Jude was not an ordinary person.
His cooking was remarkable in ways that defied explanation. He carried an herb — or something that functioned like one — with restorative properties that didn't appear in any pharmacological database. And he had once, with apparent confidence, taken down a superpowered criminal using a vacuum cleaner.
Wells had thought about this more carefully than anyone else in the lab.
Eiling had originally targeted Jude — and Eiling was not a good person, getting what he deserved. But Wells found himself unable to look at the sequence of events and conclude that Jude had simply been a victim. Too many things had broken in exactly the right direction. Too many details had landed too cleanly. In Wells's experience, that kind of luck had a source.
Jude, who had managed to come out ahead in every situation he'd landed in, was himself something to be watched carefully.
Barry, for his part, had reached the same general conclusion through an entirely different route.
"This is incredible."
Barry beamed across the bar table, raising his glass toward Jude with the reverence of a man who had just experienced something he lacked vocabulary for. "Jude. You are an absolute genius. Can I have another drop? Just one more—"
"Keep your voice down." Jude checked the bartender's back, confirmed he was occupied with another customer, and leaned over to deposit a single drop from the small gourd into Barry's glass. "You can't bring outside drinks into a bar. If they notice, we're going to have a problem."
Barry poured more ice water into the glass, diluting carefully. He'd already learned that other liquors ruined the flavor — ice water preserved it and stretched it. "I can't even imagine what would happen if I drank directly from that thing."
"You'd be unconscious before the gourd finished pouring," Jude said.
"Your metabolism is the issue," Caitlin said, with the calm of someone who had already run the numbers. "It's operating at an extraordinary rate. Standard alcohol gets processed in under half a second. That's why ordinary drinks do nothing for you."
"Right," Cisco said. "Caitlin was actually looking into synthesizing something with a high enough concentration to work — estimated effect window of about a minute."
Barry stared at him. "You were going to force-feed me alcohol?"
"Don't be dramatic. Your system is so efficient that even a dose calibrated to drop an elephant would probably only last ten minutes before you metabolized it. We'd have to test for the exact figure."
"Which brings me back to my point," Caitlin said, turning to Jude. "Whatever is in that gourd is not scientifically wine. Wine does not work like this. One drop should not produce any measurable effect at all, let alone sustain it." She paused, and Jude caught the precise moment when her composure and her curiosity had a small internal argument. "Could we take a sample back to the lab?"
Cisco swallowed. Visibly.
Caitlin swallowed. Also visibly.
"No," Jude said. "Thousand-Day Intoxication isn't something baseline physiology handles well. And we didn't come here to drink."
"Right!" Barry straightened, remembering. "We're looking for the Enderman."
"It's past midnight," Cisco said. "I don't think we're getting Enderman activity tonight. Also — and I feel like this is worth asking — why would an Enderman come to a bar?"
"According to the owner, it wasn't here to drink." Jude pulled up the group chat message he'd screenshotted. "Power cut out around two in the morning. While everyone was using their phones as flashlights, something dark was teleporting around the room. When the lights came back on, a number of patrons discovered their cash was gone."
Caitlin frowned. "What does a game monster need money for?"
"That's just what Endermen do," Cisco said. "They pick up whatever they can carry and teleport around with it. Blocks, items — apparently, cash."
"The power outage is what concerns me," Barry said. "The Petersburg substation is pretty close to here, isn't it?"
"Two blocks," Jude confirmed. "After the last major outage, they also found evidence of a break-in and upgraded their access system. Card swipe on every door now."
"So we might be looking at two separate metahuman operating in the same area." Barry's brow furrowed. "Should someone be watching the substation?"
Wells's voice came through the earpiece, dry and precise.
"Don't worry about the substation. I've patched the lab into their alarm system via satellite — any unauthorized entry and you'll know immediately. Concentrate on what's in front of you." A beat. "The Rathaways are returning to Central City the day after tomorrow, bringing A Song of Ice and Fire with them. Snart and his crew have gone dark. My primary concern at this point is simultaneous emergencies — if multiple situations escalate at once, even the Flash won't be able to cover all of them."
Barry nodded, processing. "If two enhanced individuals do show up tonight—"
"Stay calm. Analyze before you move. If you can neutralize both in one encounter, the pressure on us going forward drops significantly."
"My head's actually pretty clear," Barry said, which was only partially true — the Thousand-Day Intoxication had settled over him like a warm fog, not impairing so much as unwinding, a sensation he hadn't experienced in months. He scratched the back of his neck. "It's just the training schedule lately — could I maybe get a slightly shorter session tomorrow—"
"If the bar turns up nothing tonight," Wells said, with the tone of someone who had already decided, "come back to the lab and keep running. The intoxication improves your sleep efficiency dramatically. Three hours gets you what eight would normally give you. We're not wasting that."
Barry made the face of a man accepting something he had no power over.
Jude patted his shoulder in genuine sympathy, administered one final drop, and then produced a second gourd from his jacket — subtly different in color and shape from the first, its contents considerably more conventional. He poured glasses for Caitlin and Cisco.
"This one's just strong liquor. Nothing exotic."
The glasses were empty before he'd finished the sentence. Jude checked his watch, counted approximately thirty seconds, and watched both of them begin to list slightly in their chairs.
"I'm going to use the bathroom."
He stood, flagged a passing server to keep an eye on the table, and quietly released a handful of nanobots into the ambient air around the booth — enough to monitor for trouble without drawing attention. Three mildly drunk scientists in a Central City bar at one in the morning was not an ideal situation to leave entirely unsupervised.
He moved through the crowd toward the quieter end of the room.
In a corner booth, half-turned away from the main floor, a familiar figure sat alone over a basket of fries. The trenchcoat. The deliberate stillness. And beneath the coat's lapel, barely visible — a faint, steady pulse of blue light.
Jude slid into the seat across from him.