Countdown to Change

In the midst of the cramped chaos, a semblance of order began to emerge. With each passing day, I worked to reshape the apartment into a place that reflected a newfound determination for change. The scent of cleaning supplies replaced the musty air, and the dim corners began to yield to the illumination of purpose.

Establishing a routine became the linchpin of this transformation. Mornings began with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a comforting ritual that provided a sense of normalcy amid the extraordinary.

The echoes of Tony's past faded, replaced by the deliberate steps of someone forging a new identity.

Work at the Keystone Steel Mill became a cornerstone of this evolving routine, although I would only continue my time there for a few days until the accelerator turned on.

It gave me a much-needed distraction to ease my nerves. The rhythmic clanging of machinery and the scent of molten metal created a stark contrast to the chaotic life I left behind in Tony's cramped apartment.

The grind of daily tasks and the simple act of laboring in a world of steel grounded me in a reality that felt tangible and real.

The Keystone Steel Mill, with its towering structures and the symphony of industrial sounds, offered a sanctuary of sorts. Yet, beneath the surface of routine, anxiety brewed.

The looming particle accelerator explosion casts a shadow over every mundane task. The rhythmic clangs in the mill echoed the countdown in my mind, a reminder that time was slipping away.

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3rd POV

Within the heart of the Keystone Steel Mill, the rhythms of labor began to synchronize with a subtle change in Tony's character. The employees, accustomed to the ebb and flow of the industrial routine, couldn't help but notice a newfound determination in their coworker.

He was usually loud and brash.

The once-thuglike figure is now engaged in conversations, offering a nod of acknowledgement or a genuine smile to those working alongside him.

Tony's demeanor shifted, shedding the shadows that had defined him, and a quiet sense of purpose emanated from his every action.

Whispers circulated among the workers, curious speculations about the change they witnessed. Tony's transformation didn't go unnoticed; it became a topic of hushed conversations during breaks and lunch hours.

The steel mill, often a backdrop to mundane routines, now harbored a sense of intrigue.

"Hey Logan, you think he really met a girl or something? He's too cheerful."

A man donning the keystone steel uniform said in the cramped but somewhat cozy break room,

"The hell, if I know whatever it is, at least we don't have to put up with that shit attitude for awhile."

The man named Logan responded.He nodded in acknowledgment while they enjoyed their separate meals. While they watched the ongoing news broadcast about the particle accelerator

"So what's with that particle something going on at Star Labs? You really think it'll change the world."

Logan laughed hysterically, "Man, if I had a dime every time a science nut said they were going to change the world," I wouldn't need to work this shitjob for this shitpay." They both laughed and joked, none the wiser of what was to come.

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First POV

The eve of the particle accelerator activation loomed, casting a quiet tension over my apartment. The once-cramped space now bears the marks of diligent preparation. Every surface gleamed with a newfound cleanliness, a stark contrast to the neglected apartment of days past.

In the dim light of his room, I sat at a makeshift workstation cluttered with blueprints, schematics, and hastily scrawled notes. My fingers danced across the keyboard of a laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting in my determined eyes.

It's been four days since I've come into this world, and many things have changed.

I've started to keep track of all the future members of Team Flash, making sure everything goes the way it's supposed to. My plan is simple: go to work like usual, but my mood has to reflect the old Tony, meaning I have to put on my best Oscar-worthy performance.

Once it's time, I nose-dive inside the metal and hopefully don't die.

Shit, calm down, man. You're fine; you'll be okay.

hopefully 

maybe 

I spent the rest of my night easing my nerves, scared but excited for what's to come.

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I woke up with a cold. Today was the day. As I got ready for work, I turned on the old TV to see the live broadcast.

"We are just hours away from the infamous particle accelerator turning on, which has been the cause of many controversies throughout its short history.".

The glow of the screen reflected in my eyes, casting a somber illumination on a face marked by shadows of anticipation. The air was thick with the echoes of a plan set in motion, a script followed to align destiny with the patterns observed in Tony's past.

As the broadcast unfolded, I watched with a mix of anxiety and determination.

The journalists' voices were a backdrop to the visual spectacle of the particle accelerator humming with energy, a monument to human ambition and the promise of scientific progress.

Leaving the solitude of my apartment, I stepped into the nocturnal embrace of Central City. The hum of the steel mill beckoned, a familiar melody that echoed in the night.

The plan, meticulously set in motion, now faced the unpredictable currents of fate.

I went to work as usual, but Mr. Nice Guy was nowhere to be found. I constantly pestered my coworkers throughout the day, calling them all sorts of unholy slurs.

They avoided me, like the plague. Not gonna lie, it hurt, but I can't mess up the sequence of events as the hour passed and the end of my shift arrived. Suddenly, Johnny, my manager, called me in his office, most likely about my behavior.

As I walked into the depressing office, I sat down with a smug smile planted on my face.

"Tony, you can't keep doing this all day. All I have been hearing is the shit you keep talking about, like you are trying to make people hate you, and you were doing too well." Johnny said with an exasperated sigh.

I looked at him and frowned. "I don't have to take this shit; it's not my fault their pathetic fucks."

He looked at me like I had just assaulted and defiled his wife. "Tell me, leave me no choice. I am suspending you effective immediately, and I will be reporting you to the higher-ups."

I stood up, my imposing 6'3 frame surrounded him with now corners of escape, and started beating the living shit out of him. Punch after punch, my hand seemed to be collecting the blood like a sponge collects water.

"With all his strength, he yelled for help, and I could see true fear in his eyes. I felt teeth break, and suddenly the door opened as two men came racing in the office and tried their best to pull me off.

"You fucking cunt, I make sure to finish the job next time," I said while the burly men restrained me."

Johnny was a crying mess, and he soon blacked out. I pushed the men off me, and suddenly everything went dark. I quickly raced to the molten mental and felt an immediate searing heat assault my face. It was time I broke the railing and jumped straight inside the steel.

The blistering heat enveloped me, an all-consuming inferno that seeped through every pore. Skin, once a barrier against the world, now offered no resistance, succumbing to the voracious hunger of molten metal.

The initial shock was a white-hot jolt to my senses, the excruciating burn penetrating deeper with each passing second.

Agony manifested as an unrelenting force, gripping my entire being. Every nerve screamed in protest, a cacophony of torment that drowned out the ambient sounds of the steel mill.

As his body met the molten surface, a sizzle echoed in the air, a macabre symphony of flesh meeting searing metal. The pain, a visceral presence, defied articulation.

It wasn't merely a sensation but an overwhelming assault on every facet of my existence.

In that infernal embrace, time distorted into a slow, torturous crawl. The molten steel clung to me, branding its scorching legacy onto my form.

Skin bubbled and blistered, a grotesque metamorphosis under the relentless onslaught of heat.

The stench of burning flesh permeated the air, a nauseating reminder of the irreversible fusion transpiring.

Through the agony, my consciousness teetered on the precipice of shock and awareness. The molten sea of steel surrounded me in an unyielding embrace that erased distinctions between self and the inferno.

The boundaries of pain blurred into a nightmarish panorama of searing torment.

In those harrowing moments, the molten steel became an indomitable arbiter of suffering, a crucible where flesh and metal entwined in a grotesque ballet.

The agony, unrelenting and unforgiving, etched an indelible mark on Tony's journey—a descent into the searing depths that defied the boundaries of human endurance.