THE DCFutures Underground Fan Fiction group acknowledges that DC Comics owns the concepts behind Green Lantern and all DC characters that may be used here. These concepts are used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire to peer into the future of the DC Universe. However, the original concepts presented here are the intellectual property of the author. Quotations have been taken from the medieval poem, "THE GREENE KNIGHT," as edited by Thomas Hahn.
Dateline: New Coast City
An elderly man works silently in the dark. Antique blowtorches, circuitry, and modern laserwelders litter the room, and schematics for a suit of high-tech battlearmor decorate the wall behind him. Intermittent sparks light the room in brief flashes as he completes various connections and seals various components on what appears to be a nearly-finished prototype. The process continues for hours, but eventually, he puts his tools away.
Switching on a nearby computer, he removes his protective mask, wiping the sweat off off a brow wrinkled by years of toil, fighting, and worry. Picking up a small, technical instrument, he passes it over the armor slowly, from head to toe. Despite the obvious fatigue, his features are stoic as he completes what he hopes will be the last of thousands of scans.
Looking at the visual display of his analytical computer, he waits patiently as the information from his scan is processed and analyzed. Eventually, percentage numbers are increased from zero to one hundred percent, and words are displayed and spoken. "Analysis complete. Systems operating at one hundred percent."
Elated, the elderly gentleman's features beam with happiness, but he resists the urge to leap for joy, being too well-disciplined and having seen too much pain and sorrow to allow himself such simple pleasures. Even so, he does partially forget himself, speaking audibly when no one else was present. Perhaps old age was catching upto him.
"At last, it's finished. It took two decades, but it's finally finished," he says, his voice rising as the excitement of the moment overcomes him. "The war against the UN has been going badly for far too long. And Patriot will never win unless it focuses its efforts by rallying behind a strong leader. A hero. A symbol of hope."
Glancing once again at his masterwork, he thought back on the years that it had taken to turn a simple design into reality. The problem had always been finding a suitable power source, something that the Justice League wouldn't be able to track or disable, something powerful enough to make the armor a force to be reckoned with. He brushed his hand lovingly over the lantern symbol molded onto the chestplate as he opened a small, iron box nearby. He opens it, allowing an emerald glow to emanate from its contents.
"What we need is a new Green Lantern."
GREEN LANTERN:DCF #1
(Year One, Part One)
"In Brightest Day, In Blackest Night"
Written by D. David Lee
Edited by Jason Tippitt
Shee taught her sonne the knight alsoe
In transposed likenesse he shold goe
Both by fell and frythe.
Shee said, "Thou shalt to Arthurs hall,
For there great adventures shall befall
That ever saw king or knight."
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
"Our asses are grass if we get caught. You know that, right?" said a costumed figure, speaking in hushed tones.
"Damn it, Bryan! We're in the sub-sub-basement, for crying out loud!" said the other figure emphatically, nonetheless doing what he could to keep his own voice down. "No one comes down to this hole anymore. Besides, he's our friend. We owe it to him to try and bring him back to consciousness before those bootlickers in R&D get their hooks into him, not to mention their scalpels."
Looking down at the face of his friend on the hover-gurney, who'd been stuck in a coma for three days, the first figure reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Are you sure this is going to work, Beck? What's with that poetry the machine is spouting?"
"Something buried in his subconscious, maybe? Who knows!" exclaimed Beckett, trying to ignore his own nagging doubts and failing miserably. "The coma is being caused by conflicting memories. Once those memories are sorted out, he should wake up, and I've rigged this machine to do just that."
"That's another thing that worries me. The psychic probe isn't the gentlest of machines. People being questioned by it tend to die for no good reason," said Bryan, gently laying his hand on his comatose friend's forehead, carefully avoiding contact with the input leads attached to his temples. "What if something goes wrong?"
"Look, I'm just as worried as you are, but this is his only shot. If he doesn't wake up soon, he's headed for the dissection table, and we both know it," said Beckett, making final adjustments to the controls. In a few minutes, everything was ready, and he depressed the activation button, causing the machinery to hum to life.
A holo-monitor to the side of the hover-gurney flickered on and started displaying a series of random images, including that of a desperate battle being pitched against a man in emerald armor. Eventually, the image pattern stabilized, displaying an ordered sequence of events.
"Look, it's working..."
NorAm: New Coast City [December 25, 2099]
"Grandpa, why do we always come to the park this time of year?" asked a young boy, his hand held tightly in that of a much older man. His name was Martin Ulster, and he was only nine years old, far too young to appreciate the significance of either history or tradition as his grandfather did. All he really wanted to do was stay home and play with the Christmas presents he'd just opened.
"Because that's the way I want it," said his grandfather. Simon Ulster was eighty-five years old and more than set in his ways. He could hardly stand the way his old bones creaked or the other, more humiliating ways that his body failed him nowadays. Just the same, he enjoyed almost always being able to get his own way, the only real benefit of elderly status as far as he was concerned.
"Damn kids. Don't know anything about anything. Always asking questions..." he grumbled to no one in particular, not really meaning a word of it. Looking at his grandson, he saw that Martin had his eyes downcast as if he'd done something wrong. Closing his own eyes and exhaling slowly, Simon berated himself mentally, tousling his grandson's hair.
"Chin up, Marty. Always asking lots of questions is a good thing. Your daddy used to ask me questions all the time, and I never really minded. Still don't. I'm just old and crotchety now so I say a lot of things I don't really mean."
Almost instantly perking up, Martin smiled up at his grandfather before repeating his question. "So why do we come here every year?"
"Haha," laughed Simon, a hearty belly laugh that always made Martin want to start laughing too. "That's the spirit. I take you here because I used to bring your father here before he passed on," he said, his voice choking a bit at the end. "Because I wanted him to know what it means to be a hero, and I want you to know that, too. Besides, it's the last Christmas of the century, and I want to do things proper."
"But wouldn't the last Christmas of the century be next year, Grandpa?" asked Martin, his cherubic face turned upwards to catch drifting flakes of snow.
"Rotten kids. Too smart for their own good, too big for their britches..." he grumbled, but smiling all the while.
Holding Martin's hand a bit more tightly, Simon continued on his way. Finally, the two intrepid travelers reached their destination, a statue erected in the middle of the park. It stood some twenty feet tall and was fashioned from cold iron, nobility seemingly molded into it. "There he is, Marty. Hal Jordan. The legendary Green Lantern."
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
"Heh. Who knew he was such a cute kid," said Bryan, who couldn't quite hide an amused smile. "Not to mention a Green Lantern fan. Kind of ironic, don't you think?"
"What did you expect? He was born in New Coast City. Everybody here still loves that Hal Jordan guy," said Beckett. "But do they care about any of us modern Leaguers...?"
NorAm: New Coast City [December 25, 2099]
The blast was nearly deafening. Years later, Martin would never quite be able to recall exactly what happened, but he would never be able to forget, either. Whereas his grandfather's attention had been focused on the statue, Martin's eyes had been drawn to the flying figures with blaster rifles mounted on their shoulders.
"Down with the Justice League! Long live Patriot!" yelled the flying figures, their weapons raining a torrent of laser fire down on the statue of Hal Jordan. A brief, blinding flash was followed by the sound and smell of molten metal raining down on the park. Toxic fumes spread all around where the statue had once stood, forcing Martin to close his eyes involuntarily and obscuring the sky.
When he was finally able to open his eyes again, Martin saw an image that confused him at first, that of his grandfather trapped beneath the fallen remains of the statue he loved so much. "Grandpa! Grandpa!" he yelled, running towards his grandfather, wanting very much to help but not really sure what to do.
Coughing up blood, Simon was barely conscious, and he wasn't entirely sure what could be done either. He felt a heavy weight crushing his legs, and his arms felt like they were on fire. "Marty, get out of here!" he yelled. "You can't help me!"
"No, I won't go!" yelled Martin, moving away from the hands that were trying to force him away from the statue. Still warm to the touch, Martin pressed his little hands against it, trying to get a grip and move it, not realizing how many tons it weighed.
"It's no use, Marty, it's too heavy! Run! Save yourself!" yelled Simon, trying not to choke on his own blood. He could hear the sound of continuing weapons fire, orders being barked commandingly, and other sounds he didn't recognize. But when the haze from the fumes finally cleared, Simon could see that the Justice League had arrived to deal with the Patriot saboteurs.
As he turned his eyes away from the raging battle, his elation was cut short by the shocking sight that greeted his eyes when he turned them back on his grandson. A look of fierce determination on his face, somehow nine-year-old Martin Ulster was lifting the remains of the statue of Hal Jordan over his head and casually tossing it away.
"Grandpa, are you okay?" asked Martin, tears in his eyes. But still in shock from what he had just witnessed, Simon could say nothing. He didn't even notice when the battle between Patriot and the Justice League came to a foregone conclusion, and someone began barking orders that medical attention be brought to the site immediately.
"That was very impressive, young man," said an attractive woman wearing the uniform of a Justice League agent. Grandfather and grandson both recognized her almost immediately as the Leaguer named Velocity, who was always appearing on magazine covers and in holovision programs. "The Justice League will be wanting to talk to you very soon," she continued, smiling.
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
"Wow. Now there's a looker," said Bryan, whistling with appreciation. "Damn, I wish my recruiter had looked like that."
"Aw, give it a rest, will ya? At least have a little respect for the dead, not to mention Marty here," said Beckett, wincing a bit. "Can you imagine being drafted at only nine years old? Grife..."
NorAm: New Coast City [December 25, 2099]
The Angel Room at the Paradise Hotel was, perhaps, the best and most exclusive restaurant in all of New Coast City. Typically, reservations had to be made weeks in advance and usually involved gratuities involving more than three digits during the holiday season, especially on Christmas Day. Even for a Tempest Engineer, that was steep, and Ian Marshall could barely countenance the fact that his date was late... again.
Nervously fingering the engagement ring in his pocket, Ian couldn't help fidgeting. 'What the hell could be keeping her?' he thought to himself as he drummed his fingers on the table. He tried to relax and enjoy the live orchestra, but found himself continually checking his watch, his eyes glued not to the pillared walls or the muraled ceiling, but the double doors that served as the restaurant's main entrance.
Seconds later, a beautiful woman rushed through those same doors, quickly calmed down, and composed herself. A famous television news journalist, Amanda Carter was a celebrity of sorts, and she could be excused minor indiscretions like her hasty entrance. Greeting her warmly, the maitre'd led her to her table with all due ceremony.
"I'm sorry I'm late," said Amanda, giving Ian a quick kiss, "but I had to make a quick detour to the park. Some Patriot agents attacked the statue of Hal Jordan and nearly killed two innocent bystanders."
"The story of the century?" asked Ian with mock irritation, not because she was late but because she had put herself in a dangerous situation yet again. Still, perhaps that was one of the reasons why he loved her.
"Ian, it's my job, and it's a big story. A new meta was revealed during the incident. Those two bystanders I was talking about? One of them was just a kid, barely nine years old. When the statue collapsed, he caught and lifted it with his bare hands!" said Amanda excitedly. "The Justice League has already taken him into custody, to train him to be a Leaguer one day."
"And you think that's a good thing? Taking him away from his family?" asked Ian, surprised by Amanda's excitement. "Locking him away?"
Amanda just cocked her head to one side, smiling that awkwardly apologetic smile of hers that always made Ian's heart melt. "Of course not. I feel terrible for that boy and what he's going to go through, but it makes a great addition to my news story for this week."
"You mean you're still going to run that anti-Justice League piece?" asked Ian, concern evident in his voice. "Don't you think that's a little risky? I mean, a lot of people believe in the Justice League, and kids practically worship them."
"That's exactly why I want to write this story. Just because they call themselves the Justice League doesn't mean that they're the same as the Justice League of old," said Amanda, hoping Ian would understand. "They don't have a Superman to be their moral compass anymore. And it may be true that they do more good than harm, but harm they do. It's important that people start to question that," she finished, placing her hand on his.
"So more nuts can start joining Patriot?" asked Ian, hoping to dissuade Amanda from her chosen course. Turning public opinion against the Justice League was a very dangerous thing, and he wanted their lives together to be simple and carefree.
Stunned by his statement, Amanda momentarily pulled her hand away from his before quickly taking it again. Seeing this, Ian relented, taking her hand in both of his. "I'm sorry. It's just that I know what your career means to you, and I know how much it would hurt you to have it taken away," he said.
"I know, and I love you for it, but some things are more important than careers, maybe even more important than living..." she said ominously, just as her pager went off. Reading the message, her face became apologetically distraught. "I'm sorry, Ian, but I have to go. I was really looking forward to this evening, but something important has come up. Do you understand? Will you forgive me? Please?"
Idly, Ian patted his hand against the pocket that held the engagement ring that he'd hoped to present, sighing audibly. "Of course I forgive you," he said. "I love you." Leaning forward, Ian kissed Amanda passionately, and she returned that passion in equal measure before regretfully pulling away.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to go. I'll call you soon," she said, rising and backing away towards the door. "Merry Christmas...!"
"Merry Christmas to you, too, darling," whispered Ian as he watched her go. He waited for her to go out the doors before pulling out the engagement ring he'd bought to look at it and dream about what might be.
Just as he snapped the box shut again and ended his reverie, an explosion rocked the building.
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
"What the hell was that all about? Aren't these supposed to be Marty's memories?" asked Bryan, quite confused by what he was seeing.
Beckett quickly looked over the various readouts to make sure there wasn't some glitch screwing with the playback. "How the hell should I know?" he asked, trying to match his friend's tone. "If I had to guess, I'd say that's one of the conflicting memories we're trying to sort out, memories that belong to somebody else. It looks like the machine is sorting them chronologically."
"Someone else's memories? How did that happen? Was that armored guy a telepath, too...?" began Bryan, looking perplexed. "And whose memories are they?"
"I'm just as much in the dark as you. I guess the only way to find out is to keep watching."
NorAm: New Coast City [December 31, 2099]
"But I don't want to go!" yelled Martin, hugging his grandfather close. "I want to stay with you!" Tears began to run down Martin's face, and Simon wiped them away, more gently than he ever had before. Perhaps it was because of the hospital bed he was sitting in, his injuries still serious. Perhaps it was because he would never see his grandson again.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Marty. You're not just a kid anymore. You're metahuman, someone gifted with powers and abilities beyond those of ordinary men and women. That's how you lifted that statue the other day," said Simon, going on bended knee to hold his grandson by the shoulders.
"They say that sunlight makes you really strong, really fast, and practically invulnerable to harm. You have powers, son, and a responsibility to use those powers to save more people, just like you saved me. The Justice League will teach you how to do that, and I know you'll make me proud."
"Proud? Really?" asked Martin, trying to stop the tears, trying to be brave.
"Very proud, maybe even more than your dad. He was a soldier like me. Joined the NAF and fought the Iron Major. He died a hero, protecting the UN from terrorism, and you're going to be a hero, too. A superhero, son, just like Hal Jordan, protecting people from those Patriot terrorists who tried to hurt us. Do you understand?" he asked, trying to lend the boy his own strength.
"No, Grandpa, but I'll do it anyway," said Martin, standing at attention, something his grandfather had taught him at an early age. "I'll make you proud."
"I know you will," said Simon, smiling. "I also know you're too young to understand, but you will one day, so remember what I'm about to tell you now. I wasn't much older than you are during the dark days before the UN. People complain about it now, but that's only because they don't remember what it was like back then. Nothing but chaos, son. Millions of people died."
Looking his grandson straight in the eyes, Simon Ulster continued in a faltering voice. "Have you ever heard of a place called Hub City, Marty?" he asked. "It's gone, son. An entire city and everyone in it, gone, just like that!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Just like Coast City was destroyed all those years ago. It's upto you to keep that from ever happening again, just like your daddy did before you."
Still on bended knee, Simon Ulster returned his grandson's salute and quickly turned his head when the Leaguer known as Velocity stepped forward to take his grandson away. It just wouldn't do to let the boy's last memory of him be that of a pathetic old man in tears. No, it wouldn't do at all.
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
Bryan quickly turned his own head away from Beckett, who did the same. "Sorry, I... I've just got something in my eye," he said.
"Yeah... me, too..."
NorAm: New Coast City [January 2, 2100]
The funeral had been held as soon as the holidays would allow. Many were still mourning the loss of loved ones in Hub City, and in the wake of that destruction, the turnout for Amanda Carter's funeral had been limited to family and the closest of friends. Ian Marshall mourned alongside them, but several hours after the ceremony was over, he returned to privately say some last few words of his own.
"Hi, Amanda. I know I'll never be able to forgive myself for not having held onto you a little longer," he said, presenting the engagement ring he'd planned to give her that fateful night.
"Who knows? Maybe if I'd gone through with proposing, you'd have been delayed a few minutes and hailed a different cab. Maybe you'd still be alive now..." he finished, tears causing him to choke on his words as he fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands.
"It's not your fault, you know," said the stranger, a woman wearing a trenchcoat and dark sunglasses.
His grief interrupted, Ian looked up to see someone he didn't recognize at first, noticing for the first time that he wasn't alone. Then, she removed her sunglasses, momentarily revealing herself to be the Justice Leaguer known as Velocity. "Wh... what are you doing here? What are you talking about?" he asked.
"There was a bomb in the cab. The Justice League killed her to kill her story," said Velocity, not batting an eye. "It's too bad, really. She was a good journalist. And a good friend."
"What do you mean? You knew her? Why are you telling me this?" asked Ian, completely confused by her statements. The Justice League was responsible for Amanda's death? Wasn't she a member of the Justice League? And if she was, then why was she betraying them? "I want answers!" he yelled, grabbing her trenchcoat by the lapels with both hands.
Nanoseconds later, Ian found himself sprawled upon the floor, Velocity's booted foot on top of his chest. "Look, I know what you're going through, but you've got to move on. It's what Amanda would have wanted for you. I know you have questions, but you're going to have to calm down and ask them one at a time if you really want answers."
Unable to get up, Ian gritted his teeth and did what he could to calm himself. Ignoring his anger for the moment, he did as Velocity suggested. "Why did Amanda die?"
"Amanda wasn't just a journalist. She was an agent of Patriot. Her mission was to turn public opinion against Justice, the UN, and the Justice League," said Velocity, eyeing Ian's look of astonishment with some amusement.
It took a little time for her words to register completely, and Ian was sorely tempted to argue with her, but ultimately saw no point in it. What she said made sense. It explained a lot of the odd behavior he'd noticed in Amanda recently and the dangerous line of investigation she'd been pursuing of late.
"I'll assume you know about the assassination because you're an agent of the Justice League," Ian began, "but if she was a member of Patriot, then how can you call yourself her friend?"
"For your information, Amanda's assassination isn't common knowledge, even in the Justice League. The only reason I know is because I'm a Patriot spy, which also explains how I could have been Amanda's friend," said Velocity, wondering whether she would now have to kill this man whom Amanda had regarded so highly.
Stunned even further by this pronouncement, Ian could say nothing, but he understood the danger of his predicament. Velocity was telling him all this because she wanted something from him, and his life would be forfeit if he refused. Still, he decided to play dumb. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked.
"Because Amanda believed in you and wanted you to know if anything happened to her," said Velocity. "I promised her that I'd take care of it, and I always keep my promises. Well, most of the time. Anyway, I'm here to offer you a place in Patriot. You're a weapons engineer, and a good one from what Amanda told me. We could use a few more people with real technical skills."
"What makes you think I'd join a group of terrorists? People who threaten innocent bystanders and use bombs and guns to make their point?" asked Ian rhetorically. "They're maniacs! They killed everyone in Hub City!"
"Look, not all of Patriot is like that. Every resistance group has its radical faction that insists on blowing up symbols and attacking on holidays so people will remember better," said Velocity, exerting slightly more pressure with her foot. "And you can blame Justice for what happened to Hub City. Do you think I agree with that crap? Do you think Amanda did?"
That, of course, gave Ian pause. "No. No, Amanda would never go along with anything like that," he admitted, reminiscing about how they'd first met. His first job out of college had been as a tech at the news station where she happened to be interning. She only started dating him because he was the only guy there who wasn't after somebody else's job, and they kept dating even after he'd moved on to doing R&D for Tempest Enterprises.
"Look," said Velocity, "I know everything about you. Otherwise, I wouldn't be making this offer. Patriot's ultimate goal is to replace the status quo with something better, a government that doesn't murder its citizens, a government that doesn't need a Justice League to keep its citizenry down. Don't you understand? I'm offering you a chance for revenge! To fight for what Amanda believed in!"
Ian wasn't sure that revenge was something he wanted, but ultimately, he didn't have a choice. If he said no, then Velocity would be forced to kill him, and a world in which Amanda would never have been killed was something he desperately wanted.
"If you put it that way, then what else can I say? he asked rhetorically, reaching out his hand. "I accept."
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [April 29, 2112]
"Whoa! Velocity was a double-agent? Grife!" exclaimed Bryan, stunned by what he'd just learned. "Is this thing working right? Maybe we'd better go tell someone about this..."
"No, we don't know for sure that these 'other' memories are anything but lies. Maybe that's even what this is all about, Patriot feeding us false information," said Beckett, shaking his head. "We can't say anything. Not yet. If the info is false, then there's nothing to worry about. But if it's true, and Marty's under Patriot influence, then..."
"...then Justice will order Marty executed," finished Bryan.
The knight said, "Soe mote I thee,
To Arthurs court will I mee hye
For to praise thee right,
And to prove Gawaines points three -
And that be true that men tell me,
By Mary most of might.
- End of GREEN LANTERN:DCF #1 -