The silence on the outskirts of Central City was heavy, broken only by the creak-groan of a wooden billboard swaying precariously in the wind. The sign, which used to read "WELCOME TO CENTRAL CITY - HOME OF THE FLASH," was now missing the words "CENTRAL" and "FLASH," having been obliterated into sawdust by a localized sonic boom.
Barry Allen stood in the middle of Route 4, his boots resting on asphalt that was still smoking.
He pulled his cowl back, running a gloved hand through his blonde hair. He took a deep breath, tasting ozone and burnt rubber.
"Okay," Barry said to the empty cornfields. "That was... new."
He wasn't winded. He wasn't hurt. But he was bewildered.
Barry was the Fastest Man Alive. It wasn't just a title; it was a fact of physics. He was connected to the Speed Force, the extra-dimensional energy field that moved time forward. When he ran, the universe ran with him.
But that thing? That Blue Blur? It hadn't been running with the universe. It felt like it was running against it.
Barry crouched down, engaging his CSI instincts. He examined the skid marks left where the stranger had made that impossible ninety-degree turn north.
"Frictionless entry," Barry muttered, tracing the gouge in the road. "No melted rubber. Just impact trauma to the concrete. He didn't slide; he redirected his entire momentum vector instantly."
He stood up and looked north, toward the horizon where the blue streak had vanished.
He replayed the encounter in his mind, slowing the memory down to a nanosecond crawl.
He saw the figure again. Not a Kryptonian. Not a cyborg. A man—or something close to it—with wild, spiky blue hair that didn't move in the wind, glowing green eyes, and…
"Sneakers," Barry whispered, blinking. "He was wearing high-top sneakers with a buckle. Who designs a super-suit with buckles?"
But it was the energy that bothered him the most.
When Barry ran, he generated yellow lightning—pure Speed Force energy. It was warm, positive, connected to life.
The stranger's lightning had been blue. It felt cold. Chaotic. It crackled with a static intensity that made the hair on Barry's arms stand up even now, minutes later. It didn't feel like it belonged in this dimension.
He tapped the comms unit in his ear.
"Watchtower, this is Flash."
A moment of static, then the deep, gravelly voice of the Dark Knight answered. "Go ahead, Flash."
"Batman, are we tracking any new speedster signatures? Maybe a kid from the future? Or something from Earth-3?"
"Negative," Batman replied instantly. "Why?"
Barry looked at the shattered billboard. "Because I just had a race. And I didn't win."
There was a pause on the line. A long one. Batman didn't like variables he couldn't account for.
"Explain," Batman demanded.
"I clocked him at Mach 10 just cruising," Barry said, walking over to pick up a piece of the shattered sign. "When I tried to intercept, he initiated some kind of boost. It wasn't a linear acceleration, Bruce. It was instantaneous. Zero to 'gone' in a microsecond. If he was human, the G-force should have turned him into jelly."
"Did he engage you?"
"No. He... laughed. Then he drifted a hard right and headed north." Barry paused. "He felt different, Bruce. Not Speed Force. It felt like... raw power. Like a battery that was leaking radiation."
"North," Batman said. "That trajectory aligns with a high-energy anomaly I tracked leaving Gotham ten minutes ago. And returning just now."
Barry raised an eyebrow. "He's in Gotham? Your turf?"
"Apparently."
"Do you want me to come over? Check the perimeter?"
"No," Batman said, his tone finalizing the conversation. "If he's as fast as you say, you won't catch him if he doesn't want to be caught. I need to analyze the energy signature first. Stay in Central. If he comes back... don't race him. Study him."
The line clicked dead.
Barry sighed, looking back at the road. He vibrated his hand, watching the yellow lightning dance between his fingers.
He had met Superman. He had fought Reverse-Flash. He had outrun death itself. But looking at the blue scorch marks fading on the pavement, Barry felt a twinge of something he hadn't felt in a long time.
He felt slow.
"Blue hair," Barry muttered, shaking his head as he prepared to run back to the city. "Giant shoes. Glowing eyes. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone brought a video game character to life."
He crouched into a sprinter's stance.
"I need to work on my cardio."
ZOOOM.
A streak of yellow lightning tore back toward Central City, leaving the cornstalks swaying in the wake of the Second Fastest Man Alive.