9 Chapter 9: Boxing Training

Barry is in his cabin, practicing his punches, incorporating low kicks and roundhouse kicks.

'I really should get a punching bag' he thinks.

He continues training for about three hours before deciding to get some sleep.

'I need to improve my knowledge, but I also have to focus on honing my fighting skills. Dr. Wells is probably keeping an eye on me. It's frustrating because I can't even work on developing new tech without worrying that he'll take advantage of it. I'll have to play dumb for now.'

As Barry enjoys a restful night's sleep, elsewhere in a restaurant owned by one of the city's wealthy individuals.

The restaurant is full with 8 people engaged in a heated discussion about a new problem that has arisen.

"We just lost Ricardo. Can you believe it? An ex-forensic scientist made a mockery of him and his team," one man laments. "He's practically useless to us now."

"Forget about that guy. Our priority is to find and eliminate the mole leaking information to our enemies," another asserts.

"Exactly. We'll deal with the scientist later. The rat is the real threat," adds another.

Meanwhile, someone manages to break the key in the lock, trapping everyone inside as a green gas fills the room.

"Deal with him later? He's swindled 1.5 billion from us! And how does he keep popping up at the casinos like he's teleporting there?" another man questions, before succumbing to uncontrollable coughing.

"Are you okay?" another concerned voice asks, as the gas spreads, causing everyone to choke and gasp for air. In a desperate attempt to escape, someone tries to shoot through the glass, but it proves to be bulletproof.

As the green gas dissipates, leaving behind lifeless bodies, the perpetrator vanishes into the night.

The Next Morning,

Barry starts his day with the usual routine: brushing his teeth, taking a bath, and turning on the TV for the news. Unfazed by reports of multiple deaths due to poison gas, he mutters, "Hmm, I guess it's time."

Feeling determined, Barry stretches his arms just as his phone buzzes with a message from his coach, prompting him to head to training early. Without hesitation, Barry rushes to the gym, where his coach instructs him to follow along.

His coach hops on a motorcycle, challenging Barry to catch up. Barry opts not to use his super speed, instead matching pace with the bike. After an hour of running, they return to the gym, where Barry is directed to the ring to face his coach, who's armed with punching pads.

"Since speed is your forte, we'll work on flicker jabs—a crucial technique for you," the coach explains.

Barry nods eagerly, ready to learn. They assume boxing stances, and the coach demonstrates lowering his left hand, a move Barry recognizes from watching "Hajime No Ippo."

The coach emphasizes the importance of staying nimble and using the flicker jab to set up attacks rather than as a finishing move. Barry follows instructions, bouncing on his toes as he practices.

"Keep loose," the coach advises, noticing Barry's stiffness. With a gentle tap of a stick, he reminds Barry to relax his shoulders and legs.

Barry adjusts, determined to improve. Impressed by Barry's quick adaptability, the coach thinks to himself, 'This kid's got talent.'

"Now that you've grasped the concept, let's focus on launching the flicker jab," the coach explains, demonstrating with precision. Barry observes closely as the coach executes the technique flawlessly.

"It's not like a standard jab where you extend for power. With the flicker jab, it's all about speed and swiftly returning your fist to your side," the coach clarifies.

Barry follows suit, finding the technique surprisingly manageable to pick up.

"Good. Now, here's the trick: if you need more power, extend the jab slightly longer. Watch as I demonstrate a combo," the coach says, executing a series of flicker jabs followed by a rapid right hook.

"As you master this, I'll introduce more combos. But first, perfect your footwork and flicker jabs. Observe the seniors here for inspiration," the coach advises.

Barry nods, observing the footwork of the seasoned fighters and absorbing their techniques.

After a brief session of shadow boxing to practice the new techniques, Barry is called into the ring for sparring.

"It's time for your sparring session," the coach announces, as Barry dons his headgear and gloves. Across the ring stands a muscular man introducing himself as Lucas Moskov.

"Barry Allen," Barry responds courteously, tapping fists with Lucas.

"Barry, incorporate what you've learned. Don't worry about winning, just do your best," the coach advises.

"I'll give it my all," Barry replies confidently.

"I like this guy," Lucas remarks to the coach with a grin. "But don't make it easy on him," he adds, teasingly.

Barry chuckles. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

As the coach signals the start of the match, Barry and Lucas move towards each other, ready to put their skills to the test.

Barry initiates the aggression with a flurry of flicker jabs aimed directly at Lucas's face. Lucas, taken aback by the speed, struggles to keep up.

Attempting to retaliate, Lucas throws a punch, but Barry swiftly maneuvers, continuing his assault with relentless flicker jabs.

After a few minutes of intense exchange, Lucas tries to push through Barry's defense, launching a powerful straight punch. However, Barry anticipates the move, countering with a well-timed right hook while dodging Lucas's attack.

The force of Barry's blow sends Lucas crashing to the floor, dazed and disoriented. The coach and onlookers are stunned by the unexpected turn of events.

"What just happened?" someone exclaims in disbelief.

"Did Lucas hold back against the newcomer?"

"It's hard to say."

"You've got some incredible instincts. You read my moves perfectly," Lucas admits, shaking off the dizziness as he gets back on his feet.

"Ready for another round?" Barry offers.

"You bet. I won't let a rookie take me down that easily," Lucas replies, preparing to spar once more.

As they resume their bout, Barry starts to display signs of overconfidence, lowering his guard.

The coach, alarmed by Barry's recklessness, shouts a warning, but Barry seems unfazed.

Seeing an opportunity, Lucas charges forward, throwing a barrage of punches. Barry, however, effortlessly dodges and weaves, appearing almost fluid in his movements.

"Are you toying with me?" Lucas demands, frustration evident in his voice, only for Barry to respond with a playful "Maybe?"

When Lucas unleashes a right straight, Barry swiftly sidesteps and counters with a powerful right punch, knocking Lucas out cold.

Once again, the coach and bystanders are left in disbelief at Barry's seemingly impossible feat.

"Jacob, Jack, help Lucas out," the coach instructs, as the two named individuals attend to Lucas's recovery.

Barry, seeking feedback, inquires about his performance.

"While your skills are impressive, playing with fire like that can be dangerous. You're already adept at mentally assessing your opponent's moves, but don't toy with them in a real match," the coach advises sternly.

Barry nods, acknowledging the warning. "I can't promise I won't do it again," he admits.

The coach sighs, exasperated. "You're a handful, kid. You can practice on your own today. We'll resume training tomorrow."

"Then I'll start with some roadwork," Barry responds, exiting the gym.

The coach watches Barry leave, feeling uncertain about how to handle him.

"What's with that guy? It's like he could predict every move Lucas made," Jacob remarks.

"He definitely could. The look on his face gave it away. I swear he thought Lucas's punch was slow," Jack adds.

The coach approaches them, urging them to focus on Lucas's well-being.

"Enough chattering. How's Lucas?" he inquires.

"He'll be fine, coach," Jack assures him.

As the coach reflects on Barry's extraordinary reflexes and instincts, he realizes that the three-month training period may need to be shortened. With Barry's abilities, even facing a heavyweight like Lucas seems like an insurmountable challenge.

Barry arrives at Star Labs, munching on Arabic food he picked up earlier—shawarma and chicken kabsa. Cisco, astounded by Barry's appetite, can't help but comment on it.

"Where did you come from, Barry?" Cisco inquires, noticing Barry's different attire.

"From the boxing gym. Why do you ask?" Barry responds casually.

"Just curious. Are you just working out there or actually pursuing boxing?" Cisco probes further.

"I'm aiming to become a boxer," Barry reveals.

Caitlin and Cisco exchange surprised glances. "What?!" Caitlin exclaims.

"Why the shock?" Barry questions.

"Because the moment you step into the ring, your opponents don't stand a chance against your heightened senses and reflexes," Cisco explains.

"Yeah, I'm aware. With my abilities, I could make a name for myself like Muhammad Ali or Mike Tyson. They might even call me 'The Lightning' or something similar," Barry muses confidently.

"Planning ahead, aren't you? No surprise there," Cisco remarks with a sigh.

"Why not? If I have an advantage, why not use it? It's not like they know about my powers," Barry defends his decision.

Dr. Wells enters the cortex, where Caitlin informs him of Barry's boxing aspirations.

"And? I don't see anything wrong with that. He's seizing opportunities, especially after leaving his job as a forensic scientist," Dr. Wells responds calmly.

"What?!" Caitlin reacts with surprise once again.

"That explains why you've had so much free time," Cisco realizes.

"Did Joe tell you?" Barry asks.

"He mentioned it during my visit to CCPD to discuss Power Dampening Cuffs," Dr. Wells confirms.

Barry nods in understanding as the conversation continues.