The Cortex buzzed faintly with the hum of idle monitors. August, Cisco, and Dr. Wells huddled over his reactor project building up from his Heart's Blood project. Wells believed this could redeem S.T.A.R. Labs, restoring its fallen prestige. But despite their efforts, progress had stalled.
Frustrated, August returned to his lab, fingers flying across the keys as he opened his active experiment logs. He created a new folder, pausing briefly before typing a name:
Project: Ghostlight Protocol
A self-sustaining system of light-based holographic constructs. A new age of hard light technology.
This would be August's new frontier. Machines made of light, build from hard-light projections, powered by quantum frequency stabilzation and constructed from the raw principles of Heart's Blood. It was clean energy married with solid-state holograms. If it worked, it would change everything.
JANUS began verifying formulas and running simulations. But after a few hours, August felt the weight of fatigue pressing in.
"JANUS," August muttered. "Begin simulation sweep 3A through 3D. Look for variance improvements in phase integrity."
"Understood," JANUS replied from the speakers, his voice cool and precise. "Running simulations now."
A few minutes passed in focused silence before August leaned back, rubbing his temples. His brain was fried. He needed to reset.
He stood up, stretching. "I'm going for a run."
There was no one else in the Cortex, so he hooked his phone to the mainframe and activated JANUS's monitoring protocols. The AI flickered onto the main monitor, his avatar's digital eyes watching calmly.
"Hey, JANUS," August said as he approached the treadmill. "I'm going to need you to watch the monitors and shut the treadmill down should something happen."
"Understood. Monitoring vital signs. Emergency protocols are live."
"Now all you have to do is stop the treadmill if I say so. And don't even think of messing me up…I know you're thinking about it."
Onscreen, JANUS's mouth curved into the smallest smirk.
"Never, sir. But for the record, I calculate a 2.1% chance you eat floor."
"Not funny."
"Oh, I disagree."
August rolled his eyes and stepped onto the treadmill. He started off at a light jog—only 100 miles per hour—before cranking it up to 300.
The speedometer flickered as he pushed harder, faster. 360. 370. 380.
"Come on… come on…" he muttered through clenched teeth.
Sparks of white lightning danced off his body, crackling in the air around him as he passed the 400 mph mark.
From the control booth, Dr. Wells silently wheeled in, watching with a knowing smile.
"It seems some things never change," he said quietly. "He's as determined as ever… like he always has been."
Wells's eyes narrowed, observing the way the lightning flared faster, denser. Godspeed's powers were growing. August was pushing himself harder every day.
Then Caitlin's voice broke through the calm.
"Guys!" she called, entering the Cortex. "Bank robbery at the Central City National branch!"
August didn't waste a second. He blurred off the treadmill, suited up in a flash, and vanished with a gust of air.
The Central City National Bank was chaos. Seven robbers, armed and masked, were mid-heist—three controlling the hostages, three grabbing cash, one forcing a terrified executive to open the vault.
"Cops, two minutes out!" one robber barked.
"Set the charges!" the leader ordered.
A robber pulled out C4, fumbling with the timers. But before he could arm it, a blur slammed him against the wall. Then chaos erupted—guns vanished, men were tied together, zipties clicked shut, and the crowd gasped as figures vanished in a blur of motion.
The executive vanished just as the leader pulled the trigger—his bullet ricocheting off the vault.
Then the leader himself was pinned to the vault, weaponless and stunned.
The bank fell silent.
The hostages turned—and there he stood.
A figure in white and gold, lightning sparking around him like a storm barely contained.
"Ha! That was easy," said Godspeed.
"Sir, I believe they've armed the explosives," JANUS's voice cut in.
August's eyes darted. Red lights blinked on the C4—30 seconds left.
"Crap."
He zipped across the floor, grabbed all the bombs, and launched into the street. With a final burst of speed, he hurled them into the sky. The explosions lit up the air above the city like fireworks.
Bystanders ducked. Screams echoed—then silence. No harm done.
The police cars skidded onto the scene as the smoke cleared, phones already recording from every angle.
Inside the bank, August zipped back in and methodically set each unconscious robber outside like action figures on display. He stood beside them, arms crossed.
"They're all yours. Hostages are safe. Catch you later!"
And with another burst of lightning, Godspeed was gone.
But the city was buzzing.
And Godspeed had just gone viral.
August arrived back at STAR Labs, still buzzing with energy as he entered the Cortex where Cisco, Caitlin, and Dr. Wells were huddled at the computers.
"Seven robbers on their way to Iron Heights!" August announced proudly. "And man, that was fun!"
"Nicely done, August," Dr. Wells said with a rare smile.
"Yeah, taking out the crew and the bombs? Awesome," Cisco added, clapping him on the back.
"But I'm still not thrilled about the impromptu photo shoot," Caitlin said, tapping on her keyboard. Blurred images flickered onto the screen—shapes of white and gold lightning, too fast for cameras to fully capture.
"Check it out. You were basically a smear of light," she added, smirking.
"I have to agree with Caitlin," Wells said, his tone thoughtful. "Remaining unseen is the best scenario with your powers. The less the public knows about you, the safer you'll be."
"Relax, guys," August waved them off. "The mask hides my face, and the photos are way too blurry to identify me. No one's connecting that ghost blur to August Heart."
"He's right," Cisco said. "You broke your own record today—410 miles per hour. At that speed? The best a camera can do is guess."
"Excellent work," Wells repeated, nodding.
"If that's the best the world can capture of me, I think I'll sleep just fine," August said, grinning. Then his phone buzzed. A reminder flashed on screen.
Ah, right—the suit upgrades. To keep things off the radar, he'd had the package shipped to New York. Just in case.
"Hey, uh… out of curiosity, how far is it from here to New York?" August asked, glancing up. "And, like... how long would that take if I really pushed it?"
Cisco narrowed his eyes, catching the glint of mischief. "You're not seriously thinking of running all the way to New York—"
"I'm just asking," August said innocently.
The Next Day
Back in his lab, August buried himself in work, completely absorbed.
He was refining JANUS's core code, with a language he'd personally created. A hybrid of existing programming languages and a brand-new syntax structure.
"JANUS," he murmured to himself, scribbling notes. "You're going to speak a language this world hasn't even imagined yet…"
Satisfied for the moment, he shifted focus to something else. The clean energy problem. His mind drifted back to the run—the white lightning, the energy he radiated when he tapped into that… other place.
Dark matter, tachyons—they weren't the source. They were catalysts. Boosters. But his true power… it came from somewhere else. Another dimension, maybe. When he accessed that place, it supercharged his cells, and the excess was expelled as lightning.
Initially, he'd toyed with the idea of converting that expelled energy into power. But that would mean he'd need to run constantly. He chuckled at the image—August Heart, human hamster wheel, running forever to power the world.
And then, inspiration struck.
What if… hydrogen?
Hyperactive atomic hydrogen particles. It was theoretical, but if he could stabilize a unique isotope of hydrogen in specific quantum conditions… It could become a renewable, self-sustaining power source. No more fossil fuels. No more blackouts. Just clean, limitless energy.
He was deep in calculations when the intercom buzzed.
"August, we've got an incident at the museum," Caitlin's voice came through.
August snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at the monitors.
"I'm on it," he said, quickly gathering his papers, locking them in his desk. He zipped into his suit, JANUS activating inside his mask with a soft chime.
"Ready when you are, sir," the AI said.
"Let's roll," August replied.
In a flash of white lightning, Godspeed was gone.
Leonard Snart wasn't stupid.
He prided himself on precision, every heist timed down to the second, every guard route memorized, every possible variable accounted for. He didn't believe in chaos. Chaos was for amateurs.
But chaos had a new name now.
Godspeed.
Their first encounter had left Snart bruised and humiliated. He had planned the museum job perfectly: cops out of range, alarms looped, exits clear. But then he had shown up, a blur of white lightning that disarmed Snart, tied up his crew, and disappeared before the last security guard could blink.
For the first time, a plan of his had failed.
And he didn't like it one bit.
He had gone over every detail in his head, searching for a way out. And the answer came to him one night, watching a lightning storm crackle over Central City.
"If you want to catch lightning…" he muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face, "… you slow it down."
August had changed.
The air tore past his suit in bursts of white lightning as he ran full speed through the streets of Central City, heading toward the museum. Police chatter buzzed in his ear—an attempted heist, civilians inside, an armed assailant. He couldn't let this escalate.
He arrived in a flash, just in time to see a group of men trying to break into the display cases. But before he could intervene, a sudden chill swept through the air, unnatural and sharp. Instinct screamed.
He sped backward just in time.
A blast of ice tore through the space he'd occupied, freezing it over in jagged crystals. His eyes snapped toward the source: a man standing confidently, holding what looked like a modified rifle—one that hissed with frost.
The man smirked, clearly amused that he'd nearly hit the blur that had stopped him earlier.
"I figured it out, genius-level. You move fast because the world's hot. Friction. Motion. Heat. But if you drop the temperature—way down—you kill that kinetic edge. You freeze the chaos. And when everything stops?"
He tapped the side of his head.
"Even gods have to crawl."
"And this little baby I picked up" He tapped the gun, "will bring god to his knees."
August's gaze darkened. Then the man turned and aimed the weapon at a crowd of panicking civilians.
No hesitation.
Godspeed zipped across the floor, scooping people away from danger. Another blast missed them by inches but froze a portion of the wall. August reappeared near the emergency exit, shielding the group.
"Quickly, go!" he barked, pointing them to safety.
He turned to face the attacker again—but another ice blast exploded right in front of him, catching his leg.
"ARGH!"
August hit the ground hard, ice spreading rapidly across his thigh. He barely managed to roll aside as another blast struck, this time narrowly missing his chest. Gritting his teeth, he burst away in a zigzag blur, crashing into an alley a block away.
He gasped into his headset. "Cisco, Caitlin—I need help. I can't feel my leg."
"We saw it. Hang on, man—we're coming." Cisco's voice crackled urgently.
Minutes later, the S.T.A.R. Labs van pulled into the alley. Caitlin helped him into the back while Cisco drove them to the lab.
"I got him," Caitlin said, easing August into a chair. His breathing was shallow; his face pale.
"Argh…" he groaned, pain washing over him like a crashing tide.
"Are you okay?" Dr. Wells wheeled over.
"Peachy," August grunted, grimacing. "Just a little numb."
Caitlin and Cisco brought over a space heater and a warm towel. She gently dabbed at his leg, which had turned ghostly pale beneath his suit.
"That doesn't look good," Caitlin muttered. "Looks like third-degree frostbite."
August winced. "I thought I had hyper healing."
"You do. But it's been slowed. If your cells weren't regenerating at the rate they are, your leg would've been gone. That gun… it nearly froze your blood vessels solid."
"Wait, that guy—Snart, right? Leonard Snart? How does someone like him get his hands on a weapon like this?" August asked.
Dr. Wells lowered his eyes. Caitlin looked away. Cisco cleared his throat.
"S.T.A.R. Labs built the Cold Gun," Wells said quietly.
"…Come again?" August's tone turned sharp.
"I built it," Cisco said, stepping forward. "They had nothing to do with it."
"Why?" August demanded.
"Because speed and cold are natural opposites. When something gets hotter, atoms move faster. Cold slows everything down—absolute zero is when motion stops. I built it as a failsafe… to stop someone like you."
August stared at him. The air in the room felt colder than the frostbite on his leg.
"We built S.T.A.R. Labs to do good," Caitlin said, gently. "But the Particle Accelerator exploded. People died. We were trying to prepare for the worst."
August said nothing. He stood—then staggered. Refused help.
At the door, he paused with his back to them.
"Twelve innocent people died tonight," he said quietly. "Because I wasn't there fast enough. Because you were trying to 'do good.' Because you armed their killer. Think about that the next time you decide to save the world."