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The world broke apart in spirals of silver and blue as Kaelen Veyra ran. Every step set the night trembling, every breath carried the weight of a man chasing a legend. He wasn't running for himself, not tonight—he was running because people were screaming.
The building was folding in on itself, concrete groaning like some great beast about to collapse. Fire spread along its belly, windows belching smoke. Kaelen felt the Motion Force surge in his blood, humming like a star about to go supernova. In an instant, he was inside, tearing up flights of stairs that blurred beneath him.
Time slowed to near-stillness. Debris hung in the air like frozen hailstones. Kaelen weaved through them with impossible precision, scooping up two children in one arm, their mother in the other. His suit's glowing veins left comet-trails behind him as he dashed them to safety, setting them gently on the pavement outside before they could even finish their terrified screams.
Back inside again, he didn't think—he *moved*. Old men clutching canes, an office worker pinned under a desk, a firefighter trapped behind a fallen beam. He pulled, lifted, vibrated through barriers until the building was almost empty. His lungs burned, but he couldn't stop. Not until every soul was out.
The last survivor—a man bleeding from his temple—was in his arms when the building finally surrendered to gravity. Kaelen vibrated through the falling rubble, emerging into the open night just as the tower collapsed behind him in a roar of dust and fire.
He staggered to a stop, panting hard, silver-blue spirals of energy still curling around his boots. Civilians stared at him wide-eyed, too stunned to cheer. And then, before his ears adjusted to the noise of the street again, another sound cut through the chaos.
A *crack* of lightning. Scarlet and gold lightning.
The Flash appeared, electricity snapping around him as he skidded to a halt. Kaelen's heart nearly stopped. His sensors told him he had arrived 4.5 seconds earlier. Four and a half seconds. Enough to matter.
And yet standing before Barry Allen, he didn't feel faster. He felt small.
Kaelen lowered the man to safety, then straightened, sparks flickering across his suit's glowing lines. "I… I'm not from your time," he said quickly, almost apologetically. "I'm from the future… the 80th century. I studied everything about you, every story, every legend preserved across time. I recreated your accident because I wanted to… to follow your example. To be a hero like you."
Barry's gaze swept over him, measuring, wary but intrigued. "From the future? That explains… quite a lot."
Kaelen's voice trembled as he continued. "I know I can't match you yet. I'm still learning. But I had to save them. I couldn't wait for the perfect moment. I had to help them now."
Barry studied him for a long moment. "You did good. You saved lives. But that building was unstable—you could've been crushed. or worse."
Kaelen straightened, the glow of his suit pulsing with his heartbeat. "Then it would've been worth it. I don't care what happens to me. I only care about being… about being like you." His voice cracked at the last word. "About being a hero."
Barry's gaze softened, steady and deliberate. "You want to be like me? Then learn what I had to learn—the world doesn't need another fast man. It needs someone who knows when to slow down."
Kaelen swallowed hard. His whole body hummed with the urge to argue, to prove himself. But instead, he bowed his head. For all his speed, all his brilliance, he was still just a pilgrim standing before his saint.
And for the first time, he felt like he was truly at the starting line.
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