totally meta

chapter 17

Henry zipped down the city streets, his body a blur of red as he locked onto the getaway vehicle speeding away from the museum. His pulse quickened, but his mind remained focused. Two guys had just robbed a high-end museum, making off with priceless artifacts, and he wasn't going to let them escape. It took almost no effort to close the distance; in seconds, he was running alongside the car, his reflection flickering in the windows as they realized they were being chased.

The driver jerked the wheel, trying to swerve, but Henry anticipated the move and easily kept pace, positioning himself to disable the car without harming anyone inside.

CRACK!

Suddenly, an ear-piercing sound hit him like a freight train. A scream—louder and more intense than anything he'd ever heard—reverberated through his body. His vision blurred, his legs gave way, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Henry collapsed mid-run, skidding to a stop on the asphalt.

It felt like his brain was being split apart. He could barely think, much less move, as waves of pain shot through his skull. His hands clutched his head, the sound digging deeper into his mind, the agony growing unbearable. His speed had saved him from many things, but this was different. There was no running away from the excruciating noise.

Through the haze of pain, he barely made out a figure approaching him.

The girl who stepped out of the vehicle wasn't like the others. She was tall, with an almost ethereal air about her—calm, controlled, and yet dangerous. She strode toward him with a purpose, completely unconcerned that Henry, the so-called Flash, lay helpless at her feet. She squatted down next to him, her eyes cold as she leaned in close.

"I hate liars," she said, her voice low but clear. "Especially when they lie to those they care about."

Henry could barely make sense of her words through the fog of pain still pulsing in his head. The remnants of her scream made it impossible to think straight. She smirked, knowing full well that he was incapacitated. She had all the power here.

"I don't know who you are," she continued, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "And honestly, I don't care. But you've been lying. To her."

Henry's body twitched involuntarily at her words, and through his pain, his mind clicked into focus. Rachel. She had to be talking about Rachel.

The meta-human's gaze hardened. "You and that reporter—Rachel, right? You've been lying to each other, haven't you?" She stood up, towering over him, her voice dripping with disdain. "Here's the deal. I don't care about your little secrets. I don't even care about the truth. But unless you come clean, and tell each other everything, I will."

Henry struggled to catch his breath, the headache pounding in his temples. "What... what are you talking about?" he groaned, barely able to get the words out.

"You have 48 hours, Flash. Tell her everything. Or I'll make sure the world knows Rachel's big secret."

The girl's eyes glinted dangerously as she delivered the ultimatum. "And after that, I'll kill her."

Henry's heart sank. He was still on the ground, powerless against her threat. He wanted to push himself up, to fight back, but his body refused to cooperate, still wracked by the aftershocks of her scream.

She turned her back on him, walking away as though she had already won. The robbery was clearly no longer her priority. Her message was delivered, and she left him in the street, too dazed to follow. With a final glance over her shoulder, she said, "Tick-tock. Forty-eight hours."

Henry lay there, gasping for breath, his head still pounding. He couldn't let Rachel get hurt, but he didn't even know what her secret was. And now, he had less than two days to figure it out—or she'd be dead.

The sound of the getaway car's engine roared to life in the distance, and Henry, still paralyzed by the pain, could do nothing but watch as they disappeared into the night.