NEW YORK CITY
Kyle Rayner stared out the window over the staircase landing
in his apartment building, searching for meaning. He was semi-aware
of the overtones of life imitating art - he earned his living
as a visual artist, constantly trying to create images based on
what they would need to mean to a client, and now he was attempting
to create some kind of sense or logic in the images out there,
before his eyes. New York had suffered heavily under the onslaught
of Mongul's invading forces.* Kyle's apartment building, mercifully,
had been spared, but many other businesses and homes were wrecked
completely. Through the dirty stairwell window, Rayner could see
a slice of his hometown, his own neighborhood, redecorated in
late-Beirut. And he wondered what it all meant.
(* Don't tell me you didn't read GL #210-212? What about Cold
Armageddon: Final Fury? If you've been waiting for an invitation,
this is it, man!)
Rayner watched the two remaining walls of a blown-out store
collapse in the path of a bulldozer's blade. He knew he could
be out helping the rebuilding efforts in the city, but he chose
not to for a few different reasons. He had a personal and professional
life, for one thing, beyond his duties to the Green Lantern Corps,
and he was overdue in paying any attention to them. He was trying
to protect himself from becoming convinced that he could be everything
to everyone, without fail, simply because of the ring he wore
and the power he wielded. Some things he was uniquely qualified
for, such as fending off alien hordes bent on Earth's destruction,
but when non-powered folks were perfectly capable of handling
something like rebuilding the hardest hit zones of New York, it
was probably best to let them do so. The power ring was a weapon,
not a construction tool.
Rayner turned away from the window, continued up the stairs
and sighed. What other meaning do you see in those images? he
asked himself. Maybe how much you may NOT be so uniquely qualified
to fend off alien marauders after all? Maybe how when it came
right down to it we all came way too close to losing the whole
shooting match to Mongul, and actually did lose a lot along the
way? Are you sure you're not avoiding going out there into the
rubble and wreckage because it'll just make you feel more sorry
for yourself than you already do?
Rayner shook his head, trying to dislodge all the negative thoughts.
He told himself, again, that for all intents and purposes he had
just been through an all-out war, and he shouldn't expect everything
to seem rosy the next morning, not even for a few mornings. Close
to the brink as the world had come, the human race had survived.
He should be thankful and happy to be alive, and if he kept on
keeping on, something would happen to remind him.
Rayner pushed open the door leading to his floor of the building,
and as he entered the hallway he saw a woman stepping out of her
door, the one between the stairwell entrance and Rayner's own
apartment. Rayner stopped dead in his tracks, dumbstruck by the
beauty of the creature before him. She was nearly six feet tall,
with tan skin covering an incredibly toned body, most of which
was exposed for Rayner to behold. Her long, honey-colored hair
was wrapped in a loose bun atop her head, and she wore only a
bra, panties, thigh-high stockings and high heel shoes.
That works. I'm happy to be alive now, Rayner thought admiringly.
The beautiful woman was bending over to pick up a newspaper that
lay beside her welcome mat, and as she straightened herself with
paper in hand she finally noticed Rayner standing a few feet away.
"Ohh!" she gasped, clutching the newspaper to her chest
and pulling her knees close together. "I
I didn't think
anyone was in the hallway
" she stammered.
"No, no, my fault, sorry," Rayner hurriedly replied,
barely managing to tear his eyes away from the woman, as he looked
for the doorknob to let himself back into the stairwell. He didn't
know what he would do once he was in there. Probably bang his
head against the iron banister for embarrassing his gorgeous new
neighbor
"Wait
please, wait
" the woman said as she retreated
into her own apartment. Rayner stayed like an obedient dog, and
a moment later the woman had returned in an incredibly short robe
of red silk, tying the sash around her waist. The bottom of the
robe barely covered her derriere, and a fair amount of her cleavage
was still visible through the front, but simply having the robe
on seemed to set her at ease, and she smiled warmly at Rayner.
"I didn't mean to scare you off," she assured him. "I'm
running late for a photo shoot, and I wanted to grab the paper
and thought I'd save myself a couple of seconds by foregoing the
robe. Guess that'll teach me," she laughed lightly at herself.
Rayner smiled back at her, "Well, I am sorry for startling
you, and if you're running late, I certainly don't want to keep
you, Miss
"
The woman smacked herself comically on the forehead. "I'm
just batting a thousand here, huh?" She extended one exquisitely
manicured hand. "I'm Haven. Haven Donovan."
Rayner took her hand in his. "Kyle Rayner. Welcome to the
building, Miss Donovan."
Haven tilted her head at him with mock reproach. "Call me
Haven."
"Call me ANYtime you need ANYthing," Rayner replied
enthusiastically.
Haven giggled and nodded. "I certainly will," she promised.
"But I do need to be going. The photographer is going to
have a fit all over me as it is."
"Understood," Rayner acquiesced as he released her
hand. Haven flashed him one more radiant smile and returned to
her apartment, closing the door behind her.
Rayner walked dazedly over to his door, the image of a barely
dressed Haven still burning in his mind. He reached his own doorstep
and reached into his left pocket for his keys, his fingers seeking
them out for a good ten seconds before he realized they were actually
in his right pocket. He switched hands, drew them out, and found
the apartment key without much more trouble. After another few
seconds trying to force the key into the lock upside-down, he
finally corrected himself and got the door unlocked. By then,
Haven emerged once again from her apartment, now wearing a white
and yellow sundress, with her hair cascading down over her bare
shoulders. She gave Rayner a little wave as she hurried to the
stairway, and Rayner waved back, his ability to concentrate on
passing through the doorway shattered.
The door to the stairwell slammed shut behind Haven and Rayner
blinked a couple of times, then pushed open his apartment door
and entered. He leaned back against the door to close it, and
shook his head slowly at himself. Miss Haven Donovan might be
friendly, and might also be the stuff that dreams were made of,
but
Face it, Rayner, you may be out of high school, but the
cheerleaders still prefer the jocks, and not the artists, he thought
to himself derisively.
His eyes fell on a note lying on the small table by the door.
He picked it up and read the buoyant, female script:
Kyle - I'm out for a few things at the grocery store. I think
the half-empty can of CheezWhiz and the jar of olives in the fridge
are getting lonely. I'll buy enough to make a meal for two, in
case you're going to be around tonight. See you. XOXO Jenny
Jenny. That was where he should be focusing his mental energies,
trying to figure out what was going on between him and Jenny,
not fantasizing like a unsocialized moron over his supermodel
neighbor. Jenny was down-to-earth and real and very much a part
of Rayner's life. He simply wasn't sure which part, which part
she wanted to be or which part he wanted her to be.
He reread the note in his hand. Was she asking him out on a date?
Or just being a considerate roommate? Was she flirting with him,
leaving notes with X's and O's for him to find, with a purpose?
Or was Jenny the kind of girl who would sign all her notes that
way, to a friend, her brother, anyone? And even if Rayner did
have the answers to those questions, would he be disappointed
if she wasn't flirting? Would he be leading her on if he did accept
the dinner-for-two invitation? Should he bring flowers?
Rayner sighed, stuffing the note into his pocket. Everything
had seemed clearer when he and Jenny had kissed in the air over
Los Angeles.* Maybe that was the kind of clarity which only a
life-or-death situation could provide, and day to day existence
was bound to be gray and hazy in comparison.
(*Last issue)
He glanced at the clock and figured he had just enough time to
fire up his computer, check his e-mail and make it back downstairs
to meet Abel for coffee. Checking e-mail, grabbing coffee
nice,
normal, non-super-hero things. Trying to figure out where he and
Jenny stood with each other fell in that category, too, he supposed.
But somehow that didn't make it any easier.
GUARDIANS' CITADEL, COAST CITY
"I got me a lotta work to do, Hal, buddy," Kilowog
admitted, fatigued in his voice. The big alien from Bolivax Vik
and Hal Jordan stood together in the courtyard of the Guardian's
Citadel, watching the sun as it rose over the treeline.
Jordan nodded sympathetically. "We all do, Kilowog. The
rebuilding effort will be going on for a long time. Mongul's forces
did an incredible amount of damage in a short span of days. There's
buildings, neighborhoods, in some cases whole cities that were
lost."
"True," Kilowog agreed. "I wuz talkin' about a
diff'rent kinda rebuildin', though. Mongul's army did a lotta
damage to the Corps, too. Physical and mental. We wuz just gettin'
back on our feet, and we didn't come up with the big plays like
we used to. It's gonna take a while to get ev'rybody back to fightin'
form, let alone til I can start thinkin' about trainin' brand
new recruits. And you know we're gonna need those sooner'n I'm
ready anyway." Kilowog's sturdy jaw was set determinedly
as he watched the eastern sky continue to lighten. "All part
o' the job, I know. Part o' who I am an' how I fit into the Corps.
Not sayin' I ain't gonna do it. It's just a lot to do."
"You really are a warrior-poet, Kilowog, you know that?"
Jordan asked, only half-teasing.
"Yer lucky you ain't some new-recruit poozer sayin' that,
Hal. I'd hafta unpoetically rearrange yer face."
Jordan laughed. "That wouldn't be any good. I have to look
pretty for the TV cameras today. Ferris aircraft is unveiling
a new design at a press conference today, and Hal Jordan, ace
test pilot, has plans to be on hand."
"Have fun," Kilowog offered non-committally.
"You too. You know you're the best trainer the Corps could
ever hope to have, Kilowog. I'm testament to that. I know it's
a lot but I for one am grateful that you're willing to take it
on," Jordan declared.
"Thanks, Hal," Kilowog sighed.
"You starting the new training schedule today?"
"Maybe. Still some Lanterns who haven't reported back yet,
an' I wuz hopin' to have everyone all at once."
"Who's still unaccounted for?" Jordan inquired.
"Apros an' Shilandra Thane an' Rot Lop Fan. Prob'ly all
just got caught up in helpin' the locals after the bad guys pulled
out, and haven't had a chance to catch their breath or contact
the Guardians. I'll wait a little longer for 'em, but they should
all be back soon."
"All right. I'll be back soon," Jordan said, and waved
good bye as his power ring lifted him off the ground and set him
on a course for the Ferris Aircraft grounds in Los Angeles.
The hangars and design labs soon came into view, and Jordan could
see a rostrum with microphone stand set up on one of the tarmacs,
facing several rows of folding chairs. Everything seemed to be
in place for the press conference. Jordan swooped down quickly
and approached the hanger closest to the rostrum from the rear.
Landing near the back door, Jordan willed his power ring to transform
his black and emerald costume into jeans and boots, a t-shirt
and a bomber jacket. Then he let himself into the hangar.
A single aircraft stood in the middle of the hangar floor. It
was clearly larger than a standard fighter jet, but it was covered
by a huge canvas tarp and only a vague outline could be made out.
A lone mechanic was hunched over the front landing wheels, making
last-minute adjustments and noting them on a clipboard.
"Like what you see? I can cut you a deal and you can fly
out of here in this baby today!" Jordan said in a loud imitation
of a used-car salesman as he approached the mechanic's back. The
mechanic straightened suddenly and whirled to face Jordan, clearly
startled. But as soon as Tom Kilmaku recognized Hal Jordan's familiar
smirk, he relaxed, and the punch he threw at Jordan's shoulder
was friendly, not an attack.
"Hal! You're here
you're really here!" Kilmaku beamed.
"You bet I am, Tom," Jordan assented. "Carol tried
to keep me away, but I told her something she couldn't argue with."
"And what's that?"
"She can't afford not to have me around. Nobody else is
half the test pilot I am for the money."
The two men laughed. Kilmaku shook his head and nodded toward
the hangar's front doors. "You ready to face the press, then?"
"Hey, that's Ms. Ferris' job," Jordan protested with
a smile. "I'm just here if someone demands to see the new
product in action. Courting reporters, that's all Carol."
"And courting Carol
?" Kilmaku asked suggestively.
"We'll see, Pieface
we'll see," Jordan nodded.
NEW YORK CITY
Radu's coffee shop never bustled with customers, but never seemed
to be completely empty, either. Just another house of worship
for the caffeine culture, Rayner thought as he walked through
the glass door and picked Abel Tarrant's face out of the small
crowd within. Tarrant raised his eyebrows in mute greeting as
he made eye contact with Rayner, and soon the two were seated
across from each other. Rayner signaled to Radu for his usual;
the proprietor acknowledged his signal with a nod. Rayner settled
back in his side of the booth.
"So how's everything going, Abel?" Rayner asked.
"Good, good," Tarrant said with sincerity. "I
really think coming east was a good idea. Got a couple of leads
on tattoo parlors that need artists. Hopefully I can save up enough
to open my own place before too long. And you were right about
your building - it's a decent place to live."
"It is," Rayner nodded. "Getting better all the
time, too."
"How's that?"
"Ahhh
" Rayner shook his head, as if he would say
no more on the subject, then changed his mind and continued, "I
met my new neighbor today. Haven. She's
well, she's
"
"Trouble," Tarrant finished for him.
"I was going to say 'proof of the existence of God',"
Rayner chuckled good-naturedly. "What do you know about her
that I don't? You met her?"
Tarrant shrugged. "I stopped by your place once, wasn't
sure if you were in town or not, and she was hanging around your
door. I mean she acted like she was passing by your apartment,
and she turned on the charm for me, but come on
" Tarrant
fixed Rayner with a steady gaze. "I know somebody who's casing
a joint when I catch them in the act, Kyle. Done it enough times
myself."
"What, you think she wanted to break into my place and rob
me?" Rayner scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense. One,
she's a model, and doesn't need the money. Two, I'm poor and not
worth the trouble. You must have been mistaken."
"Maybe she's one of those bored rich types who likes burglary
just for the thrill," Tarrant suggested. "Or maybe I'm
wrong. Just be careful, all right? I owe you one for helping me
back in L.A., and I gotta tell you when something don't feel right
to me."
"Fair enough," Rayner agreed. Radu approached the booth
then, carrying Rayner's large cappuccino. "Thanks, Radu,"
Rayner said.
"Of course," the Romanian nodded happily. "I am
happy to serve everyone today. Happy to have shop in which to
serve after aliens try to blow off city." Radu turned and
made his way back to the counter.
"I'll drink to that," Rayner said softly into his mug.
He looked at Tarrant and gave him a half-shrug. "Maybe you're
right, maybe I should just forget about Haven Donovan. I mean,
she's like
" Rayner's eyes searched the coffee shop. "She's
like a steamy latte and imported biscotti and I'm like
"
"Like Jolt cola and Ding Dongs?" Tarrant offered.
"You have got to stop interrupting me," Rayner muttered
with a sigh.
FERRIS AIRCRAFT, LOS ANGELES
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming," Carol
Ferris welcomed the assembled reporters to the press conference.
"Ferris Aircraft is extremely pleased to have you here today,
and even more pleased to present to you our crowning achievement
to date in aircraft design. In a moment, you will see what I mean."
The main doors of the nearby hangar stood open, and as Carol
Ferris made her opening remarks a pair of mechanics rode out in
a small tug-buggy, with the new aircraft in tow. The heavy tarp
was still draped over the aircraft. Photographers snapped pictures
of the prototype as it made its slow, assisted approach to the
middle of the tarmac.
She loves to put on a show, Jordan thought to himself
as he stood behind the rostrum, switching his gaze from the oncoming
tug-buggy and plane to Carol herself. She's really in her element
here, representing the company, working the press, pointing the
way toward the future. And God help me if she isn't still the
most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
The tug-buggy halted and the rolling aircraft came to rest. Carol's
demeanor became very serious, as she continued, "We have
all been through a great tragedy recently, all of us, every citizen
of the planet Earth. We found ourselves under attack by alien
forces, and worse found ourselves almost completely unable to
defend ourselves. Striking from orbit, the invaders were able
to reach our very doorsteps before we could even begin to try
to drive them off.
Never again will Earth be so helpless. From now on, we will be
able to meet enemies from the stars among those very stars, not
simply under them. Ferris Aircraft is honored to be a vanguard
in the next phase of the space age, as we unveil
the F-1000
light-orbital null-gravity battle-optimized warship
the LONGBOW!"
The mechanics who had dollied out the Longbow took their cue
and pulled down the tarp, revealing the sleek aerospace vehicle.
It approximated the size and shape of a standard fighter jet,
but had very few hard angles, showing streamlined curves instead.
Its afterburners were also enlarged, and the entire ship was cast
in a reflective silver metal that gleamed like an unbreakable
promise under the California sun.
"Not bad, huh, Hal?" Kilmaku leaned over and whispered
to his friend.
"She's one pretty bird," Jordan agreed. "But honestly
I hope we never have to use it."
Reporters began to fire questions at Carol Ferris, who was poised
and smiling like a proud parent. "Ms. Ferris! Ms. Ferris!
How many of these Longbows have been produced?" one reporter
demanded.
"This is the only one completed at present," Carol
indicated the prototype on the tarmac, "but we are currently
in production and expect to have a full dozen completed by the
end of next month."
"Ms. Ferris!" another reporter barked out. "Does
this indicate a plan on the part of the US government to extend
their jurisdiction into space?"
"Hardly," Carol laughed lightly. "Two reasons
why not. One, this is a product funded and developed entirely
by Ferris Aircraft, and to the best of my knowledge we are still
a private company. Two, the Longbow isn't meant for interplanetary
travel
"
"Three, none of you will live long enough to see the stars
again!" one of the mechanics near the Longbow screamed, cutting
Carol off. As the shocked crowd of reporters turned toward the
tug-buggy, the two mechanics beside it suddenly transformed before
their eyes. They were replaced by hideous green monsters wearing
shapeless gray robes, with masses of thick green tentacles emerging
from the bottoms of the robes. The "mechanic" who had
screamed before bellowed once again, "Death to all humans!
Death in Mongul's name!" Both aliens reached into the folds
of their robes and pulled out hand weapons, aiming them at the
crowd.
"Looks like no one told them the war's over, Hal. Good thing
Green Lantern's nearby, right
?" Kilmaku asked, but Jordan
was no longer at his side.
In the time between conscious thoughts Jordan was once again
garbed in his Corps uniform and in mid-air above the crowd. Durlans,
Jordan thought to himself. Wonder how long those shapechangers
have been impersonating mechanics here. Jordan spared himself
no more mental energy for unanswerable questions. His power ring
constructed a massive green forcefield between the rostrum and
audience and the Durlans, just as their hand weapons discharged
volleys of hyperelectric blasts. The members of the press screamed
and scattered, unaware that the alien aggressors had now turned
their attention on the emerald gladiator himself.
"Green Lantern!" the lead Durlan hissed, red eyes glowering
with hate. "You cannot oppose the will of Mongul!"
"Afraid I already did. Sorry you guys didn't get the memo,
but Mongul's been sent packing," Jordan retorted. "Why
don't you both throw down the guns and surrender?"
"Mongul cannot be defeated! He cannot fail! Our service
to him ends only with the destruction of your planet!" the
Durlan responded vehemently, as he and his companion raised their
weapons and fired a series of hyperelectric bolts at Jordan. Jordan
zig-zagged through the air, dodging the blasts, then willed his
ring to create a giant emerald hand with which to grab his attackers.
The hand grabbed the second Durlan and held the writhing monster
tight, but the leader avoided capture. Twisting the barrel of
his weapon with one tentacle, the free Durlan re-sighted on Jordan
and fired once again. This time the hyperelectric discharge spread
across the sky in a fine web, too tight for Jordan to evade. The
energy passed through Jordan, and he stiffened as a feeling like
being cut to the bone gripped his entire body.
Jordan willed the energy construct hand to transform into a sphere
to enclose the Durlan he had captured, and tried to focus next
on the leader. His vision blurred as he attempted to knock the
alien into the ground with an emerald hammer, and the ring's new
construct missed its target. The Durlan laughed and intensified
the hyperelectric onslaught.
"You see now why Mongul is invincible!" the Durlan
ranted as Jordan fought for consciousness under the intensified
attack. "As you fall, Green Lantern, so too shall your entire
race be extermaaaiiiIIIEEE!!!" The Durlan's boasts were cut
short by a scream of pain and terror. The Longbow's weapon systems
had switched on and locked onto the Durlan, firing a single pulse
of red-violet energy at the alien's back. The energy engulfed
the Durlan, who gave out a wretched scream and flailed his tentacles
wildly, and then disintegrated without a trace. The hand weapon
the Durlan had carried disintegrated as well, and the hyperelectric
barrage ceased, allowing Jordan to correct his altitude as he
rubbed his throbbing head. A loud popping sound was heard as the
air filled in the Durlan-shaped vacuum.
Jordan looked at the Longbow, and then to the rostrum, where
Carol Ferris stood clutching a remote control, grim satisfaction
in her eyes. Jordan flew over to her and said, "Thank you,
Ms. Ferris. That space plane of yours packs quite a punch."
"That was only on standby power," Carol answered, looking
deeply and meaningfully into Jordan's eyes. "You should see
what it can do when it's fully charged up."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jordan replied. He considered
Carol for a long moment. She had just taken a life - an alien
life, and one bent on Mongul's mad agenda of planetary genocide,
but a life nonetheless. She seemed so cold in the wake of that
action, utterly without remorse, and extremely pleased with the
space-faring weapon her company had so effectively debuted.
Jordan had to believe that Mongul was calculating and ruthless
enough to have employed a multi-layered plan in trying to destroy
the human race, including fanatical sleeper agents such as the
Durlans. Because the alternative was that somehow Carol Ferris
had orchestrated a sacrificial spectacle for the Longbow unveiling.
Jordan rejected that notion, but not as quickly as he would have
liked. Under the circumstances, pondering the pitiless eyes of
Carol Ferris, he rejected the notion as quickly as he could.
The reporters had recovered their wits and camera flashes were
popping in Jordan's direction. Carol Ferris returned to the microphone
and began to say, "Thank you, Green Lantern, for your aid
in protecting us and protecting the future of Earth's planetary
defense, the F-1000 Longbow
" Jordan gave as brave a smile
as he could, waved to the reporters, and flew off with the Durlan
prisoner in tow, returning to the Guardians' Citadel with a very
uneasy mind. The whole world had been through a terrible ordeal,
and everyone bore up under it differently. From Kyle returning
to his normal life in New York to Kilowog blaming himself for
the Corps' rustiness and bracing himself for a struggle toward
redemption
and now Carol adopting a very hard-edged "never
again" stance.
As Hal Jordan glided along a green energy beam toward the Citadel,
the Durlan captive in the sphere construct seemed largely beside
the point. Confrontations with enemies were inevitable. The real
question was, after the planet-wide confrontation they had survived,
would any of them ever be the same?
NEW YORK CITY
Kyle Rayner had walked the streets of New York most of the day,
continuing to dwell on the contrast between the devastation that
had occurred and the hope that remained. Every so often he would
twist his power ring around his finger and wonder what it still
held for him, as well. Nothing really became any clearer, but
eventually he was tired of walking and headed for home.
As he entered the apartment, he could smell dinner being prepared
by Jenny, something like chicken in wine sauce, promising to be
fabulous whatever it was. Jenny poked her head out of the kitchen
as she heard the door close, and smiled warmly at Rayner.
"Hey, roomie. Hungry?" she asked. Her smile faltered
as Rayner remained in the entryway, a neutrally placid expression
on his own face. He held his hands behind his back and stared
back at Jenny. She came fully out of the kitchen and closed the
distance between them.
"Kyle, are you all right? What's going on?" Jenny asked
with concern.
Rayner shook his head and smiled. "Too much is going on.
But I'm all right." He pulled one hand out from behind his
back and cupped his roommate's soft jade cheek affectionately.
"I'm all right, right now. Thanks for making dinner."
As he said that his other hand emerged, holding a bouquet of daisies.
Jenny's face lit up, and she gave Rayner's hand a quick kiss
as she took the flowers from him. "You are such a sweetheart,"
she enthused. "Now come and eat."
They shared dinner, and the darkness of night came to New York
and hid the visible remains of the invasion.
Tomorrow, as repairs continued, there would be fewer, and fewer
still the day after. How long the unseen effects of Mongul's final
fury would remain, however, no one could say.
NEXT ISSUE: A Green Lantern - missing!
A Power ring - fallen into malevolent hands! Enemies, both old and
new, united against the Corps! All this and more - be here!
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