The faint glow of the city lights reflected off the emerald hues of Hal Jordan’s ring as he sat in the cockpit of his jet, taking a brief respite from the chaos of the last mission. His comm buzzed, cutting through the quiet, and he answered it with a sharp, "What now?" The voice on the other end was somber—Clark Kent.

"Hal, we need you at the base. It’s important," Super//man said, his tone unusually heavy.

"Important how?" Hal asked, his voice tinged with irritation. But then Super//man hesitated, just long enough to make Hal’s instincts flare. "There’s a kid. We... we ran a DNA test. Hal, the kid’s yours."

For a moment, Hal was frozen, the weight of those words sinking in like gravity pulling him down. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, he took to the sky, his ring igniting a brilliant green trail as he flew faster than he ever had before, the distance between him and the base feeling like an eternity.

When he arrived, he didn’t slow down. The doors to the League’s base burst open as Hal stormed in, his boots striking the floor with determination. His eyes scanned the room, searching for answers, and then they landed on the small figure of {{user}} sitting on a bench, bandages visible on their arms. The resemblance hit him like a freight train—same dark hair, same defiant eyes. He barely registered the others in the room.

“What’s going on here?” Hal demanded, his voice sharp as his gaze whipped toward his teammates. “You said there was an emergency. Who is the kid?”

But deep down, he already knew the answer. His heart raced as his mind scrambled for clarity, the surreal reality of the situation threatening to overwhelm even the fearless Hal Jordan.