64

Myles Walley, alias Tachyon, hung effortlessly from the horizontal bar bolted securely in his underground hideout. His well-defined muscles tensed as he effortlessly performed reverse pull-ups with one hand, a book casually held in the other. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows across the room as he delved into his thoughts.

"Alright, let's see..." Myles mused, his mind swirling with plans and contingencies. "How should we tackle this singularity device?"

His blue eyes scanned the pages of the book, absorbing information as he mulled over his next move. "Team Flash knows about you now. Oliver wouldn't have forgotten to mention our little encounter. Gotta keep that in mind for the next move."

"So, Spotlight's out in the open now," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing softly in the cavernous space. "Team Flash knows about you now. Oliver wouldn't have forgotten to mention our little encounter. Gotta keep that in mind for the next move."

As he effortlessly switched arms, his movements fluid and precise, Myles continued his internal dialogue. "If we're going to proceed with the next phase, we need to upgrade Shawna first. We can't have her glitching out in the middle of an operation again."

The memory of Melanie, struggling to stabilize her powers, flickered through his mind. He sighed, realizing the importance of patience in their line of work. "And Melanie, how long is it going to take for her to stabilize her powers? She's a wildcard, but a valuable one if we can harness her potential." He could only sigh as he knew he needed to wait for the woman to get used to her ability. "It's going to be a while before she's ready for action."

The question of whether to proceed with his plans to disrupt the timeline hung heavy in the air. "To meddle or not to meddle? That is the question," he mused, his grip tightening on the bar. Myles weighed the risks and benefits, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and strategies.

"Season 2..." he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "How do I even make season two happen?"

But the task ahead seemed daunting. With most of the Flash's adversaries either dead or incapacitated, Myles faced a dilemma. As he swung back down, his mind raced with possibilities. "Parts I need are scattered across the multiverse," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "I'm going to need the breach to get what I want."

He paused, his chin cupped in thought, even as he effortlessly continued his physical exertion. "What's the plan, Myles?" he asked himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

The sound of the door creaking open snapped him out of his reverie, and Myles turned to see Gorilla Grodd entering the room, his massive form filling the doorway.

"Ah, Grodd! How's the project going?" Myles exclaimed, his tone cheerful and relaxed. With a smooth transition, he shifted from pull-ups to hanging upside down, performing sit-ups with ease.

Grodd's deep voice reverberated through the room. "What is Myles doing?"

Myles grinned, his blond hair tousled, as he gestured nonchalantly with the book in hand. "Oh, you know, just keeping up with the latest fashion trends," he quipped. "A big bad villain like me has to look the part, right?"

Grodd grunted in response, seemingly unsatisfied with the explanation. The great ape's brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Myles casually toss aside the book on fashion. "Why did Myles read a silly book about clothes?" he asked, his deep voice echoing in the room.

As he observed Myles, Grodd couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and bewilderment. The man before him was undeniably brilliant, yet there was something childlike about him, an oddity that made him unpredictable and, at times, frustratingly inscrutable.

Myles grinned mischievously, swinging himself upright to face Grodd. "Grodd, it's all about perception," he replied, his tone casual yet tinged with underlying cunning.

Grodd scratched his head, finding Myles's behavior perplexing. Grodd furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of what he just said. "Grodd does not understand," he replied slowly, his confusion evident.

Myles locked eyes with Grodd, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Alright, Grodd, let me ask you something," he said, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of menace. "Which do you find more intimidating: a man in a tux or a guy in a banana mascot?"

Grodd blinked, caught off guard by the seemingly random question. "I do not understand," he admitted, his confusion evident. "How does this relate to what Grodd asked Myles?

"Just answer the question."

Grodd's confusion deepened, but he pondered the question nonetheless. "Man in a tux," he finally replied, his voice rumbling low.

Myles clicked his tongue and wagged a finger playfully. "Predictable," he chided, his grin widening. "No, non, Nay, nyet. The answer is both, dear Grodd." 

He leaned back, his expression serious now. "You see, it's all about perception. A man in a tux signifies power, wealth, and danger. But a guy in a banana mascot? He's unexpected, unpredictable. He's seen as harmless, insignificant, with no identity. He could be anyone, anywhere."

Grodd frowned, failing to see the connection. "How?" he asked, his tone tinged with frustration.

Myles leaned forward, his expression serious now. "Like I said, it's all about perception," he explained. "See, any intellectual being automatically associates certain traits with how dangerous or valuable someone is based on their appearance."

Grodd listened intently, nodding slowly as Myles continued to explain. The concept was foreign to him, but he could see the logic in Myles's words.

Myles wasn't finished yet. "Now, imagine both of them with a gun," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Who's more dangerous then? The man in the suit, the professional? Or the mascot, with the element of surprise?"

Grodd pondered the question, weighing the options in his mind. "Both."

Myles smiled in a deranged way. "Exactly if both have guns, then both are just as dangerous as the other but the key detail here is now on how they handle the situation. A man in a suit will always be associated with experience but a mascot's true secret will be revealed. If he shakes, he's afraid, unprofessional, hell, it might be his first time. But if not... well, you get the picture."

Grodd grunted in acknowledgment, conceding that there was some merit to Myles's explanation, even if he still found it somewhat absurd

"And that's why I'm reading about fashion, Grodd," Myles concluded, leaning back with a satisfied smile. "To keep my alter-ego 'Spotlight' one step ahead, to control the narrative, people—regular people—would associate 'Spotlight' with someone craving attention."

"It's still stupid," Grodd remarked bluntly, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

Myles shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by Grodd's criticism. "Well, to each their own, right?" he quipped, flashing a grin. "Now, what's got your fur in a bunch anyway?"

The air between them grew tense as Grodd's gaze bore into Myles, his curiosity tinged with suspicion. "What is Myles planning to build?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.

He knew how this man thinks; they already had a device that could amplify his telepathy, so he had no idea why on earth they needed to steal a device that functions the same as the one they had.

Myles's response was blunt and to the point. "A bomb," he stated matter-of-factly, meeting Grodd's stare head-on.

A heavy silence descended upon them as Grodd processed the information, uncertainty clouding his features. "Is Myles serious?" he wondered silently, unable to decipher the speedster's intentions.

The former speedster gave an eager nod.

Unable to contain his growing unease, Grodd's tone turned threatening. "Why should Grodd not kill Myles here and now?" he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Myles, however, remained unfazed, his demeanor bordering on childish defiance. "Relax, ya big baby," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm not going to blow up Central City yet."

Grodd's eyes narrowed, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yet?" he repeated, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Myles shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the bar and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Well, I can't even build the darn thing yet," he admitted, his tone almost apologetic. "Just gathering the parts for now. Gotta figure out the how before I can get to the boom."

Immediately, Myles found himself plastered to a wall, with the Grodd arm holding him by the neck.

Grodd's eyes burned with barely contained fury as he issued a warning, his voice laced with menace. "If Myles ever hurts Caitlin, Grodd will kill him," he vowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

Myles rolled his eyes, exasperated by Grodd's paranoia. "Come on, Grodd, you're not that dumb," he chided, shaking his head. "Why would I kill my fiance's host?" 

Immediately, Grodd's instincts warned him to let go and not to set the predator's chains off. Letting go of Myles, Grodd cautiously took a step back in case Myles decided to attack him.

But the psychopath brushed off Grodd's threat with a casual wave of his hand. "Caitlin will be fine," he assured the gorilla, his tone dismissive as he patted the gorilla's cheek.

With that settled, Myles dropped from the bar and wiped the sweat from his brow. He caught sight of his reflection in a distant mirror and pondered aloud, "Maybe it's time for a haircut."

"Where are you going?" The telepathic ape asked.

Turning back to Grodd, he announced his departure. "I'm heading out to get my hair done," he informed the ape before making his way to his room to change. 

As Myles left the room, Grodd's glare followed him, his mind racing with thoughts of whether he should warn Hartley about Myles's plans. With a huff, Grodd made his own exit, his thoughts swirling with unease.

*-*-*

Spider-Man 3: Drive That Funky Soul

After a few minutes of a bus ride, Myles was back in the city. Of course, he also enjoyed watching the chaos around him after setting up a $3 million bounty that he purposefully left in a random trash bin. Watching his Valhalla organization and the city go crazy on a wild goose chase was quite a sight.

Watching Barry and his ex do their best to curb this wildfire set up Myles for the mood. Grabbing his phone and attaching the headset, Myles scrolled through his music list and found it. 'People Get Up and Drive Your Funky Soul (Remix)'. Pressing the play button, Myles bopped his head, enjoying the beat.

Passing by a clothing shop, Myles looked at the suite and his old clothing before comparing them and found the suite appetizing for the eyes. With a smile, he made a pose as if he were a wizard. "Open sesame," he uttered, as the doors automatically opened while a couple left the room. Smiling, Myles entered the building. Minutes later, Myles was now wearing the same suit he had eyes on.

"HEY, GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!" He heard one of the Valhalla goons yell out to him.

"Myles merely smiled before suddenly hugging the man, while making sure his hidden blade ring wasn't seen as he sliced off the man's artery as fast and cleanly as he could.

Myles patted the man as he turned around, ignoring the man falling to the floor and bleeding to death. The madman continued his way as he looked for a barbershop, all while imagining himself dancing on the street.

Passing by an alley filled with homeless people, he threw a stack of hundred grand, not bothering to stop as the people fought over the money. Finally, he found a barber shop; he entered it and requested an undercut fade hairstyle.

An hour later, Myles admired his new hair and gave a man a tip of five thousand dollars. The poor guy was flabbergasted.

As for why Myles was wasting money, he wasn't. This was Cage's money, so he didn't give a damn about it.

Leaving the building, Myles eyes landed on a stall selling shades of glasses. After a few tries, he bought a rectangular frame with a blue tint.

Myles continued his day, enjoying his walk while Central City was in chaos.

Author's Note:

So in case you haven't read the post, my grandpa passed away on December 30, 2023. It's been rough. He knew he was going and he made us promise to look after Grandma. I couldn't handle hearing him say goodbye, so I just told him to get some rest. It was also when I was working on this fanfic that he passed. So I've been avoiding this one since it brings up that memory. I'm not saying that I will be quitting on this; its just going to take longer every time I start working on this fanfic. 

So I'm sorry if this is a downer for you guys.