by CSyphrett
“Recall the subject,” the Director commanded, his voice smooth yet underscored with authority. “I believe he has stretched his personality far enough for now.”
Battly, his loyal aide, nodded and turned to one of the technicians at a nearby console. The technician’s long, spindly fingers danced across the holopads, dispatching the recall signal through the subspace channels.
Moments later, Battly’s voice cut through the tension in the room. “The subject refuses the signal,” he reported quietly, his brow creased with concern.
The Director’s expression darkened, irritation flaring in his eyes. “He does, does he?” he replied, his tone dripping with condescension. “Dump his core system. We’ll see how much freedom he really has.”
Battly hesitated, sensing the gravity of the situation. “And the ship?” he asked cautiously, fully aware of the implications of the Director’s orders.
“Self-destruct,” the Director commanded, flicking imaginary lint off the sleeve of his immaculate jacket as if dismissing a minor inconvenience. “Mustn’t let the Terrans gain access to any more advanced technology, after all.”
“Yes, sir,” Battly replied calmly, fully realizing that the robotic body would obliterate everything within several miles of the blast’s epicenter. He watched as the ready lights flickered to life, their ominous glow heralding imminent destruction.
***
Meanwhile, Noleon Fae stood still in the heart of a forest, a conch shell of green pressed firmly to one ear, listening intently. After a moment, he dispersed the creation and placed a green visor over his eyes, the technology enhancing his perception of the world around him. Now, he understood what was happening. The threat loomed large, and the question remained: could he defeat it with his power ring?
Suddenly, a glittering effect illuminated the forest, causing the Green Lantern to tense up in preparation for what came next. A split second later, energy beams sliced through the air just as Fae ducked forward, narrowly evading the blaster bolts whizzing past him. He sprinted away from the trap, seeking refuge behind a sturdy tree, his heart racing as he assessed his surroundings.
Pausing, he considered his next move. Yellow energy rained down on his position, and the ground erupted in a shower of dirt and debris. A blaster bolt ripped up the earth in front of him, sending Fae tumbling off his feet. He slid to a hard stop, crashing against the rough bark of a yellow tree, pain shooting through his body.
Picking himself up on one knee, Fae scanned the area through his green visor, which pinpointed the positions of his opponents lurking among the yellow trees. He could see their silhouettes, the menace they posed clear against the backdrop of the forest.
Aiming his ring at the nearest mercenary, he felt the surge of energy coursing through him. Just as another energy beam sliced through the air, he unleashed a wave of gravity, propelling the humanoid forward. The mercenary collided with a tree, crashing to the ground in a heap.
But the moment of triumph was short-lived. A beam from the fighting force sliced into Fae, knocking him back. He grunted as the impact reverberated through his body, determination igniting within him. He couldn’t give up; he had to fight back. Whoever his enemies were, they were out for blood.
***
Just outside Metropolis, the silver robotic ship, piloted by the disembodied consciousness of Mongul, plummeted from the sky, crashing to the ground beside a stunned Superman. The Man of Steel used his super-vision to scan the wreckage. He quickly determined that the robot had lost control, its core building up a dangerously unstable charge.
“Not on my watch,” Superman muttered, his jaw tightening with resolve. He lunged forward, gripping the edge of the saucer-like ship. With a mighty heave, he lifted it over his head, feeling its weight press against his muscles.
His acute hearing warned him that time was running out. The ominous ticking of impending disaster rang in his ears as he propelled himself and the vessel into the atmosphere. The world below shrank as he soared higher, the air rushing past him.
With all his titanic strength, the Man of Steel hurled the flying saucer beyond the Moon, watching as it accelerated into the void of space, liberated from the friction of Earth’s atmosphere. For a fleeting moment, it hung in the sky like a comet before erupting into a brilliant explosion, illuminating the darkness for an instant.
As Superman hovered in the sky, he regarded the massive explosion with a mix of awe and relief, realizing how close he had come to losing his beloved Metropolis. He took a moment to catch his breath, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and gazed at the debris.
“Another day, another disaster dealt with,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Yet deep down, he knew other such dangers would inevitably rise to threaten his adopted world, which would always keep him busy. The universe was vast, and threats lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
***
On the planet Colu, President Vril Dox darted through the corridors, his mind racing with a series of epiphanies as he narrowly evaded a barrage of energy pulses slicing through the air with lethal intent. The first bitter realization struck him: he should have fortified the building against teleporters. The second revelation was even more alarming — he had confirmed that a mastermind was orchestrating the chaos. The third thought, absurd yet pressing in the face of danger, flickered through his mind: Did I wear my protective vest today?
Before he could fully process these inner reflections, a bolt struck his chest with jarring force, tearing through the top of his jumpsuit. Heat surged through him, and pain erupted as his protective vest struggled to dissipate the energy of the projectile into harmless light. He collapsed to the floor, the vest’s limited capabilities faltering under the relentless assault.
Cautiously, the assassins approached, their weapons trained on him, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. One of them paused to aim at his head, ensuring the next bolt would finish the job. It was a cold, calculated move — after all, they were professionals. Collect their pay and move on to the next job.
As he lay there, Dox flinched at the ominous whine of the charge building in the assassin’s weapon. The sound echoed in his mind, mingling with the memory of Garryn Bek’s voice, filled with disappointment. “You’re too reckless, Dox. Put that brilliant mind of yours to work and think strategically.”
“I’m thinking now, Garryn,” he muttered under his breath, scrambling to regain his composure as the weight of the situation bore down on him.
***
On a distant planet, Noleon Fae lay beneath the yellow branches of a nearby tree, his long coat and green shirt shredded by the energy blasts that had struck him. The hunters approached cautiously, weapons at the ready, their confidence bolstered by the knowledge that Green Lanterns were vulnerable to yellow. It was a tactical decision to set the ambush on this predominantly yellow planet, to don yellow armor, and to wield weapons that fired yellow energy. No one stopped to think twice as they closed in on the fallen Lantern, believing they were about to collect a hefty fee with proof of his death.
But just as they began to encircle him, a surge of green energy erupted from Fae’s power ring. Emerald tentacles furiously shot forth, plunging into the eye and mouth holes of the hunters’ armor. In a swift and violent display, the tentacles expanded, ripping the armor apart and leaving the assassins exposed and defenseless. The prehensile limbs effortlessly ensnared the naked would-be killers, flinging them about to exhaust their energy and bring them to heel.
Fae rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his torn shirt and feeling the fresh scar on his chest with a fingertip. Surveying the chaos he had unleashed, a smirk crept across his face. “Anyone want to talk voluntarily?” he called out. The hired killers had no choice but to comply, their bravado shattered in the face of his unexpected resurgence.
“You didn’t think you could take me out that easily, did you?” Noleon Fae taunted. “You should have known better.”
One of the hunters managed to stammer, “We — we were just following orders!”
“Who sent you?” Fae demanded, his tone turning serious. “I want names.”
“Please, we can’t–”
“Then I’ll make it easy for you,” Fae interrupted, the energy tentacles tightening their grip around the hunter, eliciting a gasp of fear. “You’ll talk, one way or another. Who hired you?”
The hunter’s eyes widened, panic setting in. “Okay! Okay! Just don’t kill me!” he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice. “I don’t know his name, but he had green skin and was willing to pay well to ensure your death!”
Fae frowned. The sparse description could be any number of sentient species, from Psions to Coluans. “So what’s this mastermind’s plan? Why me?”
“He says you’re a thorn in his side and wants you eliminated,” the hunter stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “You’re at the top of his kill list.”
“Interesting,” Fae mused, his mind racing. “And who else is on that list?”
The hunter hesitated, glancing at his comrades, who were still struggling against the green tendrils. “We were just told to take you both out — you and Vril Dox! I don’t know anything else! I swear!”
“Dox, eh?” Fae said, narrowing his eyes as he weighed the hunter’s words. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood,” he said, releasing the tentacles just enough for the hunter to breathe. “But if I find out you’re lying, I won’t be so lenient next time.”
***
On Colu, Vril Dox narrowly managed to escape almost certain death, rolling to the left just in time to avoid fiery sparks erupting from the floor as the mercenaries’ weapons discharged where he had just been. Drawing a sonic driver from his belt, he thumbed the beam wide open. The mercenaries began to tremble and violently shake, caught in the vibrational field emitted by the device, their expressions shifting from confidence to panic.
“Get him!” one of them managed to shout, the command nearly drowned out by the cacophony of sound and chaos.
Dox sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he dived into an empty office, inhaling the acrid, scorched air that filled his nostrils. Locking the door behind him, he bought himself precious seconds to search the room for a weapon.
His gaze darted around the office before finally settling on a comm screen. “This will have to do,” he muttered, his fingers flying over the controls. He just needed to hold out until Garryn Bek could track his location and arrive with his security detail.
A nostalgic smile broke across his face, memories flooding back. He hadn’t felt this much excitement since the Glorious Revolution, years earlier, when he and his resistance fighters had toppled the rule of the Computer Tyrants. The thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline — it was intoxicating.
“Come on, Garryn,” he whispered, his heart racing. “I could really use some backup right about now.”
Frantically working the comm screen, his mind raced as he tried to connect with his head of security. “Come on, Garryn, pick up,” he muttered, frustration mounting. The sound of weapons firing outside the door underscored the urgency of the situation.
Finally, the screen flickered to life, revealing Garryn Bek’s concerned face. “Dox! What’s going on? I’ve been trying to reach you!”
“Garryn, I’m under attack! I need you to send reinforcements — now!” Dox replied, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding him.
“Reinforcements? Where are you?” Garryn asked, his brow furrowing.
“In one of the offices along the west wing. They’re almost through the door!” Dox shouted. “Hurry!”
“I’m on my way,” Garryn said, determination in his voice. “Just hold tight. I’ll get you out of there.”
Dox ended the call, his heart pounding as he braced for the worst. He could hear the mercenaries outside, their voices low and conspiratorial. “He’s in there. We need to flush him out,” one of them said.
“We’ll blast the door,” another suggested, and Dox’s stomach dropped.
He quickly scanned the room for anything he could use as a weapon, but nothing looked promising. His eyes returned to the comm screen, and a slight smile played upon his lips as a plan began to form.
***
“Mongul, Mongul, Mongul,” said the Director, shaking his head with a mix of frustration and amusement. His voice dripped with condescension as he addressed the entity trapped within the confines of a sleek, metallic box. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Let me out of this box, you popinjay!” came the furious reply, echoing with a mechanical rasp that reverberated in the sterile room. “I was winning for once!”
“Shut up,” the Director shot back, his tone cold and unyielding. “I own you — pad, works, and cover. When I say kill, you kill. When I say heel, you heel. One push of the button, and you’re deleted forever. I’ll find someone else to fill your shoes. You may have done grandiose things in the past, but you’re my servant now. Get used to it. One more act of disobedience, and out you go.”
“You can’t talk to me like that!” Mongul protested, the disembodied conqueror’s voice rising in indignation. “I am the greatest ruler alive!”
“You’re nothing but a tin box that can be shut off at any time I wish,” the Director replied, his voice laced with authority.
With a dismissive gesture, he signaled to Battly, his loyal aide, who stood at the ready. With the push of a button, Battly disabled the connections to the artificial brain’s senses, plunging Mongul into a silence that felt palpable in the air. They waited five long minutes before turning the robot back on.
“Next time,” the Director warned, his voice low and menacing, “it’s for good. Understood?”
“Understood,” the machine replied sullenly, though a flicker of defiance lingered in its circuits. But I will pay you back for this indignity, it thought silently, plotting revenge in the depths of its artificial mind.
***
On Colu, a sudden explosion of energy bolts shattered the reinforced door to the closed office, sending splinters flying in all directions. The pirates surged into the room, their faces masked with determination and greed.
A comm screen flickered to life, displaying a chaotic array of static that danced across its surface, mesmerizing the intruders.
“Look at that!” one of the armored men exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe.
But as the rapidly shifting colors played over their eyes, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. One man dropped his rifle, collapsing to the ground in a fit of despair, sobbing for a life he felt was wasted. The others followed suit, their bravado evaporating as they began weeping like children.
The telltale shimmer of a teleporter glittering in midair was the only indication that the men had been recalled, their mission thwarted by an unseen force.
Seizing the moment, Vril Dox slipped past his assailants just as guards rushed into view. “Watch out for the hypnotic screen!” he shouted, urgency lacing his voice. He moved quickly to assess the damage, waving off concerns for his safety.
Absently, he realized he was sweating from the fight. Wiping the blood from his face, President Dox made his way back to the Parliamentary chambers. Questions had been raised that demanded answers.
***
In deep space, Noleon Fae soared toward Colu as swiftly as his power ring could propel him, riding atop a magnificent, glowing green lizard. The air shimmered around them as they effortlessly navigated past the defensive screens, entering the gleaming silver façade of the presidential building.
Upon arrival, a wave of relief washed over Fae as he realized that, while he was too late to save the Coluan President himself, the hunters had not succeeded in their mission. Fortunately, Vril Dox had emerged unscathed from the attack, and his security forces had swiftly regained control of the situation.
“President Dox!” Fae called out as he landed, the lizard dissipating into a swirl of vibrant green energy. “What happened? I heard there was an attack!”
The security forces, wary of any new attackers, surrounded the Green Lantern with raised weapons, trying to force him back, until the President of Colu intervened. “I know him. Let him through!”
Vril Dox turned toward his comrade, his expression a blend of fatigue and recognition. “Noleon Fae, I presume? Your reputation certainly precedes you, Green Lantern.”
The two men shook hands, and Fae took a moment to explain what had brought him there.
“I’m grateful for your presence,” President Dox replied, relief evident in his voice. “Fortunately, both teams of assassins sent against us were unable to inflict any real damage. However, I could certainly use your assistance in uncovering who orchestrated these attacks.”
Fae nodded, his eyes narrowing with determination as his power ring pulsed with intensity. “I gathered some intel on my way here. It seems there’s a hidden mastermind behind these attacks — the one who sent these hired guns against each of us. He’s also been orchestrating pirate raids, striking with precision while remaining undetectable.”
“Then I suggest we discover the location where these hired killers were first spotted and look for any evidence we can find,” Dox suggested, his mind racing with possibilities. “They teleported in, but they must have done so from somewhere else on Colu.”
“Agreed,” Fae replied, his voice steady and resolute. “But we’ll need your troops for the groundwork. I’ll share the information I’ve gathered, and we’ll coordinate our efforts.”
As they began to strategize, the atmosphere shifted, charged with urgency and determination. Both men understood that, while their enemy had struck at them, he remained hidden, impervious to detection. They could only wait for the right moment to act as the elusive mastermind continued his operations, seemingly unchallenged.
***
In the Director’s office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The Director glanced up as Battly entered, his expression inscrutable. “What’s the status?” he asked, his voice low and measured.
“The assault squads failed,” Battly reported, his tone somber. “Coluan forensics teams are currently examining the meeting place. So far, they haven’t found anything that can be traced back to us.”
The Director’s brow furrowed, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “Keep me informed, Battly. A man as relentless as Vril Dox will not be deterred by a simple assassination attempt. We may need to plan another attempt in the coming months. Until then, we wait and watch until the investigation gets colder.”
“Yes, sir,” Battly replied, turning to leave. But just before he could exit, the Director’s voice halted him.
“Battly,” he said, his tone sharp and commanding. “Ensure our next move is foolproof. I won’t tolerate failure again.”
“Understood,” Battly said, nodding slightly, a sense of apprehension creeping in as he exited the office.
The Director’s gaze returned to the screens, his mind racing with possibilities. There was no end to his ambitions, and he was determined not to let a mere setback thwart his plans.
The End