Chapter 19: Pain Is the Teacher
Barry was training like a man possessed.
Hour after hour in the Speed Lab. Running faster. Pushing his limits. Lightning burst with every step, his breaths sharp and shallow. Sweat poured down his face, but he didn't stop.
He couldn't stop.
The Reverse Flash haunted him now—those red eyes, that terrible grin, the yellow blur that moved like a phantom through time.
Barry ran harder.
But Dante had seen enough.
Leaning in the doorway, he sighed and flicked ash off the end of his cigarette before walking in.
"Alright, that's enough."
Barry didn't stop.
"I said stop," Dante barked.
Barry finally skidded to a halt, panting. "I'm not done."
Dante crossed his arms. "Yeah, you are. You should just give up."
Barry turned to him, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"You heard me," Dante said, voice cold and direct. "You're wasting your time."
Barry clenched his fists. "You think I'm not strong enough?"
Dante walked closer, unflinching. "You're not focused. You're emotional. You fight like a lunatic. That's my style, not yours."
Barry looked away, jaw tight.
Dante's tone grew heavier. "The man in yellow—the Reverse Flash, whatever name you give him—he is faster than you. Right now, he's better. But that doesn't mean you can't win."
Barry looked back at him, cautious.
"You can be faster," Dante said. "Stronger. But only if you stop whining and figure out what the hell you're actually fighting for."
The air in the Cortex stilled.
Everyone was there—Caitlin, Cisco, Wells—watching the exchange from just outside. No one dared interrupt.
Dante stepped closer to Barry, his voice low and calm now. "You know I'm faster than him, right?"
Barry's eyes widened slightly.
Dante's stare didn't waver. "Just say the word, and I'll hunt him down. I'll kill him for you."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Cisco froze.
Caitlin glanced at Wells, who stiffened—but kept his expression calm, though something in his face flickered. A twitch. A crack in the perfect mask.
Wells was afraid.
Because he knew the truth: he couldn't stop Dante. Not with science. Not with traps. Not with the timeline on his side.
If Dante went after him, it was game over.
Barry broke the silence with a long sigh. He stepped back, his shoulders still tense but his eyes softening.
"No," he said. "I want to beat him myself."
Dante nodded once. "Alright, then it'll happen. I'll train you."
Barry blinked. "Why would you help me?"
Dante stepped back, casually flicking the half-burnt cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath his boot.
"Because you're not ready to face a monster. But I am."
Barry frowned. "You don't know what he did. He killed my mother. My dad took the blame. He's in prison because of that thing."
Dante's eyes locked with his.
"I get it," he said softly. "But don't think you have the monopoly on pain."
Barry looked confused, angry.
Dante took a slow breath and said, "My father? Dead. My mother? Gone. My little brother—only family I had left? Killed. And to this day, I still don't know who did it. Still don't know why."
The room seemed colder.
"So don't stand there," Dante continued, "talking like you're the only one who's suffered. Like you're the center of the damn universe."
Barry's lips parted, but no words came out.
Dante kept going, his voice now rising—not with rage, but with conviction.
"We all lost people. We all carry wounds. You don't see us crying every five minutes or throwing tantrums because the world isn't fair. Suck it up."
Barry looked down.
"Suck it up," Dante repeated, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "Or go out there and die for all I care. But if you really want to beat him, stop acting like a victim."
The air was thick.
Everyone in the room felt it—like the weight of what Dante had said pressed down on their chests.
Even Wells—especially Wells—felt it.
Because somewhere deep inside, he understood what Dante was capable of. And worse, he saw something terrifying in the young man: the lack of hesitation.
Dante wouldn't just stop the Reverse Flash.
He'd kill him without blinking.
And that terrified the man pretending to be Harrison Wells.
Barry finally looked up.
And this time, there was something different in his eyes.
Not tears.
Not rage.
Just resolve.
"Alright," Barry said. "Then let's train."
Dante's lip curled into a slight grin.
"Now that's the first smart thing you've said all week."
---
Later that night, as the Cortex emptied, Caitlin lingered behind.
She found Dante standing by the window, watching the city.
"Hey," she said softly.
He didn't turn.
She stood beside him. "You didn't have to be that hard on him."
"Yeah," Dante said, "but he needed it."
"Still…"
"He wants to be a hero," Dante muttered. "Heroes don't get to feel sorry for themselves. They get up. They fight. Or they die."
She looked at him. "What about you?"
Dante smiled faintly. "I stopped trying to be a hero a long time ago."
And with that, he walked off, disappearing into the shadows of STAR Labs.
But his words remained.
Pain was a teacher.
And Barry Allen had just enrolled in the hardest class of his life.
---
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