Replacement

     Above Coast City, lights danced across the night sky: airplanes taking off, stars winking, the moonlight glistening off the clouds. And a single green torch, glowing brighter than all the rest.
     Hal felt nothing beneath his feet, yet he wasn't falling. He realized his eyes were closed. When he opened them, he saw clouds and a faraway horizon—but no ground. He looked down and saw a sea of lights hundreds of feet below. I'm above Coast City, Hal realized.
     Hal took a hard look at himself. He wasn't wearing his clothes anymore; he was coated in some sort of black and green material that glowed. It's the same kind of suit the alien was wearing, he realized. It didn't quite feel like fabric; there weren't any stitches or seams. Instead, it simply felt like a kind of synthetic second skin. It was warm, but not burning. It somehow just felt... safe. As if it was consciously protecting Hal from anything that might harm him. Hal suddenly realized that he was glowing actually rather brightly, but couldn't tell immediately because his eyes were somehow protected from being blinded by his own green aura. From up here, he probably looked like some sort of green beacon in the sky to anyone down in the city. Hal felt the immediate urge to land, and he felt himself begin to fall in response. Startled, Hal caught himself and stayed stable in the air.
     How am I doing this? Hal thought. The ring, he remembered. He looked at the ring. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed that the ring glowed slightly brighter than any other part of the suit. Hal could barely feel power radiating from the ring and coursing across his entire body, like a ray of energizing sunlight.
     "Okay," Hal said, taking a deep breath. Concentrating intently, he gently lowered himself down towards the ground, doing his best to dim the light of his suit as he went. That's it, he thought. Going to land right here next to my house and get back to normal.
     He stopped. Normal. Normal meant going back to a world where he was being framed by a jackass and possibly getting kicked out of his school, his job, and his future just because of business politics. Where his mother thought he was a disappointment, and his brother thought he was a reckless idiot.
     Truth be told, Hal only ever felt truly accepted and loved by his father. The hours he and his dad would spend flying through the skies were the best moments of Hal's life. And now Hal was here, floating in the same sky his father did, and he was choosing to go down to Earth again.
     No. Not now.
     Hal lifted his head back up to the heavens, grinned, and launched himself upward. He swirled and twisted through the air, dodging this way and that, diving and rising just to feel the adrenaline pulse like a river. He nearly broke the sound barrier at one point. Hal noticed that although he was entirely aware of how fast he was moving, he wasn't in any danger of passing out like he should be, according to the laws of physics. This suit really was a wonder.
     Could he do anything else, he wondered? What did the alien say... The Green Lantern of Sector 2814. Hal was his replacement. So Hal was the new Green Lantern? What did that mean, Green Lantern? I mean, sure, the ring and the suit were bright, but why be named a lantern? Not exactly the most exciting thing in the world. What did Sector 2814 mean? Hal felt a level of concern suddenly. "Use its power wisely," the alien had said. What did that mean? Was being able to fly and glow really a power worth using wisely? There must be more this ring can do, Hal thought. Did I miss anything he said? Hal suddenly remembered the metal lantern that the alien had pointed to. He said it was important. As if in response, Hal felt a tingling at the back of his mind, and turned to see the lantern floating up towards him in the sky. Hal took hold of its handle and felt his palm stick to it like a gentle magnet. Somehow, he could feel that the ring and the lantern were powerfully connected.
     Okay, this is too much, Hal thought. I need to talk to somebody about this. But who? Carl wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of it, and he wasn't exactly the kind of person who'd be open to hearing about aliens and magic techno-rings and such. Barry, maybe? Sure, Barry would understand, being a superhuman and all. Hal reached for his phone, then realized that it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't; his pants weren't even there. The suit had... replaced them somehow. Hal couldn't call anyone, so he had to find someone close by.
     Carol. She'd been Hal's friend forever. She got a little cranky sometimes, but with something as important as this, she wouldn't give him a hard time.
     "Where is Carol?" Hal said quietly to himself, thinking.
     "Specify," a pleasant synthesized female voice said from nowhere.
     "Um, what?" Hal said in reply.
     "Specify location query. Full name of Carol."
     Hal realized the ring itself was talking. "Um... are you the ring?" he asked.
     "Affirmative," the ring replied. "All Green Lantern Corps power rings contain a voice interface."
     Hal thought it over. So the ring wasn't intelligent, but it could obey voice commands like a computer. "Okay, ring: locate Carol Ferris."
     "Scanning," the ring said. Hal saw a faint wave of light extend from the ring and wash across the city. For some reason, Hal got the impression that no one else could see it except him.
     "Carol Ferris located."
     Hal saw a glowing green beacon off towards the far end of the city. He flew towards it.

     When Hal reached the beacon, it was near a restaurant. Hal landed quietly on the ground in an alleyway behind the building. He lamented the fact that he was still in his green lantern suit, and wished he could change back into his regular clothes. Once again responding to his thoughts, a wave of energy quickly slid down Hal's body. As it went from head to toe, the suit was instantly replaced with the clothes Hal had been wearing before he'd put on the ring. The green aura faded. Hal reached in his pocket and found his phone. Apparently, he hadn't lost his things at all; the suit had just hidden them somehow. Hal hid the lantern behind a trash can in the alley, then stepped out to go find Carol.
     Hal saw Carol inside through the window. But she wasn't alone; Hector was with her.
     Hal felt his fist tighten around the ring. Carol and Hector walked towards the door, laughing together over some joke of Hector's that Hal was sure must have been idiotically smarmy. The two exited the building and stood on the sidewalk. Hector leaned in to kiss Carol, but she turned away. Good, Hal thought. At least she's not a complete whore. Carol and Hector parted ways, Hector walking to a parking lot in the opposite direction and Carol walking towards Hal. When she saw Hal, Carol's eyes flashed with surprise, frustration, and anger.
     "Hal?! What are you doing here?! Were you following me?!"
     Hal frustratedly shook his head. "No! What? No! Why were you with him?!"
     "That's my business! Why are you stalking me?!"
     "I'm not stalking you!"
     "And you just happened to turn up right here?"
     "Y—well, kind of. It's complicated."
     "Save it, Hal. You're a jealous idiot."
     "What?! No!"
     "Please. You used to spend all your time trying to kiss me when we were kids. Now you're mad that I went on a date with the guy who caught you trying to cheat."
     "WHAT?!"
     Carol turned and walked away.
     "No, wait! Carol! I... I've got this... thing..."
     Carol wasn't about to start listening. Hal wanted to follow her and try to explain, but he was so mad at her that he didn't really feel like giving her the time of day. He went back to the alley to get his lantern.

     Before Hal could even pick up the lantern, a bright light from behind caught his peripheral vision. Hal felt a massive force slam him to the ground. He instinctively twisted around and lashed out with his fist. A green explosion of light punched whoever or whatever had hit him. Hal heard a deep grunt from his attacker, then a growl as he was hit by what felt like a giant hammer. Hal nearly fell unconscious, but barely managed to keep his eyes open.
     Hal got a good look at who he was facing. Descending from the sky were two vaguely humanoid aliens, both covered in the same suit and aura that Hal had just been wearing. One was thin, with orange skin and birdlike features including a beak, black eyes, and a lizardlike mohawk fin. The other was essentially a ten-foot-tall wall of muscle; aside from his roughly humanoid body, he looked like an alien pig, with a giant bony jaw and no snout.
     "Where is Abin Sur?" the finned alien said firmly.
     "He... he was in a spaceship that crashed," Hal said. "He gave me this ring; said I was his replacement."
     "Like hell he did!" The giant one boomed. "I've trained hundreds o' lanterns, and lemme tell ya, you ain't no lantern. There ain't ever been a human GL before. EVER. Give it up."
     The finned alien leaned in toward his companion. "Kilowog, if what this human says is true, the ring has indeed chosen him. We cannot simply take the ring from him; we don't have the authority."
     "What if he took the ring from Abin?!" Kilowog said. "Not like there ain't a trillion beings in the galaxy that'd wanna be a green lantern if they got the chance."
     "...I don't even think I know what a green lantern is," Hal said.
     The finned alien looked back at Kilowog. "There, see? It's highly unlikely that he even knows what has happened since the ring found him."
     "So what, we take him back to Oa?!" Kilowog said. "He ain't no replacement for Abin."
     "It's our duty, Kilowog."
     Kilowog puffed twin jets of steam out his nostrils. "Fine. We take him back. See what the Guardians think."
     Hal didn't like that his situation was being determined without him. "Hey! Don't I get a say in this?!"
     Kilowog grabbed Hal's arm in with one of his gigantic hands. "SHUT YER FRAKKIN' MOUTH, POOZER. You're comin' with us."

     Hal felt himself being enveloped with energy from the aliens' rings, then being lifted into the sky.

Chosen

     "You wanted to see me, sir?"
     "Hal, yeah, take a seat," Carl said.
     Hal stepped inside Carl's office and paused when he saw Hector sitting in another chair next to Hal's. He had a familiarly bad feeling about this; the kind you get at a parent-teacher conference.
     "What's this about?" Hal asked.
     Carl gestured toward Hector. "Hector here has brought up some... interesting information about the simulator."
     Great, Hal thought. Snobby idiot's gonna blame me for something so he can get his way.
     "Your simulator pod's been tampered with," Carl explained. "The system's been altered to give the pilot's simulated craft greater abilities even than an F-35 would have in real life."
     "...And you think I did that?" Hal said.
     "Don't try to deny it, Jordan," Hector spat at him. "I've seen you poring over those technical manuals. There's no other cadet here who has the technical know-how to do something like this. All the evidence points to you."
     Hal felt himself tighten a bit with anger. "All the evidence you discovered, you mean?"
     "No one else would have been able to notice it," Hector replied a little bit too quickly.
     Hal looked at Carl for support, but Carl just gave him the "sorry, I can't help you" look.
     Now Hal was getting a bit furious. "Seriously?! You get all pissy because you have to make a few alterations here and there and you decide to take it out on me?"
     "Seriously?" Hector said, mockingly mirroring Hal's tone. "You get your panties in a twist because you got caught cheating?"
     Something about Hector's snakelike attitude struck Hal the wrong way. So Hal struck Hector in the face.
     "THAT'S IT!" Carl boomed. "OUT, JORDAN!"
     Hector, his face bleeding as he lay on the floor, grinned up at Hal. Hal knew better than to argue; he turned around and walked out the door.
     Carl turned to Hector, who was still on the floor. "Stay there a minute." Carl stepped into the hallway and shut his office door.
     "Hal, listen..."
     "You know he's trying to frame me for this!" Hal said.
     Carl nodded. "Probably."
     "So why are you letting him accuse me like this?!"
     Carl sighed. "Listen, Hal, Hector's parents are some of Ferris' Air's biggest financiers. If I just fire him without proof, there's a good chance Ferris Air is sunk."
     "Sunk? What are you talking about?"
     "...The company hasn't been doing great since your dad died. We can't afford to lose the Hammonds. If we could prove Hector tried to frame you, that'd be one thing, but at this point it's your word against his."
     "And his word has millions of dollars behind it."
     "...Yeah. I wish there was another way, Hal, I really do."
     "So unless there's evidence to prove he was the one who tampered with the sim pod, I have to take the blame."
     "Looks that way for the moment."
     Hal read into the situation further. "You'll have to suspend me from classes and maybe deny me access to the base while things are being figured out, and unless you find anything I won't be able to come back."
     "Hal, I promise, we'll do everything we can to figure out the truth here."
     "Save it," Hal snapped as he turned and walked away.

     Hal got in his car and turned the key so hard he nearly broke the ignition switch. Before he could even hit the gas pedal, however, he was nearly blinded by an overwhelming green light. Hal shut his eyes against the light and felt the car being lifted, as if on an elevator. He managed to squint open his eyes and glance out the side window, only to see Coast City a half-mile below him.
     Hal took a deep breath. He recognized this light. It was the same green energy he'd seen on the Javelin two months ago, when he'd glimpsed his "destiny." He felt the energy's power. Something primal, yet focused. Something permeating. Something indomitable.
     The car landed softly on the ground. The light faded. Hal stepped out of the car and looked around. He was in the desert, maybe ten miles away from the city. As Hal turned, he saw a gigantic smoking chunk of broken, molten metal. Hal recognized it instantly as a crash of some sort—though of what kind of craft, he wasn't sure—and immediately ran toward the wreckage. If anyone was in that when it crashed, he or she could still be alive. Hal reached the craft and began pulling away at the metal plates, trying to find the cockpit. A tiny green light flashed beneath one of the metal plates, and Hal lifted it to find a hollow chamber with a man inside.
     As Hal crawled inside the cockpit, he discovered that this man was... different. His skin was a purple-pink, and his facial features were very slightly inhuman. More round, less well-defined. Hal reached for the man to see if he was still alive. Hal noticed the pilot's clothing was skin-tight, but not made of any fabric that Hal had ever seen. It was green and black; the green glowing faintly, while the black was more akin to a shadow. Hal touched a green section of the man's suit and immediately recoiled. It was sizzling hot. Curious, Hal reached for the black section of the suit and felt it was cool to the touch.
     The pilot's eyes opened suddenly and he gasped for air, coughing up spatters of purple blood. The pilot wearily turned to Hal and spoke.
     "Na, dhe cre ben do, eh?"
     Hal shook his head. "I'm sorry? I don't—"
     A green metallic ring on the pilot's middle right finger briefly flashed with light.
     "What is your name?" the pilot said.
     Hal was dumbstruck. "...Hal Jordan."
     "Hal Jordan," the pilot repeated. "I am Abin Sur, Green Lantern of Sector two-eight-one-four. The ring has chosen you."
     "Chosen me for what?!"
     "To replace me. You, above all others on this world, have the ability to overcome fear."
     The pilot weakly gestured towards a corner of the cockpit where a large green metal object sat, somehow undamaged in the midst of the crash. "Take the ring and the lantern."
     The green ring slid off the alien's finger and gently floated toward Hal, landing in his palm.
     The alien put his bloodied hand on Hal's shoulder. "Use its power wisely."
     The alien exhaled and went limp. The green light on his uniform faded to black.

     Hal climbed outside the crash. Overwhelmed, he tried to take everything in. Finally, he opened his hand and looked at the ring. Warily, he took it in his left hand and slid it onto his right hand's middle finger.
     An instant later, he felt every fiber of his body shot through with burning green fire.

Crash

     The canopy of the flight simulator hissed and snapped open. Hal jumped out, furious as he walked across the darkened hangar toward the door to the briefing room. The other eleven simulator pods opened and the other students sat up, watching Hal.

     Cowgirl sighed with sympathy. Hal had taken out the entire remaining enemy force in his maneuver, but he'd also been the only one on the team to "die."

     Carol frowned disapprovingly. Idiot, she thought.

     Hal stormed into the briefing room.

     "Why couldn't I move?!"

     Carl seemed surprised. "The simulator's programmed with all the physical limitations of the real world. If you couldn't pull off a maneuver like that in there, you couldn't do it in real life."

     "Yes I could! I know what it feels like when you push a plane to its limits, and that wasn't it. It just stopped moving."

     "Perhaps I could explain," a smarmy voice said from behind Carl.

     Hal leaned around Carl to see a tall, skinny man in his early twenties.

     "Who the hell are you?" said Hal.

     "Hector Hammond," the young man said, extending his hand.

     "Hector is the one who designed the simulation," Carl said.

     "The reason you couldn't bank that hard," Hector explained, "is that you were pushing the F-35 beyond its safe limits. Any farther and you'd be risking a loss of control at best, and damage to the craft at worst."

     Hal scowled. "So that's it? You programmed in the safety precautions? You have no idea what flying's even like, do you?!"

     Hector cleared his throat and straightened his tie, a smug grin on his face. "Well, I might not have your, uh, hands-on experience, but I know a thing or two about how the things you think you're flying actually work."

     Carl could see Hal's temper flaring and intervened. "Let's calm down for a minute. Hal, are you saying that the forced safety parameters were actually putting you in greater danger?"

     "YES," Hal said exasperatedly.

     Carl thought about it for a minute.

     "Alright. Hector, I want you to redo the simulation. Take the training wheels off."

     Hector looked like someone had insulted his mother. "What?! Mr. Ferris, you can't seriously—"

     "Do it, Hector."

     Hector suppressed his anger. "Sir, if Mister..." Hector checked the name on Hal's flight suit. "...Jordan hadn't tried a completely unsafe maneuver, this wouldn't have mattered!"

     "Tell ya what," Hal said. "You actually become a pilot, you learn to fly, you get into combat, THEN you tell me what does or doesn't matter."

     Hector half-sneered and half-chuckled. "You pilots are what won't matter in about five years."

     Hal rolled his eyes. Hector was one of those "automated drones will dominate warfare" people. The ones who assumed that technology was the real important factor, and pilots were too subject to human error.

     "That's enough," Carl said. "Hector, get to work on that sim. Hal, take a break. Now."

     Not far from Ferris Air, a stone pillar stood atop a small grassy hill. That pillar contained a radio antenna that picked up air traffic control signals from both Ferris Air and the nearby Broome Airfield, pumping out the audio through speakers. This was a mildly popular park, especially for plane enthusiasts.

     Hal sat atop the hill alone, staring out at Ferris Air.

     "Somehow I knew you and Hector wouldn't get along," Carol's voice said from behind him.

     "What are you doing here, Carol?"

     Carol sat down next to him. "You're under my command. It's my job to make sure you're good enough to fly."

     Hal glared at her. "Carol, drop it. I don't need your bitchy attitude any more than I need Hector being a smug jackass about how pilots are obsolete."

     Carol was surprised. "He said that?"

     "'You pilots won't matter in five years;' yeah."

     Carol rolled her eyes. "He told me the exact opposite yesterday when he asked me out to dinner."

     Hal raised an eyebrow. "What'd you say?"

     Carol smirked. "I told him to screw off."

     Hal chuckled. "Wish I coulda seen that."

     Carol sighed. "Hal, I'm sorry for treating you the way I have. I've just... I've just been so... buried under all this responsibility my dad's been giving me."

     "Why's he doing that, anyway? I mean, you're the squadron leader and apparently your dad's assistant? On top of being a cadet and a high school student?"

     "...He wants me to take over."

     "Take over what?"

     "Ferris Air."

     Hal wished he was drinking something so he could dramatically spit it out. "FERRIS AIR?!"

     "...Yeah. When he retires, he wants me to be his replacement."

     "I thought you wanted to be a pilot."

     "I do. I did. Maybe I still do. That's why I'm in the training program. But I also know that my dad needs my help."

     "Why does he need help?"

     Carol was silent for several seconds.

     "...Carol?"

     "...He's sick, Hal."

     Hal wasn't sure what to say.

     "Carol, I'm sorry. What is it?"

     "Cancer, we think. We don't really know yet; they're still doing tests."

     "Remember when we were kids?" Carol asked. "And our dads would bring us out here?"

     "Yeah."

     "I miss those days."

     Hal felt a sting of loss. "Me too."

     "You know, if your dad were... still around... my dad would have probably given the company to him instead."

     Hal turned to Carol, a little shocked. "...It would've taken a lot to get my dad out of a pilot's seat and behind a desk. But for your dad... he'dve done it."

     Carol gently grabbed Hal's arm. "We miss him here. We always have. He was a really good man."

     "I know."

Seven Years Ago

     The crowd cheered as the Javelin-1 soared three hundred feet above. Ten-year-old Hal Jordan could barely contain himself.
     "Control, this is Highball," a voice crackled over the radio.
     Carol rolled her eyes. Hal always got excited whenever his dad flew in one of these air shows. But it was always the same every time. Hal's dad would pull off all kinds of amazing stunts that only he could do in only the best Ferris prototype jets, the crowd would go crazy, and her daddy would be happy afterwards because of something he called "new investors."
     Hal couldn't believe how amazing his life was. He had the coolest dad in the world. Seriously, what did anyone else's dad do? Drive a bus? Do someone else's taxes? Coach soccer? Hal's dad flew at Mach 3 in jets that no one else had touched yet. He even brought Hal up with him once or twice; it was the most thrilling feeling Hal could imagine.
     "Control, I have a problem here. I'm leaking oil and the last of my torque pins just failed."
     Carl turned away from the crowd and spoke into his radio. "What?! We just sent it in for repair..."
     "It's coming down, now."
     "Alright, bring her in safely."
     "Can't risk it. The crowd's too close to the runway. I'm bringing her down right here."
     Hal watched as the Javelin, with his father inside it, crashed nose-first into the nearby field and became a fireball.

Maverick

     Hal felt a rush of familiar adrenaline as he drove through the gate at Ferris Air. The same feeling he felt as a boy when he'd sneak in and watch his dad fly. Being a pilot was in his veins, and this place was his heart. It was good to be back in Coast City.
     Hal parked in front of the brand-new building labeled "Academy" and hopped out of his Challenger, not even bothering to lock the door. People here were basically like family. When Hal walked inside, there was no receptionist like at the Wayne-Ferris Academy near Metropolis. Instead, clearly-marked hallways led to the main offices, where Hal was supposed to meet Carl Ferris.
     Carl was Hal's father's best friend and boss. He was also the one who founded Ferris Air, and somewhat of a legend in the aircraft engineering business. He wasn't an engineer himself, merely a businessman, but he was smart enough to let the engineers and pilots lead the way while keeping them in line when necessary. Hal always thought of him like an uncle. Probably was closer to Carl than to most of his real family anyway.
     Hal stopped at the door with Carl's name on it, knocked casually once, then opened it. Instead of the slightly rotund and aging man Hal expected to see, he found a dark-haired, gorgeous young woman with piercing blue eyes.
     The girl almost did a double-take. "Hal?!"
     "Carol?!"
     Carol Ferris stood up and walked over. "I... what are you doing here?!"
     "I transferred here after the thing in Metropolis. Didn't your dad tell you?"
     "...No. He didn't."
     "That's weird; I thought you'd be the first person he'd tell."
     "We were friends when we were eight, Hal. We weren't married."
     "Yeah, but still... wow, Carol, I barely recognized you for a minute there."
     Carol squinted. "Why?"
     Hal glanced her up and down for a second. "Well... you're all hot now."
     Carol slapped him hard enough to echo down the hallway.
     "I'm your boss now, Hal. Don't you dare try to flirt with me."
     Hal rubbed his cheek. "Wait, boss? How? Id've thought you'd be a pilot cadet."
     Carol reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her Ferris Air ID. "I am. But I'm also in charge of the entire team of cadets. Including you."
     Hal couldn't resist grinning at her.
     "What?!" said Carol, frustrated at Hal's complete lack of respect.
     "Nothing," Hal replied, "you're just as bossy as you were when you were eight."
     Carol might have slapped him again if not for Carl Ferris suddenly walking up from behind Hal.
     "Hal!" Carl said, shaking Hal's hand. "Nice to see you back in Coast City!"
     Carl eyed the red patch on Hal's face. "I see you and Carol have been catching up."
     "Yeah," said Hal. "Fun times."

     "Your targets are F-22s," Carl said. The display screen behind him showed a 3D diagram of an F-22 Raptor.
     "You'll be flying F-35s. As you probably know, F-22s are superior to F-35s in air-to-air combat, but not by a lot. With enough skill, you might be able to take them down."
     The room full of cadets focused intently on Carl's instructions, but Hal wasn't even looking at the screen. Across the darkened briefing room, he'd spotted Jillian Pearlman—Cowgirl—the blonde country girl he met at Wayne-Ferris. Apparently she'd transferred, too. Hal wondered if she followed him on purpose. Then he wondered if that thought made him a narcissist. It probably did.
     "Mr. Jordan?" Carl said, snapping Hal's attention back to the front of the class. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us some of the technical specifications of the F-35 in comparison to the F-22."
     "Yes, sir," Hal replied quickly. "The F-22 is approximately 50% faster than the F-35, with twice the altitude limit. The F-35's only real advantage in air-to-air combat is its larger fuel supply, which probably won't come into play in most combat situations."
     "That's right," Carl said, suppressing a grin. Hal might not be one for strict behavior, but he sure did his homework. "You'll be at a disadvantage in nearly every way, so be ready. Dismissed."
     Hal and the rest of the cadets made their way to the hangar, where they strapped into their cockpits and ran through startup procedures. Ten minutes later, they were in the air and ready for combat.

     The sky was a mess of chaos. Hal rolled his eyes; most of these cadets had no idea what they were doing. They knew how their planes worked, but they didn't have the feel for them that Hal, Carol, and Cowgirl did.
     This is ridiculous, Carol thought. We're flying against automated pilots and we still can't get a shot on them.
     "Sapphire, this is Highball. What do you say you, me, and Cowgirl split off and take these guys on by ourselves?"
     "Negative, Highball," Carol replied, "we stay with our group."
     Hal read the subtext in her voice: Or they'll all get shot down without us.
     "We can't avoid target locks and keep using countermeasures forever," Hal insisted. "If we stay on the defensive, we'll never win."
     Cowgirl's voice crackled over the comm channel. "Ah'm with Highball on this one, Sapphire."
     Carol sighed inwardly. They were probably right. "Okay. Highball, Cowgirl, with me. The rest of you, try to keep yourselves safe."
     The trio broke off from the tangle of planes circling each other and curved back around from a different angle.
     Hal fired a burst of machine gun fire over the top of an enemy craft, then immediately pitched down and fired a missile. Sure enough, the F-22 ducked reflexively under the brief hail of bullets but slammed right into the missile's path. Hal let out a whoop, and Carol was happy enough to have at least one target down that she didn't scold him.
     Cowgirl let a Raptor get on her tail, then dipped, cut the engines, and flipped her plane end-to-end without stopping, effectively flying backwards. She fired off a missile and hit her target dead-on.
     "Fancy moves there, Cowgirl," Hal said. "Where you learn to fly like that?"
     "My daddy was a stunt pilot; I learned from the best."
     "Cut the chatter, ladies," Carol interjected as she landed a hit on an enemy F-22. "Highball, you've got one on your tail. Watch it."
     Hal dodged back and forth a bit, diving into a few corkscrews and even a couple of those drifting tricks that Cowgirl made look so easy, but this particular pilot couldn't be shaken. All the usual options were out; it was time to try something a little crazy. Hal let the enemy creep up on him from behind, slowly closing the distance. Hal cut his engines and pitched up slightly, suddenly dragging backward along a path that would take him right over the enemy. But, of course, Hal knew that wouldn't work. This pilot seemed a bit too good. He wouldn't fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Instead of letting the plane fall behind the F-22, Hal punched his engines to maximum thrust right as he flew over the target, blasting the Raptor with 34 tons of fiery force. The F-22 spun downward like a swatted fly and exploded before it hit the ground.
     Something clicked in Hal's mind. These enemy pilots were literally unable to account for more than a few potential threats at a time. They were completely unprepared for unorthodox tactics. Hal turned back toward the tangle of fighters and dove in, skipping from target to target, firing a missile here and a burst of cannon fire there. He pushed the F-35 to its limit, running at full speed while twisting in every which direction. Eventually, Hal tried to pull the plane into a sharp climb but the plane simply stopped, drifting forward. Hal pulled and pulled on the stick, but it wouldn't move. Finally, Hal's plane slammed into an F-22 and exploded.

Speed Skating

   Iris ran up the stairwell and made her way to Snart's apartment.
   "Score!" she thought. "Got here before the cops."
   But someone else had gotten there, too, apparently. The door was open; its broken handle on the floor. Iris cautiously opened the door. She found the room cluttered and dark, with a gigantic chunk of ice sitting in the middle of the room. Iris looked around, confused. The ice dripped and melted in the warm room, leaving a puddle on the floor.
   Iris moved closer to the ice, rubbing away the frost covering it. She jumped back when she saw what was inside: a man in a red shiny ski mask. Suddenly, she felt the floor vibrate and saw the man inside the ice turn into a dark blur. The entire block of ice quickly melted, leaving the man behind.
   The masked man fell to his knees, breathing heavily. Iris crouched down to help him. She noticed his jacket: red, shiny, slick... the wheels in her head started turning.
   Barry looked up into her eyes, grateful he was still wearing his mask.
   "...You're the red blur, aren't you?" Iris asked.
   Barry nodded, still barely breathing.
   "What... what happened here? Who are you?!"
   "Snart built a gun. Freezes stuff, apparently."
   "How did you get... um... un-frozen?"
   "Vibrated my body really fast."
   "...You vibrated yourself?"
   Barry took one last deep breath and stood up.
   "I've gotta go find Snart before the cops do, or things'll get messy."
   "Where's he going?" Iris asked.
   "Don't know."
   "So then where are you going to look?"
   "Everywhere."
   Barry zoomed out of the apartment.

   Snart stood in the center of an intersection, blasting away at the police that had surrounded him. In less than a minute, he'd built up a wall of ice sealing off the police. He might actually get away...
   "Nice parka, Captain Cold."
   Snart turned around to see Barry.
   "What?! I left you frozen!"
   "Uh-huh. Now seriously, we need to talk about this look of yours. Blue parka with white fur? Really? What are you, Eskimo Man?"
   "...You're wearing a... a shiny ski mask!"
   "...Okay, yeah. You have a point. I guess I do need to revamp my look now that people are actually seeing me and all."
   "Are you just going to sit there and talk?!"
   "Nope."
   Barry rushed forward like lightning, then felt his footing slip. Snart had already coated the street around him with a thin sheet of perfectly smooth ice. Barry fell on his back and slid past Snart, into the ice wall on the other side. Snart aimed his gun and shot a burst of cold at Barry; Barry quickly got his body moving to keep from freezing, jumped to his feet, and tried running again. This time, when Barry put his foot down, he slightly vibrated it, melting the ice underneath and giving him traction. But as Barry moved closer to Snart, he felt himself get slower and slower. He eventually realized that he wasn't even moving at super-speed anymore.
   "Heh. Feel that?" Snart taunted. "That's your molecules slowing down. Cold affects everything."
   Barry did everything he could to keep his teeth from chattering.
   "You seem pretty smart, Leonard. Why'd you resort to stealing?"
   "Don't you judge me, 'Blur.' I have my reasons."

   Barry was stuck now; he couldn't move an inch closer, and he was losing heat fast. He raised his arm and moved it in a circular motion as fast as he could. It acted like a fan, blowing the cold blast back in Snart's face. Snart yelled in surprise, brushing off the layer of frost on his body. Before he could blink, however, he felt Barry's fist slamming into his face.
 

   Barry, back in his normal clothes, met up with Forrest at the icy crime scene.

   "Do we have a motive?" Barry asked. "It seems like someone with his brilliance could do better than simple theft."

   "His sister is in the hospital. She's got some kind of rare illness; the working theory is that he was going to use the tech to get money for her treatment. Kind of a crazy way of doing that, but I guess with a gun like that he figured he'd be invincible."

   Barry suddenly felt guilty, even though he knew he shouldn't.

   "...What's going to happen to his sister now? If he doesn't even have a job, then..."

   "I'll pay for her treatment."

   Forrest and Barry turned around to see Darwin Elias walking up.

   "I remember interviewing Leonard for a lab assistant position; I rejected him because he didn't have the practical experience. If I hadn't, then maybe he wouldn't have tried stealing. I'm not saying what he did was right, of course, but there's no reason his sister should have to pay for that with her life."

   Forrest smiled. "That's awfully kind of you, Dr. Elias."

   Barry sat at the coffee shop waiting for Iris. The irony was not lost on him. Suddenly, a newspaper fell into his lap, and Iris fell into the chair across from him.

   "Guess who just made the Central City Citizen front page?!" Iris said, her face beaming.

   Barry looked at the title story:

   THE FLASH VS. CAPTAIN COLD

   Barry frowned. "The Flash?"

   "Yeah! 'The Red Blur' was just so nondescript. And after having actually seen him move, with the way lightning sparkles... I'd say he's definitely more of a Flash."

   Barry rolled his eyes. Sometimes he felt like Iris was more of an annoyance than anything else. And sometimes he felt like he could spend the rest of his life with her.

Absolute Zero

   Over the last year, a lot of things have happened to me. After I got hit by a bolt of lightning and drenched in a random bunch of chemicals, I ended up connected to something I call the Speed Force. It's like this energy that's constantly running through me. I don't know if I'm drawing power from it, or if I'm generating it, or what, but whenever I move at all—especially when I run—it feels like it's getting more powerful. It does some cool things. First of all, I can move incredibly fast. I've never been able to accurately time myself, but I'd say that I'm easily breaking every speed record known to man. I can even run across water. My body heals really fast, too. Every time I've been burnt, cut, or bruised since the accident, I've been perfectly fine after only a few minutes. I think the Speed Force protects me from friction and impact a little while I'm moving at super-speed, too. Lucky, since I've run into a few walls here and there.  Lastly, I made this cool red jacket; it's coated in a slick polymer that cuts down on air friction and acts like a conductor for the Speed Force. I keep it with me wherever I am and put it on every time I run, so whenever someone looks at me, all they see is a red blur. Iris even wrote an award-winning story about me, though she doesn't know that it's me, of course. Just "the Red Blur." Speaking of Iris, I need to be across town right this second...

   Iris sat quietly at the outdoor café waiting for Barry. He was late. For anyone else, this would have been merely a minor annoyance, but Iris prided herself on speed and impatience. It was what made her a good reporter; why she was the only person in the city to be able to get a decent story on the Red Blur. She tapped her foot under the table as she sipped her coffee, eyes darting back and forth for a sign of her date. She waited a while longer, then called his phone. He didn't answer. Finally, she grabbed her purse and started to get up.
   "Leaving already?"
   Iris looked up across the table and saw Barry sitting there. Iris did a double-take. She could swear he wasn't anywhere in sight two seconds ago.
   "You're late."
   Barry checked his watch. "I'm exactly... two minutes and two seconds late. So... I'm sorry?"
   Iris frowned a little and checked her own watch. Had it really been only two minutes? It had.
   "Huh," she said, sitting back down. "Felt like longer."
   "Tell you what," Barry said, "I'll make it up to you. You're probably almost done with that, right?"
   Iris looked into her cup. Sure enough, she'd nearly finished the entire thing in those two minutes. She wondered if she could be classified as a drug addict.
   Barry got up. "A triple-shot house blend, right?"
   Iris lightly smiled and nodded. Barry was a little dorky, being a science geek and all, but he was sweet. And pretty hot. But that wasn't for him to know.

   Iris's phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. "Rudy West." Iris rolled her eyes. It was her older brother's phone number, but it was almost certainly not him calling. It had to be Wally, Rudy's five-year-old boy. Iris loved her little nephew, honestly, but he did get a little bit annoying at times with the way he always followed her around and asked her questions about the Red Blur.
   Iris sighed and answered the phone.
   "IRIS!" a tiny voice yelled from across the line. "THE RED BLUR JUST STOPPED A BAD GUY AT THE BANK!"
   Iris shot up from her chair, purse in hand. "Which bank?!"
   Barry walked out of the café, steaming new coffee in-hand.
   "Sorry Barry, I've gotta run!" Iris said quickly, running off.
   Barry stood in place, awkwardly unsure of what to do.
   Iris suddenly appeared at his side again, gently lifting the coffee out of his hand.
   "Thanks! I'll, um... see you later."
   And she was gone again.
   Iris felt a little bad about ditching Barry, but work always came first for her. Besides, it wasn't like Barry was her boyfriend or anything. They'd just gone out a few times.
   Barry's phone rang; he answered it.
   "Mr. Forrest?"
   "Barry. I'm on my way to a crime scene."
   "The one at Ducard National Bank? Sure; I'll be there."
   "No, not that one. Apparently that was a decoy robbery; another quieter theft happened over at Elias Labs."
   Barry stood in silence for a few seconds. It was a decoy? It seemed real enough. Was it there to distract the police, or to distract him?
   "Barry?"
   "Sorry, Mr. Forrest. I'll be right there."

   "What was taken, specifically?" Detective Curtis asked.
   "Just one thing, oddly enough," the doctor replied. "An absolute zero module."
   "A what?"
   Barry's eyes widened. "You finally completed work on it?"
   Barry had been standing quietly out of the way and doing nothing but observing until now. Curtis liked it that way. But Barry was very familiar with the work of Dr. Darwin Elias, and couldn't stop himself from excitedly opening his mouth.
   Dr. Elias smiled. "A fan, eh? Yeah. I finished it. I hadn't announced that I was done; only my assistants actually knew it was completed."
   Curtis wasn't happy with being left out of the loop. "What exactly is this..."
   "Absolute zero module," Elias said. "It's a small metal device, around three inches long and two inches wide. Roughly shaped like an oblong sphere, with angular sides. When it's activated, the sides of it glow blue."
   Curtis nearly rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but what does it do?"
   "With nothing more than the simplest electrical current flowing through it, the module creates an internal temperature of absolute zero. There is literally no way to make anything any colder than that."
   "And that would be useful to a criminal because...?"
   Elias shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe to sell it? The tech could fetch a price of millions if sold to the right foreign country or organization."
   "Gotcha. Okay, so which one of your assistants would you say most likely did it?"
   "Oh, none of them!"
   Curtis rolled his eyes. "Really, doctor..."
   "No, honestly! I only hired people I knew I could trust. All of them truly love science. Their motives in being here are purely altruistic. I'm sure of it."
   "But you said no one other than them even knew the module was done."
   "Yes... I don't know how anyone else would have known."
   Barry looked around. Since being given the Speed Force, he'd had to hone his observational skills. Too many instances of tripping and hitting walls otherwise. Barry glanced around the room, taking in every detail. Something caught his eye.
   "Dr. Elias," he said, "what about the janitorial staff?"
   Elias slapped his forehead. "Of course. We tend to forget they're there; we're so focused on work, you see. But yes, now that you mention it, I don't recall seeing the normal morning janitor today."
   "Do you know his name?" Curtis asked.
   Elias thought for a moment. "...Leonard. That's the name on his tag. I can find you his records."

   As soon as Leonard Snart's information was given to the police, Barry took off. In case Snart was dangerous, there was no reason for the police to put themselves at risk. Barry zipped up his jacket and pulled on a mask made of the same slick red material. The mask was more of a cowl, actually, covering everything but his mouth, nose, and eyes.

   Just as Barry was about to run, his phone rang. It was Iris.
   "Hey! Barry!" Iris said as soon as Barry clicked the answer button. "Is there any chance you coud give me the exclusive on the perp behind the Elias Labs robbery?"
   Barry really did not want to tell her, but it'd be easier just to give her what she wanted and get on his way. "The suspect's name is Leonard Snart. He's a janitor at the lab. The police are on their way to his place now."
   Barry and Iris said their goodbyes then hung up. Barry took a deep breath then started sprinting towards the opposite side of town.

   Barry reached Snart's apartment and knocked. There was no answer. Barry slammed a super-speed fist down onto the doorknob and it broke apart. Barry rubbed his sore hand, then slowly pushed the door open.
   It was dark; every curtain was pulled shut and every blind closed. On the kitchen table, a layer of frost covered a collection of various metal parts and tools. Snart had clearly toyed with and activated the module, but it was nowhere to be found.
   "Looking for this?"
   Barry spun around to see the voice behind him. Snart, dressed in a full hooded parka, stood with a strange gun pointed at Barry's head. Snart pulled the trigger, and Barry felt a wave of cold nothingness wash over him. The water in the air crystalized in front of his eyes, turning thick and solid. Barry quickly realized that he couldn't move. In a mere few seconds, Barry was completely encased in a gigantic chunk of ice, a look of pale lifelessness on his face.

Runtime

   Barry snapped awake. An officer he didn't recognize was crouched next to him, yelling. Barry squinted; the lights in the room had gone out, but the officer was shining a flashlight straight into his eyes.
   "Woah, kid! What happened?!" the officer asked.
   "...Lightning bolt. Window," Barry groaned, rubbing his head.
   "C'mon! We gotta get you to a hospital!"
   Barry shook his head. "Why?"
   The officer took a step back and shined the light across Barry's body. The burn scars were completely gone. If not for the charred holes in Barry's clothes, you'd never know anything had happened. The chemical soup had suddenly dried as well, leaving only dust behind.
   Barry checked his watch: 11:48 PM.
   "Oh, man! Sorry, officer, curfew's in ten minutes! I gotta get home!"
   Barry jumped up and ran out the door, leaving the officer confused and questioning his own sanity.

   Barry ran through the entrance doors of the CCPD, skipped down the front steps, and turned down the street towards the suburbs. If he ran the whole way, he could make it home and only be five minutes late. Maybe.
   Central City always had a thing for speed. Pedestrians were always pushing past each other to get where they were going as fast as possible, cars were always zooming through the streets at all hours of day and night, and virtually everyone seemed to be addicted to caffeine. But tonight, as Barry sprinted down block after block, he half-noticed that the city seemed a lot... quieter. Calmer. Slow, almost. It was odd, but Barry didn't really have time to stop and stare at the traffic.
   Finally, Barry reached his front door. He quietly turned the key and opened the door, hoping his mother would have already gone to sleep. She hadn't.
   Barry heard her voice from across the living room. "Hmm. Eight minutes to go. Good job."
   Barry frowned and looked at his watch: 11:50 PM.
   That's weird, he thought. Must have not read my watch right the first time...

   The alarm clock buzzed. Barry hated that alarm. He groggily reached over and slammed the snooze button.
   As Barry slowly sat up, he tried to remember last night's events. He looked down at his clothes, burnt and torn in a few places. Did he really get hit with a bolt of lightning? Or did it just hit near him? He couldn't be sure. He probably should have taken up that officer's offer to go to a hospital, although he really did feel perfectly fine at the moment—just tired. In any case, it was nine in the morning on Saturday, and he needed to get ready before meeting up with Forrest again at eleven—except that it wasn't nine; it was eleven.
   Barry felt a panicked shock run through his brain; how could he have slept this late, through two straight hours of his alarm ringing? He jumped out of bed and threw his clothes on—then took them off again, remembering that he still needed to take a shower—showered, dressed again, then took off out the door. His mother had taken their only car to work, and Barry didn't have a bike, so his only option was to get there on foot.
   Barry began running and focused very intently on doing so. Maybe he'd get lucky again and somehow get there on time. As he pushed himself, however, he noticed an odd feeling. He wasn't getting tired; he was getting more energized—he was getting faster. Every time his foot hit the ground, it seemed to burst forth with some kind of energy. Barry felt it crackle as he ran, like static. He felt himself surge forward, not realizing what was happening. His legs moved one in front of the other like the spokes of a wheel; he couldn't stop running. The world around him blurred into a maelstrom of golden light and wind. He felt himself instinctively moving around large objects, but still moving forward like a blind jet engine.
   At this point, Barry started to freak out.

   Eventually, Barry stopped trying to force his legs to be still; it wasn't working. He did his best to calm his focus and clear his head. He felt like an engine that was simultaneously generating and being pushed forward by a kind of force. Like electricity, but made of literal motion; a speed force. Instead of trying to control his body, Barry focused on that energy. With all the will he could find, he mentally guided the speed force through himself and slowed it to a crawl.

   Barry found himself standing in a grassy area behind a few trees. He looked to his left and saw a city street; he looked up and saw a billboard: "Welcome to Coast City! Pop. 4,015,026."
   Coast City was in California. Central City was in Missouri. Barry probably should have been panicked, but he was a little more astonished. His mind raced at the possibilities. Did he now have some kind of special ability? Was this connected to that lab accident last night?
   Barry heard a girl yelling over his right shoulder; he turned to see a teenage boy and girl in front of a high school.
   "HOW COULD YOU, HAL?!"
   "Diana, I was just—"
   "NO. FORGET IT."
   Diana stormed off into the distance. Barry thought he heard a slab of concrete crack as she stomped away.
   Barry slowly walked out of the trees and toward the school. He wasn't really sure he could get back home the way he came, so he decided it'd be best to see if he could grab a phone and call someone. He began making his way up the front steps when he felt himself fall. It was like he was a pitcher of water that someone had tipped over, and now he was losing energy fast.
   "Woah, you okay?"
   Barry felt a firm hand grab his arm, holding him up.
   "...Yeah, thanks."
   Barry looked up; it was the boy from earlier.
   "You're Hal, right?"
   "Yeah. Do I know you?"
   "No, but I think everyone in a mile radius heard your girlfriend's yelling."
   Hal winced. "She's not my girlfriend anymore."
   "Sorry about that."
   "Nah, I deserved it."
   Hal looked Barry over. "So are you okay, really?"
   "Yeah, I just... went running, and got kinda winded."

   Sirens echoed off in the distance. From here, Barry and Hal could see two police cars and a van in pursuit of a single blue Mustang. Hal smirked a little at the car; it was a 2006 model, the same one that Mischa—a girl from Hal's school—drove. Hal rubbed his neck; that car's backseat was really cramped. The Mustang driver did a few quick turns and dodged around a corner of thick bushes and trees where the police cars couldn't see him. As it turned out, that spot happened to be right in front of where Barry and Hal were standing. By sheer coincidence, Mischa was also driving her Mustang on the same street. The unknown Mustang driver pulled over and parked on the side of the street between two SUVs, well-hidden from glancing eyes. When the police arrived and saw Mischa's car turning around the corner, the police followed her instead. Once the police had left, the other Mustang zoomed off in the opposite direction towards the highway.
   Hal felt a heavy weight in his gut when he realized what was going on.
   "We have to go after them."
   Barry blinked. "What?"
   "That armored car was from Border Patrol's bomb squad. That car's carrying a bomb, and the police are going the wrong way."
   Hal grabbed Barry's shoulder. "COME ON!"
   Barry just went along with it.
   Hal jumped into his car—which was conveniently parked in the reserved space of a teacher who was out sick that day—and waited a split-second for Barry to get in before gunning the engine and screeching out of the parking lot.
   Barry reached for his phone to call 911, but his pocket was empty. Barry slapped his forehead.
   "What?!" Hal asked.
   "I left my phone at home. Do you have yours?"
   "My phone's out of minutes."
   "Doesn't matter; a 911 call will still go through."
   "Okay, um..."
   Hal shifted gears hard and skidded around a corner.
   "THERE! That's them!"
   The blue Mustang was right ahead of them, just entering the on-ramp for Broome Highway, aimed straight for the city.
   "Where's your phone?" Barry asked.
   "Um, it's in my pocket."
   Hal reached for his pocket, but quickly threw his hand back onto the gear shift as he swerved around a car and downshifted.
   "I need both hands! You get it!"
   "...You want me to take your phone out of your pants pocket?"
   "YES!"
   "...Really?"
   "YES. WE DON'T HAVE A CHOICE. Just... don't tell anyone after this."
   "Trust me, I won't."
   Half a second later, Hal felt something leave his pocket, and Barry was already holding the phone.
   "That was fast."
   "Didn't wanna spend more time in your pants than I needed to."
   "Thanks."
   "...Hey, Hal, shouldn't we be, I don't know, more discreet? I mean, you're chasing them down like it's the end of the world. I bet they know we're following them."
   The Mustang's passenger window rolled down and a man leaned out. A man holding an AK-47.
   Barry and Hal's eyes went wide as the gun erupted in flashes of fire and a hail of bullets. The boys ducked down, barely missing getting their heads torn apart.
   Barry glanced down at the phone; it had a bullet-sized hole torn through it. Well, now they were out of options. Barry opened his mouth to yell that Hal should turn around when he froze. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the skyscrapers of downtown Coast City, right where they were heading. The sign Barry had seen earlier read the city's population as over four million. If these people they were chasing really had a bomb, then over four million people could die unless they were stopped.
   "Hal, keep the car steady."
   "What? Why? What are you—"
   Barry slowly opened the passenger side door, pushing it forward against the wind. He put one foot outside the door, then quickly threw himself outside and started his feet moving before he hit the concrete.
   Barry felt his feet moving like pistons in an engine, driving themselves forward. Summoning all his will, he took control of his body entirely. This "speed force" was his to own now.
   Barry ran forward, easily catching up to the Mustang. A trail of golden lightning followed in his wake. Barry grabbed the rather confused man holding the gun and pulled him through the window, throwing him off the highway and into the waters of the harbor below.
   Barry ran around the front of the car toward the driver's side. He made eye contact with the driver, who seemed more than a bit bewildered. When Barry saw the driver pull out a gun, Barry decided to try something crazy. He'd noticed that his legs hadn't shattered from pounding the ground at a thousand miles an hour, so maybe the speed force gave him some kind of protection against hitting things at high speeds? Barry punched straight through the glass like it was made of sugar, knocking out the driver in the same move. With his arm inside the car, Barry gently turned the wheel towards the highway's concrete divider and moved out of the way. The car drifted towards the divider and hit it, slowly grinding to a halt from the friction. Barry zoomed back to Hal's car while it was still moving, opened the door, and sat down inside.

   "...Barry?"
   "Yeah?"
   "...What was that?"
   "Um... I don't really know yet."