It began with a flicker.
Central City's northern grid—one of its most stable—sputtered out for exactly thirty-seven seconds. Traffic lights blinked to black mid-sequence. Elevators jolted and froze. Security systems across banks, hospitals, data centers, and city offices reset without warning.
Then, just as suddenly, everything came back online. No alarms, no alerts, no obvious damage. But something was wrong.
At S.T.A.R. Labs, the blackout drew immediate attention.
"This grid has backup upon backup," Caitlin said as she read through CCPD alerts, her voice tight with concern. "It doesn't just… go dark."
Cisco was already at his station, fingers flying across the keyboard as telemetry fed onto the main screens. "No sign of overload. The shutdown was controlled. Pinpointed. Someone flipped the right switch."
"No, not just someone," August said, stepping out of the chamber where he'd been calibrating the VIREL Core. "Someone who knew the timing of the city's power routing. Who knew when and where to strike to cause the least noise—but the most effect."
"JANUS," Caitlin called out. "Cross-reference all public and private surveillance during the blackout."
It took hours for anything to surface. Most of it didn't make sense—until it did.
Footage from MetroBank—a key node in the affected grid—showed a man entering during the outage. Dark coat, confident gait, face obscured by shadows and perfectly timed angles. He moved fluidly, navigating the building with disturbing ease.
No vaults were breached. No money missing. But the vault's internal logs told another story: someone had opened it. Closed it. And left behind not a trace.
"No forced entry," Cisco muttered, narrowing his eyes. "No fingerprint. No camera saw him head-on. He knew exactly where the blind spots were."
August stared at the screen. "This was a dry run."
But that wasn't the only mystery unfolding.
Later that evening, while tracing the disruption's epicenter, JANUS unearthed something older, buried deep in CCPD records and off-the-books files.
The name: William Tockman.
His file was old, predating even the metahuman crisis.
"Former systems engineer and predictive analytics consultant," Caitlin read aloud, eyes scanning the screen. "Highly respected… until five years ago when he was fired for unstable behavior."
"He accused the city of gross inefficiency," Cisco added. "Claimed that poor timing protocols were costing lives and resources. Filed dozens of reports—none taken seriously."
Then came the twist.
Tockman had been arrested in Starling City after trying to murder an employee of Queen Consolidated, blaming them for helping 'steal time' from him. He was stopped by the vigilante—The Arrow.
It got worse.
"JANUS," August prompted, "Find records of Tockman's escape."
The AI displayed archived video footage. August, Cisco, and Caitlin watched in silence as the scene from several months ago played back.
During a blackout—caused by a metahuman later identified as Farooq Gibran—Tockman had escaped custody while being held at the Central City Police Department. In the chaos, he had taken several officers hostage, including Detective Joe West and his daughter Iris.
He vanished soon after.
"He's been planning this since the day he vanished," Caitlin whispered.
***
The next day, another hit.
Another controlled blackout—this time at the Central City Data Authority. Only thirty-five seconds, but the damage was worse. Sensitive digital archives were breached and partially corrupted. No alarms. No backup alerts. But just like before, the man in the coat was there. Again, the footage revealed nothing concrete—only a calculated blur, masked by precision.
"He's using the city's timing against itself," Cisco said. "He's not bypassing security—he's navigating it. Every move is within margins. Like clockwork."
August folded his arms. "He's not attacking infrastructure randomly. He's following a schedule."
***
Two nights later, the third strike hit the Central Communications Relay.
The blackout lasted thirty-one seconds. All emergency broadcast systems went dead. When the lights came back on, technicians found no breach. But taped to the main console, a single yellow sticky note:
"Time waits for no one. – W.T."
He was leaving messages now. Proof he wanted them to know.
***
Back at S.T.A.R. Labs, tension brewed.
"He's escalating," Cisco said, hunched over a map of Central City's grid.
"He's not just proving a point anymore," Caitlin added. "He's working toward something."
August pulled up a schematic overlay of the city's infrastructure.
"Power. Data. Communication. The pattern's clear. Each hit builds on the last. And there's only one high-value target left untouched—the Central Broadcast Tower."
"He takes that out," Cisco said, "and he controls the city's voice."
August nodded. "Then we make sure he doesn't."
***
Back at S.T.A.R. Labs, tension brewed.
"He's escalating," Cisco said, hunched over a map of Central City's grid.
"He's not just proving a point anymore," Caitlin added. "He's working toward something."
August pulled up a schematic overlay of the city's infrastructure.
"Power. Data. Communication. The pattern's clear. Each hit builds on the last. And there's only one high-value target left untouched—the Central Broadcast Tower."
"He takes that out," Cisco said, "and he controls the city's voice."
August nodded. "Then we make sure he doesn't."
***
The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Godspeed arrived atop the Central Broadcast Tower just as the storm rolled in. Lightning cracked in the distance. The air was thick with static and tension.
William Tockman stood in the rain, a small stopwatch ticking in his hand. He looked gaunt, pale—but calm. Always calm.
"I expected you earlier," Tockman said without turning. "Six seconds late, Godspeed."
August didn't flinch. "You're trying to crash the city's frequency grid."
"Trying?" Tockman smiled faintly. "I've already succeeded. You're just here to witness the delay."
Godspeed moved.
In a flash, he deactivated the tampered relay panel, scrambled the uplink, and disarmed Tockman. The stopwatch fell with a wet clink against the rooftop.
"You could've asked for help," August said, pressing him against the antenna. "You chose chaos instead."
"Help?" Tockman coughed, eyes burning. "I asked. I begged. And time still ran out."
He stopped resisting.
"I only wanted them to listen."
August stared for a moment, then turned away.
"You made them listen. But the cost is yours to bear."