It was late at night.
The Central City Police Department's Forensics Department.
Barry sat at a computer, two photographs displayed side by side on the screen.
On the left was a blurry wide shot of a car crash in Star City fifteen years ago, found tucked among discarded newspapers.
On the right was the profile shot of Wells he had secretly taken at S.T.A.R. Labs that afternoon.
Barry launched the skeletal proportion comparison software.
Red lines kept connecting the figures' joints in both photographs as the program calculated.
The progress bar reached one hundred percent.
A scarlet dialog box appeared on the screen:
[Match: 12.4%] [Conclusion: Not the same biological individual.]
Barry leaned back in his chair, feeling as though every drop of blood in his body had frozen solid.
The man in the wheelchair was not Harrison Wells at all.
Just then, a streak of red lightning tore through the clouds outside, silently coming to rest on the roof of the building opposite the police station.
A pair of scarlet eyes stared through the glass, fixed on the figure sitting at the computer in the Forensics Department.
Barry looked up.
The rooftop across from the police station was already empty.
The night wind struck the glass with a dull thud.
Barry frowned and returned his gaze to the computer screen.
A twelve-point-four percent match.
Not the same biological individual.
This was not a suspicion.
This was a conclusion.
He reached to unplug the portable hard drive, but just as his fingers touched the connector, the lights behind him suddenly went out.
The Forensics Department plunged into darkness.
Only the computer screen remained lit, casting a cold blue glow over the desk.
"Don't move."
A voice sounded behind Barry.
It vibrated at a high frequency, its overlapping tones