Barry checked the time. 12:15 PM.
He'd been in his car for almost thirty minutes. People would notice if he took too long for lunch.
He needed to get back to the lab. Act normal. Finish the workday. Then tonight he could properly extract all of DeVoe's data from the comfort and security of his apartment.
Barry pocketed the laptop and started his car, pulling out of the parking garage. As he drove back toward CCPD headquarters, his phone buzzed with another text.
Unknown number: "This is Marcus from the gym. Tuesday evening spot opened up for private lesson. You interested?"
Barry stopped at a red light and typed back one-handed: "Yes. What time?"
"7 PM. Don't be late."
"I'll be there."
The light turned green. Barry accelerated, mind already shifting gears. Tuesday evening. Tomorrow. Private combat lesson with Marcus while Clifford DeVoe would be in his lab doing research.
Perfect timing. Perfect cover. And it meant Barry could start accelerating his physical training while simultaneously stealing intellectual property from a future supervillain.
Multi-tasking at its finest.
Barry got back to CCPD at 12:23 PM and returned to his workstation. The afternoon passed slowly. More evidence processing. More reports.
All of it mechanical and boring and necessary to maintain his cover.
At 5:30 PM, Barry clocked out and drove home. His apartment had never looked more welcoming.
He dropped his keys on the counter, grabbed a protein bar from the pantry, and sat down at his dining table with the laptop.
Time to work.
Barry powered up the machine and reconnected to his secured VPN network. Three-layer encryption routing through Switzerland, Iceland, and Romania.
Completely untraceable.
He logged into DeVoe's email account and began the systematic extraction of everything valuable.
First priority: cloud storage. DeVoe had a university Google Drive account with 847 gigabytes of data. Research papers. Experimental notes.
Design schematics. Lecture materials. Personal files. All of it accessible through his compromised credentials.
Barry created a download queue, prioritizing anything related to neural enhancement, electromagnetic stimulation, or cognitive augmentation.
The files began transferring to an encrypted external hard drive. Progress bar showed fourteen hours remaining for complete download.
Fine. He'd let it run overnight.
Next priority: email correspondence.
Barry set up filters to copy all emails containing keywords like "research," "experiment," "neural," "cognitive," "enhancement," "brain," "stimulation."
Thousands of messages matched the criteria. He copied them all to a separate encrypted folder.
Then he went through DeVoe's calendar systematically, documenting every pattern. Teaching schedule.
Lab access times. Faculty meeting attendance. Office hours. Everything that would reveal when DeVoe was predictable and when he was vulnerable.
Tuesday and Thursday evenings. 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM. Consistent lab sessions in Room 7B of the physics building basement. Restricted access space where DeVoe kept his experimental equipment and physical research materials.
Barry cross-referenced that against building security schedules. Campus security did rounds every hour.
Cameras covered the main hallways but not individual lab spaces. Badge access was required but could be bypassed with basic lock-picking if you knew what you were doing.
And Barry, with his enhanced intellect, was already researching lock-picking techniques.
His mind absorbed the information like a sponge. Tumbler mechanisms. Tension wrenches. Rake picks. All of it made perfect sense. Simple mechanical systems that could be defeated with the right knowledge and tools.
He added "buy lock-picking set" to his mental task list.
By 9:00 PM, Barry had a complete map of DeVoe's digital life. Email patterns. Cloud storage structure. Calendar habits. Collaboration networks. Everything organized and backed up on three separate encrypted drives.
The download queue was still running. Ten hours remaining. Barry left it going and closed the laptop.
His body ached. Not from physical exertion but from tension. Hours of sitting hunched over a computer, adrenaline slowly draining out of his system.
Barry changed into workout clothes and dropped to the floor. Push-ups first. He managed forty-three before his arms gave out. Better than last week's thirty-seven.
Progress was slow but measurable.
Sit-ups next. Seventy-two before his abs started cramping. Then squats. One hundred and twelve.
His body was changing. Still weak compared to what he needed to become. But improving. The foundation was being built one rep at a time.
Barry's phone buzzed while he was catching his breath.
Text from Iris.
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