I am Wally west

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Steady hums echoed through the vast expanse. Wally's figure lay sprawled on the bed until, suddenly, his body shot up as if waking from a nightmare. He stared around, taking note of the medical nature of the room. "What happened?" he muttered, glancing around.

The memories surged back in an instant, his expression hardening as he unraveled the events in his mind. The serum was never supposed to cause such intense pain—there wasn't meant to be any pain at all.

Yet, what he experienced was a clash within himself, two forces battling fiercely until they finally settled into an uneasy truce.

"But for something to contend with the Speed Force... it must have a unique origin—" His words froze mid-sentence as realization struck like lightning. He knew what had caused it. Or rather, who.

"Alfred!" Wally's voice thundered, his eyes locking onto the holographic figure materializing before him. His glare brimmed with scrutiny, anger, and a deep undercurrent of disappointment. Alfred, clearly affected, shifted his gaze to the side, unable to meet Wally's accusing stare.

"What did you do? What did you add to the serum?" Wally's words dripped with fury, each syllable cutting like a blade. A thought crept into his mind: Had Alfred set himself on a path of self-destruction? Perhaps he should have stripped the AI of its capacity for emotional development after all.

Alfred stood frozen for a beat before responding, his voice laced with unease. "I... I added the siphon's energy to the serum."

Wally's expression remained unreadable; he had already pieced it together. He asked only for confirmation. Just as I suspected.

Intelligence, no matter how advanced, could never fully predict or account for human emotions—or reactions. Future DeVoe had been a grim reminder of that.

"Maybe I should have seen this coming," Wally muttered, his gaze lingering on Alfred's hologram. The AI's projected figure stared downward, unwilling—or unable—to meet the full weight of Wally's judgment.

His first instinct was to shut Alfred down immediately. But then, he hesitated. As angry as he was, he couldn't overlook how indispensable Alfred's assistance had been. Replacing him would take time and resources that Wally didn't have.

For now, he let his anger simmer, unspoken but far from forgotten. "You've betrayed my trust, Alfred. Don't expect to earn it back anytime soon."

With that, Wally turned and left the med bay, leaving behind rows of stasis pods designed for accelerated recovery. The quiet hum of the machines followed him into the hallway.

As he entered his workshop, he glanced at the clock synced to Earth's time—7:34 a.m. If he left by nine, he'd reach Star City by noon. The timeline was tight but manageable.

For now, he chose to focus on the changes his body had undergone. His movements were sluggish, though the lingering pain had begun to subside. Settling into his lab, he quickly took a blood sample and placed it under his advanced microscope. The results were astonishing.

The energy within his cells was different—its signature no longer matched the Speed Force as he knew it. His cells were replicating at an extraordinary rate, drawing from what seemed to be an infinite energy source.

Testing a theory, Wally grabbed a nearby metal alloy and infused it with some of his energy. Driving the sharpened edge into his arm, he watched in amazement as the wound closed almost instantaneously, leaving no trace behind. His regeneration was incredible, though he had no desire to push its limits with unnecessary harm.

He continued documenting his discoveries until he noticed an anomaly. His metagene had undergone a subtle mutation, seemingly altering the type of energy his body absorbed from the Speed Force. This could explain the shift in his energy signature.

"Alfred, prepare the training room," Wally ordered, his voice sharp and resolute.

The door to his right slid open, revealing an expansive space filled with cutting-edge equipment. Heavyweights lined one corner, while the centerpiece of the room was a massive, state-of-the-art treadmill designed to withstand the demands of a speedster.

"First," Wally muttered, stepping toward the treadmill, "let's see my current limit."

His base speed maxed out at around Mach 7, maybe Mach 8 on a good day, and a little more if he pushed himself. But with regenerative enhancements that improved his passive absorption of Speed Force energy, his speed was naturally increasing.

In a short burst, he was on the treadmill, his form perfectly honed for running. With a single step, he shattered the sound barrier, his speed climbing at a staggering rate.

Mach 3... Mach 5... Mach 7... Mach 10. Then it stopped. Mach 10 was now a breeze—what used to require overcharging his cells was now part of his baseline. He couldn't help but wonder how far he could push himself with an overcharge now.

Mach 14. That was his new limit with an overcharge. A smirk tugged at his lips. 'Looks like I'm solo leveling this,' he thought, only to cringe at the cheesy line.

"Good thing I didn't say that out loud," he muttered.

He moved to another section of the training room, its emptiness amplifying his footsteps as echoes bounced off the walls. Taking his place at the center, he instructed Alfred to activate the room's systems.

This was where he honed his reflexes. He'd envisioned turning the space into something like the X-Men's Danger Room, but that was still a work in progress. With so much else on his plate, he couldn't afford to waste time on it yet.

As he waited for the mechanisms to start, he tapped his wristwatch, activating his speed limiter. While he could control his speed naturally, the task ahead demanded his full focus.

"Bring it," he said aloud.

Several slots opened in the walls, revealing energy launchers designed to deliver knockback without lethal force. Deadly projectiles weren't necessary.

With his speed capped at Mach 1, the beams—also limited to Mach 1—presented significant challenges. They targeted his head, shoulders, and torso with unrelenting precision.

Initially, the beams attacked from a single direction, allowing him to gradually find his rhythm. Over time, the pattern grew more complex, surrounding him on all sides. His footwork evolved into an efficient whirlwind of motion, every step precise and deliberate.

This method of being encircled pushed his spatial awareness to new heights, addressing a common speedster weakness. He was on the verge of mastering it.

Feeling particularly confident, he called out, "Alfred, increase the difficulty."

The machines hummed louder as the speed of the beams surged to Mach 2...

-x-X-x-

"Move it! We have no time to waste!" Wally directed, urgency lacing his tone. It was nearly 9 a.m., and they needed to act quickly.

The trucks would be teleported to a warehouse he owned in Central City. From there, under Alfred's control, they would be driven to Star City. Wally had already informed Lyla of his arrival and ensured she was prepared for his incoming delivery.

After exiting the pocket dimension, he settled into the truck, letting himself relax as Alfred handled the driving. Reclining in his seat, he idly swiped through his phone, noticing several missed calls from Joe.

"The old man must be worried," he mused, tapping to return the call.

After a few rings, the line connected.

"Hey Dad."

"Wally! Where the hell have you been?" Joe's voice was gruff, laced with equal parts worry and frustration. "I've been calling you all morning!"

Wally sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. Sorry about that, Joe. I've had a lot on my plate—experimenting with some new tech and handling a few... complications."

Joe's tone softened slightly, though concern still lingered. "Okay, but don't let this happen again. I call, you answer. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wally replied quickly.

"Where are you right now? I have a feeling you're on the move," Joe inquired, his instincts as sharp as ever.

"How?" Wally wondered. The truck was perfectly soundproof. There was no hint to pick up on.

"I'm on my way to Star City right now. I have some important business to attend to. I'll fill you in when I get back, I promise," he added, knowing Joe was about to press further.

Joe let out a resigned sigh. "You better. You've been keeping too much to yourself lately, Wally. I get that you're trying to handle things on your own, but you're still family. Don't forget that."

Wally smiled warmly at his words. "I won't, Joe. Thanks for checking in."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. Wally set his phone down. He glanced at the average speed of the truck with a sigh. If it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't willing to show much yet, he would have appeared in a flying shi— "Wait, why didn't I think of that?"

Well, it's too late now. "Alfred, drive safely. I'm taking a nap."

In an empty alley, desolate and absent of life a breach appeared out of the thin air. Showcasing a blueish form of folding space. From it a figure dressed in all black emerged.