Sector 2814
Earth
Metropolis
Evil has escaped my sight.
I should have been here. My planet faced total destruction, my friends were being tortured and killed by monsters and psychopaths. Earth’s heroes needed to band together, to unify, one proud, fearless force to stand against the onslaught of the Dark Alliance, and where was I? Away.
We still won in the end, of course. The guys managed just fine without me, just like they’ve had to do… in the past. But not without some losses along the way. And our biggest defeat happened right here. With everyone converged at the Hall of Justice, in a battle with the Dark Alliance, that sick whackjob The Joker let loose his laughing gas on an unprotected Metropolis. Hundreds died. It could have been more. That’s what Ollie and Kyle and the others keep on telling me. It could have been more. But 900 deaths is still 900 deaths. People who died because those few who could fight for them were stretched too thin, because there just wasn’t enough of us.
Clark’s such a nice, unassuming guy – I’ve always said he’s more human than any of us. He smiles at me, puts that big hand on my shoulder and says that we need to do what Metropolis as a whole is doing: look forward. It’s a new beginning, and Metropolis is doing what it always does – coming together in a time of adversity. “That’s why it’s the greatest city in the world,” he laughs, before suggesting Carol and I should go out for dinner with him and Lois. But I see it in his eyes, the pain, the regret, the anger, the stuff he’d never dream of talking about, especially not to me of all people. I know what he’s going through, all to well.
And so now, I do what I’m sure Clark has done on many a quiet, restless night since this battle for our planet’s existence came to an end. I’m hovering high above the Metropolis skyline, looking down… thinking. I’ve thought about it a lot, just how easy it would have been for me to save all those people, if I’d been here. My ring could have had me at Metropolis in seconds, and dispersed the gas skywards, or collected it all inside an air-tight ball of solid-light energy. Or I could have lifted whole scores of people up into the air, taken them far away from central Metropolis, dropped them off out in a field in Smallville or wherever. But I couldn’t do any of that because I wasn’t here.
After my extended tenure on Oa, for all those months out in the edge of space, what kept me going was the thought of home. Earth. As I soared towards it, a little under a year ago, it seemed more beautiful than ever, from up in space. I’d been away, on a long journey, but I was home at last. I was looking to celebrate. But I soon found out exactly how much I’d missed.
My name is Hal Jordan. I’m an officer in the Green Lantern Corps. Space Sector 2814. And I have a lot to answer for.
…
Gotham City
My ring carries me across city borders at a speed far greater than even the most advanced of Earth’s jets (and believe me, I’ve piloted a few) could hope to match. In the blink of an eye, I’m touching down in Gotham Heights, just beyond the grounds of Wayne Manor. The mansion looms with a quietly commanding authority on the horizon. But the place feels empty now, lifeless. Dick and Tim still make sure the place is kept in good order, from what I understand, but with Alfred’s passing a few years ago, and now what happened last year, the building’s beating heart has been ripped out. Now it’s just bricks and mortar.
I decide to walk the rest of the way; it’s not far from here. Over the five minute walk, I take in the quiet, picturesque scenery around me, all green grass and rolling hills. A marked contrast from the inner city, to say the least. And then I arrive at my destination: Gotham Cemetery. Generations of Waynes call this their final resting place. I nod respectfully as I pass the headstones of Thomas and Martha Wayne, before stopping at a grave I never thought I’d live to see.
Here lies Bruce Wayne: Gotham’s White Knight
It’s no secret that Bruce and I never got along. Even at the best of times, he thought I was reckless and arrogant, and more recently, he refused to believe that I wasn’t responsible for my crimes as Parallax in the wake of my…resurrection, and made it quite clear that he was just waiting for me to snap again and reveal my true colors. As for me, I thought he was full of himself, that he was his own biggest fan. I hated that he never really put his full faith and trust in any of us, that we were always kept at arm’s length. But in truth, I think that the real reason for our mutual dislike was that we were so damn similar. A couple of normal men standing side-by-side with superhumans. We weren’t gifted with immense powers, like some of our JLA teammates, and had to rely on our own resourcefulness. And a few gadgets too, of course.
But more than that, something deeper. Bruce’s life was defined by seeing his parents die before his eyes, when he was just a child. I know how that feels, I know what it’s like to have your greatest fear come true. When that happens, it’s pretty easy to say you don’t fear anything. My father was my idol, the most important person in the world to me. And I watched him die. It’s what set me on the path to becoming the man I am today. Maybe that’s our greatest link of all: two men defined by our fathers.
And perhaps this has been playing in the back of my mind, now, the fact that Bruce and I could have been friends,
should have been friends. Because I always hoped that I could prove him wrong, and earn his trust and respect. But that won’t happen now. I have The Joker to thank for that, too. I missed the funeral, the real one, for Batman. I hear they had a service for Bruce Wayne too, claiming that he was killed in Brainiac’s assault on Gotham, and that no body had been found. The life of Bruce Wayne, the philanthropist, was celebrated, and deservedly so. But Batman was mourned in private by the superhero community.
It is thanks to him that every single being on this planet is alive today. If it weren’t for him, The Joker would have destroyed the sun. But Batman gets no public service, no commemorative statue in Finger Memorial Park. Hell, a lot of people don’t even know for sure if he’s dead, with all these copycats running around. But maybe Bruce would have approved of that. He was never like the rest of us, soaring through the skies and the streets in our brightly colored outfits, cheered by the civilians below. He was something else, something of the shadows. A Dark Knight indeed.
“Goodbye, Bruce. You can rest now.”
…
Coast City
Home
The City Without Fear. That’s what they’re calling it now.
Coast City. The familiar skyline welcomes me as I slow my flight speed down. Superman calls Metropolis the greatest city in the world. He can have it. Coast City will always be number one in my books. I make a soft landing on my balcony, up on the top floor of the 22 Sea View apartment building. With a mere thought, the molecules of my form-fitting Green Lantern uniform shift into my decidedly roomier civilian attire, which as always includes my father’s beaten-down brown bomber jacket. The mask on my face fizzles into green energy and dissipates. And now I’m Hal Jordan, humble test pilot for Ferris Air.
Okay, maybe not so humble…
I lean on the ledge, and look out at the city I call home. Not too long ago, this city was one big ghost town. People were too scared to come back here after… what happened. The whole city, wiped out by the alien tyrant Mongul and the cyborg vermin known as Hank Henshaw. Friends, co-workers, life as I knew it, all gone in a murderous flash. It drove me to the edge of madness, and for the first time since I watched my father die, I allowed fear to consume me. And that’s how Parallax – fear incarnate – got its claws into me, and made me its puppet.
My actions disgraced the memory of the home I had lost. I became a bitter enemy to the people I had once called friends. And then something strange happened. I died. And then I came back to life, purged of Parallax and whole once more. And somehow, the infrastructure of Coast City was brought back too. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but what matters is that it did. Now I have a second chance, and want to give Coast City the same thing. I put a lot of effort into helping rebuild the city, with help of course. It’s useful having a friend who’s an architect. It took a while, at first it seemed like I was patrolling an empty city, but in time people started to overcome their great fear, and come back to Coast City.
There’s still a long way to go: a few thousand in a city that originally held north of 7 million. But the people who are here believe in this city. And they believe in me. It means a lot to me that, even after all I did, when I died, they put up a statue in honor of me. It’s still there today. I didn’t deserve it, after what I did I’m not worthy of that. But I want to make myself worthy of it, by showing these people that their faith is not misplaced. I’ve been away long enough. This is my sector, and Coast City is at its heart. It represents why what I do is so important.
I head inside, draping my bomber jacket up on the coat hook. I walk through into the bedroom, and quietly sit down on the edge of the bed. Don’t want to wake up Carol. Who’d ever have guessed it? Hal Jordan: married man. I don’t know what surprises me more, the fact that I’m married, or the fact that I’m absolutely, without-a-doubt, happily married. There were plenty of others, over the years, but Carol…she was always the one. Deep down, I always knew it, we both did. I was just too busy screwing around and running at the first sign of commitment to see it. But I see it now. Maybe I’ve grown up, at last. Maybe I’m getting old. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if the ring had never found its way to me. I’ve always been one to seek thrills – whether it’s with planes or with women – and having an atom bomb strapped to my ring finger surely served to feed the habit.
But it’s about more than that, always has been. People assume having the power to create just about anything your imagination and willpower can permit is a blessing. But that kind of power… it can change you. Look at what happened to Sinestro. Look at what happened to me. They think it takes willpower to control the ring. That’s the easy part. Try having all that power, and doing the right thing, putting what you want aside to be a part of something far greater than yourself, and your world.
That takes willpower.
But damn…it’s worth it. Even after all the pain, all the loss. Even after dying. If I could go back all those years, and tell Abin Sur “no thanks”? No way. I’d take that ring, and do it all over again. This me. This is who I am, who I always will be.
Hal Jordan.
Green Lantern.
In brightest day, in blackest night.
