Bang!
Barry didn't retreat. Instead, he stomped forward.
The hard concrete groaned beneath his foot as countless grains of grit and shards of glass were swept into the air by tiny whirlwinds stirred up by the Speed Force.
An improvised "sandstorm" formed in an instant, enveloping him and Iris and completely obscuring Reverse-Flash's vision.
Yang Ming had taught him this move in the alley behind the Clinic in Gotham.
Combat isn't a math problem. When you can't calculate the best solution, flip the board.
"Interesting."
Reverse-Flash's voice pierced the dust, carrying a hint of approval.
Rather than charge through, he became a zigzagging streak of red lightning, racing around the dust cloud.
He was watching, like a seasoned hunter studying a rabbit that had suddenly grown claws.
Barry didn't pause.
He grabbed Iris by the arm and pushed her toward the thickest load-bearing stone pillar behind him.
"Stay hidden! Don't come out!"
Once that was done, he plunged back into the dust.
To Barry's senses, Reverse-Flash moved as fast as a streak of light, but he was no longer an incomprehensible phantom.
Yang Ming's training had taught him to find "anchors" in the high-speed world.
The Fire Hydrant by the street, the metal flagpole outside the newspaper office, even the gaps between every tile on the building's outer walls.
These stationary objects formed a coordinate system for tracking Reverse-Flash's movements.
"Too slow."
Reverse-Flash appeared on Barry's left without warning, chopping straight at his carotid artery.
Barry leaned back until he was almost parallel to the ground. The knife-hand strike whistled past an inch from the tip of his nose.
He planted one hand on the ground and kicked his other leg upward like a scorpion's tail, sweeping up a discarded bundle of newspapers and hurling it at Reverse-Flash's face.
Reverse-Flash