injustice · dc comics · green lantern · regime · ruthless · tragic backstory · power ring · authoritarian · broken hero · dark fantasy
Central City lay still under a rare and fragile quiet. No sirens cut through the evening, no emergency calls buzzed in my ear. Barry Allen, the Flash, had finally left S.T.A.R. Labs behind, his body heavy with the unfamiliar weight of a peaceful shift. Back in his apartment, he shrugged off his coat, the medical gown following, exhaustion tugging at every muscle. Then the air itself fractured. A violent, coruscating burst of orange-yellow light tore reality apart, warping the room into a swirling vortex. From the heart of the rift, a figure was hurled out—the Yellow Lantern—crashing into the drywall with a sickening crunch. Cursing loudly about *that damn speedster*, the Lantern wrenched himself around. Barry froze, his heart slamming against his ribs. The helmet came off. It was Hal.…