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Post by mockingbird on Jul 18, 2011 18:43:54 GMT -5
Civic City, Pennsylvania
Maybe it was a beautiful day out, with a brilliantly warm sun set into a sky of deepest blue, nary a cloud to be found and soft breezes to caress the gathered crowd.
Maybe it was freezing, with a bitter cold wind skittering slate-gray clouds to hide the wan sun, the constant threat of rain looming overhead.
It didn’t matter to the man at the center of this day. Nothing mattered to this man at the moment, save for the coffin being lowered into the ground. He was a tall, powerfully-built man with bright blond hair and glittering green eyes. Broad shoulders and wide chest filled out the dark suit, and his six foot plus height helped him tower over many others around him. He looked to be in his prime of life, perhaps in his mid-thirties and a paragon of health, especially compared to the older companions around him.
Alan Scott had been through the wake, with all the heroes and would-be heroes and people who just want to gawk at the living legend. That had been ceremony and circumstance, and he knew such protocol well. Thank each one personally; shake hands and hug well-wishers; remain tall and unbowed in public. That was the way of things from nearly a century of living. But this was the real thing. These were the final moments he’d ever have with his wife on this Earth.
Suddenly, he was a smaller man. Despite his attempts to steel his resolve and be strong, Jay and Joan Garrick, his best friends and dear family, watched as Alan Scott looked defeated by time and loss, a more final defeat than by any litany of the supervillains they had all faced. He didn’t look any different to many, but those who know him felt it in their bones. Daniel Garrett knew it; Rex Tyler could see it; Ted Grant and Libby Lawrence Chambers and Al Pratt, they all could sense it. They saw something different in his eyes: that green flame that burned in his heart had been quelled by his loss.
“If there’s anything I can do, Alan,” Libby said in that thick voice roughened by a life-time of coffee and cigarettes. Alan took her hands in his and nodded, but said nothing.
“Rex, Al and I, we’ll be at Nodell’s,” Ted Grant said as he took Alan’s hand and shook, harder than necessary, anything to try and get some sort of response from the mainstay of the JSA, and now the Round Table. “We’ll save ya a seat. Drop by. Beer’s on us, big guy.” Alan nodded and shook each of the three brawlers’ hands.
Dan Garrett stared up into those emerald eyes with his own gleaming blue eyes and said nothing. There was nothing to say between these two. Volumes were spoken in that stare before Dan headed off.
Joan Garrick stared at the gravestone, reading the name Molly Mayne Scott over and over, no tears left in her puffy red eyes. “Tough to know who’s taking this worse, Alan,” Jay said softly as the two gentlemen stepped back to give Joan some privacy. “It’s been those two for decades now, mothering the kids, and being kind of the JSA spouses for everyone. Them and Inza.”
“Nice of her to come by, despite the problems with her and Kent,” Alan said softly as he nodded in agreement.
“Yeah. When I get Joan home and squared away, I’ll be taking a run up to Salem and check in on Kent, I assure you,” Jay said with more than a little annoyance in his voice. The weathered face stared off in the general direction of the tower, states away. “There was no excuse for not coming. None.”
“It’s not important, Jay,” Alan said as he put a hand on the speedster’s shoulder.
“It could be. I’ll find out.”
“Sure.” Alan sighed as Joan stood up and approached Alan and the two hugged each other tightly. Then Jay and Alan embraced and then, Alan was alone, staring down at the words etched into stone. The green flame flickered inside his body, connecting him to the Earth, to the sky, to all reality around him. He could feel the ground spinning beneath him, he could feel the globe hurtling through space, he could sense the forces of the universe at work around him. A plane was plummeting to the sea over the ocean, people screaming, but a red blur with a white cape arrived and caused it to skip across the waters so close was the rescue. A fire raged out of control somewhere to the south, in Gotham City where the Scotts had lived until a couple of decades back. Floors threatened to collapse on the firefighters struggling to rescue the family within, until the screams were muffled in bat wings and the firing of rescue lines and foam-spray pellets. To the west, a fearsome quintet unleashed a terrible explosion in the heart of the city Jay Garrick called home, and the struggle to survive the brutal attack was on.
And Alan Scott, Green Lantern, living embodiment of the green flame, stood at the grave of his love and listened to none of it.
Ferris Aircraft Company, Coast City
Hal Jordan was frustrated. As he marched down the hallway to visit with his superior, Gil Watkins, Jordan let the events of the past few months play out in his head, searching for some clue that he’d been overlooking.
The Helios Project had been a dream assignment for Jordan, and for the Ferris Aircraft Company. A sub-orbital jet, designed for fast launch and insertion into the upper stratosphere, equipped to act as an anti-missile platform, this plum government contract had been bitterly fought for by the company’s ace vice-president, Carol Ferris. Hal Jordan, former Air Force test pilot and avionics expert, was hired to help with design work and to test the craft. Things were going well, and Ferris Aircraft was recovering its fiscal health.
As people ducked to the side, to scurry aside from the determined march of Hal Jordan, they could all see the anger in his brown eyes. He was nearly six feet tall, and he had a graceful build, compact and developed, and it made all the ladies sigh normally. But fueled by his anger at once more finding the Helios Project stalled over non-existent safety protocol violations, his looks now just made the people he stormed past look at him fearfully.
“Open up, Watkins!” Jordan demanded as he pounded his fist on the office door. “We need to have this out, once and for all! What the hell is your problem with the project safety standards this time?”
He angrily jerked the door open and barged in, not waiting for an invitation. Watkins had been avoiding Jordan for a week now, and the test pilot was having no more of it. The door flew open and Jordan barged in, handsome face, square jaw, knowing how intimidating his looks could be and ready to use them to full effect.
The looks quickly fell when he saw Gil Watkins sprawled over his desk though. Fury turned to shock, anger drained from his eyes, replaced by confusion and concern as he ran over to the executive. He lay face down on his desk, still in his seat. Blood pooled around his head, staining and ruining papers and computer disks.
“Watkins?” Jordan asked as he pressed fingers to his throat, only to have the tips press into the self-inflicted slit that had ended his life. “God in Heaven,” he muttered to himself. He looked at the desk, the papers, what he could make out, concerned Helios. He checked on the computer to see the latest financials on the project on the screen and grimaced. I’m not all that up on numbers, but this doesn’t look right. Has he been adding entries? This looks like someone’s skimming from the project, Hal thought to himself as he tried to make sense of the scene. But that’s not right. He’d be skimming it for himself, right? And why skim thousands…and then kill yourself? As soon as you’re done with it? He reached for the phone and alerted security, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that the second suicide in six months can’t be good for Ferris’s bottom line.
Quickstart Solutions, New York City
Jesse Chambers was hunched over her computer, typing away furiously at her keyboard. The blond woman tucked a stray lock out of her way and returned to her work. Her computer troubleshooting firm had been hit three times in the last month by information hacking, but this latest attempt she had caught and she felt confident she could follow it back. Denial of services, clients suddenly not needing her services and breaking contracts, then the hacking…it was causing serious damage to her company, but this time, she smiled grimly knowing that she would soon have information of her own to work on.
“Gotchya!” she cried out softly as she looked up from her computer. The hacks were coming from her own office. She wasn’t happy about that at all, but she had something to work on now. She stood up and strode out from her office, the beige skirt flaring at her knees, the cream-colored blouse buttoned high to her neck. Blue eyes blazed as she took in the half-dozen employees working on projects for her company, and wondering which one was the traitor.
“Looking for something, sweetheart?” Jesse Chambers felt a tap on her shoulder at the same time as she heard the question. She might have given up being a costumed crime-fighter a decade past, but the instincts were still there and she fought off the urge to turn around and instead spun away from the stranger.
“I love it when they play hard to get,” Javelin said as he pulled a metal two-foot rod from his belt. His thumb hit a trigger on the side, and another foot extended from each edge, the lengths ending in wicked looking points. He then hurled the fierce looking weapon that was his namesake as he also slowly paced after his target.
Jesse didn’t stop at just pulling away, however. As she spun from the attacker, she then twisted around to take a look at him and back flipped in time to the javelin, letting it slide narrowly over her firm stomach and jam deep into the cement wall on the far side of the room. She finished her move in a crouch, and stared up at him.
He was stocky, with a clearly powerful upper body, dressed in a brass-colored leather suit trimmed in silver, including the belt and chest harness containing two dozen of the collapsible javelins. “Get out of here, people!” she screamed to her workers as she dove in the other direction, hoping to keep Javelin’s attention on her, as her employees cried out in shock and followed her instructions (even if they might not have heard them).
Another javelin soared in her direction, and connected with filing cabinet she used for cover, causing it to explode. She was thrown back and crashed against a table, clothing torn, flesh ragged as she felt blood seep over the bridge of her nose.
“You should have just closed down shop, chickie-pooh,” Javelin sneered as he readied another javelin, this one with a slight hum. “You mighta been something once, maybe even a Lady Flash, but now you’re just a bonus in my wallet.”
The Scott Home, Civic City
Alan Scott was seated at his table, eating a simple lunch of soup. It had taken a lot, but he’d finally cracked open the newspaper, and even now, winced with each article he read. Sorrow, grief, they still ate at him, and would for some time to come. But what gnawed at him the most was how casually he disregarded his mission, the duties he gladly accepted nearly seven decades before. Never once had he shirked from it. Sometimes he was more in love with the Green Lantern than others; other times it was a tragic burden; but never had he stood by and ignored the world. Molly would have been so disappointed with him. That’s what gnawed at him now.
“Captain Marvel rescues 200 passengers in stalled jet,” he murmured to himself as he sipped his soup. “Some kids could have gotten killed by the Fearsome Five, but Jay and Kid Eternity were there. Good for them. Jay didn’t let you down, Molly.” He glanced at the fire in Gotham caused by Firefly, and the manhunt by the mysterious Bat that rescued five and brought the maniac to justice. He sighed heavily as he closed the paper back up.
“Okay, enough of this,” he said to himself, the voice deep and chastising. “Grief is good. Wallowing is bad.” He leaned into his seat and shook his head. He clenched his hand hard, shaking as it flared with emerald fire, then flickered away. He opened his fingers and stared at the ring in his hand. He smiled and nodded. “That’s better.” He placed it on the table and pushed it around with his finger and then repeated the process, creating a second ring. “I wish you had let me do this for you, Molly,” he said to himself as he placed the green ring on the table next to the first. “But you always did pride yourself on being a normal girl.” He felt his eyes water as he started to make a third ring. “I can’t fight this alone, but I’m not turning my back on the world again. Never again. Not when I can spread my power to others. Not when I can spread my light over the darkness.”
As the process began anew, his head lifted up, eyes darting out the window, the senses extending once more. The green flame resonated to a promise made to an old friend, and Alan’s lips mouthed the name “Jesse.”
Quickstart Solutions
Javelin thrust down with both hands, as Jesse rolled to the side at the last second. The weapon pierced the tabletop and dispersed its powerful electrical field. “Nice try, but you don’t get to be Lady Flash if you can’t keep your wits,” Jesse sneered as she shoved the desk into Javelin with all her might, toppling the criminal and giving her a chance to run from the room.
“Okay, this is not fun anymore,” Javelin snarled as he tossed the table to the side and started to run after her. He entered the hallway, hearing her footsteps to the left and quickly hurling a javelin in that direction. A powerful explosion couldn’t completely muffle the cry of pain from his target as he once more paced in her direction.
“Ya know, I’ve been lookin’ all over fer ya,” Guy Gardner said as he stepped through a broken section of wall and backhanded Javelin with a broad, club-like hand. Javelin spun away and smashed through a door, giving the red-headed hero a moment to turn to Jesse. “You okay over there?” he asked as he tossed rubble aside to check on her.
“Fine, thanks,” Jesse answered weakly as she pulled herself up to a stand. “You’re…W-warrior, right? I’m not in the club, but I keep track.”
Guy merely nodded politely at her, but his smirk and the roaming of his eyes told her all she needed to know about Warrior. His reputation was ascertained as she gave a roll of her eyes. She noticed her ragged state of dress and decided to forgive him his lechery for the moment. “Gonna go get the bad guy now?” she asked sarcastically. “Or do you need to leer some more?”
Guy stood there and took several more moments to commit the curves and attributes of the lovely blond woman to memory. “A little more…little more…” He nodded at that point and pivoted on one foot toward where Javelin had disappeared. “All good! Bad-guy-nabbing time!”
Gardner charged in through the broken doorway, a powerful-looking firearm forming out of his arm as he grinned cockily. The grin faded when he saw the room filled with frightened workers, and Javelin moving through the rows of cubicles. “Somethin’ the matter, Warrior? Feeling closed in? Wonderin’ how you’re gonna get to me without hurtin’ people while I don’t give a damn?”
A javelin hurled out of the cubicle alley and crashed into Guy’s gun-arm, crystals exploding and freezing the flesh quickly as he grabbed it and grunted in pain. “Oh, yer payin’ fer that one!” he snarled as he leaped in the direction of the javelin, his other arm turning into a sword that sliced through the walls and revealed the criminal had moved on already. A second javelin smashed into his back and flared with heat, causing the heavy vest to catch on fire.
“Dammit!” Guy cried out as he spun around to find Javelin ducking into a group of hostages, and reminding them not to move or he’d skewer them happily. “You damned coward!”
Jesse had run into the room, and grabbed an extinguisher to put out Guy. “You’re not looking too good there, Warrior,” She said as they tried to find Javelin now. “What now?”
A shadow crossed over both of them as a section of the ceiling lifted away. Gardner looked up, and even he felt awe at the sight. “”Let him handle it?”
Alan Scott dropped through the newly-crafted hole, and held his hand out. A nimbus of green fire kept him floating above as he glared at Javelin. “This ends now! No innocents die today! Not on my watch!”
He held a hand out and several fiery tendrils lashed out at Javelin before the criminal could even react. One tendril tore his harness away, another tendril disintegrated the belt, and the other two wrapped him up tightly and tore him from the crowd of innocents. Javelin found himself face to face with a furious Alan Scott.
“What do you have to say to that?” he roared, the nimbus of fire enlarging with his fury.
“Sorry?” Javelin squeaked and recoiled in the verdant grip.
Alan turned to Guy and Jesse, lowering himself to the ground. He kept Javelin bound up, adding a gag to the fearful criminal, and held his hand out, palm up. Two rings lay there, glinting in the pale, dusty light. “I need Green Lanterns. We have work to do.”
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