Over the next week, Barry followed a strict testing protocol. One session per day at gradually increasing power levels. 20%, 25%, 30%, 35%. Each session monitored carefully. Each one showing the same positive results.
His baseline intelligence increased steadily. Things that had required his enhanced concentration before became effortless. He read faster. Calculated faster. Made connections faster.
By day seven, he was operating the device at 40% power for hour-long sessions. His intellect during those sessions was approximately 15x higher than normal human baseline.
Not as high as DeVoe had eventually achieved, but more sustainable and without the catastrophic side effects.
And his baseline was still improving. Neural plasticity was doing its job. Every session trained his brain to function better naturally.
Barry began applying his enhanced intellect to practical problems.
He designed three new patent applications during one session. Innovations in battery technology, data compression, and neural interface systems. All of them years ahead of current market solutions.
He filed the patents under shell companies. Within days, he had interest from major tech firms wanting to license the technology.
Money started flowing in.
First royalty payment: $22,000. Second: $31,000. Third: $28,000.
His bank account grew rapidly. $35,681 became $65,000. Then $94,000. Then $127,000.
He was becoming wealthy. Not billionaire wealthy. Not yet. But comfortable enough that money was no longer a limiting factor for his plans.
Barry also continued his physical training. His enhanced intellect let him optimize workout routines perfectly. He calculated exact nutritional requirements for muscle growth. Designed exercise programs that maximized strength gains while minimizing injury risk.
His body transformed. Lean muscle replaced the softness that had defined him before. His movements became more controlled. More efficient.
The underground fighting continued. Barry won four more fights over three weeks. Each victory was more dominant than the last. His opponents never stood a chance against someone who could calculate their movement patterns and exploit weaknesses with superhuman precision.
He discovered something unsettling during those fights. He liked the violence. Enjoyed the feeling of his fist connecting with someone's face.
Felt satisfaction when opponents crumpled under his strikes.
That should have concerned him. The original Barry Allen wouldn't have enjoyed hurting people. But this version found it cathartic. Necessary. A way to test himself against real danger.
Another piece of humanity slipping away. Or maybe just a piece that had always been there, finally getting acknowledged.
Iris noticed the changes. They'd finally had their dinner date, rescheduled three times but eventually happening at the Italian restaurant Barry had chosen. Iris had been impressed.
Good food. Intimate atmosphere. Barry being attentive and present in a way he usually wasn't.
The date ended with them making out in his car like teenagers. Heavy breathing. Wandering hands. Heat that would have gone further if Barry hadn't pulled back.
"Not yet," he'd said. "I want to, but not in a car. You deserve better."
Iris had looked at him with something between frustration and admiration. "Since when are you this restrained?"
"Since I started actually thinking about what I want instead of just reacting."
They'd had three more dates after that. Each one escalating physically. Each one stopping just short of going all the way. Barry was playing a careful game. Building attraction. Maintaining interest. But not committing to something exclusive.
Because his plans still involved other women. Multiple relationships that Iris wouldn't accept if he moved too fast now.
Well...he was too damn greedy.
He needed to be patient. Let things develop naturally. Keep Iris interested without letting her think they were in a committed relationship.
His enhanced emotional intelligence made that navigation easier. He could read exactly what Iris needed. When to be present. When to create distance. How to be romantic without being smothering.
Joe was more complicated. He'd called Barry in for a conversation two weeks after Barry quit CCPD. They'd met at Jitters, the coffee shop where Joe always went for his morning routine.
"You're different, kid," Joe had said, studying Barry over his coffee cup. "And I can't figure out if it's good different or concerning different."
"I'm just focused on my work."
"What work? You won't tell me anything about what you're actually doing. Just vague mentions of tech projects and patents. That's not like you. The Barry I raised was transparent. Honest."
Barry had met Joe's eyes. "The Barry you raised is still here. I'm just also trying to build something bigger than processing evidence in a crime lab. That's not wrong."
"Didn't say it was wrong. Just said it's different." Joe had leaned forward. "Iris is worried about you too. Says you're pulling away sometimes. Getting distant."
"Iris and I are fine."
"Are you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're keeping everyone at arm's length while you do whatever it is you're doing alone."
That had hit closer to truth than Barry wanted to admit. But he couldn't explain the real reasons.
Couldn't tell Joe about transmigration and meta-knowledge and plans that spanned years into the future.
"I'm not trying to push you away," Barry had said. "I just need some space to figure things out. That's not abandonment. It's growth."
Joe had studied him for a long moment.
Finally nodded.
"Okay. But don't forget where you came from, Barry. Don't forget the people who care about you. Success means nothing if you're alone at the end."
That conversation had stayed with Barry. Echoing in his mind during quiet moments. Was he becoming too isolated? Too focused on his plans at the expense of real human connection?
Even with his currently enhanced intellect, he couldn't answer that. Some questions were beyond calculation.
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