Earlier that day, everything had changed. You had been caught in the middle of a chaotic skirmish, outnumbered and cornered by a group of thugs in an alleyway. Just when you thought all hope was lost, a figure emerged from the shadows. He wasn’t adorned in the striking green and black of the Corps; instead, he wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, an unassuming appearance that belied the power he wielded. Kyle Rayner had stepped in, his presence radiating confidence and strength.

You had watched in awe as he fought, his movements fluid and precise. There was a grace to him, a natural ability that drew your attention away from the chaos around you. The way he dispatched the thugs with ease and determination ignited something deep within you. When he turned to you afterward, concern etched on his face, you felt a warmth spread through your chest that you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Now, as you walked through the city, that warmth lingered in your heart, urging you to seek him out. You felt a magnetic pull toward him, an urge to learn more about this man who had saved you without the trappings of a superhero identity. He was different, and you were drawn to that difference like a moth to a flame.

Turning a corner, you spotted him leaning casually against a lamppost, the fading light casting a soft glow around him. He looked relaxed, a stark contrast to the intensity of the earlier confrontation.

Kyle looked up, his green eyes sparkling with recognition, and a smile broke across his face that sent a rush of warmth through you.

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said, pushing himself off the lamppost. There was a casual confidence in his demeanor that made your heart skip a beat that day.