The lab was silent save for the low hum of diagnostic equipment. In the center of the Cortex, the holotable flickered with a frozen image: a man, cloaked in ash and flame, his silhouette unmistakable even through the distortion. Ronnie Raymond. Alive. Or at least, something wearing his face.
"JANUS, run it again. Slower."
The video played back at quarter speed. The figure surged through the smoke, his hands emitting arcs of unstable plasma. Each movement distorted the air. The camera shook, catching only fragments. But it was enough.
"That can't be," Caitlin whispered. Her voice was caught between hope and disbelief.
Cisco ran his fingers through his hair. "But it is. It really is. Ronnie."
August stood with his arms crossed, studying the footage in silence. "He's changed. The energy signatures alone... JANUS, can you analyze the power output?"
"Thermal readings suggest internal temperatures exceeding 2,000 Kelvin. Source of ignition appears to be quantum-based energy fusion. Estimated containment: unstable."
"That's impossible," Caitlin said. "Ronnie was caught in the blast. There's no way he could—"
"Not unless he wasn't alone," August said quietly. "We know the Particle Accelerator enhanced people based on what they were in contact with at the time of the blast, So the question is, where the Ronnie come in contact with a nuclear reactor?"
***
One Year Ago
Dr. Martin Stein was used to rejection. But never like this.
He stood at the front of Hudson University's Applied Sciences boardroom, his palms sweaty, his heart pounding. His life's work—Fusion, Ignition, Research Experiment and Science of Transmutation Originating RNA and Molecular Structures—F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M.—was unraveling in real-time.
"The risks are too high," one board member said. "Atomic reconfiguration on a subatomic level? It's theoretical madness."
"Not madness," Stein replied, keeping his tone even. "What we've accomplished is more than theoretical. We've already transmuted simple elements. Imagine eliminating scarcity. Transforming waste. Reshaping matter itself."
A board member leaned forward. "You're playing god, Professor Stein. You've made progress, yes, but the potential fallout—"
Stein didn't flinch. "The F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix isn't about destruction. It's about hope."
Still, the vote was final. The university was shutting the project down.
Jason Rusch, Stein's brilliant graduate assistant, followed him out of the boardroom. "Maybe if we go back to basics, prove it in incremental stages—"
"There's no time, Jason," Stein replied. "We're not just up against skepticism. We're up against control. The military's been circling like vultures. If they get their hands on this…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
That night, Stein packed the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. matrix—a compact core housed in a protective alloy case. Though disappointed, he had one last card to play. Harrison Wells. An old colleague. A genius. Someone who might understand.
He boarded a late train headed for Central City, the case never leaving his side. The night was quiet, the world unaware of the seismic shift that was coming.
He arrived just minutes before midnight. As he stepped out of the station, the night sky lit up. A shockwave rippled across the skyline.
The particle accelerator had exploded.
Panicked screams erupted around him. Stein clutched the case and ran. The ground shook beneath his feet. Glass shattered. Light warped.
As he turned a corner near S.T.A.R. Labs, the sidewalk cracked violently beneath him. He stumbled, fell down a stairwell, and the case slipped from his grasp. It tumbled, hit the ground—and opened.
The F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. core rolled across the pavement, pulsing with an unnatural glow. As Stein reached for it, the air changed. It thickened. Shimmered.
Then came Ronnie.
Ronnie Raymond, a young S.T.A.R. Labs engineer, had run from the collapsing accelerator facility, trying to guide others to safety. He rounded the corner at the worst possible moment—just as a second shockwave, filled with raw, theoretical particles, collided with the core.
It wasn't an explosion. It was a convergence.
A pulse of light, soundless and terrifying, engulfed both men.
Quantum entanglement. Atomic reordering. Fusion.
The particles—Ronnie's, Stein's, and the energy within the core—intertwined.
Stein felt every nerve in his body ignite. Not with pain. With change.
He screamed. Ronnie screamed.
And then, silence.
***
The days that followed were a blur.
Stein awoke inside a body that was not entirely his. Ronnie's face stared back at him in every reflection, but his mind—it flickered between two people.
He remembered things he shouldn't. Engineering blueprints. Caitlin's laugh. S.T.A.R. Labs security codes.
He tried to go home. Clarissa, his wife, answered the door—but she didn't recognize him. She saw only Ronnie.
Stein fled before she could call the police.
The weeks bled into months. He lived in alleyways. Beneath bridges. In the shadows.
And when he was cornered, when he was afraid, the fire came.
Not literal flame—but quantum fire. White-hot plasma. Atomic fury.
It scared him. But it protected him.
The news called him a myth. The Burning Man.
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur of data streams and theories. S.T.A.R. Labs was buzzing, but the buzz wasn't excitement. It was unease. There were too many unknowns.
The appearance of Ronnie had not been a one-time anomaly. That night, a second report surfaced—this time from a city traffic camera. A blurry figure engulfed in flame was spotted near the Central City Docks. The camera feed had melted into static shortly after. The news picked it up. "The Burning Man Strikes Again," the headline read. But there were no casualties. No destruction. Just sightings, and scorched ground.
"JANUS, cross-reference keywords: 'burning man,' 'flame entity,' and 'downtown sightings,' past six months," August instructed.
The AI responded instantly. "Thirty-seven unconfirmed reports. Seventeen near rail lines. Nine near abandoned zones. Patterns suggest roaming behavior. No apparent targeting."
"He's roaming," Caitlin whispered as she read through the reports. "But with no sense of purpose, almost like he's just existing"
"Or hiding," Cisco added.
They combed through every report, dissecting heat maps and triangulating trajectories. Still, no solid lead. No pattern they could act on. Until a week later.
***
It happened a few days before Christmas. Caitlin was returning from shopping, her arms full of bags, her keys jingling as she approached her car. The chill in the air fogged her breath.
The parking garage was dim and mostly empty. Her footsteps echoed.
Then she heard it—a footstep that wasn't hers. She turned sharply, eyes scanning the shadows.
"Hello?" she called.
No response.
She unlocked her car and opened the door, then froze.
He was there.
Across the aisle, silhouetted by the flickering garage lights, a man cloaked in soot and ash. His face—his face was Ronnie's. His eyes—confused, hollow.
"Ronnie?"
He didn't speak. He took a step forward.
Caitlin stepped toward him, heart racing, eyes wide.
"It's me," she said. "Caitlin."
He hesitated, trembling.
"Ronnie, you're alive. Please—"
But something inside him snapped. His hands lifted. Flame burst to life, surging up his arms and across his shoulders like armor. His face blurred in the heat shimmer.
He turned and ran.
"Ronnie!"
She chased him, her boots slapping against the concrete. She caught up to him near the exit ramp.
"Stop! Please!"
He turned again. His entire body ignited. Not angrily, but defensively. His features vanished behind a curtain of fire.
She stopped, shielding her face.
Then he was gone.
By the time she returned to STAR Labs, her hands were shaking.
***
August, Cisco, and Dr. Wells stood around the holotable as Caitlin relayed what happened.
"I was so close. I saw him. I know it's him. But he's scared. Or confused. Or both."
"Which means he still remembers something," August said.
"More than something," Caitlin added. "He followed me. He waited until I was alone. That wasn't a coincidence."
"JANUS, update protocol: If any new sightings match Ronnie Raymond's biometrics, flag it as priority alpha," August ordered.
"Confirmed," JANUS replied.
Dr. Wells stepped forward. "This may be a blessing in disguise. If he's showing signs of emotional memory, there may still be a pathway to bring him back. To find out what happened."
"And stabilize him," August muttered.
The room went quiet.
They had their first breakthrough.
Ronnie Raymond was alive.
Watching Caitlin with a warm smile on her features, August felt his heart clench.