Trouble

Back at S.T.A.R. Labs in the surgical bay, Barry's condition had stabilized considerably. What remained was the meticulous process of cleaning his wounds, disinfecting them to prevent infection, and suturing them closed. It was half an hour of frantic activity.

Thanks to my control, Barry's injuries were no longer life-threatening. "Was it a terrorist attack that got you guys?" Caitlin demanded. "How did Barry end up with these kinds of injuries?"

"Elon, are you sure you don't need to lie down and get that X of yours looked at?" she continued, worry etching her features.

"And what exactly happened with that fog?"

"OK, now that Barry's situation is under control, we're faced with a significant problem," Caitlin announced, her voice carrying an edge of urgency.

"Who's going to stitch Barry up?"

Seeing both men playing dumb, Caitlin lost her cool and yelled, "What?"

"What?" Elon and Cisco responded in unison, their simultaneous cluelessness only exacerbating Caitlin's frustration.

"I'm a bioengineering expert, not a doctor!" Caitlin raged, her anger palpable. "I studied genetic engineering, cellular engineering, protein engineering, microbiology, cell biology... and about twenty other subjects. Not one of them taught me how to stitch a wound!"

Cisco stood with his mouth agape, bewildered. "Then what do we do? Leave Barry to heal on his own? Can he even heal from these wounds without stitches? Won't he bleed out if we don't close them up?"

I suggested, "What if we just press Barry's wound edges together? Cell division should fuse the wound shut. That should work." My own wounds had healed that way in half an hour, leaving a large X-shaped scar. I figured Barry could do the same if he could control the Speed Force.

"Get out, you're a freak whose wounds heal on their own. Barry's wounds won't heal like that," Caitlin snapped back, her patience wearing thin.

In the end, Caitlin had no choice but to stitch Barry up herself, having read about the procedure in a book, though she'd never actually practiced it. Of course, the reality of stitching up a human chest, not a piece of pork, made her incredibly nervous, despite being accustomed to seeing gore in her line of work.

"Maybe we should just take Barry to a hospital," Caitlin suggested uneasily.

I patted Caitlin on the shoulder, giving her a nod of encouragement. "Caitlin, you can do this. Barry and Cisco will be thrilled to have you join the Flash team after this."

"Right, Caitlin, we need you," Cisco chimed in, just in time to bolster her confidence.

With a roll of her eyes, Caitlin's nervousness dissolved, and she got to work. "Clean the wound."

"Administer the anesthetic."

"Is the needle sterilized?"

The two men prepared everything, and Caitlin proceeded to sew Barry's chest up. The procedure was far from pretty—Barry would definitely regret getting hurt this time.

After more than an hour of busyness and seeing Barry's vitals stabilize, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"OK, I've inevitably ended up treating injuries here. Now, please explain in detail what exactly happened. Why do you and Barry look like you've been slashed and blown apart?" Caitlin demanded, exasperated.

Cisco spilled the entire story, "It was the Weather Wizard, that's the name I've given him. You can't imagine what it's like, a metahuman with the power to control the weather."

Caitlin was dumbfounded by Cisco's description, which made the showdown sound like an epic battle between the Weather Wizard and the Thunder God, a clash so fierce it could destroy worlds, ending with the villain's defeat.

Caitlin was shocked beyond words. "Wasn't the fog just covering a single district of Mayfield?"

When Cisco's exaggeration was called out, he didn't show an ounce of embarrassment, insisting, "Caitlin, that's not the point. The point is the Weather Wizard, a metahuman with the power to control the weather, an evil metahuman."

"Oh my God, it must be the particle accelerator explosion. That unknown energy gave him those powers. It's our fault; we created him, an evil metahuman," Caitlin mused, her hands covering her face in distress.

"Anyone who might be hurt by them, they're indirectly complicit. This is terrible."

"No, no, I have to inform Dr. Wells. We've caused enough trouble for Central City," Caitlin muttered to herself as she left the surgical bay to notify Dr. Wells.

With Caitlin gone, Elon and Cisco were left in silence, along with Barry lying on the hospital bed, surrounded by the beeping of machines.

"Cisco, I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me, that metahuman wouldn't have escaped," Cisco said after a moment of hesitation. His failure to shoot had allowed the villain to flee, and Caitlin's reaction had underscored the gravity of the situation. The possibility that he had become an accomplice weighed heavily on him.

I shook my head at Cisco, who was clearly wallowing in self-blame. "Cisco, don't be too hard on yourself. I was the one being extreme, selfish, asking you to kill. Killing isn't easy; it requires you to abandon your humanity and live with guilt. Fortunately, you didn't shoot; otherwise, the humanity you would've lost would've dragged you down into darkness."

"Now's not the time for self-pity. We need to find the Weather Wizard before he hurts more people. That's the priority," I urged firmly.

If it were up to me, I would have chosen to kill Mardon—not out of bloodlust, but to protect Barry and ensure my path home remained clear. Barry's portrayal in the series had always struck me as foolishly kind and merciful—a common flaw in the Flash TV series. Yet it was this flaw that made me willing to trust them.

The kind of heroism portrayed on TV didn't suit me, but I had no right to force Cisco to be like me. If they were to be merciful, then let me be the demon.

With a nod, Cisco looked at me, determination in his eyes. "I'll find that guy, I promise."

Just then, Caitlin returned, a ringing phone in her hand. "Who has the guts to answer Barry's phone?" she asked, lifting the phone. "I noticed he's missed over ten calls already. I don't think Joe's going to let this slide."

It was Barry's phone, always left at S.T.A.R. Labs whenever he changed into his Flash suit.

Joe West's photo flashed on the screen.

We exchanged glances, each sensing trouble.

I took the phone, sliding my finger across the screen. Joe's voice, filled with urgency and worry, burst forth.

"Barry! Where are you? Get back here right now..."