Post by jross on May 23, 2011 11:05:10 GMT -5
Ultimate Green Lantern, Issue #2: The Will to Power, Part II
“The Green Lantern Corps?” Hal Jordan muttered to himself. That strange sequence of words briefly entered his mind, intruding upon thoughts of his planet in danger, of Carol in danger.
<I will explain in time, Hal Jordan,> came Abin Sur's mental response. It continued, <First we must attend to the business of my body. According to the customs of my people, it must not remain on the soil of a foreign planet.>
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Hal replied, “and I suppose this fellow, too?”
Hal indicated the dead form in front of him. Hal looked at it's grotesque shape and massive wounds and shuddered in revulsion.
<That is the body of a base creature, devoid of morality and decency. Leave him to carrion scavengers. Your only concern is his spacecraft, which I destroyed during combat.>
Hal glanced to his right, and saw that a few yards away lay a heap of scorched and twisted metal. He continued to search and realized something was missing.
“My truck! You broke it! That was department-issue!” Hal's face reddened as he realized that his pick-up was nowhere in sight.
Hal picked up what he perceived as a telepathic chuckle. <Curious. You are warned of impending planetary peril and yet show greater concern for your vehicle. Your transport and my body both lie some distance South of here. We must make haste.>
“I can't even see them. You mean that I have to walk all the way back?” Hal was incredulous at his situation. Irritated, the young man started walking.
<Nothing so pedestrian, Hal Jordan.> Abin Sur responded, and then Hal fell. His right foot missed his step, landing on air, and Hal instinctively began tumbling forward. Oddly, Hal's hands missed the ground, and he found himself with a sense of falling without moving. Before Hal could comment or ask, Abin Sur spoke to him. <The ring which holds my consciousness is a device of great power, which among other things allows its bearer to fly at great speed. How do you think that we were able to get to this point in the first place?>
Hal did not respond, but remained silent as he found himself moving through the roaring air and glowing the same eerie green color that he had been seeing since coming upon the alien crash site as his truck and the body of Abin Sur came into view. Before he could form a sentence he had stopped and found himself standing over the body. Having covered what had to have been several miles in a matter of seconds, Hal should have been shaking, or sobbing, or even soiling himself. He found himself only grinning.
-
Having loaded Abin Sur's body into the bed of the truck, Hal set out for his home. Before reaching the highway Abin Sur had resumed speaking.
<Hal Jordan, you are a member of the noble Green Lantern Corps. The Corps was founded by the Guardians of the Universe, scions of the world of Oa. As what legend holds to be the eldest race in the galaxy, the Guardians hold it to be their sacred duty to uphold order and justice galaxy-wide.
The ring you now bear is the greatest tool that a Green Lantern can wield. It is capable of creating constructs of hard light, in any form conceivable. You will notice that there was no spacecraft near my body, and that I appear to be speaking in your native tongue. The Power Rings allow their wearers to travel through outer space completely protected and at high speed as well as serving as near-universal speech and text translators and long-distance communicator.>
“Huh,” Hal replied, “So, what does this mean for me?”
<Hal Jordan, did you not perceive my meaning? You are now a life-time member of the Corps. From this point forward you will serve as a law enforcer for this entire sector of space. You have embarked on a life of service.>
“I see,” Hal said slowly, “Thing is, I'm the sheriff here, and I've got an obligation to my own people. I can't really keep 'em safe if I'm always zipping off to Mars.”
<Hal Jordan, why do you resist the call? This is a noble and just calling. You will serve as a reserve Corpsman, called upon to act if neighboring star systems are imperiled from outside forces, natural disasters or beings too powerful and corrupt to let remain in operation.
If I may comment, I detect traces of intoxicants in your bloodstream, Hal Jordan, which does not indicate a great concern for those in your charge. Further, a cursory scan of your memories reveals that->
“My what?!” Hal roared, nearly colliding with an on-coming semi as he lost focus, “I don't want you in my head! Besides all that, if you don't think that I'm such a great cop, then why did you give me this ring? Why don't you just grab someone else?”
<Unfortunately, Hal Jordan, you were the closest sentient being, and use of your form was required to neutralize the Ryutian brute who killed me. Lay your fears to rest. My mind is fading, and within a day I will likely pass on completely. The most direct consequence for you, Hal Jordan, is that there are likely more pirates en route to Earth, and I am no longer strong enough to control your body, so you will have to learn to use the ring yourself.>
As the truck pulled up to his house, Hal remembered that Abin Sur had mentioned great danger, and that was the whole reason he'd accepted the ring in the first place. Sur's unspecified danger brought out the protective side of Hal, especially when he'd been thinking about Carol.
Carol. Hal's headlights illuminated his stucco ranch home, showing Carol Ferris on his front porch. Well, my night just got a whole lot better, or really, really terrible. Carol could have come over to thank Hal for being her big hero, but with her hands folded over her chest, right eyebrow arched, nostrils flared and the foot at the end of her fantastic right leg tapping the porch impatiently, Hal decided that he wasn't going to enjoy the rest of his evening.
“Hal, where have you been?” Carol leaned forward, spreading her arms palms-up in an questioning posture, “I've been here for hours and you haven't answered your phone.”
Hal spoke as he walked to his porch, reaching into his pocket for his keys. “I thought you went ahead an lost my number, Carol. Besides, shouldn't you be worried about Guy right about now? Or is that what this is all about?”
“Guy's a better man than you know, Hal. He-”
“Good men don't beat their women,” Hal interrupted, opening his door and gesturing Carol inside.
Abin Sur cut into Hal's side of the conversation. <Dismiss your lover, Hal Jordan. There is work to be done.>
Hal simply shook his head, knowing that Abin Sur would get the message. This was the most that he and Carol had talked in a long time, and he wasn't about to send her away. Now that Guy had finally gone and punched a cop...
“Good men,” Carol replied quietly but in a cutting tone, “don't go out on their women.”
Hal winced, pierced to his heart. Hal's and Carol's relationship could have been described as a maelstrom at best, having been been broken and restarted more times in twelve years than Hal could remember, and usually this had been due to some fault of Hal's. Notable faults included Cindy the cheerleader in junior year and Anji the painter six years after that.
Carol continued before Hal could respond, “Besides, Guy's never laid a finger on me. He yells a lot, and he's got a short fuse, but he's pretty sweet to me.”
Hal walked to the kitchen while Carol sat on the couch. Abin Sur cut in again. <Hal Jordan, time is of the essence, you must rest and train before the arrival of more pirates!>
“Just give me few, okay? I'll be quick with Carol,” Hal whispered. He pulled a couple Corona's from the fridge. Looking around and not finding the paint can opener he used for beer bottles, Hal fingered the ring on his right middle finger and grinned. Quickly positioning the ring under the lip of the bottlecaps, Hal pressed down with his forefingers and up with his palm, flipping off the caps with a satisfying CHOOSH.
<Blasphemy! You reduce a Power Ring of Oa to a kitchen implement! Such->
Hal found that he was able to tune out the alien voice by focusing his mind on turning down the volume of a TV. He grinned wider as he brought the beers out to Carol.
“Thirsty?” Hal asked, taking a swig from the beer in his right hand while offering Carol the one in his left.
“Hal, I'm here about that,” Carol nodded to the bottle. Her expression had changed from frustration to concern, “I'm worried about you. I've been talking to Tom, and he's noticed a problem, too. It's not just us, people are talking around town.
“I think that you drink too much, Hal. You've gotten mean; Tom said Guy wasn't the first suspect that you've kicked on the ground. Do you remember how nice you used to be? Even when we weren't together I could still count on you to be a friend. Now, I get nothing from you. Is this about your dad?”
Hal's grin had dropped as Carol spoke, and soon the long face was replaced with a scowl. A lot of things had to do Hal's dad. Marty Jordan had gone and died of a stroke before Hal had ever gotten to kick his butt the way he deserved. Hal wasn't one to talk about this sort of thing, and Carol knew that Hal's father was a sore spot in his life.
“You better go, Carol.”
“Fine, Hal.” Carol didn't bother fighting to stay, and that hurt. “I'm leaving, but I want you to know that I'm gonna be a better friend to you than you've been to me.” Carol stood up on her tip-toes and gave Hal a light, quick peck on the cheek. She flashed a brief, sorrowful smile. “Call me sometime, okay?”
“Carol, wait-” Hal called out to Carol, who was out the door and nearly to her car.
“Go to bed, Hal,” Carol responded without turning around before she stepped into her El Camino and reversed out of Hal's driveway.
<Go to bed, Hal Jordan!> Abin Sur echoed Carol's advice, although with far less patience.
Hal swatted the voice down and stared at Carol's car as she headed back home. As he looked at the bottles in his hand he thought about what she had said. How could she defend Guy like that? He may not have hit her, but Carol was in an abusive situation. Guy's ranting could be heard for miles, and how carelessly Guy could just destroy her pottery pieces. Carol was the most gifted sculptor in Taos, but that big ape was holding back her career. Hal sighed and thought Some people just won't be helped, no matter how hard you try. He finished his own beer and then the one he had opened for Carol, then headed back to the fridge to top off before bed.
-
Hal's head hit the pillow and he dropped out of consciousness immediately. When he opened his eyes he found himself standing in his front lawn. However, this wasn't the front lawn he currently occupied, but the lawn of his childhood home, a mile down the road.
“Did you take me here?” Hal called out to Abin Sur, recalling Sur's previous control of his body.
“In a sense, we brought one another here, Hal Jordan,” came the reply. Hal was startled to find Sur standing next to him, clad in his green jumpsuit and speaking as if he had not died in the desert hours ago. Sur continued, “before you ask, my body lies still within your vehicle, absorbing the loving caress of the Luminary of Night. Yours lies upon your bed, while our minds have traveled to this place, significant to you.”
“Wait, I'm dreaming? And you get to dream with me? I'm glad that this sort of thing didn't happen when I was a teenager. Talk about awkward.”
“This situation is not permanent. My mind is continuing to slip from your consciousness. We must use this evening's REM cycle to train you in the use of your Power Ring. While asleep you will not be able to inadvertently harm yourself or others in your practice.”
“Uh, sure. So what do I do now?”
“We shall begin by learning to create simple constructs. The ring can create anything you desire. Focus on a simple object, holding the ring in front of you.”
Hal thought briefly about what he'd like to have at that moment. Raising his arm, he focused, and saw what looked like a fluid emerald laser shoot forward, ending several feet from his hand, terminating in a rough, cylindrical blob. As Hal admired the beautiful color, Abin Sur spoke.
“Focus, Hal Jordan, visualize the form refined into its true shape. Turn your creation by the lathe of your will.”
Hal thought, focused on smoothing out the shape. He remembered Carol at her wheel, throwing clay into beautiful shapes, redefining raw lumps of earth into elegant forms. Lessons from school returned to his mind, of his doodles in art class which he used to practice perspective and shading. Withing a few seconds the cylindrical construct had settled into the familiar shape of a long-neck Corona bottle.
As Hal willed the bottle into his waiting hand, Abin Sur clucked and admonished, “Hal Jordan, your vices control you. You must learn self-control to be a Green Lantern.”
“Well, if I don't,” Hal smirked, “it looks like you might need a replacement.”
“If you do not, Hal Jordan, the ring shall overpower your mind, driving you mad. Membership in the Green Lantern Corps is a lifetime commitment, although there are no guarantees on actual length of time that may encompass. Hal Jordan, tonight you fight for your life.”
“I what?” Hal was about to speak further when he heard a most unwelcome voice.
“Hal! Where are you! Get your butt back here or its only gonna get worse when I find you!”
The voice belonged to Hal's father, who he could see in the spacious back yard. Even at a distance Hal could see that his father was now a young man, the age he had been when Hal was a very young child, over twenty years ago. The sight was familiar, Marty Jordan in heavy boots, blue jeans and a yellow-and-white checkered flannel shirt. From his hand dangled the dreaded black leather belt with its stinging silver-clad tip.
“Why is he here?” Hal asked in shock. The sound carried, causing the elder Jordan's ears to perk, as he turned his head and fixed Hal with a malevolent expression.
“This is the personification of your fear, Hal Jordan.” Sur explained. “You must learn to defend yourself and overcome your fear in order to protect those in your care.”
As Sur spoke, Hal's father walked, slowly but purposefully, towards Hal. Each step fell heavier and louder than the previous one. With every footfall, Marty Jordan's dream form grew larger. As he neared his fearful son, Hal's father towered over the house. He looked down and loosed an unearthly, bestial roar.
“The ring is your defense, Hal Jordan, protect yourself!”
Hal's father slowly raised his right arm, drawing back the hanging belt like a whip. This was a familiar memory, and Hal knew what was coming next. Frantically, he sought something in his memory with which he could protect himself. Quickly the image came of his favorite childhood drawings, the ones where Hal was a feudal knight, slaying his father, the dragon.
The whip arced up, and began it's whistling descent. Hal flinched and crouched down, raising his left elbow for protection as he had done many times before. To his great surprise the metal tip of the belt did not bite into his skin, but he felt it bounce off of his arm. Opening his eyes Hal was surprised to see a shield held in his left arm, exactly as he had drawn in his childhood.
“Your mind is hyper-aware in this situation,” Abin Sur called out, “use this to focus your thoughts. You will learn to defend yourself well in the real world. You have the power to end this.”
The belt arced down once more, and Hal blocked its strike with ease. His father bellowed again, striking furiously. Hal focused on his knight, and of taking the fight to his father. A sword materialized in his right hand, and Hal smiled grimly.
Hal began looking for an opening to charge his father between strikes. Finally sensing one, Hal darted forward. He had misjudged his chance, however, and as he strode forward the belt caught on Hal's arm, wrapping around his left forearm.
In a panic Hal raised his sword to slash the belt. He gasped when the tip of the belt suddenly began moving, snake-like, over his arm. The silver tip split, revealing a row of dripping fangs. The mouth bit hard into Hal's bicep, stinging and spreading a yellow jaundice through Hal's flesh.
Hal screamed, slashing quickly through the belt. The mouth cried a sickening scream before falling limply from his arm. As Hal watched it fall, he noticed the yellow jaundice on his flesh shrinking away.
His father roared again, and Hal looked up. Above him he could see that his father's appearance had changed. The youthful face was replaced by a sneering, savage and wrinkled visage, the same jaundiced color of Hal's fading wound. The giant raised it's massive right foot, seeking to stomp its fearful son.
“Your buckler will not suffice against his attack,” Abin Sur called again, “envision yourself embraced by light, Hal Jordan.”
The sight of the enormous boot coming down on him told Hal that Sur was right. He retreated inward, forcing the growing light that he had felt within his body ever since activating the ring outward. An instant before the impact of his father's foot, Hal's vision took on a verdant tinge, and he saw his outstretched arms enveloped in light.
His father's heel crashed down, impacting hard. Hal did not feel the familiar crack of his ribs snapping, however. A dull thump reverberated through his body, but Hal was uninjured. He realized quickly, however, that his father was not lifting his foot, intent on smothering him.
Hal couldn't make out the instruction that he was hearing from Abin Sur, but he didn't need anyone to tell him that he needed to find his way out. Hal focused then on extending his form outward. Looking again to his boyhood knight, Hal willed the protective aura around him into a suit of plate armor. As the armor took shape, Hal felt as if his own body were being re-sculpted, becoming the mighty hero he had always wished would save him as a boy.
Hal pushed upward with all of his strength, until finally he felt his father's foot give. His arms were fully extended, but Hal had no room to maneuver. Calmly, Hal extended again, lengthening the gauntlets of his armor, lacking his father's foot like the wheels of a pickup.
Hal quickly rolled out as his father's foot fell again to the earth. Snarling, Hal charged, packing the years of hatred and anger into his right fist. He watched the armored hand swell, increasing to several times its original size. Hal slammed it into the lower part of his father's right shin, releasing the most satisfying crunch that Hal had ever heard. There was a wail of pain as Marty Jordan crashed down onto his right knee while Hal jumped aside.
“You must learn to fly, Hal Jordan. Envision your own body as weightless as light and you will find yourself truly free. You will be able to end this by focusing your will into a ray of aggression.”
Hal simply nodded. He imagined weightlessness, falling up as he had earlier in the desert. Hal began to float, and after finding himself free of gravity, he mentally pushed himself upward and forward, soaring to meet his nightmare face-to-face.
The roaring brute glared at Hal with luminous yellow eyes. Tears of rage and pain streaked down its face as it tried vainly to swat him down. Hal weaved, just like a boxer in mid-air. Smiling inwardly, Hal knew what came next.
He had seen enough b-movies on late-night TV to know that light was always handy as a weapon. Channeling his aggression directly into the ring, Hal screamed as he thrust his fist forward, a brilliant ray of shimmering light streamed forth, impacting the monster's forehead. In a split-second the ray tore into and through it's head, a spray of sickly golden ichor bursting from the wound. The beast fell silently to the ground, landing with a terrible crash, while Hal slowly alit next to Abin Sur.
The alien smiled and nodded slowly. “You have done well, Hal Jordan. This is but a taste of the power you will wield in pursuit of justice. You must rest now. My colleagues will arrive shortly to assist you. Farewell.”
Before Hal could speak Abin Sur faded from vision, followed by the scenery, and finally Hal felt a heavy, dragging force pull him into the blackness of slumber.
-
Hal awoke, starting out of bed. A sense of urgency subsumed him, though he could not say why. Squinting in the morning sunlight Hal quickly pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and boots before running outside.
Standing in his front yard was a tall, thin man. The man was wearing a green jumpsuit in the same style as Abin Sur's. This man, this alien, covered in deep pink skin and with a shock of slick black hair on the crown of his head with a thin mustache above its sneering lip regarded Hal with an expression of contempt recognizable as such by any sentient being.
“Hey,” Hal called out, “who are you?”
“I,” the alien responded in a regal tone of voice and advanced with a matching arrogant, patrician swagger, “am the Heir to the House of Thaal, last noble of Korugar, Sines Toro. Who, may I ask, are you and why have you dared to murder the great Abin Sur?”
“The Green Lantern Corps?” Hal Jordan muttered to himself. That strange sequence of words briefly entered his mind, intruding upon thoughts of his planet in danger, of Carol in danger.
<I will explain in time, Hal Jordan,> came Abin Sur's mental response. It continued, <First we must attend to the business of my body. According to the customs of my people, it must not remain on the soil of a foreign planet.>
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Hal replied, “and I suppose this fellow, too?”
Hal indicated the dead form in front of him. Hal looked at it's grotesque shape and massive wounds and shuddered in revulsion.
<That is the body of a base creature, devoid of morality and decency. Leave him to carrion scavengers. Your only concern is his spacecraft, which I destroyed during combat.>
Hal glanced to his right, and saw that a few yards away lay a heap of scorched and twisted metal. He continued to search and realized something was missing.
“My truck! You broke it! That was department-issue!” Hal's face reddened as he realized that his pick-up was nowhere in sight.
Hal picked up what he perceived as a telepathic chuckle. <Curious. You are warned of impending planetary peril and yet show greater concern for your vehicle. Your transport and my body both lie some distance South of here. We must make haste.>
“I can't even see them. You mean that I have to walk all the way back?” Hal was incredulous at his situation. Irritated, the young man started walking.
<Nothing so pedestrian, Hal Jordan.> Abin Sur responded, and then Hal fell. His right foot missed his step, landing on air, and Hal instinctively began tumbling forward. Oddly, Hal's hands missed the ground, and he found himself with a sense of falling without moving. Before Hal could comment or ask, Abin Sur spoke to him. <The ring which holds my consciousness is a device of great power, which among other things allows its bearer to fly at great speed. How do you think that we were able to get to this point in the first place?>
Hal did not respond, but remained silent as he found himself moving through the roaring air and glowing the same eerie green color that he had been seeing since coming upon the alien crash site as his truck and the body of Abin Sur came into view. Before he could form a sentence he had stopped and found himself standing over the body. Having covered what had to have been several miles in a matter of seconds, Hal should have been shaking, or sobbing, or even soiling himself. He found himself only grinning.
-
Having loaded Abin Sur's body into the bed of the truck, Hal set out for his home. Before reaching the highway Abin Sur had resumed speaking.
<Hal Jordan, you are a member of the noble Green Lantern Corps. The Corps was founded by the Guardians of the Universe, scions of the world of Oa. As what legend holds to be the eldest race in the galaxy, the Guardians hold it to be their sacred duty to uphold order and justice galaxy-wide.
The ring you now bear is the greatest tool that a Green Lantern can wield. It is capable of creating constructs of hard light, in any form conceivable. You will notice that there was no spacecraft near my body, and that I appear to be speaking in your native tongue. The Power Rings allow their wearers to travel through outer space completely protected and at high speed as well as serving as near-universal speech and text translators and long-distance communicator.>
“Huh,” Hal replied, “So, what does this mean for me?”
<Hal Jordan, did you not perceive my meaning? You are now a life-time member of the Corps. From this point forward you will serve as a law enforcer for this entire sector of space. You have embarked on a life of service.>
“I see,” Hal said slowly, “Thing is, I'm the sheriff here, and I've got an obligation to my own people. I can't really keep 'em safe if I'm always zipping off to Mars.”
<Hal Jordan, why do you resist the call? This is a noble and just calling. You will serve as a reserve Corpsman, called upon to act if neighboring star systems are imperiled from outside forces, natural disasters or beings too powerful and corrupt to let remain in operation.
If I may comment, I detect traces of intoxicants in your bloodstream, Hal Jordan, which does not indicate a great concern for those in your charge. Further, a cursory scan of your memories reveals that->
“My what?!” Hal roared, nearly colliding with an on-coming semi as he lost focus, “I don't want you in my head! Besides all that, if you don't think that I'm such a great cop, then why did you give me this ring? Why don't you just grab someone else?”
<Unfortunately, Hal Jordan, you were the closest sentient being, and use of your form was required to neutralize the Ryutian brute who killed me. Lay your fears to rest. My mind is fading, and within a day I will likely pass on completely. The most direct consequence for you, Hal Jordan, is that there are likely more pirates en route to Earth, and I am no longer strong enough to control your body, so you will have to learn to use the ring yourself.>
As the truck pulled up to his house, Hal remembered that Abin Sur had mentioned great danger, and that was the whole reason he'd accepted the ring in the first place. Sur's unspecified danger brought out the protective side of Hal, especially when he'd been thinking about Carol.
Carol. Hal's headlights illuminated his stucco ranch home, showing Carol Ferris on his front porch. Well, my night just got a whole lot better, or really, really terrible. Carol could have come over to thank Hal for being her big hero, but with her hands folded over her chest, right eyebrow arched, nostrils flared and the foot at the end of her fantastic right leg tapping the porch impatiently, Hal decided that he wasn't going to enjoy the rest of his evening.
“Hal, where have you been?” Carol leaned forward, spreading her arms palms-up in an questioning posture, “I've been here for hours and you haven't answered your phone.”
Hal spoke as he walked to his porch, reaching into his pocket for his keys. “I thought you went ahead an lost my number, Carol. Besides, shouldn't you be worried about Guy right about now? Or is that what this is all about?”
“Guy's a better man than you know, Hal. He-”
“Good men don't beat their women,” Hal interrupted, opening his door and gesturing Carol inside.
Abin Sur cut into Hal's side of the conversation. <Dismiss your lover, Hal Jordan. There is work to be done.>
Hal simply shook his head, knowing that Abin Sur would get the message. This was the most that he and Carol had talked in a long time, and he wasn't about to send her away. Now that Guy had finally gone and punched a cop...
“Good men,” Carol replied quietly but in a cutting tone, “don't go out on their women.”
Hal winced, pierced to his heart. Hal's and Carol's relationship could have been described as a maelstrom at best, having been been broken and restarted more times in twelve years than Hal could remember, and usually this had been due to some fault of Hal's. Notable faults included Cindy the cheerleader in junior year and Anji the painter six years after that.
Carol continued before Hal could respond, “Besides, Guy's never laid a finger on me. He yells a lot, and he's got a short fuse, but he's pretty sweet to me.”
Hal walked to the kitchen while Carol sat on the couch. Abin Sur cut in again. <Hal Jordan, time is of the essence, you must rest and train before the arrival of more pirates!>
“Just give me few, okay? I'll be quick with Carol,” Hal whispered. He pulled a couple Corona's from the fridge. Looking around and not finding the paint can opener he used for beer bottles, Hal fingered the ring on his right middle finger and grinned. Quickly positioning the ring under the lip of the bottlecaps, Hal pressed down with his forefingers and up with his palm, flipping off the caps with a satisfying CHOOSH.
<Blasphemy! You reduce a Power Ring of Oa to a kitchen implement! Such->
Hal found that he was able to tune out the alien voice by focusing his mind on turning down the volume of a TV. He grinned wider as he brought the beers out to Carol.
“Thirsty?” Hal asked, taking a swig from the beer in his right hand while offering Carol the one in his left.
“Hal, I'm here about that,” Carol nodded to the bottle. Her expression had changed from frustration to concern, “I'm worried about you. I've been talking to Tom, and he's noticed a problem, too. It's not just us, people are talking around town.
“I think that you drink too much, Hal. You've gotten mean; Tom said Guy wasn't the first suspect that you've kicked on the ground. Do you remember how nice you used to be? Even when we weren't together I could still count on you to be a friend. Now, I get nothing from you. Is this about your dad?”
Hal's grin had dropped as Carol spoke, and soon the long face was replaced with a scowl. A lot of things had to do Hal's dad. Marty Jordan had gone and died of a stroke before Hal had ever gotten to kick his butt the way he deserved. Hal wasn't one to talk about this sort of thing, and Carol knew that Hal's father was a sore spot in his life.
“You better go, Carol.”
“Fine, Hal.” Carol didn't bother fighting to stay, and that hurt. “I'm leaving, but I want you to know that I'm gonna be a better friend to you than you've been to me.” Carol stood up on her tip-toes and gave Hal a light, quick peck on the cheek. She flashed a brief, sorrowful smile. “Call me sometime, okay?”
“Carol, wait-” Hal called out to Carol, who was out the door and nearly to her car.
“Go to bed, Hal,” Carol responded without turning around before she stepped into her El Camino and reversed out of Hal's driveway.
<Go to bed, Hal Jordan!> Abin Sur echoed Carol's advice, although with far less patience.
Hal swatted the voice down and stared at Carol's car as she headed back home. As he looked at the bottles in his hand he thought about what she had said. How could she defend Guy like that? He may not have hit her, but Carol was in an abusive situation. Guy's ranting could be heard for miles, and how carelessly Guy could just destroy her pottery pieces. Carol was the most gifted sculptor in Taos, but that big ape was holding back her career. Hal sighed and thought Some people just won't be helped, no matter how hard you try. He finished his own beer and then the one he had opened for Carol, then headed back to the fridge to top off before bed.
-
Hal's head hit the pillow and he dropped out of consciousness immediately. When he opened his eyes he found himself standing in his front lawn. However, this wasn't the front lawn he currently occupied, but the lawn of his childhood home, a mile down the road.
“Did you take me here?” Hal called out to Abin Sur, recalling Sur's previous control of his body.
“In a sense, we brought one another here, Hal Jordan,” came the reply. Hal was startled to find Sur standing next to him, clad in his green jumpsuit and speaking as if he had not died in the desert hours ago. Sur continued, “before you ask, my body lies still within your vehicle, absorbing the loving caress of the Luminary of Night. Yours lies upon your bed, while our minds have traveled to this place, significant to you.”
“Wait, I'm dreaming? And you get to dream with me? I'm glad that this sort of thing didn't happen when I was a teenager. Talk about awkward.”
“This situation is not permanent. My mind is continuing to slip from your consciousness. We must use this evening's REM cycle to train you in the use of your Power Ring. While asleep you will not be able to inadvertently harm yourself or others in your practice.”
“Uh, sure. So what do I do now?”
“We shall begin by learning to create simple constructs. The ring can create anything you desire. Focus on a simple object, holding the ring in front of you.”
Hal thought briefly about what he'd like to have at that moment. Raising his arm, he focused, and saw what looked like a fluid emerald laser shoot forward, ending several feet from his hand, terminating in a rough, cylindrical blob. As Hal admired the beautiful color, Abin Sur spoke.
“Focus, Hal Jordan, visualize the form refined into its true shape. Turn your creation by the lathe of your will.”
Hal thought, focused on smoothing out the shape. He remembered Carol at her wheel, throwing clay into beautiful shapes, redefining raw lumps of earth into elegant forms. Lessons from school returned to his mind, of his doodles in art class which he used to practice perspective and shading. Withing a few seconds the cylindrical construct had settled into the familiar shape of a long-neck Corona bottle.
As Hal willed the bottle into his waiting hand, Abin Sur clucked and admonished, “Hal Jordan, your vices control you. You must learn self-control to be a Green Lantern.”
“Well, if I don't,” Hal smirked, “it looks like you might need a replacement.”
“If you do not, Hal Jordan, the ring shall overpower your mind, driving you mad. Membership in the Green Lantern Corps is a lifetime commitment, although there are no guarantees on actual length of time that may encompass. Hal Jordan, tonight you fight for your life.”
“I what?” Hal was about to speak further when he heard a most unwelcome voice.
“Hal! Where are you! Get your butt back here or its only gonna get worse when I find you!”
The voice belonged to Hal's father, who he could see in the spacious back yard. Even at a distance Hal could see that his father was now a young man, the age he had been when Hal was a very young child, over twenty years ago. The sight was familiar, Marty Jordan in heavy boots, blue jeans and a yellow-and-white checkered flannel shirt. From his hand dangled the dreaded black leather belt with its stinging silver-clad tip.
“Why is he here?” Hal asked in shock. The sound carried, causing the elder Jordan's ears to perk, as he turned his head and fixed Hal with a malevolent expression.
“This is the personification of your fear, Hal Jordan.” Sur explained. “You must learn to defend yourself and overcome your fear in order to protect those in your care.”
As Sur spoke, Hal's father walked, slowly but purposefully, towards Hal. Each step fell heavier and louder than the previous one. With every footfall, Marty Jordan's dream form grew larger. As he neared his fearful son, Hal's father towered over the house. He looked down and loosed an unearthly, bestial roar.
“The ring is your defense, Hal Jordan, protect yourself!”
Hal's father slowly raised his right arm, drawing back the hanging belt like a whip. This was a familiar memory, and Hal knew what was coming next. Frantically, he sought something in his memory with which he could protect himself. Quickly the image came of his favorite childhood drawings, the ones where Hal was a feudal knight, slaying his father, the dragon.
The whip arced up, and began it's whistling descent. Hal flinched and crouched down, raising his left elbow for protection as he had done many times before. To his great surprise the metal tip of the belt did not bite into his skin, but he felt it bounce off of his arm. Opening his eyes Hal was surprised to see a shield held in his left arm, exactly as he had drawn in his childhood.
“Your mind is hyper-aware in this situation,” Abin Sur called out, “use this to focus your thoughts. You will learn to defend yourself well in the real world. You have the power to end this.”
The belt arced down once more, and Hal blocked its strike with ease. His father bellowed again, striking furiously. Hal focused on his knight, and of taking the fight to his father. A sword materialized in his right hand, and Hal smiled grimly.
Hal began looking for an opening to charge his father between strikes. Finally sensing one, Hal darted forward. He had misjudged his chance, however, and as he strode forward the belt caught on Hal's arm, wrapping around his left forearm.
In a panic Hal raised his sword to slash the belt. He gasped when the tip of the belt suddenly began moving, snake-like, over his arm. The silver tip split, revealing a row of dripping fangs. The mouth bit hard into Hal's bicep, stinging and spreading a yellow jaundice through Hal's flesh.
Hal screamed, slashing quickly through the belt. The mouth cried a sickening scream before falling limply from his arm. As Hal watched it fall, he noticed the yellow jaundice on his flesh shrinking away.
His father roared again, and Hal looked up. Above him he could see that his father's appearance had changed. The youthful face was replaced by a sneering, savage and wrinkled visage, the same jaundiced color of Hal's fading wound. The giant raised it's massive right foot, seeking to stomp its fearful son.
“Your buckler will not suffice against his attack,” Abin Sur called again, “envision yourself embraced by light, Hal Jordan.”
The sight of the enormous boot coming down on him told Hal that Sur was right. He retreated inward, forcing the growing light that he had felt within his body ever since activating the ring outward. An instant before the impact of his father's foot, Hal's vision took on a verdant tinge, and he saw his outstretched arms enveloped in light.
His father's heel crashed down, impacting hard. Hal did not feel the familiar crack of his ribs snapping, however. A dull thump reverberated through his body, but Hal was uninjured. He realized quickly, however, that his father was not lifting his foot, intent on smothering him.
Hal couldn't make out the instruction that he was hearing from Abin Sur, but he didn't need anyone to tell him that he needed to find his way out. Hal focused then on extending his form outward. Looking again to his boyhood knight, Hal willed the protective aura around him into a suit of plate armor. As the armor took shape, Hal felt as if his own body were being re-sculpted, becoming the mighty hero he had always wished would save him as a boy.
Hal pushed upward with all of his strength, until finally he felt his father's foot give. His arms were fully extended, but Hal had no room to maneuver. Calmly, Hal extended again, lengthening the gauntlets of his armor, lacking his father's foot like the wheels of a pickup.
Hal quickly rolled out as his father's foot fell again to the earth. Snarling, Hal charged, packing the years of hatred and anger into his right fist. He watched the armored hand swell, increasing to several times its original size. Hal slammed it into the lower part of his father's right shin, releasing the most satisfying crunch that Hal had ever heard. There was a wail of pain as Marty Jordan crashed down onto his right knee while Hal jumped aside.
“You must learn to fly, Hal Jordan. Envision your own body as weightless as light and you will find yourself truly free. You will be able to end this by focusing your will into a ray of aggression.”
Hal simply nodded. He imagined weightlessness, falling up as he had earlier in the desert. Hal began to float, and after finding himself free of gravity, he mentally pushed himself upward and forward, soaring to meet his nightmare face-to-face.
The roaring brute glared at Hal with luminous yellow eyes. Tears of rage and pain streaked down its face as it tried vainly to swat him down. Hal weaved, just like a boxer in mid-air. Smiling inwardly, Hal knew what came next.
He had seen enough b-movies on late-night TV to know that light was always handy as a weapon. Channeling his aggression directly into the ring, Hal screamed as he thrust his fist forward, a brilliant ray of shimmering light streamed forth, impacting the monster's forehead. In a split-second the ray tore into and through it's head, a spray of sickly golden ichor bursting from the wound. The beast fell silently to the ground, landing with a terrible crash, while Hal slowly alit next to Abin Sur.
The alien smiled and nodded slowly. “You have done well, Hal Jordan. This is but a taste of the power you will wield in pursuit of justice. You must rest now. My colleagues will arrive shortly to assist you. Farewell.”
Before Hal could speak Abin Sur faded from vision, followed by the scenery, and finally Hal felt a heavy, dragging force pull him into the blackness of slumber.
-
Hal awoke, starting out of bed. A sense of urgency subsumed him, though he could not say why. Squinting in the morning sunlight Hal quickly pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and boots before running outside.
Standing in his front yard was a tall, thin man. The man was wearing a green jumpsuit in the same style as Abin Sur's. This man, this alien, covered in deep pink skin and with a shock of slick black hair on the crown of his head with a thin mustache above its sneering lip regarded Hal with an expression of contempt recognizable as such by any sentient being.
“Hey,” Hal called out, “who are you?”
“I,” the alien responded in a regal tone of voice and advanced with a matching arrogant, patrician swagger, “am the Heir to the House of Thaal, last noble of Korugar, Sines Toro. Who, may I ask, are you and why have you dared to murder the great Abin Sur?”