The streets of Central City were unusually quiet that night.
Most of the citizens had returned home, still abuzz with excitement from the grand event earlier in the day—the inauguration of S.T.A.R. Labs' Particle Accelerator.
Tyler Byrd shuffled down the empty sidewalk, his breath puffing out in faint clouds under the streetlamps. His pale white hair shimmered under the lights—one of the few things about himself he didn't despise. Born with extreme muscular dystrophies, Tyler's body had always felt like a glass sculpture waiting to shatter. No matter how hard he tried to train, his frame betrayed him. Bones that fractured too easily. Joints that refused to cooperate.
He'd been told he had a beautiful face, at least. Even scouted once for acting. But the reality of casting calls, travel, and physical demands made it impossible. He wasn't built for that kind of life.
"Man... my life really sucks..." he muttered to himself, kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk. "I'm even about to get canned from the police department…"
He clenched his teeth, bitter. "That Barry Allen… always taking all the good forensic cases. Like he's the only one who can solve crimes. Freakin' golden boy…"
Tyler shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, the silence of the city closing around him like a suffocating fog.
Then the world changed.
A thunderous boom cracked through the sky.
Tyler's head snapped upward just in time to see a brilliant, fiery explosion tear through the skyline—S.T.A.R. Labs had erupted into a flaming inferno. But it wasn't just fire. Something else followed. Something darker. Stranger. A swirling wave of energy—crackling with unnatural hues—flooded outward in a massive shockwave, rushing across the city like a tidal wave of pure chaos.
"What the hell—"
He didn't even have time to finish the thought.
The dark matter slammed into him, engulfing his body in a rush of overwhelming energy.
And then… darkness.
Everything went black.
...
Nine Months Later
A steady beeping echoed in Tyler Byrd's ears. Soft. Rhythmic. Annoying.
His eyelids twitched, heavy as stone, but finally, slowly, they opened.
"W-What… happened?" he croaked, his voice barely audible. The sterile smell of disinfectant hit his nose. He was lying in a hospital bed, covered in wires, tubes, and pale white sheets.
The room was dim, the only light coming from a wall monitor blinking with vitals.
A nurse, adjusting the IV line on his nutrition sack, turned—and froze. Her eyes widened.
"Y-You've woken up!" she gasped, nearly dropping the clipboard in her hands.
Tyler blinked, still groggy. "I've… woken up?"
"Yes!" she said, breathless, almost laughing from disbelief. "You've been in a coma for nine months! We thought you were never waking up!"
"A nine-month coma?!" Tyler sat up slightly, his head spinning. "Are you serious?!"
"Yeah!" The nurse nodded rapidly. "Wait here! I'm getting the doctor!"
She bolted from the room.
...
Later
After a whirlwind of tests, scans, and disbelieving looks from medical staff, Tyler was finally cleared to leave. Surprisingly, all his vitals were stable. No brain damage. No organ failure. His fragile body had somehow sustained itself.
He accepted his clothes and effects from another nurse at the discharge desk, nodded his thanks, and walked out into the bright Central City afternoon.
Home. He just wanted to go home.
...
Downtown Central City
The streets were busier now, life in full swing again. The shadows of S.T.A.R. Labs' explosion had long since faded from public concern, replaced with rumors of strange phenomena happening around the city.
Tyler turned a corner, distracted in thought—
—and smacked directly into someone.
"Watch where you're going!" barked the man, rough-voiced, eyes hard. He was broad, dressed in a worn coat and black gloves, his dark hair slightly greasy, face tense with urgency. He shoved past Tyler and hurried on, blending quickly into the crowd.
"Sorry," Tyler muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
But then—
Something shifted.
His breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded. His skin prickled with heat. Every cell in his body felt like it was vibrating.
"What… the hell?" he whispered.
It was like his entire body was buzzing. Not just buzzing—reproducing. As if his cells were copying themselves. Splitting. Mirroring.
His knees trembled.
He stumbled into the nearest building—a corner bar—and rushed straight past the few patrons, ignoring the barkeep's call as he darted into the restroom. He slammed the door shut behind him, locking it with shaking hands.
Maybe he was just dehydrated. Maybe it was stress. Nine months of coma couldn't be good for anyone's system.
He ran cold water and splashed it on his face.
Then he looked up.
And froze.
The mirror showed not one face—but two.
A perfect duplicate of his own face was emerging from the side of his head, stretching, unfolding.
"AHH!" he shouted in terror.
He stumbled back, and as if on instinct, he willed the copy to be gone.
And it detached.
With a faint shimmer of light, the duplicate peeled from his skin, forming an entire body—an exact replica of Tyler Byrd—standing silently in the middle of the restroom.
"W-What?!" Tyler gasped, his back slamming against the door.
"Everything fine in there?" came a woman's voice from outside.
"Y-Yes! Sorry!" he called back quickly, chest heaving.
The clone didn't move. It just stood there. Blank expression. Still.
Then Tyler thought: Raise your hand.
The clone obeyed.
His mouth fell open.
"I… I can control it?" he whispered.
He focused again, thinking of dispelling it—of pulling it back.
And with a shimmer, the clone dissolved into nothingness… returning to him.
Tyler stared at his hands. They no longer trembled.
The fear that had clawed at his gut just moments ago faded away… replaced by something else.
Awe.
"This is…" he murmured, his lips curling into a grin. "Amazing."
Tyler stepped out of the restroom with a new spring in his step, an almost dazed smile tugging at his lips.
He had a power.
Somehow, impossibly, the weak, breakable Tyler Byrd now had an ability straight out of a comic book. He could create a clone. A perfect one. And control it with thought alone.
The Particle Accelerator explosion—it had to be. What else could it have been?
His old life, the one filled with hospital visits, pitying glances, and failure—it was over. A new life was beginning. The possibilities unfolded in his mind like blooming flowers.
As the restroom door clicked shut behind him, he heard a voice again.
"Are you sure you're alright?" A woman standing by one of the tables turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
Iris West, Tyler recognized immediately.
She wore a slim-fit black top under her apron and a pair of dark jeans that hugged her figure just right. Her skin was smooth and warm-toned, her dark brown eyes sharp and full of curiosity. Long, wavy hair framed her face, and her smile—though tentative—was magnetic.
She was well-known at the Central City Police Department. Her father was none other than Joe West—the CCPD's most respected detective—and Iris herself was often seen poking around for stories, chasing leads, or dragging Barry Allen into whatever mystery she was chasing that week.
She had that kind of energy that made people notice her.
She looked at him a little closer now, trying to place his face.
"Oh…" she said slowly. "You're…?"
"Tyler," he answered, offering a tight smile. "Tyler Byrd."
Recognition sparked in her eyes.
"Oh, right! Tyler." Her smile was polite but slightly awkward. "From the forensics lab, right?"
"Yeah. Or… I was," he replied. "Guess we'll see."
"You sure you're okay? You were in there a while," she said, tilting her head slightly, concern softening her voice.
Tyler was about to respond when the door to the coffee shop swung open behind her, bell jingling.
To be continued...