Success can be quite satisfying. There is nothing quite like earning an A on an exam you studied extremely hard for, or earning that promotion you had been working years on, or finally scoring that touchdown after weeks of training. Succeeding in one's goals gives off a beautiful concoction of pride, joy, and confidence. It's fascinating how being successful can lift one's spirits on a dreadful day. Your alarm went off an hour early, you spilled cereal on your favorite shirt, traffic was terrible, and you were nearly late, but you finally beat your time on your race today. That success made this initially bad day into a good one.
The Thawne family was also successful. They were a family full of geniuses and innovative thinkers. They had been in the forefront of scientific advancement for decades. Their achievements had bought them extravagant mansions, delicious food, brand-new technology, and numerous fancy cars. However, this success did not give them that beautiful concoction of pride, joy, and confidence, instead, it left them empty and bitter.
A young, sandy blond-haired boy raced down the marble stairs excitedly. He rushed across the matching marble floor and zoomed into the kitchen. Silver metal glared in his vision, and he barely dodged the tray of breakfast items the butler carrying.
"Eobard, slow down," his mother chided. Eowyn Thawne was no older than thirty, but her dark, cherry hair had already begun to grow gray on the sides.
"My apologies, mother," he said with a beaming smile.
Her hard expression loosened a bit. "Happy birthday, E."
His smile grew. "Thanks, mother! I can't wait for the party! Everyone's so excited to come! Everyone has been talking about it - even the teachers!!"
"But remember the party isn't until after you've completed your studies," a darker voice said. Eobard's father, Oberon Thawne, gracefully walked into the room like a king walking into his court. He stood proudly and walked at a nonchalant pace as if everyone had the time - and patience - to wait on him.
The mood immediately dampened. Eowyn shifted her attention to her coffee cup.
"Yes, father," Eobard replied glumly.
Oberon studied his son coldly as if he were observing monkeys at a zoo. He glanced at the clock. "You need to leave for school."
Eobard looked at the clock. "But school doesn't start for two hours!!"
"Don't speak back to me, boy! You will do as you're told. You will get nowhere if you don't work hard. Showing up early proves you are ready to learn and have more dedication than your peers."
"But, Father," Eobard tried, "the school doesn't even open until-"
"Do not make me repeat myself, Eobard!"
Silence.
Eobard glanced at Eowyn, but she was still staring at her coffee. She hadn't even taken a drink since his father entered the room. Eobard sighed and grabbed his backpack and slung it on his shoulder. He looked back at his father. Oberon stared back at him with hard, dark blue eyes. He gave his son a slight nod. His seal of approval. Eobard turned to the door and grimaced. The family butler opened the door for him on his way out.
The sun hadn't even risen above the horizon. The east glowed a peachy orange while the west remained a dark blue. The cold, spring air lingered around him as he briskly made his way to school. His father made him leave so early the buses weren't even operating yet. If only he could get there faster. If only he was a speedster like the Flash.
Everyone knew who the Flash was. He was one of the most renowned heroes of all time. His heroics had been praised for centuries, and he still stood as an emblem of hope and justice. Eobard admired the Flash. He was strong, courageous, and a beacon of light in a dark world. Of course, everyone also admired the Flash. Eobard knew it was wrong, but he hoped he would have the chance to meet the Flash in person because of his family's distinguished social status and accomplishments. But he knew it was wishful thinking. Besides, you shouldn't meet your heroes, right?
Eobard quickly walked around a corner, still wishing he was faster, when the air around him suddenly changed. It was nearly indescribable. It felt as if the air was charged with an energy so powerful that he was afraid to move lest it touch him and strike through his body. He smelled electricity and heard crackling before he was nearly enveloped by lightning. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but Eobard felt the power of the Speed Force as the Flash ran next to him. He felt energized and confident. Powerful and strong, as if nothing could take him down. And then the moment was over, and the Flash was gone.
<O>
Children are such impressionable creatures. The phrase "monkey see, monkey do," could not be more adequately applied. Their ability to mimic behavior and actions is chilling. Of course, it is incredible how fast they are able to learn and attain knowledge, but it can be unsettling as well. Children also latch onto whatever they find to be the pinnacle of life and don't shut up about it. They will become obsessed with it and tell story after story about it whether or not you asked about it. I have found myself in this unfavorable position on multiple occasions.
Eobard immediately became obsessed with the Flash. He wanted to know everything about him and this incredible speed. By the end of the day, every teacher was sick of Eobard telling them he'd seen the Flash that morning, and that he was going to meet him. All of the other children admired him. Only a few were skeptical - such is the naivety of the young. Eobard came from a rich, distinguished family. Many of the young kids didn't really care about that...for now. All they cared about was that Eobard was the one with three pools, a big trampoline, and the coolest video games. Since he was so well-liked, he had invited everyone to his birthday party that evening. Those poor teachers had trouble teaching anything that day since all of the children were so excited.
"Mother!" Eobard excitedly shouted as he ran into his house after school. He carelessly flung the door open and raced into the living room. Eowyn stood in the center of the room, holographic projections of human organs filled the air around her. "You'll never believe what happened!"
She turned to him. She had a worn expression on her face but managed a tight smile for her son. "What is it, Eobard? I'm a little busy."
Eobard's excitement began to fade. Her unenthusiasm syphoning off his excitement. "I saw the Flash today!" he declared.
"That's wonderful," she said. She glanced back at the holograms. "I have to get back to work. You need to get started on your studies before the party." She turned away.
"Eobard!!" Oberon roared from the other room.
Adrenaline coursed through his system, and fear sharply took hold of his chest. He walked out of the living room to find his father waiting for him by the door. It was still open.
"You careless boy! You left the door wide open! Shut it at once!"
"Yes, Father," he quickly replied and raced over to the door.
"No running!"
He slowed down and closed and locked the door.
"Now, stop pestering your mother and go up to your room. You have your studies to focus on."
Eobard gave a short nod and hurriedly walked up the stairs to his room. Tears stung his eyes, and he angrily dumped his backpack on the floor. He plumped down at his miniature desk his parents had given to him for his studies. He was sick of his studies. Wasn't there more to life than just his studies? He didn't want to be like his parents, completely consumed by their work. He didn't want to be uncaring like they were. His mother didn't even bat an eye when he had told her about the Flash! And his father was upset about the door! That hardly seemed like something to be so upset about. But maybe it was. His parents always reminded him that they were smarter than he was. What did he know?
He glanced at his backpack, but it only made his anger grow. He didn't want to work on his studies! He wanted to do something else with his life. Why couldn't he just be like the Flash? Yes! That was it! He could be like the Flash! That would really show his parents! They would never underestimate him again. Being a speedster like the Flash is what he wanted to be. Not some boring scientist like his parents or some old, crusty politician like his grandfather. He wanted to be something different. Something better. He'd learn everything about the Flash. His studies would be on the Flash. He'd learn something useful, even if his parents didn't approve. Especially if his parents didn't approve. He grinned and went to work. He was going to learn everything about the Flash that he could.
<O>
Eobard sat across from his parents in their suffocatingly prim living room. They both sat on the couch. Oberon on the right end, Eowyn on the left. They sat rigidly with an awkward space between them. Eobard fidgeted nervously and looked at his feet.
"Sit up straight," Oberon commanded.
Eobard obeyed. He glanced at his father.
"We need to discuss something with you."
"What is it?" Eobard asked nervously. Very rarely did they ever do anything as a family. Sure, they ate dinner together but everyone was always looking at their own technologic devices instead of interacting with each other.
"Your tenth birthday is approaching," Oberon stated.
Eobard nodded. "Yes, I know."
"You're growing up," Oberon said. "So, you need stop with this ridiculous obsession with the Flash."
He didn't think his parents noticed. They rarely spoke, so how could they know what he was interested in?
Oberon continued, "It's been nearly three years since you claimed you saw him."
"I didn't 'claim' to see him! I did see him!"
"That's enough, Eobard," Eowyn replied.
"You're becoming too distracted by this obsession," Oberon said. "You need to stop, or I will take away all of your extracurricular activities and limit your technological uses just to academic purposes."
"You can't do this!"
"Don't speak back to your father like that!" Eowyn said sharply.
"We're being gracious," Oberon replied. "This needs to end."
Eobard glared at his parents. He hated this feeling of being trapped. Of being controlled. He clenched his fists at his sides. "Fine, I'll stop," he finally conceded, but he hated it. He hated them.
Oberon nodded. "Good." He turned to Eowyn, and they both rose. He paused and looked down at his son. "If you continue on this path, you may even make us proud someday."
<O>
Everyone has been insulted. Everyone has been called mean names. Lies and rumors have been spread about all of us and only a fool would think otherwise. One of the worst insults a person can ever make about you is one that is true. Eobard's parents had been right about his obsession with the Flash, and it only made the anger he held for them deeper. He was determined to do something about it. He was determined to show them how wrong they were.
So, with that, the Flash was forgotten. If his parents wanted him to be a scholastic prodigy, then so be it. He'd be the best in his class. The best in his school. The best in the nation.
Eobard put all of his time and energy into school. He had a purpose now. And that purpose was to prove his parents wrong. He would be the best. He would become better than they could ever be.
It was the most difficult phase in his life. He spent countless hours studying for tests, completing homework, and organizing events for the student government. He barely got any sleep, but he didn't care. He was doing it. He was becoming the best.
"Well done, Eobard!" a proud teacher said, placing a plump, blue first place ribbon on his display. The science fair this year was teeming with proud families, stressed teachers, and bored judges. Each display trying to outdo the last with shinier technology, bigger signs, and nervous smiles.
But Eobard had won this time. He'd one by a wide margin. His prototype for a working teleportation device had outdone them all. And he knew it. He was a genius. This time his parents would finally be proud.
"Thank you," Eobard replied and gave his teacher a charming smile. Oh, he was smooth. He had the prestigious upbringing, nice clothing, and winning charisma.
His teacher smiled back. "You're going places, kid. I've never seen a design as successful as this one, especially at the mere age of fourteen!"
"I appreciate your compliments."
"Eobard," the teacher replied and placed a kind hand on Eobard's shoulder, "you're too modest. Give yourself more credit."
He nodded. He would give himself credit once his parents saw. Once his parents approved. Once his parents finally noticed his worth.
Eobard scanned the crowd and his eyes snagged on his parents critically assessing each display. Oberon was walking with his usual regal mien, causing those around him to give him a silent reverence without even realizing it. Eowyn was perched on his arm. Her hair was drawn back, and the color was washed on her face. Work had been draining her lately. Anyone could tell she needed a break. But the Thawne family never took breaks. They rounded the corner and approached his stand. Eobard drew in his breath and stood up straighter.
"Interesting project," Oberon noted. His gaze falling over the first-place ribbon only for a moment. Eowyn gazed at Eobard and gave him a slight smile. Her eyes were sparkling with...something...could it be...? Pride? Oberon nodded once more before he began to turn away.
"Wait!" Eobard paused. He inwardly kicked himself for sounding so desperate. He tried to tell himself he didn't need his parents' approval. He could manage on his own. He didn't need their help. But deep down he knew it still mattered to him. And he hated it. He hated how he was still the desperate child, pining for his parents' attention.
Oberon slowly turned with a worn look as if it took everything in himself to give Eobard this small ounce of attention.
"I won first," Eobard stated.
Oberon stared back. "I know."
"And?"
"And what? There's a group of college representatives here. I didn't see them stop at your stand." And with an unimpressed glance over his son, Oberon walked away.
Eobard's hands curled into angry fists. Of course. Why did he think anything different would happen? Nothing would ever be enough for his father. He could solve all the world's problems, and he'd still be a disappointment.
And then he had an idea.
He'd turned on the evening news when he got home and saw that a bombing had been prevented by none other than the Flash. What was so great about the Flash? Underneath that suit, Eobard knew he was just an ordinary man. That's all he was. A man with a special ability. Without his speed, would he be admired so highly? No. It was very unlikely the man underneath the suit could do such amazing feats without that speed. The only thing special about the Flash was his speed. That was what Eobard was missing. If he ever wanted to become truly great - truly unforgettable - he'd have to become a speedster. And who better to unlock the secret of the Speed Force than Eobard? He knew everything about the Flash. He'd done his research. He was also a genius. He could solve any problem that came his way. Now, it was time for him to solve the problem that was the Flash. He would discover the secrets of the Speed Force. He would become a speedster.
<O>
Graduating high school is one of the most momentous moments in a person's life. It is exciting, energetic, and optimistic. It brings the pride of accomplishment and success. It brings hope that there is more, and the whole world is at your feet. You can do anything. You have your entire future ahead of you, and the energy and surge of optimism leaves you feeling invincible. It is better when it is shared and supported by your family and your friends. Their combined energy and support only brings more joy to the important day.
Eobard slammed the door with a resounding a bang that resonated throughout the sickeningly large mansion. He had just graduated high school, but he wasn't feeling any excitement, hope, or optimism. Neither of his parents even cared to show up, and all of his so called "friends" from earlier in his life were all having graduation parties of their own. He had been so caught up in his studies and accomplishments that he hadn't had the time or energy to socialize.
He still wore his graduation attire and was holding his decorative diploma in one hand as he marched up the stairs. What a waste. What was the point of this accomplishment if it couldn't be shared? If it couldn't be enjoyed? You were supposed to revel in your achievements, were you not? As he walked in to his room, he supposed it was a bit arrogant to celebrate, but he wanted it. He needed it. All this work had to add up to something, right?
He opened the door to his room and nearly ran into his father.
"What are you doing in here?" Eobard asked coldly.
"We need to have a talk," Oberon stated. One of the few phrases that could send chills down anyone's spine.
Eobard wasn't in the mood for this. He just wanted to bask in his latest achievement. Was that so hard to ask? He was sick of working all the time. There was no point to work when you couldn't enjoy your achievements.
"Did you hear me?" Oberon asked.
Eobard sighed in annoyance and placed his diploma on his desk. "I heard you, Father, but I ignored you."
"I don't know where this attitude of yours is coming from," Oberon replied curtly.
Eobard gave him a glare. "What did you want to talk about?"
Oberon handed Eobard a tablet. "The colleges of your choice have accepted your applications. I need you to choose. It's early, but as I always remind you, your early commitment proves your determination and ambition."
"Can we do this tomorrow?"
"No! Did you not just hear what I said? Being early counts for something."
"I think you've taken that out of proportion."
"Don't talk back to me. Do as you're told!"
"No! I am sick and tired of doing as I'm told! Have you and Mom ever considered that I want something else?! No, wait, hold on, have you and Mom ever even considered me?! Have you ever thought of me as something other than another project?!"
"You need to stop being so emotional about this, Eobard. It's not a hard task."
Of course. His father just saw this as another task to do. Just another something to check off the list. "It's not about the goddamn colleges!!"
"You need to watch your tone."
"Why?"
"Because I'm your father, and I tell you what to do," Oberon said angrily and walked over to his son with his arrogant, regal attitude.
Eobard's grip on the tablet tightened. He wondered how hard he would have to hit his father to kill him. He wondered how many times he could hit him before his blood soaked the carpet. He wondered if the tablet would even be strong enough to kill his father.
He knew it was wrong to have these thoughts, be he'd been having them for a while now. At first, he'd pushed them away. Dismissed them as vile and twisted. But lately, whenever his parents got on his last nerve, he began to give these thoughts more time. He'd thought of a million ways to kill them by now. This was just another.
"Now," Oberon ordered, "pick a college." The gaze he gave his son was unrelenting. He was a king ordering a misbehaving servant. The danger in his eyes was a clear warning that Eobard shouldn't disobey. Eobard was familiar with that look. He was sick of it. He wanted it gone. He never wanted to see it again.
Suddenly, Eobard wacked Oberon in the face with the tablet. As Oberon stumbled back, Eobard tackled him, and Oberon fell to the ground. Somehow, Eobard had managed to drop the tablet, but that didn't matter. He was just so sick of his father. Just so sick of being imprisoned. It was time to break free.
He grabbed Oberon by the throat and squeezed with all his might. Oberon clawed at his son in desperate horror, but Eobard would not move. He stared at his father with hatred, relishing in the helplessness in his eyes. Now Oberon knew what Eobard felt. Now he knew the suffocation that Eobard had been experiencing his whole life. Now he knew what it felt like to have the life slowly squeezed out of him.
Eobard was panting heavily. The only time he'd ever had a rush like this was when he felt the Speed Force all those years ago. He still held onto Oberon's neck tightly. Only then did he realize that Oberon was dead. How long had Eobard been staring at a corpse?
...corpse. His heart began to beat faster but instead of excitement, panic clutched his chest. What had he done? What had he done?
He just murdered his father. Fuck.
<O>
After Oberon's death, Eowyn became a husk of who she once was. She hardly talked and only ever seemed to be working. Eobard and Eowyn never spoke about Oberon. Eobard wasn't completely sure what she thought had happened, but he didn't really care. It wasn't really his problem anymore. He went off to college and never looked back.
He dove into his studies and spent every iota of free time researching the Flash and the Speed Force. He was more determined than ever to figure out how to attain superspeed. All of Eobard's professor called him brilliant, and Eobard finally accepted it. He finally allowed himself to realize he was exceptional. Everything was so much better with Oberon out of the picture. He may had let the praise go to his head, but he was good enough to afford arrogance.
Ironically, college was over in a flash, but Eobard hadn't finished his research yet. He still wanted to learn more about the Speed Force. No to anyone's knowledge, Eobard had been using much of his research project's facilities to learn more about the Speed Force and test his theories. He had tested more failed experiments than he cared to ever count or admit. When the college offered him a job as a professor, he gladly took it. This allowed him more time and all the resources he could scavenge to research the Speed Force.
Sometimes, the other professors would look down on him because of his young age, but he easily earned their respect by a caustic sting of a smart remark and a quick display of his brilliance. He was soon respected and recognized by almost everyone. The greatness in the Thawne bloodline ran strongly in him.
Eobard angrily banged his fist next to the screen in the dimly lit lab. It was after hours, and he was working on another experiment that he thought would surely work. He'd been at this for so long that it would be a shame to give it all away. He didn't want to consider all his time spent on the Speed Force as a waste, but he was feeling rather hopeless tonight.
Everything he tried always failed. He should just stop and give up. He'd been trying for so long. Maybe he wasn't meant to become a speedster.
He quickly turned from the computer and paced around the room. He wanted this so badly. He wanted it more than anything he'd ever craved. He couldn't give up, but was he following a lost cause? A pointless dream of a child?
Eobard went back to his computer and decided to end for the night but paused. If he tweaked this just a little, maybe he could...
No! He needed to stop. He hesitated, but then began to enter in the changes, internally screaming at himself for falling into his obsession once again.
He stared at the screen. This should do it. He pressed a button and paused.
Nothing.
What did he expect? He was a failure! And this was a hopeless - and impossible - pursuit.
One of the machines began to whir. Eobard looked up and then quickly back down to the computer.
...it seemed to be working. He watched the screen with anticipation. Another machine began to activate, and then another. They began to work harder and harder and grow louder and louder.
Eobard frowned. This didn't seem right. He moved to type when the room burst into light, and he was roughly thrown backwards.
<O>
The sound of a cheery bird chirping echoed in his mind. It was too early. His alarm hadn't even gone off yet... His alarm! What time was it?!
Eobard suddenly sat up, his heart racing. Light was already shining through his window. That was odd. He usually closed the curtains before he slept, but that wasn't a priority right now. He glanced at his clock. 10:37. Oh no.
Eobard threw the covers off and sat at the edge of the bed and paused. Was it a weekday? He struggled to remember what had happened yesterday. The last thing he remembered was conducting an experiment late at night when...
He slowly stood as dread settled in his chest. Something had gone wrong. He must have destroyed that lab. There would be no way he'd ever be allowed to work with the equipment unmonitored again. Would he be fired for this? He wasn't even dressed in proper clothes, but opened the door to his room anyway. The hallway appeared normal, and he quickly descended the stairs.
Eobard heard the faint clinking of utensils in the kitchen. His mother must be eating. He followed the noise. Eowyn was sitting at the table, her eyes glued to a tablet beside her. One hand was idly stirring tea. That was where the clinking noise came from.
Somehow, Eowyn looked even worse than Eobard remembered. Her hair was whiter, her eyes were gazing at the tablet but not truly seeing it, and her face was hollowed out and worn like an old mask. A random spurt of disgust shot through Eobard. She was completely useless. A waste of space and resources at this point. Instantly, he regretted thinking about his mother this way, and pushed the feelings down.
"Mother?"
Eowyn nearly jumped out of her skin. Her fear was quickly covered with joy. "Eobard!" she exclaimed and rushed to him. He stiffened as she hugged him. She began trembling, and Eobard realized she was crying. He pushed her away to look at her.
"What's wrong?" He was clearly missing something.
She sniffed. "You don't remember?"
Better to play it safe. "No."
She hugged him again. "You were experimenting in the labs. There was some sort of explosion." Eowyn took a moment to compose herself. She broke away and stared at her son with tear-sparkled eyes. "They weren't sure if you'd ever wake up."
"Wake up? What do you mean?"
Eowyn took a deep breath. "You were in a coma for nine months."
"Nine months?!"
Eowyn nodded.
Eobard ran a hand through his hair. He'd missed so much!
"Calm down," Eowyn attempted.
She was right. Eobard was sure he could catch up on what he missed. "What did the doctors say was wrong with me?"
Eowyn paused, her hesitance made him uneasy. She finally spoke, "The university wanted to keep this under wraps. We decided it was best for me to care for you. Besides, I have years of medical experience."
Alarm clutched his chest. "But look at the state of you! You can hardly care for yourself! Let alone someone else! When was the last time you even ran a full medical test on me?!" He wasn't completely sure where this outburst came from. He supposed it was from the abrupt realization of his predicament, and the emotional shock of seeing Eowyn so...internally dead. He knew she didn't deserve this, but she was hardly even living anymore.
Tears welled in her eyes. "Eobard, please."
"No more from you!" He swirled around and stormed to the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Her voice was fragile. He could hear the desperation in it. She was barely hanging on. It was pathetic.
He turned back to face her. "I'm cleaning up and going someplace where they provide actual medical services."
That was the moment Eowyn broke. The hope completely vanished from her eyes. She had no reason to go on now. Her husband was dead, and her son despised her.
Eobard scoffed at her and walked upstairs.
<O>
He headed outside. He decided to walk to the nearest medical facility. It took five minutes while in a vehicle, so it shouldn't take that long for him to walk there. Besides, he needed the exercise, especially after nine months of inactivity. It actually concerned him how much energy he had. He shouldn't have this great of muscle capacity or cardiovascular ease.
With his thoughts whirling in his mind, he was hardly paying attention to his surroundings and walked across the street without checking if it was clear. A loud horn suddenly blasted, and his thoughts ceased. The vehicle was feet away from hitting him.
Adrenaline bolted through him. He didn't have time to think. Eobard dove out of the vehicle's path and turned to watch it pass. The vehicle had barely moved. It was as if time slowed down. He looked around. No...it was as if he was faster than everything else.
Abruptly, everything went back to normal. The driver of the vehicle swerved and drove over the sidewalk and into a streetlamp.
Eobard looked down at himself. Had he...? He didn't dare finish the thought. There was only one way to find out. Still shaking with adrenaline, he glanced at an alley across the street and raced towards it.
Time appeared to slow again as he ran. He glimpsed down and noticed lightning arcing around him. Only then did he seem to feel it.
His energy seemed to intensify, and he felt the sheer power of the Speed Force rushing through him. That moment all those years ago when he first felt the Speed Force as the Flash ran by were nothing compared to this. Eobard felt like he could run for miles without stopping. He felt invincible. Nothing could stop him. There was nothing as pure as this feeling now in the entire universe. Nothing could even come close. He was just so full of energy - just so full of raw, untamed power. This is what true greatness felt like.
He reached the alley and stopped. He was completely breathless. Eobard still felt elated from the rush of the Speed Force. He started laughing. He had done it! He had actually done it! He finally harnessed the power of the Speed Force after all these years! All of his work had finally paid off. This was incredible! It was even better than he had imagined, and he had imagined greatness. But what he had achieved was something far better than greatness: it was utter perfection. Eobard Thawne had become a speedster.
<O>
Earning that new powerful ability in a video game is one of the most exciting points of gameplay. There's a certain excitement in watching your enemies become annihilated as you easily strike them down in what would have been a previously arduous task. It's oddly pleasing to whip out this ability and utterly destroy unsuspecting attackers. But these abilities usually come at a price. They may take forever to charge, or you may have a limited amount of times to use them, or you may only use them under certain circumstances. These powers are both a blessing and a nuisance. Eobard discovered that having superspeed was also a blessing and a nuisance.
Yes, these powers were of extreme value. There was more use to superspeed than he imagined even after all his years of study. He had merely reached the tip of the iceberg. Unfortunately, these powers could be a nuisance.
Eobard noticed he had an immense increase in impatience. Everything around him was simply too slow for his taste. He could easily complete several tasks in the span of a second. Having to wait for others was just an annoyance. It didn't help that his brain activity was also faster. Teaching at the university had proved to be a real trial. All of his students were too slow. All of his colleagues were too slow. Everything was too slow.
He eventually quit his job. He had more important things to do anyway if he was going to become a truly great speedster like the Flash. There was no need to bother himself with such menial tasks when he needed to focus on the ultimate goal.
One night, he was running faster than he'd ever run before, when a strange bright tunnel opened up before him. He was running too fast to stop before he reached it. Eobard ran through the strange tunnel and stopped as soon as he could. He wasn't sure what was happening. He'd never experienced this before. He looked around. Where was he? He seemed to be in a city, but it looked old. It wasn't old in the aged, worn-down old, but old as in outdated old. Everything looked about thirty years out of date.
Eobard heard someone yell off to his left. He sped over in its direction. The sounds of a scuffle became apparent, and he slowed down. The noises seemed to be coming from a nearby parking lot. Eobard cautiously peered around the corner to look into the lot.
It was the Flash. The hero sped over to his attacker and used his speed to punch his foe and launch him several yards away. But something was different about the Flash. His suit. It looked newer. Better. That's when it clicked. How hadn't he seen it before? Eobard had time travelled. He had heard the Flash could run so fast he could travel in time, but he never thought it was truly possible. Nevertheless, here he was, watching the future Flash fighting an enemy thirty years in the past. Eobard slowly edged closer, so he could get a better view.
"How long are we going to do this?" the Flash asked wearily to the attacker across the lot.
The attacker slowly stood up. Eobard couldn't tell who it was, but he appeared to be wearing yellow in a suit much similar to the Flash's. "What?" the attacker taunted. "Are you getting tired, Flash?"
Something about that man's voice unnerved Eobard. It was eerily familiar, but he couldn't place where he had heard it from.
"Give it up, Thawne," the Flash addressed. "We both know I beat you every time."
Thawne? Eobard's blood went cold, and an involuntary shudder ran down his spine.
"We'll see about that." The other man ran towards the Flash with superspeed. The Flash easily dodged him, grabbed his arm, and slammed him to the ground.
The Flash glared at the man, pinning him down. "Eobard, stop! Why do you keep doing this?!"
"Because, Flash," the man in the yellow said, pulling off his mask. "It's my destiny."
Run.
It was the only comprehensible thought that ran through Eobard's head as the shock took over him. He didn't remember exactly how he did it, but he managed to run back home. He sped straight into his house and up to his room. He paced the room, utterly breathless.
No. This couldn't be happening. That couldn't be right! He was supposed to be like the Flash! He was going to be one of the greatest figures in history!
His breathing was becoming more labored. He had to forget. He wanted this to go away. Anything to stop the horror that had taken ahold of him.
Eobard sped downstairs to the lavish basement. He ran behind the minibar and took out a strong bottle of whiskey from the shelf. He unsealed it and drank straight from the bottle.
His whole entire life couldn't be a lie! Everything he had ever worked for! All those years of research and experimentation! He wouldn't let some encounter from the future determine who he is!
He glared at the bottle. It wasn't working! He took another drink.
Still nothing.
He angrily threw the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall, the remaining liquid staining the floor. Of course. His metabolism. It was too fast. He couldn't get drunk.
Eobard angrily screamed and yanked the remaining bottles of alcohol from the shelf. He threw each one across the room.
That couldn't be his future! He wouldn't let it! He was destined for better things! He was a Thawne! He didn't even know the Flash! Why would he fight him?! He wouldn't become this-this evil speedster just because he saw it in the future! He chose who he was!
"Eobard?" a soft, weak voice called.
He quickly turned.
His mother stood a few feet away, tightly wrapped in a robe. She looked even more tired than usual, and her eyes were wide with concern.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled angrily. She was the last person he wanted to see. When had she ever supported him?! When did she ever care?! Why would she start now?!
"You're crying," she said quietly and slowly approached him.
Anger welled inside him. "I told you to leave me alone!" Quicker than he could process, he pinned her against the wall in a burst of superspeed.
She gasped. "E-eobard!" Her fear quickened his heart in an odd burst of excitement. She deserved this. She was never a caring mother. Her life was nothing but a sad existence of mere survival. She wasn't truly living. He wrapped a hand around her throat. Her eyes widened, and she gripped his arm.
"You're pathetic!" he spat.
"Don't -" she began, but he squeezed her neck, cutting off her words. He paused. This wasn't the way for her. She deserved a different fate than Oberon. Eobard wanted her to feel how he felt. To feel like her heart was being ripped from her chest.
In a haze of churning emotion, Eobard began to vibrate his hand and reached it into her chest. He'd mastered the art of phasing through objects. This shouldn't be difficult.
He could feel the beating of her heart as he grabbed it. He stared into her eyes as he ripped it from her chest, the little life she had fading out. He let go of her neck and she fell to the floor. He watched her and smirked. Now she was gone. Eobard turned back and saw the mess he had made, and the momentary satisfaction of killing was gone.
A horrible realization hit him.
He was that future speedster today. He was that terrible man now. It wouldn't be his destiny to become that man - he already was that man.
Fuck being like the Flash. If that wasn't who he was, then he wouldn't be like him. People always said to be who you are and be true to yourself, right? And if he was a murdering speedster, then so be it.
If the Flash was a just hero, saving all and killing none, then he would be the opposite of that. Everything the Flash valued and upheld, he would value and uphold the opposite. He would be everything the Flash is not. Eobard would be his Reverse.