Post by HoM on Apr 8, 2015 15:32:09 GMT -5
When Green Lantern Hank Henshaw died in the line of duty, he was possessed by the entity known as the Predator. It was during this dark time that the parasitic monstrosity-- with its own twisted idea of love-- tore a bloody swathe across the Green Lantern Corps; kidnapping Hal Jordan’s daughter, driving Carol Ferris to the brink of madness, and murdering Kilowog, all before being finally exorcised from Henshaw’s body.
Returned to life but filled with guilt over the Predator’s actions, Hank was accepted back into the Green Lantern Corps, albeit burdened with the memory of everything the Predator did while wearing his skin.
Now he is assigned to Sector 2814, working side-by-side with John Stewart, living his life one day at a time.
Welcome back to the ongoing adventures of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS…!
Darkness, and then… a smell. Wild flowers? Freshly cut grass? Nature. Nature, for sure. The dark spread, growing, multiplying, cell-like in the process, mitosis, fungal, disgusting and beautiful, but then, the darkness, a glint, a glint like emeralds, like a familiar light, a friend, and then, from the darkness, a metallic taste, a thought, a question:
Why can I taste blood?
The darkness parted. The emerald glint faded like a dying light bulb flickering on, bright and then dimming, dimming, dimming then dead. The darkness was pure, and then like curtains opening, there was light, reality, and the waking--
“Hello? Hello? Ground control to Major Tom--”
Hank Henshaw’s eyes fluttered open at the voice of his wife, and he rolled onto his side to face her. She was smiling from ear-to-ear, and he didn’t know why.
“Hey,” murmured Hank. “Good morning.”
“The best kind of morning,” said Carol Henshaw. She planted a kiss on his nose and then turned to the bedside cabinet, where a small cake was resting on a plate, a single candle lit atop its frosted surface. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, wow,” said Hank. “My birthday? That’s, well, uh, unexpected.”
“Yeah, as if it’s a surprise,” said Carol. “Make a wish.”
“I wish I don’t blow this candle onto the bedsheets and set us--”
Carol’s nose scrunched up at the direction Hank was going, and Henshaw smiled.
“I don’t have any wishes left to make,” said Hank. He blew out the candle. “All my dreams have come true.”
Issue Fifty-TWO: “BRANCHES”
HoM / JARIN / WALSH
Hank found himself downstairs, in the kitchen, and Carol was at the stove, making his birthday breakfast. “You don’t have to--”
“Shush,” said Carol. “I’m going to be busy until late tonight, so you get some special attention before I’m back at the office.”
Hank laughed, shook his head, and picked up the newspaper. He flicked through the pages absentmindedly, not really taking anything in, and Carol, soon enough, presented him with an omelette.
“Ta-da,” said Carol
“Babe.” Hank planted a kiss on her cheek and then took a bite. “Ow.”
Carol look concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Hank pressed his finger onto the inside of his mouth and withdrew to show blood lining the tip. “Hon, are you trying to kill me?”
“No more than usual,” said Carol. “Did you bite the inside of your cheek?”
“No, no,” said Hank. “Or, well, maybe?”
A concerned expression spread across Carol’s face and she rubbed her chin, considering what happened.
Hank laughed. “That’s not a good look. Just an accident. No harm, no--”
Carol took a knife from the tabletop and drove it into Hank’s chest without a word--
<warning>
“God!” Hank clutched at his chest, but he was alone in the bedroom of his sparsely furnished apartment. There was no knife, no kitchen, no Carol. No sudden stabbing.
There was a smell, something he couldn’t quite place, and the dark of the night, his curtains open, a book at his side where it had fallen by his lurching awakening.
Flushed with sweat, Hank panted wildly, unable to catch his breath. “What? What was that?”
Bad dreams. Darkness parting for nightmares, and then falling to the ground with a clatter to jerk him awake. His nights were usually spent in power ring-induced stasis, without dreams or interruption.
When Hank closed his eyes to sleep he saw a purple construct pierce Kilowog’s chest. The beloved Green Lantern died instantly, just as he did in real life, without any protestation.
Hank opened his eyes immediately and slapped himself in the face, in the hope of dismissing the memory. Why did he even bother?
“Oh, God,” said Hank.
The same vision every time he tried to get to sleep. Most nights he’d make the ring put him into stasis, no dreams then, just an emerald dream of stillness and silence.
Hank thought, sometimes, that he might be all right to try the old fashioned way, exhaustion and heavy eyelids, but whatever it was that lived in his head was having none of it.
At Guy’s suggestion he’d finally rented a place to stay, rather than the homeless approach of hiding amongst the clouds when he put himself to sleep. It was a spacious place, made all the bigger by the complete lack of any personal belongings, and Hank had no plans to change any of that any time soon.
The mattress he purchased was in the corner, next to that were scientific papers he had been meaning to read since, well, forever. Just because Hank owned a ring that could take him into space didn’t mean that former-astronaut no longer cared about humanity’s efforts to journey into space without the aid of a cape or power ring.
Every now and then Henshaw considered contacting one of his old Air Force buddies, or paying a visit to the the base where he knew his old commanding officer was running the show, but to what end? Hank didn’t feel like being friends with anyone, and it’s not like he wanted a job.
Hal Jordan barely managed to balance being a pilot at Ferris Air and a Green Lantern, and eventually one gave way to the other. And then he retired. As if Hank could be so lucky. He had a lot to atone for, and he wouldn’t make any headway on that list if he passed on his ring to someone else.
The nude woman in his hallway tilted her head as Hank collected himself amongst the sheets. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Hank. “Nightmares.”
“Really? I’m sure it could get worse.”
Hank smiled. “No, I don’t think it will.”
“Think again.” The woman’s skin fell away from her frame to reveal the gigantic, bestial form of the Predator, the parasitic entity that possessed his body and drove it to perform monstrous deeds over a year ago. It leapt toward him, and he screamed, unable to control himself. He screamed as the Predator’s talons tore into his stomach and black petals exploded out of the wound--
<unknown>
John Stewart sounded impatient. “What have you got for me, Henshaw?”
Hank’s eyes fluttered open as he floated in the darkness, his ring keeping him warm and safe in the vacuum of space. The data mining his ring performed pinged into his head to tell him that the data finished uploading into his brain, and connections and suppositions that were previously absent from his head now crackled and clashed against each other.
John Stewart, his sector partner, was investigating a mass killing that took place in a Manhattan hospital just over six months ago. Every man, woman and child inside had been killed in various ways. A horror show, plain and simple, and Hank was convinced they had knew the bastard behind it, as the security footage pointed the finger squarely at Senator Bradley Roth, an old friend of John’s.
Henshaw hadn’t known Stewart for long, but they had found some common ground. John wore Hank’s old ring, the one he lost when he died. The ring on Hank’s finger was new, freshly minted by John and Sinestro in a way he had yet to understand.
Apparently Sinestro is made of magic or something, thought Hank.
No matter. It worked just as well, and all the hard work he had put in training his old ring had taken half the time to action on the new. Back before… everything that happened… Henshaw had been trying new things with his power ring, and he didn’t intend to stop experimenting now that he was working with a new one.
John requested a consult on the case, and Hank accepted. He data mined countless petabytes of data to assist in John’s case, and was in conversation with John at this very moment, even if he had sleep-walked through most of their conversation.
“…I can’t believe that, Hank. I won’t believe that,” came the voice of John Stewart from the emerald projection that floated in front of Henshaw.
Hank understood that John needed to get to the bottom of this case himself, and he wouldn’t take negativity as an answer. He knew that sometimes you had to let these things play themselves out. He breathed in slowly, and then nodded. "I’ll back your play 100%, and I’ll keep my distance until you’re done with your investigation, but don’t hesitate to call me in if you need me.”
Hank took a second and his ring began to buzz. That was weird. Just like the smell in his nostrils, but he tried to ignore that, the thick smell of cut grass and compost.
“In the meantime, I’m going to look into some odd readings my ring’s picked up. Keep me in the loop, all right?"
“Same to you,” said John.
"Roger," said Hank. The transmission ended and he closed down the constructs he had generated during his data mining. John had that under control and an odd transmission had reached Hank’s power ring.
Hank’s protective aura snapped off and Hank died instantly in the vacuum of space--
<parasite>
Hank could feel the vines constricting his body, and the heavy weight of the mass on his chest weighing down his heart. Pinpricks of pain came together as a throb, and the tiny plants that sprang up from beneath his flesh were blooming, pollen drifting across the room and filling his lungs, even as the black petals filled his orifices. He choked on the flowers that were rising up from his throat, and could feel his body scream for oxygen--
<warning>
“I don’t feel too great,” said Hank, sat across from his doctor.
“Define not ‘too great’,” said his doctor, a smile thinly drawn across his face.
“Disconnected, almost? Not part of the day-to-day goings-on of the planet,” said Hank. He laughed. “I sound mad!”
“Hank, you were an astronaut. You went further than anyone else on this world can probably say they did.” The doctor shrugged. “You’re allowed to not feel entirely grounded. Especially considering what you went through while you were up there.”
Hank rolled his shoulder and sighed. “I don’t know, I just, well--” There was a silence. “Can you smell that?”
“What?” said the doctor.
“I dunno,” said Hank. He stood, and paced the room. He paused above his mug, and took a slug of the black coffee inside. “I keep thinking about my grandfather’s estate, where my sister and I used to stay in the summer. Lichen, moss, little woodlice hiding under the rocks she used to lift up for me to look under.”
“Why do you think you’re having these recollections?” said the doctor. “Why now?”
“There’s this smell in the air,” said Hank, looking out of the window. “And--”
The doctor was sat opposite Hank, who was now seated. The move was disconcerting, but he didn’t question it.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Now, I’ve read the brief, I know that you lost your crew, that’s all part of public record, but I also know what you did. I know what you went through to try and save them. It’s not your fault, Hank. No matter what you think, their deaths are not on you.” Hank went to interrupt his doctor, but the older man raised his hand to silence him. The hand was covered in tiny flowers. “But I also know that no matter what I say, you’re not going to feel any less guilty. So the question is, are you enjoying your coffee?”
“Uh, yeah, why?”
The doctor smiled. Hank felt his chest tighten. A taste in his mouth he didn’t recognise, masked by the coffee he had just finished. He glanced down at his unresponsive hand, and then at the doctor. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t say another word. The doctor stood up slowly, and began to smoulder, as if on fire.
The doctor was a human torch, glowing blue, and he laughed as he reached out for Hank’s face with hands that burned as bright as his body.
Hank couldn’t even scream this time--
<warning>
“…I can’t believe that, Hank. I won’t believe that,” said John.
Hank nodded. "I’ll back your play 100%, and I’ll keep my distance until you’re done with your investigation, but don’t hesitate to call me in if you need me. In the meantime, I’m going to look into some odd readings my ring’s picked up. Keep me in the loop, all right?"
“Same to you,” said John.
"Roger," said Hank. He enhanced his vision with his ring. An alien space craft had entered the solar system, and was passing Neptune, just over 2.5 billion miles away. He scanned the cosmic wake of the ship, and identified its course.
Without intervention, the ship was headed straight to Earth.
Well, that can’t be a good sign.
A quick space warp bought Hank next to the ship and began to scan the hull.
“This is the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, transmitting over all available frequencies. To anyone onboard--”
Hank fell silent. His ring picked up over seven million life signs. The size of the ship didn’t make sense for that kind of number, and as he floated in the void, that number ticked over. Increasing.
Hank approached the outer hull of the ship, and noticed something strange on its surface. Instead of metal there was some kind of natural deposit, a black, moss-like substance covering large patches of the hull. He scanned it, but could find nothing strange-- other than its existence-- with it. He pressed his hand against the substance, and it gave way ever so slightly.
Hank remembered the lichen stained rocks that littered his grandfather’s estate, and how he and his sister would clamber over them and get their clothes stained and dirtied during their explorations of the grounds during the summer. The memory warmed him, and he welcomed the feeling.
Hank breathed in deeply, and prepared himself. “I am now entering your ship. I come in peace and mean you no harm. Due to the lack of communication provided, I am temporarily anchoring your craft in the orbit of the eighth planet of this solar system. Once contact is established, we can discuss next steps.”
Hank closed his eyes and phased inside the hull. When he opened them, he realised he hadn’t finished the process of phasing, and that he had rematerialised half his body inside a corridor, and left the rest embedded in the hull. He choked blood and petals, and--
<willpower>
“What’s wrong, Hank?” said Terri.
Terri Henshaw stood in front of him, a concerned look on her face. The barracks was empty apart from them, and they were packing up their kit ready for tomorrow’s flight.
“Something’s not right here,” said Hank.
Terri sighed. “Is this about the radiation shielding? I thought we’d been over this. The LexCorp funding means we have to use their shielding, and I’m confident that it’ll keep us safe from the cosmic radiation we’ll be passing through. The Excalibur’s first flight is going to take us successfully through the radiation belt on the outskirts of the solar system, and back again.”
“No, it’s not that,” said Hank. He paused. “I’ve lived this.”
Terri flashed out of existence for a second, but a blink on Henshaw’s part restored her to view.
“This argument? Hank. Henry. We’ve had this argument too many times to count now. The fact that you don’t trust my judgement when it’s my area of expertise is infuriating. I know you can’t stand Lex Luthor, but it’s his funding that’s enabled this mission to go ahead.”
“NASA was never about accepting private funding before,” said Hank. “And I don’t trust Lex Luthor as far as I can throw him. I just have this horrible feeling something terrible is going to happen when we go up.”
“Benj has clocked a record number of EVAs, my brother is the best engineer NASA ever trained. You’re the best pilot that we have and we have to complete the work, don’t you understand?”
“Honey, I know how much this means to you, I’m just--”
Terri stroked her husband’s face. “Trust me. I’ve done the work. I’ve had the other scientists vet it. The shielding is up to scratch.”
“Okay,” said Hank. “Okay. I trust you.”
Then, Hank stood in the cockpit of a craft he didn’t recognise. The captain’s chair was turned away from him, but there was a frantic typing that came from up ahead.
“I’m the Green Lantern of this sector,” said Hank. “This ship is on a direct course that I cannot allow it to continue on. When you talk to me, I can remove the anchor that’s keeping us in place, and we can discuss alternatives.”
The typing continued, and Hank trudged forward. He spun the chair around and a mummified corpse fell forward toward his feet, shattering into pieces on impact with the floor.
Hank wasn’t surprised. He knelt down and examined the flight suit the corpse wore, and located the crest on its arm: NASA. He looked at the chest, and the name of the suit’s owner: HENSHAW.
“I’m still alive,” said Hank. “I made it through.”
The shattered corpse came together and a hand reached for Henshaw’s throat. It went straight through his aura and gripped his neck tightly. Hank grabbed the wrist, and his touch caused the mummified flesh to fall away to reveal an under layer of tightly packed black vines. The corpse’s face began to gain weight and skin, and Hank remained unfazed when his ex-wife’s face was revealed.
“I didn’t leave you,” said Hank.
“But I’m still dead,” said Terri. She snapped his neck and--
"Roger," said Hank. An alien space craft entered the solar system past Neptune, on a course that would take it directly to Earth.
Well, that can’t be a good sign.
“This is the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, transmitting over all available frequencies. I am now entering your ship. I come in peace and mean you no harm. Due to the lack of communication provided, I am temporarily anchoring your craft in the orbit of the eighth planet of this solar system. Once contact is established, we can discuss next steps.”
Before Hank went any further, he paused. “What’s going on?”
<willpower>
“This keeps happening,” said Hank.
<overriding>
“Something is doing this,” said Hank. He looked at his power ring, where a single black flower grew out from. “This isn’t real.”
<warning>
“But why can’t I think--” said Hank. The ship in front of him shuddered, and the hull became a hand that grabbed him. Hank was completely enveloped in darkness, and the smell filled his nostrils once more. Dead plants now, and rich soil. The darkness filled his nose and his mouth, and the curtain fell, and--
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Things were tense on the bridge of the Excalibur.
“Cosmic radiation is spiking,” said Jon. “How’s the shielding holding up, sis?”
Terri grimaced. “It’s holding, but I’m not happy with the stresses other parts of the ship are experiencing. Hank, where are you right now?”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank’s voice emerged from the ship’s speakers. “I’m in the engine room. Trying to lock down--”
“Hank, I know what you’re trying to do, but you need to get out of the engine room right now. There’s a leak in the main reactor. You need to get out before it bursts. We need to eject it or we’re all dead!”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“I can’t leave,” said Hank. “I can lock this thing down, just give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a--”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Benj slammed his hand against the monitor screen. “Terri! Something’s going on with the shielding! It’s-- Jesus! It’s disengaging!”
“That’s impossible,” said Terri. “Hank, I’ve got to look at the-- oh, God, oh, God.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Jon looked back at Terri from where he was sat. “What is it?”
The blood drained from her face. “Engine room is in lockdown. The bulkheads have sealed. Hank?”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank wiped his brow of sweat and doubled down on the engine. He didn’t bother glancing back at the door that had just sealed shut behind him. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get the leak sealed. “Don’t worry about me, just, just get the shielding back up!”
“They’re gone,” said Benj. “The shields have detached from the ship. They’re breaking apart.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“But the radiation--?” said Jon.
Terri swallowed hard. “It’s too late. We’re too far out. We’re already dead.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“No,” said Hank. “Don’t think like that. I’m stabilising the engine, you just need to get into the EVA suits, they’ll keep you protected. Move now, get going!”
Hank’s power ring flared as he knelt in the engine room, and he could feel its pull wanting to get him away from danger. “No, no, not now, this isn’t how it happened.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank continued to work on the engine, and finally sealed the leak.
“Disengage the engine room door! Terri! Anybody! Disengage!”
TAC TAC TAC TAC--
The Excalibur’s internal communications array went dead. Silence throughout the ship.
In tandem, the radiation signature began to fade, but the damage had been done.
The emergency lights flickered on. An emerald EVA suit formed over Hank’s body and he phased through the sealed door.
“This isn’t how it happened,” said Hank, as the Green Lantern ring he wore took him through the interior of the ship. “The ring came later. I had to pry open the door. The engine room kept me safe thanks to the engine shielding.” The words coming out of his mouth didn’t comfort him. “Took me hours.”
Black vines grew under his skin.
“By the time I got to the bridge,” said Hank. The ring got him there early and he saw something he had only witnessed the aftermath of.
To Hank’s right, Benj had fused with the console he manned. Metallic protrusions pierced his skin and he gibbered and drooled as whatever transformative effect kept him alive for the moment.
Jon was blue fire, burning with zero heat output. His eyes, nose, ears and lips had gone. His teeth barred in silent agony as he writhed across the floor.
Terri flickered in and out of sight, screaming. Hank reached out for her, but she couldn’t see him. She was somewhere else entirely for long aching moments of time. Moving in and out of phase with this reality, until she finally vanished entirely.
Hank fell to his knees. “Too far. Too much.”
Roots began to split through his thighs and into the metallic hull.
The EVA suit his ring had generated snapped away, but he didn’t die.
Hank looked around the bridge of the ship, and at his dead friends and family.
“This won’t work,” said Hank. “I won’t let it.”
Darkness crept through the bridge of the ship, toward Hank. His body was covered in vines, flowers punctuating their length intermittently. The world flickered between the hull of the Excalibur, and the interior of the craft covered in moss.
Everything hurt, even as the darkness tried to eat him, absorb him.
“…Not today.”
Hank clutched at his chest, where the pain was at its most intense. Though he couldn’t see it, his fingers found their grip across the mass that clung to his torso. He grit his teeth and yanked at the tendrils that bit into him. He looked down, and the world went from dark to red, liquid pain, and he could see that something was growing into him, black and slick, tiny petals spreading from its surface to his skin.
As Hank pulled, he could finally hear his ring clearly, screaming--
<--PARASITE OVERRIDING WILL POWER! WARNING!>
“get it offa me”
Emerald light lashed across his chest and prised the shape of Hank’s chest, sending it flying across the floor with a damp thud. Hank kicked himself back across the floor.
<Ring cleansing Lantern 2814.2 of parasitic infection>
Hank vomited up compost and petals, and he struggled to his feet as his ring did its job. Whatever hit him had hit him hard and fast, before his ring could react. He remembered entering the ship, finding nothing but darkness-- but the darkness was sentient, and it got him, and before he could think he was dreaming, and that thing, the star-shaped plant that latched itself to him sent him spiralling through nightmares.
“It was breaking me down,” said Hank. “Trying to destroy me from the inside.”
<Continued exposure to parasitic entity would have resulted in death within an hour.>
“Another thing climbing inside me,” said Hank. He looked around the bridge of the ship, at the corpses covered in the plants that had tried to use him as a host.
The star-shaped thing flopped pathetically on the floor, and Hank looked it up and down. “Looks familiar, some how.”
“Shape and composition matches that of designate ‘Star Conqueror’ parasite, with elements of designate ‘Black Mercy’ parasite. Combination somehow capable of overriding willpower, removing all safeguards for ring bearer’s protection. Further investigation recommended.>
“And the crew is dead,” said Hank. “Killed by these mutated things.” He grimaced. “But who made them? And how did they get here?”
<Unknown.>
“Send word to Oa, I need a Corps forensics team to tow this ghost ship somewhere where it can be disposed of. For the time being erect emergency beacons within the ships radius and prevent any other craft from coming near. I need to get out of here. I need to breathe again.”
<Processing.>
Hank headed back to Earth, wiping away the tears that formed from the memories the parasite had stirred within him. He knew where he needed to be.
The monument to the deceased members of the Excalibur was comprised of three statues: Benjamin Kirby, Terri Henshaw and Jonathan Runnels. There were no graves for these heroes, just this symbol of their sacrifices.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Terri,” said Hank. “You’d tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t, ah, I can’t help it. I miss you so much, and I don’t know what to do about it. You were the best part of me, and I let you down. I should have pushed harder. We should have found some other way to get the Excalibur project going, without, without...” Hank trailed off. “I’m sorry Lex Luthor never paid for his crimes against you. I’m sorry they never found any proof that the fault was with the shielding. I just… I…”
Hank swallowed back the tears, closed his eyes and saw Carol Ferris’ smile. Was she the answer? He’d avoided her for so long, because of everything he had done when he was possessed by the Predator, but had he held back for fear of hurting her, when really all he was doing was punishing himself? Terri died on the Excalibur, but he survived, but had he really lived since? Maybe Carol was the answer… he had to try.
“Enough is enough,” said Hank. He transformed his civilian clothes into his Green Lantern flight suit, and leapt out of the window, before shooting off into the night sky in an emerald blur, and leaving the atmosphere.
Not longer after, Hank landed in front of Carol Ferris’ home. He was invisible for the time being, not willing to make his presence known until he himself was ready.
Hank knew how ridiculous this all was. He wanted to speak to her. He needed to. But the things the Predator had done while wearing his face, they were still his mistakes. That’s what he truly believed. He should have been stronger. His will should have been like steel. But no.
Hank let his Green Lantern uniform shift back into his civilian clothes-- grey trousers and a buttoned white shirt with a leather jacket to keep warm. Not that he needed the jacket, the ring worked away silently in the background, ensuring he was never uncomfortable.
Hank scratched his beard and walked up the steps to the house. He thought about how different he must look since the last time Carol saw him. The beard was going to stick around, he had decided. His grandfather had always worn one, and Hank knew that he’d have been proud of his follicular achievement, another little joke they shared during the long summers in upstate New York.
The memory warmed him.
Hank knocked once and waited. He had to be a man without fear once more.
The door opened and a man stood there, broad shouldered, wearing only a pair of jeans. Hank was acutely aware, for some reason, that the man wasn’t wearing any socks.
“Can I help you?” The man’s face was open and welcoming. He had a smile on his face that made Hank angry for no other reason than he looked happy.
“I’m, uh, I’m looking for Carol Ferris,” said Hank. He cursed his hesitation.
“Yeah, Carol’s not available right now,” said the man. “Can I help you?”
Hank’s brow furrowed as another man walked from the living room down to the kitchen in the back of the house. “Who’s that?”
“Hey, who are you?” said the man. “You knocked on our door.”
“My name is Hank, I’m a, a friend of Carol’s.”
“Close the door, you’re letting the cold in.” A female voice drifted down the stairs and to the two men.
“Carol?” said Hank. He was quiet. “Carol, it’s me, Hank.” He said it louder. Clearer. “Hank Henshaw.”
Please hear me.
“Henshaw?” said the voice. Carol didn’t even bother coming own to check herself.
“Yeah,” said the man in front of Hank. He had moved directly into centre of the doorway. Protective. No one was going to get past him without causing trouble. “That’s who he says he is.”
"Tell him we're busy. This party isn’t going to keep itself going,” said Carol.
The man shrugged at Hank. “She’s the boss. Sorry, Hank.” He closed the door and Hank was left standing there.
Hank took a step backwards down the stairs, still staring at the now closed door.
It started to rain. He zipped up his jacket, and wandered into the darkness down the street. Alone.
Upstairs in Carol Ferris’ brownstone, a small army of men worshipped at her feet as she considered the Star Sapphire ring the Predator had given her before heading off to kill the Green Lantern Corps. Carol knew, of course, that the Predator had failed, but she hadn’t realised Hank was back, and she cursed the development.
One of the men began to kiss her leg and she looked down at him favourably. “Hank Henshaw can wait. Love must come first.”
Returned to life but filled with guilt over the Predator’s actions, Hank was accepted back into the Green Lantern Corps, albeit burdened with the memory of everything the Predator did while wearing his skin.
Now he is assigned to Sector 2814, working side-by-side with John Stewart, living his life one day at a time.
Welcome back to the ongoing adventures of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS…!
Darkness, and then… a smell. Wild flowers? Freshly cut grass? Nature. Nature, for sure. The dark spread, growing, multiplying, cell-like in the process, mitosis, fungal, disgusting and beautiful, but then, the darkness, a glint, a glint like emeralds, like a familiar light, a friend, and then, from the darkness, a metallic taste, a thought, a question:
Why can I taste blood?
The darkness parted. The emerald glint faded like a dying light bulb flickering on, bright and then dimming, dimming, dimming then dead. The darkness was pure, and then like curtains opening, there was light, reality, and the waking--
“Hello? Hello? Ground control to Major Tom--”
Hank Henshaw’s eyes fluttered open at the voice of his wife, and he rolled onto his side to face her. She was smiling from ear-to-ear, and he didn’t know why.
“Hey,” murmured Hank. “Good morning.”
“The best kind of morning,” said Carol Henshaw. She planted a kiss on his nose and then turned to the bedside cabinet, where a small cake was resting on a plate, a single candle lit atop its frosted surface. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, wow,” said Hank. “My birthday? That’s, well, uh, unexpected.”
“Yeah, as if it’s a surprise,” said Carol. “Make a wish.”
“I wish I don’t blow this candle onto the bedsheets and set us--”
Carol’s nose scrunched up at the direction Hank was going, and Henshaw smiled.
“I don’t have any wishes left to make,” said Hank. He blew out the candle. “All my dreams have come true.”
Issue Fifty-TWO: “BRANCHES”
HoM / JARIN / WALSH
Hank found himself downstairs, in the kitchen, and Carol was at the stove, making his birthday breakfast. “You don’t have to--”
“Shush,” said Carol. “I’m going to be busy until late tonight, so you get some special attention before I’m back at the office.”
Hank laughed, shook his head, and picked up the newspaper. He flicked through the pages absentmindedly, not really taking anything in, and Carol, soon enough, presented him with an omelette.
“Ta-da,” said Carol
“Babe.” Hank planted a kiss on her cheek and then took a bite. “Ow.”
Carol look concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Hank pressed his finger onto the inside of his mouth and withdrew to show blood lining the tip. “Hon, are you trying to kill me?”
“No more than usual,” said Carol. “Did you bite the inside of your cheek?”
“No, no,” said Hank. “Or, well, maybe?”
A concerned expression spread across Carol’s face and she rubbed her chin, considering what happened.
Hank laughed. “That’s not a good look. Just an accident. No harm, no--”
Carol took a knife from the tabletop and drove it into Hank’s chest without a word--
<warning>
“God!” Hank clutched at his chest, but he was alone in the bedroom of his sparsely furnished apartment. There was no knife, no kitchen, no Carol. No sudden stabbing.
There was a smell, something he couldn’t quite place, and the dark of the night, his curtains open, a book at his side where it had fallen by his lurching awakening.
Flushed with sweat, Hank panted wildly, unable to catch his breath. “What? What was that?”
Bad dreams. Darkness parting for nightmares, and then falling to the ground with a clatter to jerk him awake. His nights were usually spent in power ring-induced stasis, without dreams or interruption.
When Hank closed his eyes to sleep he saw a purple construct pierce Kilowog’s chest. The beloved Green Lantern died instantly, just as he did in real life, without any protestation.
Hank opened his eyes immediately and slapped himself in the face, in the hope of dismissing the memory. Why did he even bother?
“Oh, God,” said Hank.
The same vision every time he tried to get to sleep. Most nights he’d make the ring put him into stasis, no dreams then, just an emerald dream of stillness and silence.
Hank thought, sometimes, that he might be all right to try the old fashioned way, exhaustion and heavy eyelids, but whatever it was that lived in his head was having none of it.
At Guy’s suggestion he’d finally rented a place to stay, rather than the homeless approach of hiding amongst the clouds when he put himself to sleep. It was a spacious place, made all the bigger by the complete lack of any personal belongings, and Hank had no plans to change any of that any time soon.
The mattress he purchased was in the corner, next to that were scientific papers he had been meaning to read since, well, forever. Just because Hank owned a ring that could take him into space didn’t mean that former-astronaut no longer cared about humanity’s efforts to journey into space without the aid of a cape or power ring.
Every now and then Henshaw considered contacting one of his old Air Force buddies, or paying a visit to the the base where he knew his old commanding officer was running the show, but to what end? Hank didn’t feel like being friends with anyone, and it’s not like he wanted a job.
Hal Jordan barely managed to balance being a pilot at Ferris Air and a Green Lantern, and eventually one gave way to the other. And then he retired. As if Hank could be so lucky. He had a lot to atone for, and he wouldn’t make any headway on that list if he passed on his ring to someone else.
The nude woman in his hallway tilted her head as Hank collected himself amongst the sheets. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Hank. “Nightmares.”
“Really? I’m sure it could get worse.”
Hank smiled. “No, I don’t think it will.”
“Think again.” The woman’s skin fell away from her frame to reveal the gigantic, bestial form of the Predator, the parasitic entity that possessed his body and drove it to perform monstrous deeds over a year ago. It leapt toward him, and he screamed, unable to control himself. He screamed as the Predator’s talons tore into his stomach and black petals exploded out of the wound--
<unknown>
John Stewart sounded impatient. “What have you got for me, Henshaw?”
Hank’s eyes fluttered open as he floated in the darkness, his ring keeping him warm and safe in the vacuum of space. The data mining his ring performed pinged into his head to tell him that the data finished uploading into his brain, and connections and suppositions that were previously absent from his head now crackled and clashed against each other.
John Stewart, his sector partner, was investigating a mass killing that took place in a Manhattan hospital just over six months ago. Every man, woman and child inside had been killed in various ways. A horror show, plain and simple, and Hank was convinced they had knew the bastard behind it, as the security footage pointed the finger squarely at Senator Bradley Roth, an old friend of John’s.
Henshaw hadn’t known Stewart for long, but they had found some common ground. John wore Hank’s old ring, the one he lost when he died. The ring on Hank’s finger was new, freshly minted by John and Sinestro in a way he had yet to understand.
Apparently Sinestro is made of magic or something, thought Hank.
No matter. It worked just as well, and all the hard work he had put in training his old ring had taken half the time to action on the new. Back before… everything that happened… Henshaw had been trying new things with his power ring, and he didn’t intend to stop experimenting now that he was working with a new one.
John requested a consult on the case, and Hank accepted. He data mined countless petabytes of data to assist in John’s case, and was in conversation with John at this very moment, even if he had sleep-walked through most of their conversation.
“…I can’t believe that, Hank. I won’t believe that,” came the voice of John Stewart from the emerald projection that floated in front of Henshaw.
Hank understood that John needed to get to the bottom of this case himself, and he wouldn’t take negativity as an answer. He knew that sometimes you had to let these things play themselves out. He breathed in slowly, and then nodded. "I’ll back your play 100%, and I’ll keep my distance until you’re done with your investigation, but don’t hesitate to call me in if you need me.”
Hank took a second and his ring began to buzz. That was weird. Just like the smell in his nostrils, but he tried to ignore that, the thick smell of cut grass and compost.
“In the meantime, I’m going to look into some odd readings my ring’s picked up. Keep me in the loop, all right?"
“Same to you,” said John.
"Roger," said Hank. The transmission ended and he closed down the constructs he had generated during his data mining. John had that under control and an odd transmission had reached Hank’s power ring.
Hank’s protective aura snapped off and Hank died instantly in the vacuum of space--
<parasite>
Hank could feel the vines constricting his body, and the heavy weight of the mass on his chest weighing down his heart. Pinpricks of pain came together as a throb, and the tiny plants that sprang up from beneath his flesh were blooming, pollen drifting across the room and filling his lungs, even as the black petals filled his orifices. He choked on the flowers that were rising up from his throat, and could feel his body scream for oxygen--
<warning>
“I don’t feel too great,” said Hank, sat across from his doctor.
“Define not ‘too great’,” said his doctor, a smile thinly drawn across his face.
“Disconnected, almost? Not part of the day-to-day goings-on of the planet,” said Hank. He laughed. “I sound mad!”
“Hank, you were an astronaut. You went further than anyone else on this world can probably say they did.” The doctor shrugged. “You’re allowed to not feel entirely grounded. Especially considering what you went through while you were up there.”
Hank rolled his shoulder and sighed. “I don’t know, I just, well--” There was a silence. “Can you smell that?”
“What?” said the doctor.
“I dunno,” said Hank. He stood, and paced the room. He paused above his mug, and took a slug of the black coffee inside. “I keep thinking about my grandfather’s estate, where my sister and I used to stay in the summer. Lichen, moss, little woodlice hiding under the rocks she used to lift up for me to look under.”
“Why do you think you’re having these recollections?” said the doctor. “Why now?”
“There’s this smell in the air,” said Hank, looking out of the window. “And--”
The doctor was sat opposite Hank, who was now seated. The move was disconcerting, but he didn’t question it.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Now, I’ve read the brief, I know that you lost your crew, that’s all part of public record, but I also know what you did. I know what you went through to try and save them. It’s not your fault, Hank. No matter what you think, their deaths are not on you.” Hank went to interrupt his doctor, but the older man raised his hand to silence him. The hand was covered in tiny flowers. “But I also know that no matter what I say, you’re not going to feel any less guilty. So the question is, are you enjoying your coffee?”
“Uh, yeah, why?”
The doctor smiled. Hank felt his chest tighten. A taste in his mouth he didn’t recognise, masked by the coffee he had just finished. He glanced down at his unresponsive hand, and then at the doctor. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t say another word. The doctor stood up slowly, and began to smoulder, as if on fire.
The doctor was a human torch, glowing blue, and he laughed as he reached out for Hank’s face with hands that burned as bright as his body.
Hank couldn’t even scream this time--
<warning>
“…I can’t believe that, Hank. I won’t believe that,” said John.
Hank nodded. "I’ll back your play 100%, and I’ll keep my distance until you’re done with your investigation, but don’t hesitate to call me in if you need me. In the meantime, I’m going to look into some odd readings my ring’s picked up. Keep me in the loop, all right?"
“Same to you,” said John.
"Roger," said Hank. He enhanced his vision with his ring. An alien space craft had entered the solar system, and was passing Neptune, just over 2.5 billion miles away. He scanned the cosmic wake of the ship, and identified its course.
Without intervention, the ship was headed straight to Earth.
Well, that can’t be a good sign.
A quick space warp bought Hank next to the ship and began to scan the hull.
“This is the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, transmitting over all available frequencies. To anyone onboard--”
Hank fell silent. His ring picked up over seven million life signs. The size of the ship didn’t make sense for that kind of number, and as he floated in the void, that number ticked over. Increasing.
Hank approached the outer hull of the ship, and noticed something strange on its surface. Instead of metal there was some kind of natural deposit, a black, moss-like substance covering large patches of the hull. He scanned it, but could find nothing strange-- other than its existence-- with it. He pressed his hand against the substance, and it gave way ever so slightly.
Hank remembered the lichen stained rocks that littered his grandfather’s estate, and how he and his sister would clamber over them and get their clothes stained and dirtied during their explorations of the grounds during the summer. The memory warmed him, and he welcomed the feeling.
Hank breathed in deeply, and prepared himself. “I am now entering your ship. I come in peace and mean you no harm. Due to the lack of communication provided, I am temporarily anchoring your craft in the orbit of the eighth planet of this solar system. Once contact is established, we can discuss next steps.”
Hank closed his eyes and phased inside the hull. When he opened them, he realised he hadn’t finished the process of phasing, and that he had rematerialised half his body inside a corridor, and left the rest embedded in the hull. He choked blood and petals, and--
<willpower>
“What’s wrong, Hank?” said Terri.
Terri Henshaw stood in front of him, a concerned look on her face. The barracks was empty apart from them, and they were packing up their kit ready for tomorrow’s flight.
“Something’s not right here,” said Hank.
Terri sighed. “Is this about the radiation shielding? I thought we’d been over this. The LexCorp funding means we have to use their shielding, and I’m confident that it’ll keep us safe from the cosmic radiation we’ll be passing through. The Excalibur’s first flight is going to take us successfully through the radiation belt on the outskirts of the solar system, and back again.”
“No, it’s not that,” said Hank. He paused. “I’ve lived this.”
Terri flashed out of existence for a second, but a blink on Henshaw’s part restored her to view.
“This argument? Hank. Henry. We’ve had this argument too many times to count now. The fact that you don’t trust my judgement when it’s my area of expertise is infuriating. I know you can’t stand Lex Luthor, but it’s his funding that’s enabled this mission to go ahead.”
“NASA was never about accepting private funding before,” said Hank. “And I don’t trust Lex Luthor as far as I can throw him. I just have this horrible feeling something terrible is going to happen when we go up.”
“Benj has clocked a record number of EVAs, my brother is the best engineer NASA ever trained. You’re the best pilot that we have and we have to complete the work, don’t you understand?”
“Honey, I know how much this means to you, I’m just--”
Terri stroked her husband’s face. “Trust me. I’ve done the work. I’ve had the other scientists vet it. The shielding is up to scratch.”
“Okay,” said Hank. “Okay. I trust you.”
Then, Hank stood in the cockpit of a craft he didn’t recognise. The captain’s chair was turned away from him, but there was a frantic typing that came from up ahead.
“I’m the Green Lantern of this sector,” said Hank. “This ship is on a direct course that I cannot allow it to continue on. When you talk to me, I can remove the anchor that’s keeping us in place, and we can discuss alternatives.”
The typing continued, and Hank trudged forward. He spun the chair around and a mummified corpse fell forward toward his feet, shattering into pieces on impact with the floor.
Hank wasn’t surprised. He knelt down and examined the flight suit the corpse wore, and located the crest on its arm: NASA. He looked at the chest, and the name of the suit’s owner: HENSHAW.
“I’m still alive,” said Hank. “I made it through.”
The shattered corpse came together and a hand reached for Henshaw’s throat. It went straight through his aura and gripped his neck tightly. Hank grabbed the wrist, and his touch caused the mummified flesh to fall away to reveal an under layer of tightly packed black vines. The corpse’s face began to gain weight and skin, and Hank remained unfazed when his ex-wife’s face was revealed.
“I didn’t leave you,” said Hank.
“But I’m still dead,” said Terri. She snapped his neck and--
"Roger," said Hank. An alien space craft entered the solar system past Neptune, on a course that would take it directly to Earth.
Well, that can’t be a good sign.
“This is the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, transmitting over all available frequencies. I am now entering your ship. I come in peace and mean you no harm. Due to the lack of communication provided, I am temporarily anchoring your craft in the orbit of the eighth planet of this solar system. Once contact is established, we can discuss next steps.”
Before Hank went any further, he paused. “What’s going on?”
<willpower>
“This keeps happening,” said Hank.
<overriding>
“Something is doing this,” said Hank. He looked at his power ring, where a single black flower grew out from. “This isn’t real.”
<warning>
“But why can’t I think--” said Hank. The ship in front of him shuddered, and the hull became a hand that grabbed him. Hank was completely enveloped in darkness, and the smell filled his nostrils once more. Dead plants now, and rich soil. The darkness filled his nose and his mouth, and the curtain fell, and--
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Things were tense on the bridge of the Excalibur.
“Cosmic radiation is spiking,” said Jon. “How’s the shielding holding up, sis?”
Terri grimaced. “It’s holding, but I’m not happy with the stresses other parts of the ship are experiencing. Hank, where are you right now?”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank’s voice emerged from the ship’s speakers. “I’m in the engine room. Trying to lock down--”
“Hank, I know what you’re trying to do, but you need to get out of the engine room right now. There’s a leak in the main reactor. You need to get out before it bursts. We need to eject it or we’re all dead!”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“I can’t leave,” said Hank. “I can lock this thing down, just give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a--”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Benj slammed his hand against the monitor screen. “Terri! Something’s going on with the shielding! It’s-- Jesus! It’s disengaging!”
“That’s impossible,” said Terri. “Hank, I’ve got to look at the-- oh, God, oh, God.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Jon looked back at Terri from where he was sat. “What is it?”
The blood drained from her face. “Engine room is in lockdown. The bulkheads have sealed. Hank?”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank wiped his brow of sweat and doubled down on the engine. He didn’t bother glancing back at the door that had just sealed shut behind him. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get the leak sealed. “Don’t worry about me, just, just get the shielding back up!”
“They’re gone,” said Benj. “The shields have detached from the ship. They’re breaking apart.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“But the radiation--?” said Jon.
Terri swallowed hard. “It’s too late. We’re too far out. We’re already dead.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
“No,” said Hank. “Don’t think like that. I’m stabilising the engine, you just need to get into the EVA suits, they’ll keep you protected. Move now, get going!”
Hank’s power ring flared as he knelt in the engine room, and he could feel its pull wanting to get him away from danger. “No, no, not now, this isn’t how it happened.”
TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC TAC
Hank continued to work on the engine, and finally sealed the leak.
“Disengage the engine room door! Terri! Anybody! Disengage!”
TAC TAC TAC TAC--
The Excalibur’s internal communications array went dead. Silence throughout the ship.
In tandem, the radiation signature began to fade, but the damage had been done.
The emergency lights flickered on. An emerald EVA suit formed over Hank’s body and he phased through the sealed door.
“This isn’t how it happened,” said Hank, as the Green Lantern ring he wore took him through the interior of the ship. “The ring came later. I had to pry open the door. The engine room kept me safe thanks to the engine shielding.” The words coming out of his mouth didn’t comfort him. “Took me hours.”
Black vines grew under his skin.
“By the time I got to the bridge,” said Hank. The ring got him there early and he saw something he had only witnessed the aftermath of.
To Hank’s right, Benj had fused with the console he manned. Metallic protrusions pierced his skin and he gibbered and drooled as whatever transformative effect kept him alive for the moment.
Jon was blue fire, burning with zero heat output. His eyes, nose, ears and lips had gone. His teeth barred in silent agony as he writhed across the floor.
Terri flickered in and out of sight, screaming. Hank reached out for her, but she couldn’t see him. She was somewhere else entirely for long aching moments of time. Moving in and out of phase with this reality, until she finally vanished entirely.
Hank fell to his knees. “Too far. Too much.”
Roots began to split through his thighs and into the metallic hull.
The EVA suit his ring had generated snapped away, but he didn’t die.
Hank looked around the bridge of the ship, and at his dead friends and family.
“This won’t work,” said Hank. “I won’t let it.”
Darkness crept through the bridge of the ship, toward Hank. His body was covered in vines, flowers punctuating their length intermittently. The world flickered between the hull of the Excalibur, and the interior of the craft covered in moss.
Everything hurt, even as the darkness tried to eat him, absorb him.
“…Not today.”
Hank clutched at his chest, where the pain was at its most intense. Though he couldn’t see it, his fingers found their grip across the mass that clung to his torso. He grit his teeth and yanked at the tendrils that bit into him. He looked down, and the world went from dark to red, liquid pain, and he could see that something was growing into him, black and slick, tiny petals spreading from its surface to his skin.
As Hank pulled, he could finally hear his ring clearly, screaming--
<--PARASITE OVERRIDING WILL POWER! WARNING!>
“get it offa me”
Emerald light lashed across his chest and prised the shape of Hank’s chest, sending it flying across the floor with a damp thud. Hank kicked himself back across the floor.
<Ring cleansing Lantern 2814.2 of parasitic infection>
Hank vomited up compost and petals, and he struggled to his feet as his ring did its job. Whatever hit him had hit him hard and fast, before his ring could react. He remembered entering the ship, finding nothing but darkness-- but the darkness was sentient, and it got him, and before he could think he was dreaming, and that thing, the star-shaped plant that latched itself to him sent him spiralling through nightmares.
“It was breaking me down,” said Hank. “Trying to destroy me from the inside.”
<Continued exposure to parasitic entity would have resulted in death within an hour.>
“Another thing climbing inside me,” said Hank. He looked around the bridge of the ship, at the corpses covered in the plants that had tried to use him as a host.
The star-shaped thing flopped pathetically on the floor, and Hank looked it up and down. “Looks familiar, some how.”
“Shape and composition matches that of designate ‘Star Conqueror’ parasite, with elements of designate ‘Black Mercy’ parasite. Combination somehow capable of overriding willpower, removing all safeguards for ring bearer’s protection. Further investigation recommended.>
“And the crew is dead,” said Hank. “Killed by these mutated things.” He grimaced. “But who made them? And how did they get here?”
<Unknown.>
“Send word to Oa, I need a Corps forensics team to tow this ghost ship somewhere where it can be disposed of. For the time being erect emergency beacons within the ships radius and prevent any other craft from coming near. I need to get out of here. I need to breathe again.”
<Processing.>
Hank headed back to Earth, wiping away the tears that formed from the memories the parasite had stirred within him. He knew where he needed to be.
The monument to the deceased members of the Excalibur was comprised of three statues: Benjamin Kirby, Terri Henshaw and Jonathan Runnels. There were no graves for these heroes, just this symbol of their sacrifices.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Terri,” said Hank. “You’d tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t, ah, I can’t help it. I miss you so much, and I don’t know what to do about it. You were the best part of me, and I let you down. I should have pushed harder. We should have found some other way to get the Excalibur project going, without, without...” Hank trailed off. “I’m sorry Lex Luthor never paid for his crimes against you. I’m sorry they never found any proof that the fault was with the shielding. I just… I…”
Hank swallowed back the tears, closed his eyes and saw Carol Ferris’ smile. Was she the answer? He’d avoided her for so long, because of everything he had done when he was possessed by the Predator, but had he held back for fear of hurting her, when really all he was doing was punishing himself? Terri died on the Excalibur, but he survived, but had he really lived since? Maybe Carol was the answer… he had to try.
“Enough is enough,” said Hank. He transformed his civilian clothes into his Green Lantern flight suit, and leapt out of the window, before shooting off into the night sky in an emerald blur, and leaving the atmosphere.
Not longer after, Hank landed in front of Carol Ferris’ home. He was invisible for the time being, not willing to make his presence known until he himself was ready.
Hank knew how ridiculous this all was. He wanted to speak to her. He needed to. But the things the Predator had done while wearing his face, they were still his mistakes. That’s what he truly believed. He should have been stronger. His will should have been like steel. But no.
Hank let his Green Lantern uniform shift back into his civilian clothes-- grey trousers and a buttoned white shirt with a leather jacket to keep warm. Not that he needed the jacket, the ring worked away silently in the background, ensuring he was never uncomfortable.
Hank scratched his beard and walked up the steps to the house. He thought about how different he must look since the last time Carol saw him. The beard was going to stick around, he had decided. His grandfather had always worn one, and Hank knew that he’d have been proud of his follicular achievement, another little joke they shared during the long summers in upstate New York.
The memory warmed him.
Hank knocked once and waited. He had to be a man without fear once more.
The door opened and a man stood there, broad shouldered, wearing only a pair of jeans. Hank was acutely aware, for some reason, that the man wasn’t wearing any socks.
“Can I help you?” The man’s face was open and welcoming. He had a smile on his face that made Hank angry for no other reason than he looked happy.
“I’m, uh, I’m looking for Carol Ferris,” said Hank. He cursed his hesitation.
“Yeah, Carol’s not available right now,” said the man. “Can I help you?”
Hank’s brow furrowed as another man walked from the living room down to the kitchen in the back of the house. “Who’s that?”
“Hey, who are you?” said the man. “You knocked on our door.”
“My name is Hank, I’m a, a friend of Carol’s.”
“Close the door, you’re letting the cold in.” A female voice drifted down the stairs and to the two men.
“Carol?” said Hank. He was quiet. “Carol, it’s me, Hank.” He said it louder. Clearer. “Hank Henshaw.”
Please hear me.
“Henshaw?” said the voice. Carol didn’t even bother coming own to check herself.
“Yeah,” said the man in front of Hank. He had moved directly into centre of the doorway. Protective. No one was going to get past him without causing trouble. “That’s who he says he is.”
"Tell him we're busy. This party isn’t going to keep itself going,” said Carol.
The man shrugged at Hank. “She’s the boss. Sorry, Hank.” He closed the door and Hank was left standing there.
Hank took a step backwards down the stairs, still staring at the now closed door.
It started to rain. He zipped up his jacket, and wandered into the darkness down the street. Alone.
Upstairs in Carol Ferris’ brownstone, a small army of men worshipped at her feet as she considered the Star Sapphire ring the Predator had given her before heading off to kill the Green Lantern Corps. Carol knew, of course, that the Predator had failed, but she hadn’t realised Hank was back, and she cursed the development.
One of the men began to kiss her leg and she looked down at him favourably. “Hank Henshaw can wait. Love must come first.”