She kissed him.
Not on the cheek this time. On the mouth. Soft but deliberate. A kiss that meant something.
Barry responded instinctively, his hand coming up to cup her face. The kiss deepened for a moment. Heat building. Chemistry that had always been there finally getting acknowledged.
Then Iris pulled back, breathless. "I've wanted to do that for a while."
"Me too."
"But not right now. Not today. Today is too sad." She smiled. "Saturday though. Our dinner date. That's still happening."
"Definitely still happening."
"Good." Iris kissed him once more, quick and light. Then she left, closing the door behind her.
Barry stood in his apartment, touching his lips where Iris had kissed him. That had been real. Genuine. A moment of actual human connection that had nothing to do with plans or calculations or meta-knowledge.
And it terrified him.
Because Barry knew where this could lead. Knew that in the many timelines, he and Iris got married. Built a life together. Became each other's everything.
But this timeline was different. Barry was different. He knew feel down he was undeniably lustful for more. Multiple relationships.
A life that wouldn't fit into the traditional romance Iris probably imagined.
Could he have both? Could he pursue his larger plans while still maintaining something real with Iris?
His mind couldn't answer that. Some variables were too human to calculate.
Barry shook his head and went back to his laptop. Checked his brokerage accounts. Queen Consolidated was now at $38.94, continuing its slide. His long positions were already underwater by about 4% but that was expected. This was a five-year play, not a day trade.
He had $17,319 invested at an average price of $40.50 per share. If the stock recovered to even $30 over the next five years, he'd make significant money. And when Oliver Queen returned, it would spike even higher.
Patient capital. That's what this was. Money he didn't need to touch for years.
Barry opened a new spreadsheet and updated his financial projections. Current liquid capital: $35,681 after the equipment purchases.
Current invested capital: $17,319 in Queen Consolidated stock. Patent royalties expected next month: approximately $6,000. Underground fighting income: $800 per fight, one fight per week average.
He was building wealth slowly but steadily. Not getting rich overnight. But establishing multiple income streams that would compound over time.
Good enough for now. Once the Thinking Cap was operational, his earning potential would multiply exponentially.
Barry spent the rest of Friday processing the research photos from DeVoe's lab. His enhanced mind absorbed every detail, building a complete mental model of how DeVoe's prototype worked and where its weaknesses were.
By evening, he had a refined design for his own version. Better targeting. Adaptive frequency modulation. Real-time neural health monitoring. Safety cutoffs at every level.
On paper, it would work. It would enhance cognitive function by at least 10x without causing neural degradation.
Now he just needed to build it.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of obsessive work.
Equipment arrived in stages. Barry picked it up from his storage unit and transported it piece by piece to his apartment.
Electromagnetic field generators. EEG monitoring systems. Signal processors.
All of it spread across his living room floor like the world's most expensive science project.
He worked eighteen-hour days. Assembling components. Writing control software.
Testing individual subsystems. His enhanced intellect made the work faster but it was still complex.
Building a device that could safely interface with human neural tissue wasn't something you rushed.
Iris texted him regularly but Barry kept the responses brief. He was buried in work. Didn't have time for extended conversations.
Their dinner date got postponed once, then twice. Iris was understanding but he could sense frustration building.
Joe called on Wednesday of the second week. "You quitting CCPD was sudden, Barry. Want to talk about what you're doing now?"
"Independent research," Barry said, which was technically true. "Tech development stuff. It's boring."
"Doesn't sound boring. Sounds like you're avoiding me."
"I'm not avoiding anyone. Just busy."
"Right." Joe didn't sound convinced. "Well, when you're not busy, come by for dinner. It would be nice to gather together like before."
"I will. Soon. I promise."
Barry hung up feeling slightly guilty. He was drawing a line between him and the people who cared about him. Isolating himself to an extent in pursuit of goals they couldn't understand.
But it was necessary. At least for now. Once he had the Thinking Cap operational, once his intellect was truly superhuman, he could balance relationships better. Could manage multiple priorities simultaneously.
Just a little longer.
On Thursday of the second week, Barry completed the first prototype.
The device sat on his dining table, a cobbled-together mess of wires and circuits and electromagnetic coils. It looked nothing like DeVoe's elegant helmet design. More like something a mad scientist would build in a basement.
But the theory was sound. The components were correct. The software was thoroughly tested.
It should work.
Should.
Barry stared at the prototype for a long time, weighing risks. If he was wrong about the safety protocols, this thing could kill him. Brain hemorrhage. Seizures. Permanent neural damage.
Or it could make him the smartest person on Earth.
'I need to test it first,' he thought. 'Not on me. On something else.'
But what? He couldn't exactly test brain enhancement on lab rats. His apartment wasn't set up for animal testing and buying rats would create a paper trail.
No. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it carefully. Incrementally. Start with minimal power and work up gradually.
Barry set up the EEG monitoring system, placing electrodes on his own scalp in the positions he'd marked from his research. Connected them to his laptop so he could track neural activity in real-time.
Then he put on the prototype. It was uncomfortable. The electromagnetic coils pressed against his skull at odd angles. The wiring draped down his back awkwardly.
Professional this was not.
Barry opened the control software on his laptop. Set the initial power level to 5% of theoretical maximum. Safety cutoffs armed at every stage. Neural health monitoring active.
His finger hovered over the activation button.
'This is it,' he thought. 'Point of no return.'
He clicked activate.
Hummmmm.
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