by PDebord, with CSyphrett
Continued from Batman: Future Imperfect
The rain poured down on the crumbling pavement of Coast City’s underbelly, casting a gloomy shadow over the already downtrodden neighborhood. It was a place where hope went to die, and the desperate and downtrodden roamed the streets in search of their next fix or their next score. Amidst this bleak backdrop was an unassuming door in a small alleyway known to nearly every criminal in the city. This was the domain of Doc Schultz, a man whose reputation as the go-to plastic surgeon for the city’s most wanted had earned him a certain notoriety.
Schultz himself was an older man in his mid-sixties, his age clearly etched on his weathered face like the lines on a well-worn map. His eyes, a piercing brown, seemed to hold a world of wisdom, but also a hint of desperation, a sense that he was a man living on borrowed time. He had no real license to practice medicine, but in this part of town that did not matter in the least. What mattered was that he could deliver, and deliver he did, to the tune of a steady stream of clients seeking to alter their appearances and evade the long arm of the law.
In his dusty office, Doc Schultz now stood hunched over a man seated in a worn leather chair, carefully unwrapping the bandages that had covered his face for over a week. The air was thick with anticipation as Schultz worked, his hands moving with a precision that belied his years.
“Let us see how we did,” Schultz said in anticipation. With a flourish, he removed the last of the bandages, revealing the new face beneath.
The man regarded his reflection in the mirror Schultz held out to him, a slow smile spreading across his features. “Perfect,” he breathed, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Doc Schultz shook his head, a mixture of curiosity and wariness etched on his face. “I don’t understand why you want to look like some test pilot,” he said, holding up the photograph he had used as a reference during the operation, “but I suppose that’s your business, Mr. Hand.”
The man’s smile grew wider, and he stood up from the chair, his movements fluid and confident. “Yes, Doc, that is my business,” he replied, his voice low and smooth. “And since you know who I am, I’ll tell you why.”
Schultz took a step back, his eyes darting nervously to the scissors in his hand. He fiddled with them, a habit he’d developed over the years, a way of calming his nerves in tense situations.
The man’s eyes seemed to bore into Schultz’s very soul as he asked, “Have you ever looked for something, only to find it right under your nose? You know, one of those if-it-had-been-a-snake-it-would-have-bitten-me type of moments?”
Schultz gulped, his eyes wide with fear. “Uh, n-no,” he managed to stammer.
The man chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Well, maybe this will help,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
As he spoke, an eerie green energy began to emanate from his body, washing over him like a wave. The cheap brown suit he wore seemed to dissolve, replaced by the iconic uniform of a Green Lantern. The energy reached his face, covering his eyes and nose with a dark green mask.
Doc Schultz stood frozen, his mouth agape, as he realized with a start that the test pilot Hal Jordan, whose likeness he had used to alter his patient’s features to look exactly like him, was none other than the super-hero known as Green Lantern.
The man’s eyes seemed to gleam with amusement as he explained, “I siphoned enough energy off of him during our years of battle that it lingered in me. In fact, it even protected me when an inmate stabbed me in the back. (*) As I lay in my coffin, it taught me things that most of the cheap crooks in this town could never even dream of — about the little blue men that run the Green Lanterns, and the fact that there are more than one of them. It showed me the man behind this mask. The energy revived me when someone siphoned some of it off of me, just as I had from Jordan.”
[(*) Editor’s note: See Justice League of America: Pawns of the Power Pirate, Chapter 2: Battle of Wills.]
As the man finished speaking, the energy dissipated, leaving Doc Schultz staring at him in a mixture of awe and terror. He knew that he had stumbled into something much bigger than himself, something that could potentially put him in the crosshairs of powerful men. “Why tell me all of these things, Mr. Hand?” Schultz asked with trepidation.
The patient grabbed the doctor’s shirt in a vise-like grip, his eyes blazing with an unnatural intensity as he pulled him closer. “Because you’re the only man alive who knows that William Hand lives,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing. “I have to rectify that situation. Nothing personal, but dead men tell no tales.”
As he spoke, his hand began to glow with an eerie green energy, and Schultz felt his strength draining away, his vision blurring at the edges as he lost his grip on the scissors. He tried to struggle, but it was no use. He was at the mercy of the super-villain, and he knew it. The shadows seemed to deepen as Doc Schultz’s life force ebbed away.
Finally, it was over. Schultz slumped to the floor, his body limp and lifeless, every last bit of energy having drained into his patient. The newly constructed face of Hal Jordan also began to change as the older man’s life energy was absorbed into his own body. Almost immediately Hand began to age, the brown hair becoming gray around his temples.
William Hand released his grip on the doctor’s shirt and turned back to the mirror. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wrinkles on his new face and his graying hair. “Well, no one ever claimed you were that good of a plastic surgeon, anyway, Doc,” sneered the super-villain once known as the Black Hand, his voice dripping with contempt.
With a final glance at the lifeless body of Doc Schultz, Hand turned and walked out into the alleyway, disappearing into the night. The green energy enveloped him once more, and he soared through the skies southward at an incredible speed, his destination the Green Lantern Citadel outside of Los Angeles.
The sensors at the door recognized his energy as that of a Green Lantern, and he was granted access to the nearly empty building. The only occupant was an elderly, blue-skinned Green Lantern who stood waiting for the Earth-based Green Lantern Corps to return.
This was Ghrelk of Space Sector 69, and he had lost his homeworld of Naktos during the Crisis on Infinite Earths. (*) After spending several months dealing with fallout from the Crisis in his sector, he had just arrived at the Citadel in hopes of allying himself with the already legendary Green Lantern Corps of Sector 2814.
[(*) Editor’s note: See “Old Man Lantern,” Tales of the Green Lantern Corps Annual #2 (December, 1986).]
Ghrelk’s eyes lit up with a warm smile as he rose to shake the hand of the man he knew as the greatest contemporary Green Lantern, but it faltered as he took in the stranger’s features. “Jordan?” he said, his voice hesitant.
William Hand smiled coldly as he regarded the alien before him, who now stared back at him nervously. As the Green Lantern’s ring flared slightly, Hand’s smile broadened as he understood it.
That cold smile told the old alien all he needed to know. “You’re not Jordan!” Ghrelk exclaimed, his eyes widening as Hand grabbed the front of his costume.
Hand’s grip was firm, and Ghrelk stood transfixed as he realized he was in the presence of a monster. “And you’re not the Green Lantern I was looking for, but you’ll do,” Hand sneered, his eyes glinting with malevolence. “After all, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
The blue-skinned Ghrelk had been a Green Lantern for many years now, and few things had ever touched him, since his power ring had always protected him automatically. Now he stood staring into the face of an older-looking Hal Jordan, a figure who had somehow bypassed his ring’s protective shield. Ghrelk tried to struggle, but Hand’s grip was unyielding as his palm began to glow bright green. He felt a strange sensation, as if his very essence was being drained away, and he knew he was in grave danger.
“Y-you’re a living power battery!” the elderly Green Lantern exclaimed in horror.
Those were his last words, as Ghrelk’s essence, along with his body and suit, were absorbed into his own power ring. The ring hovered in the air in front of Hand, pulsing with an otherworldly energy.
“This thing makes my old weapons look like mere toys,” said the former Black Hand, his voice full of awe. “It’s no wonder I was always defeated so easily. The sheer power of this one ring is amazing. With it, I can trace the green energy back to its source — back to those little green men — and end Jordan and his ilk for good.”
As he spoke, Hand’s eyes seemed to burn with an intense hatred, and the air around him seemed to grow colder, as if the very presence of evil had entered the room. In that moment, it was clear that William Hand was a force to be reckoned with, a villain of unparalleled power and cunning.
***
Hal Jordan, the first Green Lantern of Earth, sat in the dimly lit confines of the Justice League of America’s satellite headquarters, his eyes fixed on the computer screens in front of him. He was supposed to be on monitor duty, but his mind was a thousand miles away. He couldn’t shake off the memory of the taped message left behind by Kyle Rayner, the future Green Lantern, during a JLA case some months earlier. (*) The words echoed in his mind like a mantra, haunting him with the possibility of a dark future.
[(*) Editor’s note: See Justice League of America: Time, See What’s Become of Me? Epilogue: The Specter of Parallax.]
“Could it be? Hal asked himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Could I really end up destroying the Guardians and the Green Lanterns — everything I’ve worked my whole life to build?” The question had been plaguing him for months, and he couldn’t seem to find an answer.
Suddenly, his power ring sprang to life, illuminating the dark room with an eerie green glow. An image of Appa Ali Apsa, flanked by his Honor Guards K’ryssma of Etrea and Apros of Minus Seven Pi, materialized in front of him.
“This is a call to all Green Lanterns,” Appa Ali Apsa’s voice boomed, his words laced with a sense of urgency. The Guardian of the Universe had remained behind on Oa after the other Guardians and their female counterparts the Zamarons left for another dimension to procreate for the first time in millions of years. (*) “A rogue has killed the Green Lantern of Sector 69 and is using his power ring to trace our energy here to absorb it at its source. Hal Jordan must be stopped at all costs.”
[(*) Editor’s note: See “Five Billion Years,” Green Lantern v2 #200 (May, 1986).]
Hal’s eyes widened behind his mask, and his jaw dropped in shock. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. What was going on? Why was he being accused of being a rogue? He knew he had to clear his name, but how?
The image of the last Guardian in the universe faded away, leaving Hal with more questions than answers. He knew he had to act fast, but he didn’t know where to start. The fate of the Green Lantern Corps, and the universe itself, hung in the balance.
With a deep breath, Hal stood up, his eyes fixed on the stars outside the satellite headquarters. He knew he had to find a way to clear his name and stop the real rogue before it was too late.