The 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘 friction was brief, 𝐡̵𝐨̵𝐫̵𝐫̵𝐢̵𝐟̵𝐢̵𝐜̵—enough to make Barry’s skin slough off with a 𝐬̵𝐢̵𝐜̵𝐤̵𝐞̵𝐧̵𝐢̵𝐧̵𝐠̵ pull, leaving only the marrow-filled bone exposed beneath.

For Wally there was no outrunning the ̵𝐠̵𝐮̵𝐢̵𝐥̵𝐭̵.

No outrunning the final words of Barry Allen,

“𝗪̵𝗔̵𝗟̵𝗟̵𝗬̵…𝗛̵𝗘̵𝗟̵𝗣̵-̵-̵𝗠̵𝗘̵-̵-̵”

no, the critter was just as scared as he was.

Wally pulled his knees to his chest against the cold warehouse floor, a silent, hyper-aware guardian in the dark. ‘𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘺,’ he telepathically reassured his slumbering partner.

‘𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.’