"Um... Ladies and gentlen of the jury... My evidence... isn't here yet. Please, just wait a little longer! Prince Lucci promised he would co with the evidence!" Barry said nervously.
"Prince Lucci?" The mont the na was ntioned, the entire courtroom exploded! Even the usually stern and old-fashioned judge looked shocked. The jurors exchanged glances, disbelief on their faces.
"Oh my god! Did he say... Prince Lucci?"
"The one who defeated the Chitauri and saved Earth?"
"Does Barry really know Prince Lucci? How is that possible?"
Even Henry Allen, who was always pale, showed surprise and confusion at the ntion of the na.
The judge took a deep breath, calming himself. He knocked the gavel again and solemnly confird with Barry, "Barry Allen, when you say Prince Lucci, do you an... the god we know? The Prince of Asgard?"
"Yes! Your Honor! Him!" Barry nodded forcefully and replied with certainty. "He promised he'd co. Please, just a little patience!"
The courtroom was thrown into chaos again. The na Lucci now held extraordinary significance on Earth. Not only was he powerful, he was a savior—a living god walking the world!
The presiding judge and the head juror exchanged silent looks. In the end, the judge spoke again, his tone much softer now, though cautious. "Very well, Barry Allen. For your sake... and in respect of Prince Lucci... this court may grant you additional ti. However," his eyes sharpened, "if you are lying, or if this is a trick, you know the consequences better than anyone."
"I'm not lying! Thank you, Your Honor! Thank you!" Barry nodded repeatedly as if granted amnesty.
But as everyone waited, ti ticked away rcilessly. The clock on the wall marked every passing second, each tick like a heavy hamr on Barry's anxious heart.
Five minutes passed... no one at the courtroom entrance.
Fifteen minutes... still nothing.
Whispers rippled through the jury.
"Is he lying to us? How long has it been?"
"Honestly, how could soone like Prince Lucci—a being like a fairy—know a regular guy like Barry?"
"Poor guy. Looks like he really tried everything to prove his father's innocence."
Doubt stabbed at Barry's heart like needles, his face growing paler. Even the judge frowned deeply, patience running thin.
Henry Allen, seeing his son's anxious, helpless expression, showed a fleeting look of pain and sorrow. He gently shook his head, as if to say, "Give up, son. This is my fate."
But just as Barry was nearly crushed by the pressure, the judge raised his gavel again, about to declare a recess—
Buzz—
In the center of the courtroom, the air suddenly rippled like water! The next mont, spatial waves spread out, and soone appeared before them—as if out of thin air!
He had black hair and eyes, and a calm expression as if just returning from a distant journey. There was still a faint aura of cosmic stardust about him.
It was Lucci!
The entire solemn courtroom was instantly frozen in an uncanny silence. Everyone's movents halted. The judge's hand, lifting the gavel, stopped in midair. The jurors' faces froze in shock and awe as if they'd seen a ghost. The spectators, like marionettes whose pause button had been pressed, opened their mouths wide, unable to tear their eyes from the figure who appeared.
Was this really... Prince Lucci? Was he truly here, looking like this?
"Prince Lucci!" The deathly silence was broken by a cry of joy and relief.
Barry was nearly in tears, staring at the familiar, commanding figure. The weight pressing down on his heart finally fell away. The few minutes just now felt longer than a century to him. Now, his savior had co!
Barry's cry snapped everyone out of their trance. Instantly, the courtroom erupted into even greater chaos.
"Oh my god! It's really him!"
"Prince Lucci! The living, breathing Lucci!"
The judge snapped back to his senses, quickly laid down the gavel, and restored order. The bailiffs were the first to rise, bowing deeply in excitent and respect to Lucci. Next, the jurors, lawyers, bailiffs, and even the audience all stood and bowed, paying the highest honor to the hero who had saved the world.
This was heartfelt respect, unrelated to identity, status, or profession.
Lucci calmly surveyed the audience. He nodded lightly at Barry first, signaling him to be at ease. Then he raised his hand to the crowd, his voice steady and powerful: "Everyone, please excuse . In court, the rules co first. Please be seated."
His voice was not loud, but it carried a strange healing power, reaching everyone's ears clearly. Only then did everyone regain composure and sit down again—but their eyes never left Lucci.
"Yes... court is in session," Lucci said gently.
"Yes! Yes!" The judge nodded quickly, forced himself to set aside the excitent of seeing his idol, and returned to his professional deanor.
He struck the gavel again. "Let the trial continue!" he declared.
Then, looking at Lucci with unprecedented respect, he spoke: "Your Highness, Barry Allen claims to have crucial evidence proving his father Henry Allen's innocence. May I ask... is this true? Can you... present it to the court?"
Everyone's hearts raced again. They were all eager to see what kind of evidence this godlike prince would bring forth. Was it undiscovered surveillance footage? Or had he found a key witness that was missed?
Lucci t their gazes, nodding calmly. "Of course. My evidence is simple. I will take you back to that night directly. See with your own eyes what happened. Witness... the truth."
What did he an? The entire courtroom was stunned. Go back to that night? Was he joking? Would he use slides or projections to simulate the scene?
Before anyone could react to this shocking statent, Lucci was already moving. He produced no equipnt and chanted no spells. He simply willed it, a faint light flashing in his deep eyes—the power of ti itself.
"Ti... rewind!"
As his words fell, an invisible force instantly centered on him, enveloping the entire courtroom. Everyone felt themselves surrounded by a warm, wondrous energy, their thoughts slowing. The scene before their eyes began to change dramatically!
The walls, seats, and ceiling of the courtroom all beca transparent and illusory in an instant. Instead, a rotating tunnel of ti and space, ford from countless fragnts of light and shadow, appeared! Like being thrown into a kaleidoscope, countless images flashed by in reverse—the day turning to night, the sun rising and setting, seasons changing in a blink...
It lasted only a mont. When the scene settled, they were shocked to find they were no longer in the courthouse—but "floating" in a cozy living room!
Outside the window, it was a dark and stormy night, thunder and lightning flashing. An old cartoon played on the TV, a blond boy looking at his father with admiration.
And in the middle of the living room, a terrible scene unfolded! Two blurred figures, one yellow and one red lightning, fought desperately at speeds far beyond human vision! One of the red lightning figures suddenly grabbed the young boy and carried him to safety outside.
Then, within the living room, the yellow lightning figure drew a dagger and stabbed the fallen hostess in terror—Nora Allen!
At this mont, the image froze—on Reverse-Flash's face!
"No!" Barry burst into tears at the sight of this scene. This was the deepest, most painful mory of his life.
Everyone in the courtroom, including the judge and bailiffs, was stunned and chilled to the bone! Could it be... that night, there was really a third person—no, a fourth? Was Henry Allen really not the killer?
Everyone was shocked by the truth before their eyes.
But then, an elderly juror bowed deeply to Lucci, awe in his expression, and mustered all his courage. "Your Highness!" he said, voice trembling but firm. "We are all grateful for your deeds in saving the world! But... this is a court of law! Here, before the law, we must question and examine everything!"
He drew a deep breath and asked the most critical and pointed question: "How can we believe the scenes you showed us are truly from the past... and not illusions created by so divine power we cannot understand?"
As soon as this question was raised, the judge and all the jurors nodded. This was the key question—an unavoidable core doubt! Barry's chest tightened. This was also the thing he feared most.
Miracles are shocking, but the law is the law—a system based on verifiable and falsifiable evidence. If it can't be proven real, it cannot justify a verdict. Even if... the one who showed the "evidence" was the god who saved the world.
Barry's heart leaped to his throat. He knew better than anyone how deadly this question was. If the authenticity of this footage couldn't be proven, not only would it fail to prove his father's innocence—it might even lead to charges of "supernatural interference with justice," making things worse!
He looked at Lucci nervously, palms sweating.
Yet Lucci's face showed not the slightest surprise or embarrassnt. He smiled calmly. "Your doubt is entirely reasonable," he said serenely, eting the juror's gaze with satisfaction. "So, I'll show you the authenticity of this evidence."
With that, he raised his right hand and lightly wiped his index finger through the air.
Buzz—
The frozen image triggered a chain of afterimages, and the perspective rapidly shifted! The next mont, a new scene was clearly presented: a sowhat cramped office, the wall hung with legal certificates, the desk piled high with case files. A much younger judge, with fuller hair, wrote at his desk. He yawned, reached for his coffee, but his hand shook from exhaustion, spilling brown coffee onto his new striped tie. He cursed irritably and wiped it with a napkin.
Upon seeing this, the judge's body suddenly shook! His sharp eyes widened, all his usual composure and dignity replaced by shock and fear—as if he'd seen a ghost.
Because... the man in the image was him, in his youth!
He rembered that night clearly—it was the first major case he handled as a district attorney, working late to finish his closing argunt. The stained tie was the first birthday gift his wife ever gave him, and he'd fretted over it for days! No one else in the world could know this mory, not even his closest friends.
How could this be?
Before he could recover, Lucci wiped his finger again, and the picture changed.
Now, a dimly lit cinema played an old romance movie. In the back row, a young couple quietly argued about the story's direction—the man insisting the hero should choose the number-one girl, the woman claiming the official ship was the queen... The man, calmly arguing, was the young version of the juror who'd just asked the question!
"..." The juror's mouth dropped open, pointing at the screen, then at himself, mind blank, unable to say a word! Of course, he rembered that night—it was his sixth date with his wife! Their movie argunt beca a running joke between them.
The scenes kept changing: In a college dorm, a bespectacled girl video-chatted with her parents, complaining about cafeteria food—this was the student juror's own college days. In a bustling bar, a long-haired youth raised a toast with friends, celebrating their band's first gig—another juror's unrestrained youth.
...Scene after scene.
On the night Nora Allen was struck by lightning, every juror, even the judge, saw exactly what they themselves were doing at that mont—shown by Lucci in a way that was utterly clear, real, and irrefutable.
The entire courtroom was plunged into dead silence.
Reviews
All reviews (0)