Just then, as everyone stood mulling over what to do next, dull footsteps echoed down the corridor. Joe walked in slowly, shoulders squared, his expression sharp. His eyes swept across the room, Wells, Caitlin, Cisco, Victor before finally settling on Barry.
The pressure in the air was unmistakable. Clearly something had been ongoing before he arrived. Joe ignored it. He was here for Barry.
"Detective West," Wells said at last, "what brings you to S.T.A.R. Labs?"
"When I couldn't find you in your lab, I started doing a little research," Joe replied. He raised a printed article. "Turns out there've been reports of a streak around the city—stopping muggers, rescuing people from burning buildings."
"You didn't tell him we were working together," Wells said quietly, turning to Barry.
"Joe, I can explain, but this isn't the right time—" Barry began.
"I think it's about damn time you do," Joe cut in sharply. "Barry, you already have a job in law enforcement. I suggest you get back to it."
"Detective," Wells said evenly, attempting to defuse the situation, "we all want what's best for Barry."
"If you wanted what was best for Barry, you'd be talking him out of this," Joe shot back, his voice rising, "not encouraging him to go out there and risk his life."
Barry, clearly at his limit, snapped back. "Joe! You saw a man who could control the weather. Now there's a man who can replicate himself endlessly. What exactly are the police supposed to do against someone like that?"
"Since the particle accelerator," Barry continued, "we suspect there are many more like them. In just the past two weeks alone, there's been unexplained cases, murders. What have the police done about it? Nothing."
"And you're going to do what?" Joe barked. "Catch them? Are you insane? Are you out of your mind?"
"You think just because you can run real fast, you're unkillable?" Joe's voice hardened, though it wavered beneath the surface. "You're not. You're just a kid. My kid."
"I'm not your kid, Joe," Barry shot back without hesitation. "And you are not my father."
"My father is sitting in Iron Heights, wrongfully convicted," Barry went on, his voice cold now. "You were wrong about him....and you're wrong about this."
"I may not be able to help him," Barry said, steadily, "but if I can save someone from a burning building or stop a metahuman from hurting innocent people, I'm going to do it. And you can't stop me, so don't try."
Joe had no immediate response. His jaw tightened as he looked around the room, at the equipment, the people.
"You think you're so smart....all of you," he said finally. "But you don't know what you don't know. And I hope you're clever enough to figure that out before someone gets killed."
He didn't wait for an answer. Joe turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
"That was quite the drama," Victor thought, sighing internally.
He understood where Joe was coming from. The man was worried, he cared enough to worry. The idea of someone you saw as a son fighting crime, going up against superpowered individuals, was terrifying for any parent. Victor couldn't fault him for that.
At the same time, he didn't think it was that serious. Barry was an adult; he should be allowed to make his own decisions. Of course, Victor wasn't really in a position to judge. It wasn't his place, and he didn't truly know what it felt like to stand in Joe's shoes.
Still, with Barry's sharp words echoing in his mind, Victor couldn't help but think the situation could've been handled differently.
"You could've turned it down a little," Victor mused. Then again, Joe hadn't exactly given him the chance.
In the end, it wasn't really his problem. It was a family matter, and there was no reason for him to insert himself into it. They'd work it out on their own.
For now, he had work to do.
"I'll keep checking footage around the related murder sites," Caitlin said, breaking the silence. "Maybe I'll find something that leads us to this meta."
After that, since it was already late, everyone went their separate ways. There was nothing more to be done for now; they would deal with the situation when a real lead appeared.
By the time Victor reached his aunt's place, the streets were quiet, It was already late into the night when he stepped inside, the door padding shut softly behind him.
The living room was lit only by the glow of the television. Jennifer was sprawled across the couch, one leg tucked under her, eyes fixed on the screen. Some sappy romance drama was playing—one of those overly dramatic ones Zephyr had been similarly obsessed with, all lingering stares and emotional monologues.
"You're back so early," Jennifer said sarcasticly, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yeah, I know," Victor replied, his voice tired.
"So, how was your day?" she asked, lowering the volume slightly.
Victor shrugged, dropping his coat over the back of a chair and rubbing the back of his neck. "Today was fine," he said after a pause, then exhaled. "But… it was quite stressful."
"A meta, I presume?" she asked.
"A new one, actually."
"Oh. Another one." Jennifer's interest sharpened. "What can he do?"
"He can create multiple physical clones of himself. His boss stole his research, and now he's out for revenge," Victor said.
"Another villainous meta," Jennifer said. Her concern deepened—the number of hostile metas in the city was steadily increasing.
"Any leads on the other metas? murders" she asked.
"Yes. We recovered security footage," he said, pausing as the memory of the horror-filled screams resurfaced. "We think the meta… might be a man-bat hybrid. Thirsty for blood," he finally admitted.
"That's… totally not concerning," Jennifer said after a brief pause, worry creeping into her tone. For a moment, she just stared at him, her expression shifting into something complex.
"What's with that look?" Victor asked, his brows furrowing in unease.
"It's just… you make it all sound so casual, but it's not. Dealing with people with superpowers… doesn't it scare you?" she asked, careful not to sound commanding and risk friction.
"It does, actually. But if we don't, who else will? The police, they're not cut out for this. They'd just throw themselves recklessly into danger," he said, trying to ease her worry.
Jennifer considered his words. They were true. A man capable of controlling the weather, multiplying himself, and now possibly a vampire… normal humans confronting them might as well be offering themselves up for slaughter.
There was alot she wanted to say, but she held back. Victor had always been smart, capable, and responsible from a young age; she knew he had likely considered all the risks and then some.
Still, the thought of him getting hurt gnawed at her. The idea of 'monsters' roaming Central City unchecked unsettled her. At the end of the day, all she could do was counsel him not control him.
"Just… don't get yourself killed," she said finally.
"Don't plan on it," Victor replied, noting her quiet resignation.
Since she didn't pursue the topic further, Victor sank deeper into the couch, pondering giving the sappy drama a chance. He wondered what made Zephyr so addicted. The first five minutes were grueling, almost unbearable and eventually, he gave up and left after saying his goodbyes.
When Victor returned home, he was met with the TV quietly playing and Zephyr sprawled on the couch. The bird was fast asleep and, most importantly, had gained weight over the past two weeks.
He wanted to scold the troublesome creature, but decided against it. Still, starting tomorrow, Zephyr would have tasks, he'd be added to "watch duty" for his two cousins.
Retreating to his room, Victor quietly closed the door and collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. It had been a while since he last focused on self-improvement.
The multiple consciousness and cloning plan remained on the shelf for now. He had already figured out the theory for both: multiple consciousness—or thought—wasn't as hard to achieve as he had originally imagined. Contact with Black's clone had given him enough insight to create clones in large quantities, though with significant limitations.
The other idea he had been tinkering with over the past two weeks suddenly returned to him.
He raised his palm and from thin air, a mass began to form.
He raised his palm and a strange, dark shimmer began to gather there. Slowly, it took shape, solidifying into a metal-like form that seemed almost alive. It was organic metal.
It had been a rash idea at first, but the more he considered it, the more practical it seemed. If completed, it could bring immense improvements to his strength, possibly even raising it by a tier, and offset the natural limitations of his dark matter–filled body.
The substance shifted and rippled under his control, constantly oscillating between malleable and solid.
"If constructed with specialized cells," Victor thought, a grin deepening across his face,
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Before you go, don't forget to drop some power stones, maybe a review too. And most importantly, leave a comment, you never know, it might be what keeps me motivated.