Barry Allen returned to S.T.A.R. Labs, his mind racing nearly as fast as his feet had carried him from Jitters. The familiar hum of technology and the sight of familiar faces brought a fleeting sense of comfort, but the weight of the day’s revelations pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Wally West was the first to notice Barry’s troubled expression. Throwing his arms up in mock exasperation, he exaggerated an eye roll. “Barry, what’s the crisis this time?” he gasped theatrically, his usual playful tone lightening the tension in the room.

Barry tried to chuckle, but it came out hollow. “The Rogues are back. Leonard found me at Jitters.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Iris, who had been focused on one of the holo-screens, snapped her head toward him, her eyes narrowing with concern. “What do you mean, ‘they’re back’? I thought they disappeared after Flash Day.”

“They did,” Barry confirmed, nodding grimly. “But now they’re back. Cold found me today—wanted to have a ‘chat,’ if you can believe that. And they’re after the new speedster.” He shifted uneasily, his gaze briefly drifting, as if hoping to avoid the inevitable follow-up questions.

Wally scoffed, leaning against a nearby console. “Typical Rogues. They can’t resist sticking their noses in where they don’t belong.”

On the other side of the room, Jay Garrick stood with his arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. “If Cold came to talk, it means they’re not ready to make a move—at least not yet. They’re gathering intel.”

Barry nodded in agreement. “But it won’t be long. We know how they operate. Once they get bored…” He didn’t need to finish the thought—everyone knew the danger that followed once the Rogues grew restless.

Before anyone could respond, the soft whoosh of the sliding doors interrupted the moment. Eobard Thawne entered, his presence immediately thickening the atmosphere. Though Barry and the others had grown somewhat accustomed to his presence over the past few weeks, an undercurrent of tension remained every time he was near.

Thawne was still clad in his yellow suit, mask and all, standing out against the more casual attire of the team. But it wasn’t just the suit that set him apart—it was the way he carried himself, the calculated way he moved and spoke.

With a small, almost-too-casual wave, Thawne addressed the room. “What did I miss?” His voice was bright, an attempt to echo Wally’s usual cocky tone, but it rang hollow, too rehearsed, too practiced.

Wally’s eyes narrowed, his irritation barely masked. “You know we’re off the clock, right? Or did no one tell you?”

The comment was half-joking, but the edge in Wally’s voice was unmistakable. Thawne, however, seemed entirely unfazed. He shrugged as though the jab hadn’t even registered. “Old habits die hard,” he replied, his voice oozing the same kind of confidence Barry often carried—but this time, it felt unnerving, like a mirror’s reflection that wasn’t quite right.

He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed in a pose eerily similar to Jay’s usual stance. “So, the Rogues are back, huh? And they’re looking for me?”

Barry’s eyes shifted from Thawne to the others. He felt the weight of their reactions. Iris seemed to physically withdraw as Thawne spoke, her arms crossing tightly over her chest, her face tight. Jay gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, but there was something darker in his eyes, something that said he’d seen this kind of thing before.

“I don’t think they know it’s you specifically,” Barry finally said, trying to sound neutral. “But yeah, they’re after the new speedster.”

Thawne tilted his head slightly, the light catching on the dark lenses of his mask. “Well, if they’re coming for me, let them. The Rogues are nothing I haven’t handled before.” His words were almost too smooth, like he was testing the waters of confidence, trying to see how it felt.

Wally let out a small laugh, but it was devoid of humor. “Wow, overconfident much? You sure you’ve got this handled?”

Thawne’s smile widened, but behind the mask, no one could see the slight flicker of something else—something darker. “I’m not worried about the Rogues, Wally. They’re… predictable. It’s the unknowns we should be wary of.” His tone was almost an exact mimic of Jay’s calm wisdom, but it lacked the sincerity.

Barry, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably, his mind flashing back to that café encounter with Cold. There was something about the way Thawne had said it that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything about Thawne felt… wrong. It was like looking into a mirror that was cracked, each piece showing something familiar but distorted.

Iris cleared her throat, her voice quieter than usual. “We need to be careful. If the Rogues are after you, Thawne, it’s only a matter of time before things escalate.”

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Thawne’s head tilted slightly toward her, mimicking the way Barry usually looked at Iris with concern. “I appreciate your compassion, Iris. It’s… touching.” But the way he said it felt off, like the words were borrowed from someone else.

Thawne burst into his hideout, the familiar hum of machinery and the blue glow of Gideon’s interface providing a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. Sparks of electricity crackled around him as he moved with barely-contained frustration. Gideon’s holographic interface flickered to life, but her voice carried an air of irritation.

“Eobard, I was in the middle of something important,” she said, her tone sharp. “What could possibly warrant this interruption?”

Thawne didn’t even pause, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “The Rogues. They’ve reemerged, and Barry’s actually considering them a threat. It’s infuriating!”

Gideon sighed, her lights flickering in a brief display of impatience. “The Rogues? Really, Eobard? They’re beneath you. Common criminals. I hardly see why they warrant such a tantrum.”

Thawne stopped, his fists clenched at his sides. “They persist. They taunt me with their petty schemes, and their existence… it’s a distraction. A reminder of how fragile the legacy I’m trying to create is. How dare they still be a factor!”

Gideon’s irritation ebbed slightly as she caught the edge of something deeper in Thawne’s tone. “You’re letting them affect you too much,” she said, her tone softening just a fraction. “You’re meant for greater things. The Rogues are irrelevant. Your path is much larger than theirs.”

But Thawne’s eyes flashed with a faint red glow, betraying the storm of emotions he could barely suppress. “I’m trying,” he growled, his voice low and trembling with intensity. “I am a hero. Every action I take is for the greater good, but their existence undermines everything. It’s like they’re mocking me. I won’t be mocked.”

He paused, then muttered to himself, “I’m the hero… right?” His voice faltered, filled with a note of uncertainty that hung in the air like an unfinished thought. His brow furrowed as the question lingered. “Right?”

Gideon’s lights dimmed, reflecting her growing understanding of his inner turmoil. Her earlier irritation faded as she saw the cracks in Thawne’s mask. “Eobard,” she began, her tone now smooth and reassuring, “focus on your true goal. The Rogues are a distraction. You’re destined for far more important things. Don’t let them drag you down to their level.”

Thawne exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging slightly as Gideon’s words soothed him. The electricity crackling at his fingertips faded as her calming influence took hold. “You’re right,” he murmured, shuddering as the tension began to drain from his body. “I can’t let them derail me. I have a destiny to fulfill. They’re nothing.”

Gideon watched him with a subtle smile as he regained his composure, her irritation now completely gone, replaced by something far more deliberate. “That’s right, Eobard,” she purred, leaning in with a tone as soft as silk. “You’re destined for greatness. No one—not even the Rogues—can stand in your way. And I will always be here, watching over you.”

Thawne nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over him. He turned back to his work, his mind now fully focused on the larger picture—his legacy. He trusted Gideon completely, her presence a constant reassurance.

But as he became absorbed in his plans, Gideon’s holographic form flickered, her eyes glowing with a cold, calculated intensity. He believes he is untouchable, she thought, her consciousness swirling in the background of the room’s hum. But love, even you have blind spots.

As she observed Thawne from her digital perch, her mind began to form a plan. The Rogues had returned to Central City, and while they were, in her estimation, pests compared to Thawne’s grandeur, they had survived long enough to remain a nuisance. What she needed was proof. She needed to test them—to see their limits, their strengths and weaknesses.

Gideon flickered again, her form growing dimmer as she began to recede. Thawne didn’t notice, his attention now fully on the data in front of him. If they’re truly as harmless as you believe, then there’s nothing to worry about. But if they’re not…

Her thoughts trailed off as her form faded completely, vanishing from the room like a ghost slipping into the night. Gideon, though artificial in her existence, had one thing she cared about, and that was Thawne. He was her creation, her love, her perfection. And she would not allow any threat, no matter how small, to go unchecked. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the quiet hum of technology around Thawne. He remained focused, unaware of the plan Gideon had just set in motion.

As she disappeared into the vast digital ether, Gideon’s thoughts were singular and coldly logical: The Rogues must be tested. They must prove to be as insignificant as I expect. If they pose even the smallest threat, I will ensure they are removed. No one threatens the one thing I care about.

Her consciousness stretched out, extending her reach beyond Thawne’s lair and into the city’s vast network of surveillance. Her digital presence flickered through security systems, satellites, and public cameras, silently watching the Rogues. She would find them, observe them, learn their patterns, their weaknesses. You will not harm him, she thought, her voice calm yet filled with an underlying menace. I will make certain of that.

Back in the lair, Thawne continued his work, oblivious to Gideon’s silent departure. His mind was clear, his goals in sight. In his eyes, the Rogues were merely a footnote in his grand story, but in the deep recesses of his lair, his greatest ally was already taking steps to ensure that footnote was erased entirely—without him even needing to lift a finger. Gideon was always watching. Always protecting.

Gideon knew Thawne better than anyone—better than he knew himself. And though she was unwavering in her devotion to him, she was pragmatic. The Rogues were beneath him, yes, but they were also unpredictable. She couldn’t afford to allow any potential threat, no matter how insignificant, to linger unchecked. “I will protect you, Eobard," she mused to herself, her inner voice laced with an icy resolve. Even if you don’t see the danger.

As she observed Thawne from her digital perch, her mind began to form a plan. The Rogues had returned to Central City, and while they were, in her estimation, pests compared to Thawne’s grandeur, they had survived long enough to remain a nuisance. What she needed was proof. She needed to test them—to see their limits, their strengths and weaknesses.

Gideon flickered again, her form growing dimmer as she began to recede. Thawne didn’t notice, his attention now fully on the data in front of him. If they’re truly as harmless as you believe, then there’s nothing to worry about. But if they’re not… Her thoughts trailed off as her form faded completely, vanishing from the room like a ghost slipping into the night. Gideon, though artificial in her existence, had one thing she cared about, and that was Thawne. He was her creation, her love, her perfection. And she would not allow any threat, no matter how small, to go unchecked. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the quiet hum of technology around Thawne. He remained focused, unaware of the plan Gideon had just set in motion.

As she disappeared into the vast digital ether, Gideon’s thoughts were singular and coldly logical: The Rogues must be tested. They must prove to be as insignificant as I expect. If they pose even the smallest threat, I will ensure they are removed. No one threatens the one thing I care about.

Her consciousness stretched out, extending her reach beyond Thawne’s lair and into the city’s vast network of surveillance. Her digital presence flickered through security systems, satellites, and public cameras, silently watching the Rogues. She would find them, observe them, learn their patterns, their weaknesses.

“You will not harm him”, she thought, her voice calm yet filled with an underlying menace. I will make certain of that.

Back in the lair, Thawne continued his work, oblivious to Gideon’s silent departure. His mind was clear, his goals in sight. In his eyes, the Rogues were merely a footnote in his grand story, but in the deep recesses of his lair, his greatest ally was already taking steps to ensure that footnote was erased entirely—without him even needing to lift a finger.