Chapter 1: Reverse Godfall
(Neo-Centralis Year: 2424)
The Flash Museum stood as a gleaming testament to the city of Neo-Centralis, a fusion of modern architecture and heroic history. Its sleek, futuristic façade shimmered under the electric glow of the metropolis, crafted from high-tech materials that reflected the vibrant neon lights below. A grand archway framed the entrance, flanked by towering columns of polished steel and glass, mirroring the ceaseless motion of the city. In a world perpetually racing toward the future, the museum stood as a monument to the past, preserving the legacy of the fastest man alive.
Inside, the sprawling complex pulsed with energy. Interactive exhibits and immersive displays brought the legend of Barry Allen—the Flash—to life with vivid clarity. Holographic billboards flickered with scenes of his greatest feats, from his early days chasing down criminals to cosmic battles that cemented him as a legend. The air buzzed with the hum of technology, and visitors engaged with touch-sensitive panels, guiding them through key moments in The Flash’s storied career. The museum wasn’t just a place of memories—it felt alive, pulsating with the promise of new adventures yet to come.
Life-sized replicas captured iconic moments in dynamic motion—Barry Allen, frozen mid-run, lightning crackling at his feet, the Speed Force emblem on his chest shimmering in the glow of futuristic displays. Guests could step into simulations of his blinding speed, feeling, if only for an instant, the rush of wind that came with tapping into the Speed Force. Awe rippled through the crowd, binding them in a shared admiration for the hero’s legacy.
But for one visitor, the connection ran deeper. To Eobard Thawne, the Flash wasn’t just a hero or an artifact of Neo-Centralis’s past—he was the embodiment of everything humanity could aspire to. Barry Allen’s fusion of courage, speed, and intellect represented an ideal, one Thawne had pursued obsessively, perhaps for longer than even he realized.
As a child, the stories of the Flash weren’t just history lessons; they were legends that filled Thawne’s imagination with awe and ambition. To him, Barry Allen was more than a man—he was the pinnacle of human potential. Yet, standing among the exhibits that honored his idol’s legacy, something inside Thawne began to shift. The admiration remained, but now it was tinged with something new: a desire to prove himself worthy of the legacy, to go beyond it—perhaps even to surpass it.
Thawne’s thoughts swirled as he wandered deeper into the museum, unaware that his admiration might one day lead him down a path from which there would be no return. For now, he was just a man in awe of a legend. But deep within, something more had begun to take root—a quiet stirring, barely perceptible, yet impossible to ignore.
Thawne’s obsession wasn’t born from vengeance or rivalry; it was born from admiration. He didn’t want to defeat Barry Allen. He wanted to become something greater. Where others saw Barry as an untouchable icon, Thawne saw a man—one whose legacy, while legendary, could still be surpassed. Thawne didn’t just want to follow in the Flash’s footsteps. He wanted to outpace them.
His hidden lab beneath the Flash Museum reflected this single-minded drive. The soft glow of holographic displays illuminated charts mapping Barry’s speed, his battles, his weaknesses—all meticulously studied and analyzed. For Thawne, the public celebration of Barry above was only part of the story. Down here, in this cold, clinical space, he was building his own narrative—one that wouldn’t end with being the next Flash, but with something more.
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He could be faster, smarter, more efficient. He could outshine Barry in every possible way—not just as a hero, but as a symbol. The Flash Museum told the story of a man who had saved countless lives. But down here, in the darkness, Thawne was crafting his own legend—the legend of the one who would surpass Barry Allen, even if he didn’t yet understand the deeper implications of that desire.
Thawne’s eyes narrowed as though addressing a phantom. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He never understood what he was holding back. All those years… all those wasted opportunities because of him.”
The Irony was almost amusing. His brother, Robern, had arrested him, dragged him into the light, thinking he was doing something righteous, stopping the experiments, protecting the world. Eobard allowed himself a small smile, devoid of warmth. His brother had been so sure of his authority, so convinced he could control the situation.
But Robern had forgotten one simple truth: no one could stand in Eobard’s way.
“There had been no malice in the act, no rage—only calculation.” Eobard’s tone grew quieter, contemplative, as if recounting a mere transaction. Robern had made a fatal mistake. His career, his reputation—they were all lost in a single moment of hesitation.
There was no regret, no remorse. Family, after all, was just another construct. Another tie to be severed if it threatened his ascension.
“They shouldn’t have gotten in my way,” Eobard concluded, his voice as cool as ever. To him, it was that simple. “Gideon, bring up the news.”
“Of course, Professor Thawne,” came her prompt reply, seamlessly transitioning into the breaking news segment.
“Breaking news from Neo-Centralis: Police Chief Captain Robern Thawne found dead alongside his wife, Rose, at their home. Authorities are investigating the incident, which is being treated as a possible homicide. Chief Thawne, respected for his devotion to justice, is survived by his parents, Elizabeth and Magnus Thawne, and brother, known scientist Eobard, who have yet to make their statements.”
The report echoed through the lab, but it barely registered with him. The names and words floated through the air like white noise. Eobard remained unmoved, his expression unchanged, his fingers idly turning the cold gun in his hand.
The cold gun—Captain Cold’s signature weapon—rested in his palm, a symbol of their small-minded ambitions. To him, these artifacts were mere toys, relics of lesser men who had never grasped the true potential of the power they sought. He turned the gun slowly, almost absentmindedly, as though its weight and history were beneath his consideration.
“Robern,” he mused quietly, letting the name linger in the air, hollow and detached. A brother. Or so people would call him. But that was merely a biological fact, wasn’t it?
His lips curled into a small, ironic smile. “He should have known better.”
Eobard’s eyes flickered with something not quite akin to emotion—perhaps recognition, perhaps just the acknowledgment of inevitability. He had given Robern the chance to step aside. But Robern had made his choice, convinced that stopping Eobard would save lives.
How naïve.
“They shouldn’t have gotten in my way,” Eobard murmured again. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad. He simply understood what had to be done. Family had been nothing but an anchor, holding him back from achieving what he was destined for. And now, they were gone. The path was clear.
As the faint glow of the holographic interfaces reflected off his face, Eobard’s expression remained impassive, calm, almost serene. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t some mythical dark figure lurking in Barry’s shadow.
No. He was the future. And the world would know it soon enough.
With a smooth motion, Eobard slipped the ring onto his finger. A rush of Speed Force surged through his body, igniting the air around him with crackling energy. The fabric of his suit materialized, a sleek black bodysuit shimmering into existence, hugging his form as metallic yellow panels snapped into place. The segmented armor rippled with each movement, the yellow streaks flashing like lightning against the black void of the suit.
This was no mere costume—it was a declaration. A statement of his power and identity, forged from the very Speed Force itself.
As the suit solidified around him, the familiar hum of the Speed Force grew louder in his ears, a song of chaos and potential. The mask formed, wrapping itself around his face until the lenses slid into place, momentarily revealing his eyes—a flicker of red lightning alive within them.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby surface. What he saw was no longer just a man—it was something far more. The embodiment of speed, power, and ambition. The master of the force that had once eluded him.