just enough to seem thorough, not enough to derail. The confrontation needed to happen. Eddie needed to be in the right place at the right time for me to intervene.
"I'd like to review the containment protocols personally," I said. "Before the test. Just to verify the security implications."
Wells considered the request. Whatever suspicions he had about me, my cover as a security consultant made this entirely reasonable.
"Of course. I'll have Cisco provide you with the relevant documentation."
"Appreciated."
The team debate continued for another hour.
Barry was tempted—the possibility of increased speed tugging at the part of him that believed faster meant better, more powerful meant more lives saved. His desperation to be enough was exactly the leverage Thawne had cultivated for fifteen years.
Cisco expressed excitement about the scientific possibilities while acknowledging the risks. His enthusiasm was genuine—he lived for pushing boundaries, for discovering what was possible at the edges of known physics.
Caitlin raised medical concerns that Wells dismissed with technical explanations. Her caution was overruled by the collective momentum of a team that wanted to believe their mentor had their best interests at heart.
Ronnie supported whatever Caitlin decided, which meant he supported caution without opposing the test outright. The dynamic of someone still learning how to be part of the team again.
I watched Wells navigate each objection with practiced ease. Reassurance for Barry. Technical details for Cisco. Safety protocols for Caitlin. The performance of a man who'd spent years perfecting this moment.
He's been planning this for fifteen years. Since he killed Barry's mother. Since he created the Flash specifically so he could steal the Speed Force.
And the team had no idea.
Barry announced his decision at the end of the meeting.
"Let's do it."
The words fell into the room with the weight of something inevitable. I saw the satisfaction flash behind Wells' eyes—brief, controlled, the reaction of a predator watching its prey walk into the trap.
"Excellent." Wells clasped his hands together. "I'll begin preparations immediately. The test can be ready within a week."
"What do you need from us?" Cisco asked.
"Technical support. Medical monitoring. Security oversight." Wells' gaze found mine. "Your expertise will be valuable, Mr. Griffin. I'd appreciate your presence during the test itself."
"Of course."
We shook hands. His grip was firm, controlled, the handshake of someone who believed they'd won something important.
He thinks I'm just another variable in his calculation. Another piece on his board.
He had no idea what I was planning. What I knew. What I was prepared to do when the moment came.
"One week," Wells repeated. "Then we make history."
The meeting dispersed. Team members drifted toward their respective tasks, discussing timelines and preparations. Normal activity resuming after an announcement that would change everything.
I found a quiet corner and pulled up the system interface.
[TIMELINE EVENT: CONFIRMED] [ACCELERATOR TEST: 7 DAYS] [INTERVENTION WINDOW: ESTIMATED 168 HOURS]
Seven days to prepare. Seven days to figure out exactly how to save Eddie Thawne without destroying everything else.
The system offered no guidance beyond raw data. No quests appeared. No PP rewards dangled for timeline manipulation.
This wasn't about power accumulation. This was about something else entirely.
That night, the dreams came again.
Different scenarios. Different outcomes. Eddie dying a dozen different ways while I watched, unable to intervene, always too late or too slow or too weak.
I woke at 3 AM, drenched in sweat, heart racing with adrenaline from confrontations that hadn't happened yet.
This isn't like hunting metas. This isn't about taking power from criminals who deserve it.
This was about saving an innocent man from a death he didn't deserve. About changing a timeline that seemed determined to sacrifice the good for the sake of the narrative.
And about proving—to myself, if no one else—that I was more than what the system wanted me to be.
I got out of bed and started reviewing the accelerator schematics. The test was scheduled for the pipeline area—the same location where Eddie would eventually confront Thawne. The same place where a good man would shoot himself to prevent a monster from ever existing.
Not this time.
The plan was still forming. Fragments of ideas that needed refinement. But the core was clear.
Wells would reveal himself. The confrontation would happen. And when Eddie raised that gun to his own head, I would be there.
The system couldn't quantify what I was feeling. Couldn't reduce it to PP or sync rates or extraction efficiency.
Some things mattered more than power.
I just had to survive long enough to prove it.