Balance

     Bruce stood silently on a wide wooden plank suspended over a deep ravine. His eyes closed, he listened to the wisps of wind as it gently flowed between the snow-covered mountain walls.
     "You listen well," the master said behind him. "But you are not here to listen to the mountains. You are here to listen to yourself."
     Bruce frowned.
     "I saw that," the master said, still behind him. Bruce looked back over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. The master gestured for Bruce to return to what he was doing. Bruce turned around and went back to his silent meditating.
     "You focus too much on the world outside, young one," the master said. "You must realize that the real conflict is within you."
     "I'm not at conflict with myself," Bruce said indignantly.
     "Why are you here?" the master asked.
     "To gain the skill to avenge my parents' deaths."
     "To what end?"
     Bruce felt slightly furious at the mere question. To what end?! What kind of question was that?
     "Is vengeance not a goal in itself?"
     "What do you seek to gain by enacting vengeance upon another? Contentment? Happiness?"
     "Justice."
     "Justice is an admirable goal, but you speak of vengeance."
     "The two aren't mutually exclusive."
     "Justice brings balance; vengeance further deepens every wound."
     The wind increased slightly, making it a bit more difficult for Bruce to hear the master speak. As he strained his ears, Bruce heard a sharp whistling.
     Bruce's eyes shot open and he ducked low. An arrow sailed directly through where Bruce's face had been, its razor-sharp tip embedding itself in a rock near the master's feet. Bruce lost his balance; the plank below his feet was now a simple rope. Bruce toppled and fell, catching the rope with both hands.
     The master lightly smiled. Bruce eventually realized this was the master's equivalent of chuckling.
     "It seems you lack balance in more than one way, young one," said the master. "When your mind was at ease, the rope seemed as wide and firm as a bridge. When you allowed yourself to become unfocused, you fell."
     "I had an arrow shot at my head!" Bruce shot back exasperatedly.
     "Did you?"
     Bruce looked toward where the arrow had landed; it was missing. Even the hole it should have made in the rock face was gone.
     Bruce worked his way back to the ravine edge. Five weeks here and things were just as confusing as when he arrived.

     Bruce walked quickly but silently down the red carpet towards the altar in the temple. Ambrose was already kneeling there.
     As Bruce knelt, Ambrose turned and smiled. "The master summoned you, too?"
     "Yeah."
     "How is your training coming?"
     Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes.
     Ambrose smirked. "I know the feeling."
     The master suddenly stepped before them. Bruce quickly straightened up; Ambrose did so a bit more slowly.
     "You have attempted to steal from this sacred place," the master said grimly.
     Bruce and Ambrose looked at each other quizzically.
     Bruce began to speak. "Master, I—"
     "ENOUGH!" the master interrupted. "You are hereby both banished from Nanda Parbat. Leave now!"
     Bruce looked at Ambrose in shock. He turned back to the master. "No! I didn't try to steal anyth—"
     "The master has banished you," a monk at Bruce's side said gently. "Please, this humble one does not wish to harm you. Leave now."
     Ambrose stood. "Come, Bruce. Apparently our invitation has been revoked."

     Bruce and Ambrose stood in the snow outside the gate to Nanda Parbat.
     "...Why would they do that?" Bruce asked.
     Ambrose sighed. "I can truly say I do not know. Come with me; I have a camp nearby."
     Bruce followed, but didn't quite understand. A camp? In the snow- and wind-swept mountains? It didn't seem likely that any camp Ambrose set up five weeks ago would still be left standing.
     Twenty minutes of walking later, Bruce saw Ambrose's camp. "Camp" was probably an incorrect term. What Bruce was looking at was more of a makeshift military base. Huge tents and modular buildings were surrounded by a dozen treaded vehicles ranging from snowmobiles to large trucks. Around a hundred men dressed in black walked around the camp, tending to power generators and other equipment.
     Bruce quickly ran through every possibility. This wasn't a scientific expedition, at least not by the look of things. It wasn't military, either, at least not from any country Bruce was aware of.
     Bruce grabbed Ambrose by the arm with a steel grip.
     "Who are you?"
     Ambrose grinned. "I am a man simply trying to gain further knowledge. I am not, however, Damian Ambrose. My real name is Ra's Al Ghul."

Hidden Temple

     So cold. The air is frozen.

     Can't stop.

     The snow is so thick.

     Can't stop.

     It's up to my knees.

     Can't stop.

     Can't feel myself breathing.

     Can't stop.

     Deep in the Himalayas, on the side of a mountain, a man stood before a large round wooden door. Seven feet tall, dressed in thick furs and built like an ox, the man watched over the gateway with the eyes of a hawk, somehow able to see through the blinding snowfall.

     The man saw someone, a boy, trudging through the snow. The boy reached the large man's feet and fell to his knees with exhaustion.

     "What is your name?" the man said.

     "Bruce Wayne," the boy answered weakly.

     "Why have you come?"

     "I seek Nanda Parbat."

     The man lifted Bruce's head with his hand and stared into his eyes.

     "...You traveled the frozen valley and climbed the mountain alone. You have earned the right. Enter."

     The man grabbed hold of the giant circular door by its large handle and pulled it open. Bruce struggled to his feet and walked inside.

     On the other side of the door, a tunnel carved in rock led to a clearing. As Bruce exited the tunnel, his mind fought what he was seeing. Somehow, an entire small city was here inside the mountains, hidden from the outside world. Although the sky was open, the snowy winds did not touch the grounds. Somehow, this entire area felt... warm. Even though there was snow on the ground nearby, Bruce couldn't feel any cold in the air. It was simply peaceful, nothing more and nothing less.

     Bruce had seen the satellite images of this entire area before coming; this city wasn't on any map. Bruce wasn't even sure where he was, truthfully. He'd followed Boston Brand's directions precisely, making every turn along every path through the mountains, but a few of those turns contradicted actual maps of the area; Bruce had traveled along paths that apparently didn't exist as far as science was concerned.

     As Bruce moved closer to the tiny city, he found that it was a monastery. He recognized its architecture: descended from ancient Chinese, similar to classical Kung Fu monasteries. There was one huge rectangular building in the center, with smaller ones arranged symmetrically around it. Fountains, streams, and carefully-trimmed plants were spread across the entire area. Bruce walked along a single stone path leading to the center building.

     Without warning, a man dropped from the sky and silently landed in front of Bruce. Bruce jumped back, instinctively dropping into an Amazonian fighting stance. The man simply smiled gently, completely unfazed. He was bald, slim, Asian, and dressed in a bright orange monk's robe.

     "This humble one apologizes," the monk said, "but you are a stranger to Nanda Parbat. Why have you come?"

     Bruce relaxed. "I was told... that I could learn here."

     The monk nodded. "Yes, that is true. What have you come to learn?"

     "I seek the power to defeat my enemies."

     The monk regarded this for a moment. "Those who seek power will inevitably fail. Those who seek to lessen themselves will find enlightenment."

     Bruce wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Did that mean the monks were refusing to teach him?

     "Follow me, please," the monk said, bowing before turning and walking toward the large building.

     Bruce followed the monk into  the building. It was a temple. Monks sat in rows along the walls, meditating in perfect silence. On the far wall stood a gigantic gold statue of Rama Kushna, the goddess of karma. A long red carpet led from the front door to the altar at the statue's feet. As Bruce walked toward the end of the room, he saw two men near the altar. One was clearly the master of the monks, with his long beard, ornate staff, and golden robe. Another man sat kneeling at the altar near the master's feet.

     "Come," the master said, beckoning to Bruce. Bruce reached the altar and politely bowed to the master.

     "Why have you come?" the master asked.

     Bruce was tired of being asked that question three times in a row.

     "I seek the power to avenge my parents' deaths."

     "Vengeance will not balance the scales, young one," the master replied.

     "It's not only vengeance; it's justice."

     "Ah. Justice. Man's noble attempt to bring balance. But how can any man truly know whether he serves justice or vengeance?"

     Bruce thought for a moment.

     "I... I suppose that's what I need to learn."

     The master smiled. "A wise answer. Sit, here." The master gestured towards the carpet next to the sitting man. "Meditate. Rest. Clear your mind. My monks will bring you to your room later."

     Bruce sat on the carpet and did his best to act like he was relaxing. The master left.

     Bruce turned and looked at the other man sitting next to him. He was vaguely caucasian, with a hint of middle-eastern features. His temples were graying, and his beard was very finely trimmed. As Bruce stared, the man's eyes snapped open and he turned to Bruce. Bruce nearly recoiled; the man's yes burned with a cold fire that was beyond unsettling.

     "My name is Damian Ambrose," the man said, his voice elegant and his every word perfectly enunciated. "And you are?"

     "Bruce."

     "Just 'Bruce'?"

     "My last name isn't important right now."

     "I see."

     Ambrose eyed Bruce. "I am curious... How exactly did you find this monastery?"

     "How did you find it?"

     Ambrose grinned. "A lifetime of searching, my boy. A long lifetime."

     Ambrose looked to Bruce to return the explanation, but Bruce remained silent.

     "Let me guess," Ambrose began. "You're American. Seventeen? Eighteen? By your speech and your clothing, I'd guess East coast, upper-class. I'd guess that you've met one of those people, and offered him a large sum of money in exchange for information on where to find this place. Am I close?"

     Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Not entirely."

     Ambrose smiled. "Ah. Well. I've been here for two weeks as of today; my deduction skills may be a bit rusty."

     "You've been here two weeks?"

     "Yes. Thus far, the monks haven't taught me much besides how to breathe correctly."

     "Great."

     "In any case, it's nice to have another... 'stranger' here. What do you say the two of us stick together? Us strangers?"

     "I don't mean to be rude, but I'd prefer to do things on my own."

     "Oh, I'm sure you would, but trust me. I'm a valuable ally to have, especially in our current situation."

     Bruce turned to Ambrose. "Are you expecting a fight here?"

     Ambrose merely grinned and turned back to his meditation.

The Wolf

     The Life Equation
     by Gerald Frank

     Introduction

     It has been supposed for years that the sciences and humanities are largely separate entities. That cold hard mathematical facts are incompatible with pure speculation, philosophy, and religion. This is quite simply wrong.
     The study of quantum mechanics has scientifically proven that human observation directly affects matter on a microscopic level. Because of this, we can infer that our previously-thought-undefined concepts of the mind may in fact more directly link with science than we ever thought. Quite literally, the power of human consciousness affects reality.
     Much as simple mathematical equations define our reality (Einstein's E=mc², Pythagoras' theorem, etc.), so too must they define the nature of humanity. Concepts universally known to every human culture—right; wrong; good; evil; life; death—must have some common principle; some overarching mathematical truth. This unknown truth—this very core of humanity—is a secret that I believe can and will soon be unraveled.

     Gerald Frank frequently stayed in his classroom at Metropolis High for hours after his students had left. For some reason, ever since he was a boy, he'd always felt at home in a quiet classroom in front of a chalkboard.
     Scattered across the chalkboard were dozens of separate mathematical algorithms and equations. To the casual observer it would seem chaotic, but to Frank it was perfectly sensible. He was looking for correlations between entirely different aspects of nature; searching for the links between everything.
     Frank sat back on his desk and sighed. He knew the answers were there, he just didn't have the information necessary. He needed the equivalent of thirty years' more research into sociological statistics and brain function. By that point, he'd be in his seventies, if he even lived that long. Heart disease was rampant in his family; there was a good chance he'd be dead before he could finish his work. How ironic it was that death would take him before he found the answers to life.

     "How frustrating it must be for you," a voice said from the doorway. A dark-haired man with a sharply trimmed goatee stood in the door, neatly dressed, with an unsettlingly devious grin.
     "Um... who are you?" Frank asked, eyeing the man uneasily.
     "My name is Steppenwolf."
     "Steppenwolf? Like the band?"
     Steppenwolf sneered. "Don't mock me, human. The master I serve is more powerful than any god you have ever known."
     Frank began to slowly step backwards, but Steppenwolf was faster. He reached behind his back, pulled out a bluntly spiked mace, and struck Frank alongside the head.
     "You should be proud, human," Steppenwolf said to Frank's unconscious body. "You will be the key to my lord's grand conquest. This world will burn, as it and all worlds deserve. Glory be to Darkseid."

Battle in the Skies

     Hal was glad to finally be able to go back to Earth, but the nauseating sensation of hyperlight travel nearly made him want to turn around. Tomar had assured him that he'd simply get used to it, but Hal somehow doubted it.
     A tiny blue orb suddenly became huge, and Hal realized he was staring at the Earth. The ring automatically brought Hal out of hyperlight and dropped him straight into the sky above Coast City. Convenient, Hal thought.

     After quietly changing back into his civilian clothes, Hal cautiously stepped onto Ferris Air Base. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed on the base at this point, but the officer at the gate didn't seem to object.
     Hal walked into the cadets' lounge. Across the room, slouched in a chair, sat Cowgirl, her deep blue yes peering out from under her hat. "Wonder'd when you'd be back," she said.
     "Jillian," Hal said. "I—"
     "I told you before to call me Cowgirl," Jillian interrupted, walking over to Hal and playfully poking him in the chest.
     Hal nervously stepped back. He should have been nervous because Cowgirl was a fellow pilot, and relationships between pilots was against regulations. But what he was really nervous about was Carol walking in and seeing the two of them in a flirtatious position. He wasn't sure why; he hadn't had feelings for Carol since they were kids.
     Cowgirl caught him glancing down the hallway and cracked a smile. "No one's gonna come find us in here; they've all run off for the day."
     Somehow, that didn't help. For some reason, Hal felt like backing away even more. He mentally slapped himself in the face. Why was he acting like this?! Jillian, one of the hottest girls Hal had ever seen—with an adorable-yet-hot country accent and eyes that almost literally dared Hal to try something—was standing in front of him, clearly making her move, and yet all Hal could do was feel that he should step back.
     Cowgirl gave him a puzzled look. "What, you get a girlfriend in the week you've been gone?"
     "A week?"
     "...Yeah, Highball, you've been gone a week."
     Hal must have lost track of time while he'd been on Oa.
     "Huh. Anything important happen while I was gone?"
     "Well, Hammond got kicked outta here. They finally traced the technowhatchamacallit back to him. Oh, and Carol's been missin' since yesterday. Some of us figured she and you musta run off together."
     "No, I didn't... no, I didn't even know she'd gone."
     Cowgirl's eyes and lips narrowed mischievously. "Can't say ah'm disappointed."
     "Wait, you said Carol's been gone since yesterday?"
     "Yeah."
     "When did Hector get fired?"
     "Day before yesterday."
     The sound of a blast shook the whole building. Hal and Jillian ran to the hangar, where two unmanned aerial drones were taking off, their jets activated before they'd even cleared the doors. Hal glanced up at the sky outside; two other drones had already taken off. Suddenly, the drones' jets engaged their afterburners, flooding half the hangar with flames. As the wall of fire nearly overtook Hal and Jillian, Hal raised his arm and projected a shield of energy, sending the flames rolling away like water on a rock.
     The drones took off towards the sky, leaving Hal and Jillian alone in the seared hangar.
     "Uh... Hal?" Jillian asked. "What was that... that you just did?"
     "Long story. Why would those drones be taking off?"
     "They shouldn't be. Their weapons test isn't til' tomorrow morning."
     "...Tell me they're not armed."
     "Of course they're armed! It takes the grease monkeys a whole day just to get the cluster missiles attached right so they fit under the stealth plating."
     Hal turned to the sky, focused on his ring, and let it sheath him in his Lantern uniform. Without another word, he lifted off.

     Just as Hal caught sight of one of the drones, it turned and fired off a cluster missile. As the large missile separated into twelve separate smaller missiles, Hal instinctively blocked them with a shield. He felt seven hits vibrate through the air as the missiles collided with his construct... but five others flew straight past. Hal mentally cursed his own stupidity. The missiles weren't even aimed at him. They were aimed at Ferris Air.

     Carl Ferris ran outside and instantly flew forward through the air as the building behind him exploded. He tumbled across the ground, landed on his back, and opened his eyes to see a swarm of missiles headed straight downward. Before they hit, however, a dazzling green light flew into their path, obliterating them in mid-air. Carl strained his eyes, but he couldn't see what the green object was, exactly. It looked like a man, but it was so bright that it was impossible to make out any details. A thunderous whine made Carl cover his ears as he turned to see what was happening. An F-35 was taking off, apparently heading up to join the drones.


     The drones were now targeting Hal. He dodged and wove through the air, trying to avoid the missiles and he couldn't block. He lashed out at one drone, firing a blast straight through its center. Hal was able to smirk at its explosion for a half-second before immediately turning to face the other three. Unexpectedly, however, the drones stopped firing missiles. Hal looked closer, and realized the drones were switching to their onboard gatling cannons.
     A hailstorm of 20-millimeter bullets hit Hal from three sides. He wrapped himself in a hard-light bubble, but it began to crack under the pressure. After a mere few seconds, it shattered. The aura covering Hal's body gave him a certain level of protection, but it could only do so much. Every bullet that hit him felt like a punch from a heavyweight boxer leaning out the window of a car traveling at 80 miles per hour. Hal felt the breath shoved out of his lungs as he was battered from every angle—and then it stopped.
     One of the drones exploded as a stream of gatling fire tore it in half. An F-35 flew through the drone's fireball, angling to take down the other two. Hal took a brief second to catch his breath again, then turned to the drones and focused. He forged the ring's energy into a replica of the drones' gatling cannons and fired a round of energy bullets that ripped the remaining drones to scrap.
     Hal mentally switched his ring to match the radio frequency used by Ferris Air. "Cowgirl, that you?"
     "You know it, super-hero."
     Jillian tipped her F-35's wing at Hal, almost as if to wink at him.
     "How could those things have been activated?" Hal asked.
     "Musta been by remote signal. They weren't hardwired into the base."
     "Can we trace the signal source?"
     "Nuh-uh. They've got a new kinda transmission system that's made to be untraceable. It's impossible."
     "Not for me. Ring: scan for radio signals matching the drones' operating frequency."
     A beam of light shone from the ring down to the ground below where a drone's wreckage had crashed. A moment later, a voice echoed from the ring. "SCANNING... SIGNAL SOURCE FOUND. 5.56 KILOMETERS WEST."
     Hal grinned. "Gotcha."

     Hal crashed through the 32nd-story living room window of Hector Hammond. Hector let out a sudden shriek and fell backwards in surprise.
     "Who are you?!" Hector asked.
     Hal almost seemed surprised. He suddenly realized he was wearing a mask over his face; the ring must have created it when it sensed his identity needed to be protected. Not every Green Lantern made his identity public; many chose to be anonymous, mostly to preserve the privacy and safety of their loved ones.
     Hal realized that if he talked to Hector out loud for too long, Hector might recognize his voice. Hal needed to make whatever he was about to say quick.
     "Shut up!" Hal whacked Hector on the head with a green mallet construct, knocking him out.
     A pile of computers with a half-dozen monitors and a large antenna were stacked in a corner of the room. Hal realized that this was how Hector was controlling the drones. He punched a large hole in the pile of electronics, sending sparks flying everywhere.
     Hal heard knocking coming from a closet. He floated over, opened the door, and saw Carol inside, tied up with duct tape. He waved the ring towards Carol and the duct tape immediately glowed green and disintegrated.
     Carol looked up at Hal, her expression somewhere between being intimidated and confused.
     "Who are you?" she asked, squinting her eyes against the bright green light.
     "...The Green Lantern of Sector 2814," Hal replied.

     Hal and Carol sat together atop their old favorite hill.
     "Hector was pissed beyond all belief when we fired him. Said we didn't have any right to fire him because he was the only one who actually knew what needed to be done. He was convinced that the UAVs, with his programming, were the future of air combat, and he said he only framed you because you got in the way of what needed to be done."
     Hal grinned. "I was too good, basically."
     Carol almost chuckled. "Don't get too cocky, Highball. From what I hear, Cowgirl's the one who's the real hero today. She and that Green Lantern."
     Hal frowned. "So, Carol, why were you at Hector's apartment?"
     "After Hector stormed off, I realized that he'd stolen some equipment from the base. I went to go get it back. When I found out he was putting together a remote command center, he tied me up and threw me in the closet."
     "...That's it? He just duct taped you up and left you in a closet?"
     "Yeah... funny as it is, I think he actually has feelings for me. I don't think he wanted me hurt, he just wanted me out of the way until he got his revenge."
     "So... after tying you up for a day and trying to kill your dad, he thought, what, you'd end up falling in love with him?"
     "Yeah. Not a real great plan."

     "So... Hal," Carol said. "I'm sorry about what happened last week at the restaurant."
     "It's okay. I—"
     "No, it's not okay. You were just looking out for me, and I slapped you in the face because I thought you were jealous. I'm sorry."
     Hal affectionately nudged Carol in the arm. "Let's just forget about it."
     Carol slightly smiled. "Let's."

Boot Camp

     "Welcome to ringslingin' 101. Better known as the worst day of your useless life."
     Kilowog's words rang clear in Hal's mind as he pulled himself out of the mud, bruised and aching. Kilowog was firing off blasts from his ring at the dozen or so Green Lantern recruits, knocking them into the pile of mud beneath their feet.
     "Stay on your feet, poozers!" Kilowog would yell at them occasionally. Hal didn't know what a poozer was, but it was apparently something pathetic.
     Kilowog fired off another blast and Hal instinctively raised his arms to block it and closed his eyes. To Hal's surprise, he was still on his feet after the blast had faded.
     "Heh. Nice job, Earthman," Kilowog grunted.
     Hal opened his eyes and looked up to see a large solid hologram shaped like a shield. His ring had apparently created it.
     "...I just thought about a shield and it made it," Hal thought out loud.
     "Congratulations," Kilowog said. "You've now literally learned the first thing about bein' a Green Lantern." Kilowog fired off another blast, knocking Hal down.
     Hal jumped back up, practically roared at Kilowog, and fired a blast of his own. Kilowog easily blocked the blast like it was nothing. Hal and Kilowog started to run for each other when suddenly a green wall separated them.
     "Kilowog, the Guardians don't particularly appreciate you fighting with the recruits in one-on-one combat," Sinestro said as he descended from the sky, his ring raised towards the wall. "Jordan, come with me."
     Hal followed Sinestro back into the sky. "Why'd you pull me out of there?" Hal asked.
     "Kilowog is an excellent teacher, but thus far he has only worked with recruits from... more advanced... civilizations."
     "More advanced?"
     "Don't ask me to be polite, Jordan. Earth is a primitive world that's barely aware of anything but its own existence."
     "We learn fast."
     Sinestro stopped. "Let me guess. You don't particularly recognize the authority of the Green Lanterns, the Guardians, or least of all, Kilowog."
     "Not really, no."
     "Of course not. You'd never even heard of a Green Lantern until, what, two days ago?"
     "One, actually."
     "Were you raised on a modern world, you'd have known of the glory of the Green Lanterns since you were old enough to crawl. You would know the importance of the role we serve in the universe. The very reason your planet still exists is because of the Green Lantern Corps."
     "So, what, you're saying I don't kiss ass enough for your liking?"
     "I am saying that you're not responsible enough for my liking. And those under your protection will die because of it. You see Tomar-Re over there?"

     Sinestro gestured towards Tomar-Re flying nearby.

     "Seventeen Earth years ago, he was negligent in his duty to a single planet in his sector. The planet Krypton was destroyed by explosive chemical reactions within its core—reactions that Tomar might have been able to halt, had he been aware of them. Now he bears the guilt of Krypton's extinction. Six billion deaths. That is the responsibility of a Lantern. Not to wait while chaos builds in the darkness, but to shine light upon the evils of the universe and blind them. Make the forces of chaos beware your power."
     "That sounds great, in theory. But how exactly am I supposed to do that? I can't seem to make this ring do much of anything useful."
     "Remove petty emotion from your mind. Will is what drives the ring, not anger. Don't merely try to do something. Choose to do it. Force your mind to focus."
     Hal took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He lifted his arm and created a large green construct. In a mere few seconds, it began to take shape—it was an F-22. Hal accessed every memory he had on the craft, every bolt and panel. It was as close an approximation as Hal could muster.
     Sinestro raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Impressive, Jordan. There is potential in you yet. Be sure you do not squander it."
     Sinestro floated away, leaving Hal alone in the space between Oa's buildings.

     Hal slowly flew over to meet Tomar Re.
     "Hey, Tomar?"
     Tomar stopped and turned around, giving Hal a gentle smile. "Yes?"
     "I just... I just wanted to say... I heard about what happened with Krypton, all those years ago."
     Tomar's face fell sadly.
     "And I wanted to tell you," Hal explained, "that, well... I actually know someone from Krypton. He's my age; I think he was a baby when he left his home. His family sent him away in a ship to Earth before the planet blew."
     Tomar's eyes widened. "The Kryptonians were isolationists; they didn't normally send ships to other worlds. Are you sure?"
     "Yeah, definitely. So anyhow, you should know, for whatever it's worth, at least one Kryptonian survived."
     Tomar's eyes began to slightly change color. Hal eventually realized that was his equivalent of getting teary-eyed.
     "It means quite a bit, Hal Jordan. Thank you."

The Guardians

     A blur or space and stars slipped past Hal's vision as he was pulled along by the other lanterns' rings. Enveloped by the green energy, he was completely warm, safe, and breathing in the empty vacuum. Hal didn't say a word for the entire journey; he was a little worried he'd somehow mess something up and die. He wasn't sure how long they'd been traveling; it could have been ten seconds or ten hours. Moving as they were, time itself seemed dilated.
     A sphere of blue appeared before them and quickly grew larger. As Hal's eyes adjusted to it, he realized it was a planet. The aliens and Hal descended to the planet's surface, landing in the midst of a gigantic golden city.
     The green aura covering Hal and the aliens faded, and Hal was relieved to discover that he could breathe the air. Hal looked around. He was standing on a large, circular roof of a golden-yellow building. Around him were hundreds of buildings that were the same golden-yellow color, but all different sleek shapes and sizes. A bright blue sky floated above, with green mountains visible on the horizon. The city was filled with hundreds of floating green lights flying back and forth between the buildings. Hal nearly gasped when he realized those lights were lanterns. Beings of all shapes and sizes, all wearing the same green-and-black colors. And off in the distance, one gigantic green glowing object, half a mile tall and right in the center of the city.
     "Come on," Kilowog said, sneering through his gigantic nostrils. Hal winced at Kilowog's slightly pungent breath and followed.
     The two aliens and Hal walked down a path leading off the roof and down towards a dark tunnel.
     "I suppose we owe you an apology," the fin-headed alien said quietly, leaning over towards Hal as they walked. "We were somewhat rude in our first meeting. We were simply... shocked by Abin's death. He was a dear friend to us all."
     Hal glanced at Kilowog. "Is he gonna apologize, too?"
     The finned alien made an odd movement with his beak that Hal figured was a smirk. "Not likely. Kilowog is rather... stubborn."
     Kilowog stiffened and purposely ignored that statement, which made the other alien smirk even more.
     "My name is Tomar Re," the finned alien said pleasantly.
     "Hal Jordan," Hal replied. "What is this place?"
     "The planet Oa," Tomar said. "Most beings in the universe would recognize it immediately, but Earth is still a rather primitive world with little knowledge of the outside."
     "Why is Oa so famous?"
     As if in response, the dark walls of the tunnel lit up. Hal could have sworn that the tunnel was only maybe fifteen feet wide on the outside, but somehow in here it seemed like a gigantic cavern. Huge images were projected on the walls; figures and shapes like huge moving murals.
     "This tunnel is the path through which all lantern recruits pass through," Tomar explained. "It tells of the history of the Green Lantern Corps."
     Images of short, blue-skinned beings with large round heads and royal red robes appeared on the cavern walls.
     "Eons ago," Tomar said, "the Guardians of the Universe dedicated themselves to stopping the spread of evil. Here, on Oa, they created the Green Lantern Corps."
     The walls now showed a symbol; a circle with two horizontal lines along its top and bottom. It looked vaguely like a lantern. It was the same symbol on the green lanterns' uniforms.
     "The Green Lantern Corps is an organization of eighteen hundred beings, one from every sector of known space, dedicated to preserving peace across the universe. The rings we wear are given strength by the collective willpower of all beings in the cosmos, which is contained within the central battery here on Oa."
     An image of the giant glowing object Hal had seen in the city above appeared. That must be the central battery, Hal realized.
     "Whenever a lantern dies, his ring automatically passes to the nearest worthy candidate. One who possesses those qualities that the powers and responsibilities of the lantern ring require. Namely, a lantern must be able to conquer fear and have an invincible force of will. It is said that only one in a billion beings are worthy of the ring."
     Kilowog glanced over Hal and snorted. "One in a billion. Right."

     The tunnel suddenly ended, and the three beings stepped out onto a walkway leading toward a giant circular building. As they walked up the finely-carpeted stairs leading to the front door, Hal figured this must be Oa's capitol or something. They stepped inside and walked down a long, silent hallway, their footsteps echoing off the walls. When they emerged at the other side, they stood at the bottom of a tall, circular room. Along the edges of the circle, atop seats that were raised twenty or thirty feet off the ground, sat the Guardians, exactly as they had appeared in their images before. Hal noted that they all looked nearly identical aside from the various ways they had cut their short, white hair. They all seemed to be glaring down at Hal disapprovingly—all except one, who seemed more curious than anything else.
     "Guardians," Tomar said, bowing briefly, "this is Hal Jordan of Earth. Abin Sur's ring has chosen him."
     The Guardians sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, one of them spoke.
     "Humans are a primitive race, not fit to wield a ring."
     "And yet one was chosen by the ring," another said. It was the not-scowling Guardian. Hal decided he liked him. "If he was anything but worthy, he would not be here at all."
     Another Guardian spoke up. "There is no way that a human's mind could ever control the ring's power. It's simply unfathomable to them."
     "Guardians, if I may," Tomar said, "Kilowog and I briefly monitored Jordan before making contact. Despite receiving the ring less than an hour prior, he had already mastered flight."
     Surprised, the Guardians suddenly began speaking in rapid whispers to one another.
     "Kilowog," Tomar said, "you've trained over three hundred lantern recruits. Have you ever seen anyone master flight that quickly?"
     Kilowog visibly tensed, then slightly relented. "No. The kid's got potential. But he's also a kid. Not even an adult by Earth standards. And there ain't no way he's good enough to take Abin Sur's place!"
     "I agree with Kilowog," a voice said from behind. Another green lantern, vaguely human-like but with pink-purple skin and pointed ears, stepped out of the shadows in the hallway.
     "Sinestro," one of the Guardians said. "As one of the honored greatest lanterns and Abin Sur's closest friend, you are welcome at this tribunal."
     Sinestro walked past Hal, staring at him with piercing eyes, like a predator sizing up prey. Sinestro passed him then turned to the Guardians.
     "I don't particularly care what happens with this human. Let him keep the ring or give it to another. But let me seek Abin Sur's killer; do not let the injustice of his death go unpunished."
     Hal felt uneasy at the biting viciousness of Sinestro's tone. It seemed like he was more preoccupied with revenge than justice.
     "Abin Sur's death was an accident, Sinestro," one of the Guardians said. "We have received the recording from his ring; the ship Abin Sur was flying stalled while in Earth's orbit and crashed."
     "But why did his ring not protect him? And why was he even flying a ship instead of simply using his ring?!"
     "Abin Sur was known to be experiencing paranoid delusions for many weeks prior to his death!" the Guardian replied forcefully.
     "The matter is closed. Do not speak of it again."
     Sinestro felt rage fly underneath his skin, but he knew there wasn't anything to do but at least pretend to accept the Guardians' decision.
     "As you wish," he said, stepping back.

     "I have a proposal," the not-scowling Guardian said. "Let the human remain a lantern. Kilowog will train him, just as he would any other recruit. However, this human may require additional training. A firmer hand, as it were. After the initial basic training, I propose that Sinestro become Hal Jordan's mentor until such time as Jordan is fully able and ready to wield his responsibility."
     "What?!" Sinestro said, shocked. "I do not have time to—"
     "If you had time to waste investigating a murder, surely you have time to help train our newest recruit," the Guardian replied. "And your friendship with the previous lantern of sector 2814 should grant you special insight into training his replacement."
     The other Guardians nodded with approval.
     Once again, Sinestro realized that arguing was pointless. He had no choice but to accept his lowly sentence.
     Hal looked back and forth between Kilowog, who looked like he could crush Hal inside one of his hands, and Sinestro, who stared daggers that would have made anyone but Hal cower in a corner. This wasn't going to be fun.

Replacement

     Above Coast City, lights danced across the night sky: airplanes taking off, stars winking, the moonlight glistening off the clouds. And a single green torch, glowing brighter than all the rest.
     Hal felt nothing beneath his feet, yet he wasn't falling. He realized his eyes were closed. When he opened them, he saw clouds and a faraway horizon—but no ground. He looked down and saw a sea of lights hundreds of feet below. I'm above Coast City, Hal realized.
     Hal took a hard look at himself. He wasn't wearing his clothes anymore; he was coated in some sort of black and green material that glowed. It's the same kind of suit the alien was wearing, he realized. It didn't quite feel like fabric; there weren't any stitches or seams. Instead, it simply felt like a kind of synthetic second skin. It was warm, but not burning. It somehow just felt... safe. As if it was consciously protecting Hal from anything that might harm him. Hal suddenly realized that he was glowing actually rather brightly, but couldn't tell immediately because his eyes were somehow protected from being blinded by his own green aura. From up here, he probably looked like some sort of green beacon in the sky to anyone down in the city. Hal felt the immediate urge to land, and he felt himself begin to fall in response. Startled, Hal caught himself and stayed stable in the air.
     How am I doing this? Hal thought. The ring, he remembered. He looked at the ring. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed that the ring glowed slightly brighter than any other part of the suit. Hal could barely feel power radiating from the ring and coursing across his entire body, like a ray of energizing sunlight.
     "Okay," Hal said, taking a deep breath. Concentrating intently, he gently lowered himself down towards the ground, doing his best to dim the light of his suit as he went. That's it, he thought. Going to land right here next to my house and get back to normal.
     He stopped. Normal. Normal meant going back to a world where he was being framed by a jackass and possibly getting kicked out of his school, his job, and his future just because of business politics. Where his mother thought he was a disappointment, and his brother thought he was a reckless idiot.
     Truth be told, Hal only ever felt truly accepted and loved by his father. The hours he and his dad would spend flying through the skies were the best moments of Hal's life. And now Hal was here, floating in the same sky his father did, and he was choosing to go down to Earth again.
     No. Not now.
     Hal lifted his head back up to the heavens, grinned, and launched himself upward. He swirled and twisted through the air, dodging this way and that, diving and rising just to feel the adrenaline pulse like a river. He nearly broke the sound barrier at one point. Hal noticed that although he was entirely aware of how fast he was moving, he wasn't in any danger of passing out like he should be, according to the laws of physics. This suit really was a wonder.
     Could he do anything else, he wondered? What did the alien say... The Green Lantern of Sector 2814. Hal was his replacement. So Hal was the new Green Lantern? What did that mean, Green Lantern? I mean, sure, the ring and the suit were bright, but why be named a lantern? Not exactly the most exciting thing in the world. What did Sector 2814 mean? Hal felt a level of concern suddenly. "Use its power wisely," the alien had said. What did that mean? Was being able to fly and glow really a power worth using wisely? There must be more this ring can do, Hal thought. Did I miss anything he said? Hal suddenly remembered the metal lantern that the alien had pointed to. He said it was important. As if in response, Hal felt a tingling at the back of his mind, and turned to see the lantern floating up towards him in the sky. Hal took hold of its handle and felt his palm stick to it like a gentle magnet. Somehow, he could feel that the ring and the lantern were powerfully connected.
     Okay, this is too much, Hal thought. I need to talk to somebody about this. But who? Carl wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of it, and he wasn't exactly the kind of person who'd be open to hearing about aliens and magic techno-rings and such. Barry, maybe? Sure, Barry would understand, being a superhuman and all. Hal reached for his phone, then realized that it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't; his pants weren't even there. The suit had... replaced them somehow. Hal couldn't call anyone, so he had to find someone close by.
     Carol. She'd been Hal's friend forever. She got a little cranky sometimes, but with something as important as this, she wouldn't give him a hard time.
     "Where is Carol?" Hal said quietly to himself, thinking.
     "Specify," a pleasant synthesized female voice said from nowhere.
     "Um, what?" Hal said in reply.
     "Specify location query. Full name of Carol."
     Hal realized the ring itself was talking. "Um... are you the ring?" he asked.
     "Affirmative," the ring replied. "All Green Lantern Corps power rings contain a voice interface."
     Hal thought it over. So the ring wasn't intelligent, but it could obey voice commands like a computer. "Okay, ring: locate Carol Ferris."
     "Scanning," the ring said. Hal saw a faint wave of light extend from the ring and wash across the city. For some reason, Hal got the impression that no one else could see it except him.
     "Carol Ferris located."
     Hal saw a glowing green beacon off towards the far end of the city. He flew towards it.

     When Hal reached the beacon, it was near a restaurant. Hal landed quietly on the ground in an alleyway behind the building. He lamented the fact that he was still in his green lantern suit, and wished he could change back into his regular clothes. Once again responding to his thoughts, a wave of energy quickly slid down Hal's body. As it went from head to toe, the suit was instantly replaced with the clothes Hal had been wearing before he'd put on the ring. The green aura faded. Hal reached in his pocket and found his phone. Apparently, he hadn't lost his things at all; the suit had just hidden them somehow. Hal hid the lantern behind a trash can in the alley, then stepped out to go find Carol.
     Hal saw Carol inside through the window. But she wasn't alone; Hector was with her.
     Hal felt his fist tighten around the ring. Carol and Hector walked towards the door, laughing together over some joke of Hector's that Hal was sure must have been idiotically smarmy. The two exited the building and stood on the sidewalk. Hector leaned in to kiss Carol, but she turned away. Good, Hal thought. At least she's not a complete whore. Carol and Hector parted ways, Hector walking to a parking lot in the opposite direction and Carol walking towards Hal. When she saw Hal, Carol's eyes flashed with surprise, frustration, and anger.
     "Hal?! What are you doing here?! Were you following me?!"
     Hal frustratedly shook his head. "No! What? No! Why were you with him?!"
     "That's my business! Why are you stalking me?!"
     "I'm not stalking you!"
     "And you just happened to turn up right here?"
     "Y—well, kind of. It's complicated."
     "Save it, Hal. You're a jealous idiot."
     "What?! No!"
     "Please. You used to spend all your time trying to kiss me when we were kids. Now you're mad that I went on a date with the guy who caught you trying to cheat."
     "WHAT?!"
     Carol turned and walked away.
     "No, wait! Carol! I... I've got this... thing..."
     Carol wasn't about to start listening. Hal wanted to follow her and try to explain, but he was so mad at her that he didn't really feel like giving her the time of day. He went back to the alley to get his lantern.

     Before Hal could even pick up the lantern, a bright light from behind caught his peripheral vision. Hal felt a massive force slam him to the ground. He instinctively twisted around and lashed out with his fist. A green explosion of light punched whoever or whatever had hit him. Hal heard a deep grunt from his attacker, then a growl as he was hit by what felt like a giant hammer. Hal nearly fell unconscious, but barely managed to keep his eyes open.
     Hal got a good look at who he was facing. Descending from the sky were two vaguely humanoid aliens, both covered in the same suit and aura that Hal had just been wearing. One was thin, with orange skin and birdlike features including a beak, black eyes, and a lizardlike mohawk fin. The other was essentially a ten-foot-tall wall of muscle; aside from his roughly humanoid body, he looked like an alien pig, with a giant bony jaw and no snout.
     "Where is Abin Sur?" the finned alien said firmly.
     "He... he was in a spaceship that crashed," Hal said. "He gave me this ring; said I was his replacement."
     "Like hell he did!" The giant one boomed. "I've trained hundreds o' lanterns, and lemme tell ya, you ain't no lantern. There ain't ever been a human GL before. EVER. Give it up."
     The finned alien leaned in toward his companion. "Kilowog, if what this human says is true, the ring has indeed chosen him. We cannot simply take the ring from him; we don't have the authority."
     "What if he took the ring from Abin?!" Kilowog said. "Not like there ain't a trillion beings in the galaxy that'd wanna be a green lantern if they got the chance."
     "...I don't even think I know what a green lantern is," Hal said.
     The finned alien looked back at Kilowog. "There, see? It's highly unlikely that he even knows what has happened since the ring found him."
     "So what, we take him back to Oa?!" Kilowog said. "He ain't no replacement for Abin."
     "It's our duty, Kilowog."
     Kilowog puffed twin jets of steam out his nostrils. "Fine. We take him back. See what the Guardians think."
     Hal didn't like that his situation was being determined without him. "Hey! Don't I get a say in this?!"
     Kilowog grabbed Hal's arm in with one of his gigantic hands. "SHUT YER FRAKKIN' MOUTH, POOZER. You're comin' with us."

     Hal felt himself being enveloped with energy from the aliens' rings, then being lifted into the sky.