"Whoever that guy is," Snart said, "I'm sure of two things."
Inside the safe house, he stood over Farooq's body on the sofa — chest completely unmarked, not a scratch — and his expression shifted into something harder. Colder.
"First, he's far more dangerous than the Flash. More capable, no limits, and he kills people." He let the words settle. "Second — I don't like him. Not even a little."
Mick looked up, and the grin that split his face was nothing short of delighted. Whatever fear a normal person might feel after watching a yellow blur tear through a man without breaking stride, Mick Rory had apparently misplaced it entirely.
"You going after him?" He cracked his knuckles. "I like that. Tell me what to do."
Snart glanced at him sidelong. Mick was a simple equation — fire and impulse, held together by a surprisingly reliable sense of loyalty. That was the only reason the ice-and-fire arrangement had ever worked at all.
"We'll have to deal with him eventually," Snart said after a moment. "But not now. Right now, we focus on the Flash."
"Didn't that guy already run him dry?"
"I don't believe he loses his abilities that easily. If anyone in this world qualifies as my nemesis, it's him." He said it without sentiment, the same way someone might cite a law of physics.
"You've got a weird amount of faith in a hero who hates your guts."
"Either he defeats me, or I defeat him. That's how it works. Once the painting situation is resolved, we'll settle it — and after that, we go after the man in yellow together."
Mick squinted. "Fight first, then team up? Who does that?"
"You wouldn't understand. But here's the math: that yellow speedster killed someone tonight, which means he'll become the Flash's problem eventually. I give myself ninety percent odds of selling Flash on a joint operation once things shake out." He picked up his cold gun and turned it over in his hands. "And if I don't win the day after tomorrow — I wait for him to come help me with the man in yellow. Either way, we move forward. Tomorrow, we find Roy. On schedule."
"If it were up to me," Mick said cheerfully, "we'd just take this one to the beach."
Snart looked at Farooq. "He's already dead, Mick. Show some respect." A pause. "That's a principle my grandfather taught me."
"Fine, fine." Mick waved a hand. "But once word gets out he's dead, you're gonna have to explain to the Flash that you didn't do it. Thankless job."
"I won't need to explain. I've told him I don't kill people. He'll believe me."
Mick gave him a long, considering look. "The two of you have a seriously weird thing going on."
Neither of them noticed the side door ease shut.
Luckily I move fast. Jude exhaled slowly once he hit the alley, the cold night air sharp in his lungs. Another thirty seconds and Farooq's body would've had company.
He slipped into the dark, found his three-wheeled motorcycle where he'd left it, and rode home without looking back.
Across town, Star Labs was winding down for the night.
"Last batch of test data is logged." Cisco patted Barry on the shoulder with the careful optimism of someone delivering mixed news. "Your cellular structure is intact. The Speed Force is gone — for now — but the numbers give me reason to think recovery isn't off the table."
"Thanks, Cisco." Barry was quiet for a moment. "It's a hard thing to describe. Without the speed, I feel… incomplete. Like I've been living half a life and only just noticed."
"Don't say that." Caitlin's voice was gentle but firm. "You're a good person, Barry. That was true before the lightning and it'll be true after."
A notification chimed on her workstation. She turned and clicked through it, scanning the message with a slight frown. "It's from Dr. Wells," she said. "He wants me to start analyzing Farooq's cellular tissue tomorrow. He thinks what we find could be relevant to Barry's case."
"See?" Cisco pointed at Barry with entirely unearned confidence. "We're going to fix this. It's basically already happening."
Barry managed a small smile. "Thanks. Both of you." He rolled his neck, the exhaustion of the day finally settling into his bones. "It's late — should we head out? Can I give anyone a lift, or—"
He stopped himself. Right.
The silence landed a little awkwardly. Caitlin recovered first.
"I drove," she said. "And Cisco did too. I think he should take you home tonight."
Cisco opened his mouth, seemed to calculate the social dynamics, and nodded. "Yeah, obviously."
The three of them made their way out to the public parking lot beside the lab, voices low, the conversation winding down into the kind of tired small talk that fills the space between a long day and a longer drive home.
"I didn't think it was possible to fit this much into one day," Barry said. "Two super-powered criminals, and then Snart, and then—" He shook his head. "At least it's over."
"Exactly." Caitlin let out a breath. "Go home, sleep for twelve hours, start fresh tomorrow—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Barry and Cisco turned to look at her. She was staring at a far corner of the parking lot, completely still, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and something she clearly didn't want to name yet.
They followed her gaze. A man's back, just visible — a jacket, jeans, hair that was too long and not recently washed — before he turned into the flow of traffic and was gone.
"Caitlin—"
"Don't ask." She was already moving. "Just — go."
Cisco grabbed Barry by the arm and ran. Caitlin was right behind them. They looped around a row of cars, and there he was again — the same man, jacket worn through at the elbows, clothes creased and stained in the particular way of someone sleeping rough. He could have been any one of a hundred homeless men Barry passed on his beat without a second glance.
Except he was walking faster now. Just fast enough to suggest he knew he was being followed.
Something's off. Barry matched pace with the other two, not sure what he was chasing or why.
When Caitlin finally said the name, the man stopped as if she'd cut his strings.
He stood there for a few long seconds, very still. Then the three of them closed the last of the distance, and — because there was nowhere left to go — he turned around.
Barry looked at his face. And then he remembered what the name Ronnie meant to the people around him.
Ronnie Raymond. Rarely spoken in the lab. A source of quiet grief that Caitlin had only recently, carefully, begun to move out from under. Chief engineer of Star Labs. Her fiancé.