Work Text:
He is told to. It’s quick, hyon-beams hit a Barry every second. They’re Nyne’s hands, but they don’t shake. In vacuum cold detachment, he can only trust in Barry. He will return to one, that is the promise.
The cryo-blast trajectory too ends at Barry. Chance curls snug around his destiny like a cerebro slug to a brainstem. It cannot bite, the neon green is all show. His fate is unspoken yet.
Barry was often told a better story would pass with his team’s efforts. Now, the random factor and nested polyhedra powers orchestrate their luckless battle.
He is told–
