In the deserts of southern Utah laid a temple. In the temple sat a man. Not quite alive, but not quite dead. He was somewhere in between. He was Hal Jordan, the nigh-omnipotent Spectre. The Divine Spirit of Redemption.
Spectre used to be a true hero named Green Lantern, but after a life-shattering event, his mind snapped. He killed his fellow Green Lanterns and destroyed the Green Lantern Corps. He nearly destroyed the universe. Yes, Spectre had committed many atrocities in his life, but he prayed he could make up for them in his afterlife. He prayed for redemption, not just for himself, but for others. This is why he sat here on his throne, observing many floating circular mirrors which let him watch over many different planets. Usually, Spectre would send parts of his power in the form of other Spectres to other planets to serve redemption, but this planet called for Spectre-Prime's attention.
It was called Remnant.
Thousands of years ago, Remnant suffered a catastrophe. The two gods who created the planet wiped out each and every human, except one. This human was named Salem. She was not unlike Spectre. They had both lost everything, gone mad, tried to cheat death, and rallied against higher powers.
Spectre felt for the woman. He truly did. However, he could not condone her actions. Did his condemnation of the woman make him a hypocrite? Perhaps it did, but Spectre cared not about hypocrisy. He was interested in helping her and her ilk.
At this very moment, Salem's forces were invading a city called Vale. Spectre believed it would be beneficial for all should he intervene.
"Abin!" Spectre called.
"Yes, Hal?" Abin Sur's spirit asked. Abin Sur, the Green Lantern who gave Spectre his first ring when he was still alive, appeared beside him.
"I'm going out, Abin. Look after Helen for me," Spectre ordered.
"As you wish," Abin complied.
Using the near-limitless power of the Spectre, Spectre teleported to Remnant.
Mercury and Emerald watched the carnage unfold from a rooftop. Mercury, recording the gruesome scene with his scroll when suddenly, everything stopped. No screams, no roars, no carnage. The city lay as quiet as death save for the breathing of Emerald and Mercury.
"What just happened?" Emerald asked, noticing the night had become warmer.
"I happened," a warm voice from behind them said.
Mercury and Emerald twisted around and dropped into fighting stances.
In front of them stood a man with skin as white as Salem's, who wore a green domino mask, a green hood, and wrapped himself in a cloak. The man emanated warmth and kindness. An atmosphere neither Emerald or Mercury had ever felt.
Emerald and Mercury stood in combat stances, but a nagging voice in the back of their head said anything they did to the man would be wholly ineffective.
"Please, I'm not here to hurt you," the man said.
"Then why are you here?" Mercury asked.
"To give you redemption. To take you away from this place and these people. A place Salem will never find you," the man said.
Emerald pulled the trigger on her pistols but nothing happened.
"Do you really think a gun will work in stopped time?" the man asked.
Emerald, saying nothing, charged the man and slashed at him.
The man's cloak parted and revealed a green glove as he caught Emerald's wrist, along with the rest of his attire. He wore green boots and a gray leotard with a burning lantern on his chest.
Mercury jumped into the fray and launched kicks, but his kicks simply passed through the green-clad man.
"Please. I'm not here to fight," the man said.
"How do you know about Salem?" Emerald asked.
"I know many things, Emerald," the man said, "And you know that you cannot defeat me, so would you at least hear me out?"
Emerald sighed but nodded, and the man released her wrists.
"Who are you?" Mercury asked.
"I am the Spectre," he announced.
"You said you can take us somewhere Salem won't find us?" Mercury inquired.
"Can you take Cinder too?" Emerald asked.
Spectre frowned. The mention of Cinder soured his facial expression, "No."
"What? Why?" Emerald challenged. Cinder was all she had. If she didn't have Cinder, she didn't have anything.
"Do you remember when you first met Mercury?" Spectre asked.
"Why is that important?" Emerald asked.
"I will show you," Spectre answered. As he waved his hand, reality shifted, warped, and bent around the trio until they were outside of a burning house, a corpse on the lawn.
"So what's in it for me?" a younger, brutalized Mercury asked.
"We don't need him! Everything was going fine!" the past version of Emerald protested.
Cinder's hand lashed out, striking Emerald across the face.
"Do not mistake your place," Cinder ordered.
"Did you see that? Did you hear that? Cinder believes you are beneath her," Spectre said.
"No, no, I," Emerald stuttered, "I just spoke out of turn." What Cinder says goes. Emerald learned that lesson a long time ago.
"No Emerald," Spectre sighed, "To Cinder, you're nothing but a tool."
"That's not true," Emerald whispered.
"It is," Spectre said, "And deep down, in your heart of hearts, you know it."
Mercury looked at Spectre, who told him, "This isn't where you want to be, Mercury. You were born into a life of violence. It's all you've ever known and you're scared of choosing a new path in life."
"What do you know?" Mercury spat.
"I know your soul," Spectre told him, "It's a strong one."
Spectre offered his hands to the pair and said, "Take my hands and I can give you a new life. A life free of Cinder and Salem."
Mercury took Spectre's hand without hesitation, but Emerald paused. If she left, what would become of Cinder? Would she look for them? Would she even care? Who would care about Emerald if Cinder didn't?
"Mercury cares about you, Emerald," Spectre said softly.
"What? No, I don't! We're just co-workers!" Mercury deflected.
"You can hide it from yourself but you can't hide it from me, Mercury," Spectre said.
Mercury sighed before telling Emerald, "Fine. Yeah, I care about you."
Emerald smiled softly and gripped Spectre's hand.
Green fire swirled around them and filled their vision.
Emerald and Mercury found themselves outside of a small town. They held suitcases in their hands and Spectre stood behind them.
"It's a beautiful town, isn't it? It's called Damiri and it has a population of a hundred and seventy-two. Well, a hundred and seventy-four now," Spectre said.
"Why are you doing this for us?" Mercury asked.
"You needed redemption. I came to deliver it," Spectre told him.
"Well… thanks," Mercury said, starting forward towards Damiri.
Before he made five feet into his new life, Mercury felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and Spectre handed him an envelope.
"What's this?" Mercury asked.
"Lien and documents," Spectre revealed.
"Documents?" Mercury wondered aloud.
"Birth certificates and working papers," Spectre clarified.
Mercury nodded and walked off towards Damiri, Emerald not far behind, the two of them ready for their new lives.
"You got spirit, Red. But this is the real world!" Roman shouted over the high winds buffeting the airship as he hit Ruby with Melodic Cudgel.
"The real world is cold!" Roman said as he hit Ruby once more.
"The real world doesn't care about spirit!" Roman declared as Ruby kicked him in the knee, and Roman briefly lost his balance.
"You wanna be a hero!? Then play the part and die like every other Huntsman in history!" Roman ordered as he continued his barrage on Ruby.
"As for me, I'll do what I do best: lie, cheat, steal, and survive!" Roman gloated, his voice growing louder with every word.
At the exact moment he finished, everything froze. The wind no longer whipped in Roman's ears, the Grimm hung motionless in the sky, and Roman felt a warm, comforting presence.
"You know, I take offense to your comments about spirit," a voice said from behind Roman.
Roman whirled around, readying Melodic Cudgel.
In front of him stood a man with ash white skin, wearing a green hood, cloak, and domino mask. Behind that man a Griffon, poised to swallow Roman, hung still in the Valean night sky.
"Who the hell are you? What is this?" Roman asked.
"I am the Spectre. I've just stopped time," the man said before adding on, "I also saved your life."
"Uh-huh," Roman grunted, stepping back away from the reaches of the Griffon.
"Walk with me," Spectre gestured, the cloak parting and revealing a green glove, warmth irradiating out from him both figuratively and literally.
Roman felt strangely obligated to accept.
"Tell me Roman, do you ever think about redemption?" Spectre asked.
Roman snorted.
"I just saved your life Roman. The least you could do is humor me," Spectre chided.
Roman rolled his eyes and said, "No. I never think about redemption."
"And why is that?"
"What for? I've never done anything wrong," Roman said.
"You've never thieved? Robbed? Assaulted? Kidnapped? Attempted murder? Conspired to comm-" Spectre interrogated, images of Roman committing each offense materializing in thin air.
"Alright, alright I get what you're selling," Roman groaned before asking, "So why do you want to redeem me?" Why was he worth this Spectre's time?
"Because you are a wicked soul! You hurt people and you don't think twice about it, you destroy lives and bask in the infamy it brings!" Spectre boomed before his voice turned soft, "But you are still nowhere near as detestable as I was. If I can be redeemed, why not you?"
"'Cause I don't want to be, Your Greenness. I don't want some supposed god's pity. All I want is to live my life. Free to do whatever the hell I want and enjoy myself a little. Now should I tell you how I like moonlit walks on the beach or are we done here?" Roman said sarcastically.
"I am not a god. Merely a servant. And no… we are not done here," Spectre said. His eyes glowed green and the world around Roman faded out and a dimly lit street from the city below replaced it. A younger Roman Torchwick stepped out of a car and slammed the door shut before sauntering towards a liquor store.
"Even the great Roman Torchwick has to start somewhere, hm?" Spectre asked grimly.
Roman knew why.
Young Roman strolled into the store. He acted nonchalant while browsing for booze and chatted with the cashier a bit before flipping up the sight on Melodic Cudgel and pointing the barrel at the owner saying, "Why don't you empty that register for me, huh?"
The cashier's eyes widened, "H-hey, you don't have to do this."
"I know. I want to. Now, open the register," Young Roman said.
The cashier quickly emptied the cash register and put the money in Roman's bag. Once Young Roman was satisfied with his take, he made a rookie mistake. He turned his back and walked towards the door. As Young Roman's hand reached for the doorknob, he heard a click behind him. Roman flipped the sight of Melodic Cudgel back up and spun around, firing off a shot at the cashier who aimed a handgun at him. The flare soared through the air, lighting up the shop as it flew, and struck the cashier in the shoulder, exploding and parting his arm from its socket.
"Oh," Young Roman muttered, "Shit."
As the cashier fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his shoulder, Young Roman bolted out of the store and leaped into the getaway car.
"Go, go!" Young Roman urged the man in the driver's seat as he peeled off, leaving behind the store and bleeding cashier. However, Roman and Spectre lingered in the store instead of following Young Roman.. Spectre walked behind the counter, Roman in tow. Spectre looked pitifully at the man, who entered shock as he lay in the growing pool of his own blood.
Spectre picked up a phone on the counter and dialed nine-one-one.
He stood and waited for the operator to pick up, looking at Roman from the corner of his eye.
"Hello? I need an ambulance. A man has been shot in the liquor store on Siegel Street," Spectre said into the phone before hanging up.
"If you can do all this, why aren't you healing that poor sap?"
"His name is Rex Rust, Roman. I'm not healing him because… because to tamper… to tamper with what has been is the most grievous crime of all," Spectre said with a shuddering breath.
When he looked at Roman, Roman could sense the great sadness in Spectre's soul.
"You learned that the hard way, huh?" Roman asked.
Spectre remained silent.
After a few minutes of waiting, Roman asked Spectre, "If you won't tamper with what has been, why'd you call an ambulance?"
"Because I had already made the call. To not make the call would have been tampering with what has been," Spectre answered.
"That doesn't make any sense," Roman said.
"It's a time loop, Roman, it has no beginning and no end," Spectre explained.
After a few more minutes, the emergency vehicles arrived. The EMTs entered the store and walked past Roman and Spectre like they weren't even there. They quickly loaded Rex onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. Roman and Spectre followed.
The heart monitor's beeping and the frantic shouts of the paramedics filled the ambulance ride. The two EMTs desperately tried to keep Rex stable enough to reach the hospital.
Once the ambulance arrived at the hospital, the paramedics unloaded Rec and wheeled him into the Emergency Room.
The bleeding stopped and the surgeons managed to save Rex's life, but he spent the next week unconscious.
When Rex finally opened his eyes, he looked at the stump where his arm used to be and screamed.
Roman felt nothing.
Nightmares haunted Rex, and he woke up covered in sweat each night.
Roman couldn't care less.
Rex first felt denial. Refusing to engage in any physical therapy or buy a prosthetic. During the night, after he woke up, Rex still felt the agony of his missing arm.
After denial, Rex experienced anger. Anger at the doctors, at Roman, but more than anyone, he felt angry at himself for being foolish enough to pull the gun in the first place.
Rex then bargained, telling himself he shouldn't have taken the extra shift or pulled the gun.
Once he was through with bargaining, he fell into a depression. Refusing to eat or interact with anyone, simply looking out the window.
Rex finally accepted his injury and decided to move on— but it took months for Rex to recover. Thousands of Lien for a new prosthetic and even more in physical therapy to get him used to it.
Spectre made Roman watch each moment of it.
Once Rex recovered— as much as he could, at any rate—, Spectre cut the vision off and turned to Roman.
"Do you see now? Do you understand what you do to those you come across, you scourge?" Spectre boomed.
Roman sighed, looked in Spectre's eyes and very sincerely said, "It's not my problem."
Spectre looked at Roman, and his eyes glowed green, almost as if he peered into Roman's very soul.
After a moment, the glow of Spectre's eyes died and they returned to their emotionless white, he frowned.
"You truly do not care for the pain and suffering you cause," Spectre spoke softly.
"Not a bit," Roman said, before taking out a cigar and asking, "Got a light? I mean you must. How could someone as powerful as you not be able to make some fire?"
Spectre held up his hand and a green flame ignited in his palm, which Roman stuck his cigar in and took a drag before asking, "So if you're done, can you send me back to the airship? I have some unfinished business."
"A lifetime ago, I took an oath. I swore no evil would escape my sight. And you, Roman Torchwick, are most certainly evil," Spectre said before he waved his hands and conjured chains which he snaked around Roman's frame.
"So what're you gonna do to me?" Roman asked defiantly, "Poof a giant cheese grater into existence and rub me against it?"
"My predecessor may have taken you up on that offer, but I am not my predecessor. No, I will leave you to the proper authorities," Spectre announced as green fire engulfed Roman and the next thing he knew, he sat in front of General Ironwood, who was startled by Spectre and Roman's sudden appearance.
"Sabyr got your tongue, Jimmy?" Roman quipped.
Ironwood, however, ignored Roman and focused on Spectre. Simply aiming his weapon at him, before asking, "What are you?"
"I am on a mission to redeem the wicked souls of Remnant, James Ironwood. You are not one of them," Spectre replied, before disappearing into green smoke, off to find his next objective.
Thanks to DeltaFell for editing this chapter!