by CSyphrett
As the California sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the Green Lantern Citadel, Hal Jordan, Salaak, and Driq took to the skies, their emerald trails blazing a path northward. Despite their very different appearances and backgrounds, each of them was well aware of the power and responsibility that accompanied being a Green Lantern.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” Salaak asked irritably.
Hal’s jaw clenched, determined to see his plan through. “Actually, I should have done this a long time ago, back when Guy played Kyle Rayner’s tape,” he admitted. (*) “Instead, I just sat around and moped until Black Hand came along and tried to destroy the Corps.” (*) He paused, his gaze drifting off into the distance. “That’s what finally convinced me that Kyle had been wrong, and that I should at least check on Mongul. Hawkwoman put an end to his plans permanently, but I need to know for myself.” (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See Justice League of America: Time, See What’s Become of Me? Epilogue: The Specter of Parallax, Green Lantern: Enter Parallax, and Hawkman and Hawkwoman: Mind Games.]
“He’s dead?” Salaak inquired.
Hal’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “Brain-dead, anyway.”
Driq let out a noise that sounded like belching.
“Sorry, Driq,” said Hal. “No offense meant.”
Driq responded with another indistinguishable phrase.
“Mongul got a big dose of Black Mercy,” Hal explained, “and it shut down all of his higher functions. He’s not exactly in a coma, but he’s not far from it.”
Salaak sighed. “We’re going to see if he is still there, aren’t we?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Hal nodded. “Kyle was wrong about me,” he stated. “So, hopefully, he was also wrong about Mongul destroying Coast City in the future.”
***
Meanwhile, on the busy streets of Detroit, John Stewart and Katma Tui strolled hand in hand, taking a much-needed break from their duties as Green Lanterns. The past year and a half had been a rollercoaster of emotions, beginning with the chaos of the Crisis on Infinite Earths and culminating with the sudden reappearance of William Hand as Parallax. They needed some time to reconnect, to remember what it was like to be normal.
“We should have gone with the others, John,” Katma said, scanning the city street with the eyes of an experienced traveler.
John wore a reassuring smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think the boys can do without us for a quick check, Kat-Lady. Salaak can give us a call if they get into any real trouble.”
Katma’s gaze softened. “It’s not that, John. We should be helping Hal, especially after what we did.”
John tightened his grip on her hand. “We are, Kat. We’re showing him we trust him. He needs this.”
Katma smiled playfully. “When did you become so wise, John Stewart?”
John laughed. “I think it was when I realized that my angry young black man phase wasn’t much better than Guy Gardner’s brand of bitter anger.” Pulling her closer to him, he said, “Hey, why don’t we stop in at Moody’s and get hot dogs — pretend to be tourists for a little while?”
“Lead the way!” Katma replied.
Laughing together, the unlikely tourists made their way to a small restaurant in a one-story brick building. They jangled the bell as they stepped inside. Small, neat booths lined the walls, with metal stools in front of a counter at the back of the place. The aroma of sizzling hot dogs filled the air, and Ren Moody welcomed them like old friends, his smile displaying five missing teeth.
“John Stewart, as I live and breathe!” Moody exclaimed, his eyes lit up with excitement. “I thought you were dead, boy!”
Returning the toothless smile with a grin of his own, John greeted the old man. “Ren Moody, still putting the fear of God in the Devil, I see.”
As they shared a firm handshake, the warmth of their friendship was obvious to Katma Tui, who watched with amusement.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Moody,” Katma said cheerfully.
The old man’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “Ah, you must be the lovely Katma Tui! John talks about you all the time. Please, call me Ren.”
The three soon fell into easy banter, their laughter echoing through the small restaurant.
***
Two Green Lanterns stood like sentinels on either side of a hotel door in a dimly lit alleyway located in a rundown section of the planet. The air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect, while the flickering neon signs of the surrounding buildings cast an eerie glow over the scene. Noleon Fae knocked on the door with the back of his hand, his eyes fixed on the peeling paint and rusty hinges. The lanky, pale-skinned Flarain tipped his emerald green hat back with the other hand, its wide brim casting a shadow over his eyes. (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See Tales of the Green Lantern Corps: Noleon Fae: Slinger.]
Beside him, Walro Tuska’s exoskeleton gleamed under the luminescence, his larger form an imposing presence in the dim alleyway. This was Tuska’s homeworld and, thus, his jurisdiction. Out of courtesy from one lawman to another, Noleon Fae had sought him out before beginning his tracking operations.
“Hope this isn’t another dead end,” Fae rasped.
Tuska grunted in response. “Ready when you are, Fae.”
Fae sighed. “What are the odds this one cooperates? No fuss, no fight?”
Tuska chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”
With a smooth gesture, Noleon Fae raised his hand, and a flicker of green light illuminated the alley as he erected a protective shield around himself, his fellow Green Lantern following suit. “Let’s do this.”
Suddenly, yellow plasma burst through the door, igniting it in flames. Some of the energy pierced Fae’s shield, scorching his coat and hitting the arm underneath with cascading beams.
“Fae, you all right?” Tuska asked, readying a counterstrike. His exoskeleton absorbed some of the heat, protecting his almost bipedal body.
Noleon Fae held up his burning arm. The flames snuffed out in a flickering, power-ring-created green wave. The exposed hand and arm appeared hairless but otherwise undamaged. “I’m fine!” Fae said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this guy.”
Aiming his power ring into the hotel room, Fae conjured a winged green construct that swept into the room, its one massive eye spotlighting the lone occupant with blinding emerald light.
The figure in gold armor dropped built-in protective shades over his eyes, then reacted by spraying burning plasma at the walls. Some of it cut through the thick building material, spraying out into the hall.
“Yellow armor — of course,” Walro Tuska grumbled as he used his power ring to transform part of his glove into a cannon. “Still, let’s see it stand up to this, yellow or not.”
Aiming into the room, Tuska fired the cannon. A bright flash erupted, sending the outlaw crashing into the wall with a thud. Part of his armor had been sheared away by the force unleashed by the Green Lantern.
“Concussion wave versus ceramic plate,” Tuska remarked smugly.
“Better than what I was going to do,” Fae said, charging into the room. He leaped into the air, smashing into the fugitive, then grabbed the being’s globular helmet and used it to slam him to the ground headfirst.
Walro Tuska dropped onto the trapped being’s back, his hefty weight causing the helmet to crack against the floor. “What were you going to do?” Tuska inquired, curious.
“Plasma wave,” replied Fae, twisting metal around the fugitive’s wrists with his ring.
“A plasma wave?” Tuska echoed, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Doesn’t matter what color their armor is in the middle of a miniature nuclear storm,” Noleon Fae said, grim as a mourner at a funeral. “Where’s the Hive, space dust?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the captured criminal asserted defiantly.
Leaning in, Tuska declared, “I’m the chief law enforcer here. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can get a life sentence here and live a few more years at hard labor, or you can be sent home with Fae and face execution for piracy. Just what is the method of execution on Alvarin these days, Noleon? Poison gas, wasn’t it?”
Fae shook his head. “No, now they feed you alive to the local sea life. Nothing but sharp teeth everywhere you look. Nasty way to go.”
“Your choice,” Walro said.
“I don’t know anything about any Hive,” the prisoner said, glowering at the Green Lanterns.
Tuska smirked. “Feed the fishes, Fae.”
Conjuring a globe of energy around the bound pirate, Fae replied, “Right.”
Moments later, in the alleyway outside the rundown hotel, the Green Lantern and his prisoner floated off the ground in the green globe.
“Wait,” the pirate said, beginning to panic. “Wait!”
“Wait for what?” Fae asked skeptically.
“He went to Earth.”
“Earth?” Fae repeated. “You know a small corps of Lanterns are there?”
“He said he was going there to get something,” the pirate admitted nervously. “That’s all I know. So… what now?”
“Now, you get to go to work — as my informant,” Fae said, a slight smirk on his gaunt face.
***
The air in Kilowog’s workshop, deep in the USSR, was thick with the scent of ozone and metal, a familiar cocktail that always brought a sense of calm to the burly Green Lantern. A man of action, Kilowog found a quiet poetry in the delicate precision of his craft. His massive hands, usually wielding the might of his power ring, meticulously assembled the intricate components of a Rocket Red suit, each movement fluid and deliberate.
“Almost done, ya overgrown toaster,” he muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble. He narrowed his eyes as he examined a delicate piece of machinery through a ring-created magnifier. Although he could have used his power ring to assemble the cybernetic armor in seconds, he preferred to work on each suit by hand. Something about this work calmed his soul.
Occasionally, something would interrupt his work. Returning to his workshop, cluttered with tools and parts, felt like coming home. Even if the Soviet officer in charge of the facility did not feel the same, his assistants understood this, keeping the political animal away as much as possible. This arrangement allowed him to build Rocket Red suits in exchange for a place to call his own. To Kilowog, it was a fair trade.
Looking up from the joint he was working on, Kilowog had an eerie feeling that he wasn’t alone with the replacement armored suits already built and stored in his workshop. “Pilot training don’t start until morning,” he assured himself. “Just me and my suits in here.” Still, he had learned to trust his instincts. Using his ring, he transformed the overalls he wore into his Green Lantern uniform and prepared himself for an unwelcome intruder.
Suddenly, a movement caught his eye from the shadows near the storage room. He raised his power ring, casting a green spotlight into the darkness and illuminating the dark hall.
“Who’s there?” Kilowog’s voice boomed. He listened, but there was no answer. Then he saw something out of place.
A Rocket Red armor stood there in the shadows where it had not been moments before. Four more stood behind it. Kilowog’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the number on the breastplate — #12. He couldn’t remember who had been assigned to it; ever since the start of the program over a year ago, pilots came and went. “Ya think this is funny, ya metal-headed poozer?” he barked to whoever was behind this, his voice echoing in the workshop. “Who told ya you could play peekaboo with my equipment?”
Too late, Kilowog recalled that #12 was a new suit without a pilot yet, as the empty armor fired its gauntlet’s energy blaster directly at him.
***
A sleek emerald fish, a creature of pure energy conjured by a Green Lantern power ring, sliced through the void of space like a shimmering blade. Noleon Fae leaned back while riding it, his lambent eyes scanning the star-strewn tapestry of the galaxy. He gazed ahead, contemplating what purpose the Hive could have on Earth.
Like many Green Lanterns, Fae had heard stories of the planet and knew it fielded a formidable force of heroes. Hal Jordan, perhaps the best of the Green Lantern Corps, made his home there, along with a group of other Green Lanterns.
It was a remote possibility that the Hive would attempt to conquer the planet, but Fae had his doubts about that. Too many advanced civilizations had tried to do the same, only to be crushed by the likes of the Justice League and the Titans. The recent Alien Alliance invasion had shown that Earth could hold its own against any threat, no matter how phenomenal. (*) Hive was dangerous, sure, but hardly at the same level as the Dominators.
[(*) Editor’s note: See Captain Comet’s Rehab Squad: Strange Visitors.]
“What is Hive planning?” Fae wondered, a shiver of unease running down his spine. The emerald fish, nearing the preprogrammed destination, began to slow down as it entered the solar system. “Time to see what Hive has cooked up,” he murmured, a grim smile twisting his lips. He was ready for anything.
***
The biting wind whipped across the icy Arctic plains, sending shivers down their spines. Green Lantern Hal Jordan stood beside Salaak and Driq, his power ring casting an eerie glow. All three Green Lanterns stared at the imposing Fortress of Solitude, that mountainous retreat of Superman’s surrounded by endless snowdrifts.
“Mongul,” Hal muttered, the name tasting like bitter ash in his mouth. After his defeat, the monstrous tyrant had been placed in a life support and suspended animation capsule due to the nature of his injuries and kept at the Fortress for safekeeping ever since. Green Lantern had requested permission from his friend and fellow Justice Leaguer to conduct a personal visit to the Arctic retreat, and Superman had graciously complied.
The Green Lanterns saw the massive yellow key that fit into the golden door concealed in the mountainside, but they passed through the walls instead of attempting to use it to gain entry. As they went, they also sent a message to the security monitor, alerting it to their status as friends and providing the exact nature of their business.
“Let’s check the sickbay,” Hal said, leading the way there. It meant more to him than to the others to see Mongul laid out flat on his back. He waited impatiently for the doors to slide open. But as they entered the sickbay, Hal’s heart sank with dread.
“He’s gone!” Hal exclaimed, seeing that the bed was empty.
Hal Jordan and Salaak played their emerald light around the Fortress of Solitude, trying to pick up a trail to follow.
Looking around, Salaak asked, “Mongul couldn’t have just gotten up and left on his own, could he?”
Suddenly, Superman entered the room, his expression unreadable. Striding over to Driq, he punched a hole through the dead Green Lantern’s chest.
“Superman! What are you doing?” demanded Salaak, alarmed.
The living corpse that was a Green Lantern had fallen to the ground. Immediately after the fist was withdrawn, Driq’s power ring slowly started repairing the damage, as it always did.
“That’s a robot!” Hal said urgently. “It’s one of the defensive systems!”
The robot swung a fist at Salaak, who erected a shield, but the blow cracked the solid energy in half, sending the four-armed Green Lantern crashing to the floor onto his back.
“Get back!” cried Hal, firing a cutting beam of energy at the robot.
Before the beam could strike, the robot intercepted it by swinging the yellow shield on its cape into the beam’s path, stopping it.
Green Lantern had no time to react before another fist struck him from behind, slamming him into a wall.
Struggling to maintain his senses, Hal looked up to see that two more of the Superman robots had joined the fray, both with Kryptonian strength and looking as if they were ready to kill. This isn’t good! he thought.
With the odds stacked against the Green Lantern Corps, things looked bad for the home team.