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.
GREEN LANTERN:DCF #3
(Year One, Part Three)
"Let Those Who Worship Evil's Might Beware My Power"
Written by D. David Lee
Edited by Jason Tippitt
"For yonder att your gates right,"
He saith, "Heer is a venterous knight.
All his vesture is greene!"
Then spake the King, proudest in all,
Saith, "Bring him into the hall.
Let us see what hee doth meane.""
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [May 1, 2112]
Again, Martin Ulster's comatose form began to convulse, but not nearly as violently as it had during his previous episode. His eyelids indicated rapid eye movement, and his heartbeat became irregular, causing the holo-monitor to display nothing but static for a few minutes. Eventually, however, his condition stabilized.
"Why does this keep happening?" asked Bryan, his hands pressed against Martin's shoulders. The seizures were becoming easier to control, but they were also becoming much more frequent.
"I'm not sure," said Beckett, looking over meaningless data that the machinery was registering. "If I had to guess, I'd say that they're coincidental to memory jumps taking place in Marty's mind."
Just as these words were spoken, the image in the holo-monitor stabilized again, showing a very different scene.
"It looks like maybe you're right..."
The Moon: Justice League Academy [January 15, 2112]
Loud cheering was accompanied by the sounds of corks being popped and champagne being sprayed. Their four years of training had been grueling, to say the least, but at long last, freedom was at hand. The Class of 2112 was finally graduating.
"Woohoo! Yeehah! Humdiggity!" yelled various voices throughout the hall. Spirits were high, and self-congratulatory displays were very much the order of the day.
Martin Ulster took a few moments to warmly hug each and every one of his fellow students beginning with his closest friends, Bugmaster Blue, Mulligan, and Saracen. Thanks to Mulligan and his champagne, all of them were sticky and wet, but that hardly mattered under the circumstances.
"Justice League! Yeah!" yelled Gunsmith as Martin caught him in a powerful bear hug and lifted him up off the ground. On this special occasion, even those students he didn't particularly like were targets for his feelings of camaraderie.
Martin's next targets were the two female students in his class, both of whom he caught up together in a single, powerful hug, kissing each in turn. Both of them having opted to take Ambrosia when the Justice League recruited them, the two girls still looked like they were only fifteen-years-old, and Martin couldn't help thinking of them as little sisters.
Rainbow responded by kissing him back, using her multi-colored light powers to brighten the room. It might be true that Martin thought of her as a sister, but her feelings for him were entirely different, not that he noticed. Her real name was Caitlin Carlisle.
Siren, on the other hand, was using her power over sound to add celebratory music to the festivities, returning the warmth of Martin's hug two-fold. He loved poetry as much as she loved music, and that made Martin her closest friend amongst the male students in the class. Her real name was Agnes Ahn.
And that only left Fatboy, the one classmate that Martin couldn't quite get his arms around. Still, that wasn't really a problem, as Fatboy's arms easily wrapped themselves around Martin and heaved him up off the ground.
"We're Justice Leaguers now, boy! Say it loud, and say it proud!" yelled Fatboy, using his sizable belly to bounce Martin some twenty-odd feet away. "It's just too bad Braveheart couldn't be here with us..."
The words brought solemnity and thoughtfulness to the otherwise festive mood pervasive throughout the hall. Braveheart had been the only member of their class not to graduate. No one knew exactly why he'd been dismissed, and everyone was afraid to ask what had become of him.
"Dang it, I put my big foot in my bigger mouth again, now didn't I?" said Fatboy, looking shamefaced and pouting a bit.
"No worries, friend," said Martin. "I miss him, too."
Suddenly, a blur of motion could be seen approaching Martin from the direction of the transport chamber. "Hey, why all the long faces?" asked Velocity, putting an arm around his shoulders and striking a very-familiar cheesecake pose. "Graduating Leaguers are usually a lot happier!"
Smiling, Martin turned to give Velocity a hug as well. For some reason, she'd taken a special interest in him ever since she recruited him all those years ago. Indeed, she'd very much been the big sister he'd never had, but over the years, his feelings for her had developed into something of a powerful crush. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"You didn't really think I'd miss the big day, did you?" Velocity asked rhetorically. "Congratulations, kid!" she said, tousling his hair.
"Thanks, Vel," said Martin, extremely aware of her closeness, the stares of his classmates, and the fact that she obviously still thought of him as just a kid. "Um... anything else bring you here?" he asked hopefully.
"Just more good news," said Velocity, pausing for dramatic effect. "As you know, Leaguers don't normally get assigned to their hometowns, but I pulled a few strings. Being on Hourman's squad does have its advantages. You're headed for New Coast City!"
Stunned, Martin could find no words to express his gratitude. After all these years, he was finally going back home. After all these years, he was finally going to see his grandfather again. All he could do was stand there holding her hands, bow his head, and struggle to hold back tears.
"You deserve it, kid," said Velocity, knowing full well how hard it had been for him to have been separated from his only family at such a tender young age. "Anyway, I gotta run. I'd love to stay, but you're not the only recruit I've got to see today."
That said, Velocity was gone as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving Martin to be congratulated by his classmates, all of whom understood what it meant to him to be able to go back home.
"You're going home, buddy! You're going home..."
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [May 1, 2112]
Touched by the emotion of the scene before them, both Bryan and Beckett struggled yet again to hold back tears of their own.
"Braveheart?" asked Bryan, sending Beckett a puzzled look, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. "Who the hell is Braveheart?"
"One of our classmates," said Beckett, memories flooding his own thoughts. "He called himself that because his meta genes made his skin turn blue. He was a good guy, and none of us ever knew why he was forced to leave. I wonder what happened to him?"
"Who knows? Who knows what happened to any of the guys who went through JL training, but didn't quite make it," said Bryan, shuddering visibly. "Forget it. On second thought, I don't want to know."
NorAm: Canada, Patriot HQ [January 15, 2112]
"Hi. Hello. How's it going? Long time, no see. Been busy, I see. What's up? Ian around?" The words popped up in various places in the room, all spoken by the same person moving from place to place at superhuman speeds.
"Hi, Anne-Marie," said Chris, hard at work on the holo-simulator. Just then, a spark from the circuitry jolted her fingers, and she had to close her eyes and count to ten to keep from cursing. "Sorry, haven't seen him."
"Shouldn't Ian be the one doing that?" asked Velocity, wondering where else he could possibly be when there were repairs that needed to be completed. Ian Marshall was many things, but an irresponsible slacker he was not.
"You know that personal project he's been working on for the past four years? The one he's been working on in his spare time?" asked Chris, who threw her hands up in despair when Velocity's body language made it clear that she had no idea what it was, either. "Well, whatever it is, he's almost done."
"Knowing Ian, it could be anything from a sonic screwdriver to a time machine," said Velocity, wondering just what it was that Ian was working on.
"Well, here's an idea," said Chris, conspiratorially. "Why don't you vibrate through the door of his lab and take a peek?"
"Sorry, girl. I know it's a pretty common speedster trick, but I still haven't quite gotten the hang of it," said Velocity, turning her a rueful grin. "Yeah, I know. It'll be the death of me someday."
As they were talking, Ian stepped out of his lab, keying his specially-constructed locking mechanism into place. He looked quite haggard and tired, but seeing Velocity brought a smile to his lips.
"Speak of the devil," said Velocity, a blur of motion headed in Ian's direction. She kissed him on the cheek and gave him a gentle hug. He'd aged a surprising amount in just twelve short years, whereas she didn't look even a day older. Apparently, life as a terrorist wasn't being very kind to him. "Are you doing okay, handsome?" she asked with some concern.
"Right as rain," said Ian, trying not to let on how tired he was or how old he actually felt. "Better, even. I'm almost finished with a new design that should turn this war around, give us a real shot at victory. In fact, I should be done with it by the end of the week."
"What is it?" asked Velocity, allowing her girlish curiosity to get the better of her. Indeed, she was surprised by how close they'd grown, especially considering the unfortunate circumstances under which they'd first met. Still, she shouldn't have been surprised at all. Ian was in fact what other men in both Patriot and the Justice League too often only claimed to be, a good and honest man trying to do the right thing.
"Sorry, Vel, but you're just going to have to wait until it's finished like everybody else," said Ian, pleased to see the playful innocence that all-too-rarely escaped her tough exterior.
Pouting, Velocity backed away from Ian as if she was upset, but burst all-too-easily into a wide grin. "All right, then. I look forward to the unveiling," she said, making her way toward the exit. "And I told you to call me Anne-Marie. Anyway, I've got to run. It's Hourman. Justice League business."
"Nothing dangerous, I hope, Ms. Godwin," said Ian, who worried often and, perhaps, overmuch about the danger that Velocity placed herself in every day.
"I won't know until I get there, but when my fiance calls, I've got to answer," said Velocity, shrugging her shoulders. "It's sweet of you to worry, but I've been doing this gig a long time. It's probably nothing the great Hourman's team can't handle, you know? I mean, what could go wrong?"
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [May 1, 2112]
A hush of foreboding filled the small room as Velocity's ominous words echoed through it.
"Beck, you graduated in the middle of January, right?" asked Bryan, who couldn't take his eyes off the holo-monitor. "Wasn't that the same day that..."
"...that Velocity died," finished Beckett, remembering that fateful day when the legendary Captain Atom had returned and blasted the Statue of Liberty to nothing but rubble.
"Not just Velocity," said Bryan, who'd actually served with most of the people in Hourman's squad at one time or another. "Deathwing, Gunfire, Shado... all killed by that damned... what do they call themselves? The Suicide Squad? One of these days, all those bastards will pay!" he yelled, smacking his fist into his hand.
Beckett could do nothing but nod his concurrence. "Everyone took it pretty hard, especially Marty and Bill," he said. "Marty practically worshiped Velocity, and Bill was a lot closer to his dad than anybody thought. I mean, Gunfire never visited him even once while he was at the academy. Velocity visited Marty all the time, and they weren't even related."
"She did, did she?" asked Bryan, turning an inquisitive eye Martin's way. "I wonder why a Patriot spy would pay him so much special attention?"
"What are you trying to say?" asked Beckett, not liking what he was hearing. "Do you think Marty's a Patriot spy, too?"
"People have been tried and executed for much less," said Bryan, who was wondering just how well he really knew the man lying on the hover-gurney. "Maybe we'd be doing him a favor by leaving him the way he is now."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" said Beckett, who'd known Marty much longer than Bryan had. "Look, Marty wouldn't have anything to do with Patriot, and you should know that. Don't forget how he got this way in the first place."
Somewhat chagrined, Bryan's reserve faltered, but as squad leader, he knew his duty in this matter. "Then maybe we'd better just keep watching. If we're lucky, then Marty's memories will prove you right."
NorAm: New Coast City Medical Center [January 16, 2112]
Simon Ulster lay in his hospital bed waiting for the right moment to die, just as he had every day for the past twelve years. His injuries had never fully healed following the incident with the statue, and he'd been confined to a hospital bed soon after his grandson had been taken away.
Most of his bodily functions were being maintained artificially, and pain had become synonymous with living for him very quickly. His medication was effective, but an amount sufficient to dull his pain entirely would have impaired his cognitive functions, something that Simon Ulster would not allow.
Of course, the option of dying was still his. It always had been, and it always would be. He longed for death daily, but he couldn't let that happen until after he saw his grandson again. There were things that he had to know, things that only he could tell him, and he'd be damned if he was going to let himself die before that obligation was fulfilled.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ulster, but you have a visitor," said the nurse, a well-meaning young woman who wasn't old enough to really understand him. Still, her words surprised him as he almost never had visitors anymore. In fact, the only person who still did was that Justice Leaguer named Velocity.
Most people nowadays were convinced that the Justice League was incapable of compassion, but Velocity was proof of the contrary. Every few months, she always took the time to come see him and give him an update as to how his grandson was doing, and she was always had an interesting story to tell.
Her visits always lifted his spirits, and he was going to miss them terribly. The holo-news reports the previous evening had informed him of her untimely demise, and he was saddened by her loss. Even so, she had died in the line of duty, and he wouldn't disgrace her memory by grieving for her.
Still, the question remained. Who could his mysterious visitor possibly be? He racked his brains, but only one name came to mind. Looking at the doorway, he couldn't quite bring himself to hope until it opened, and a young man wearing a Justice League uniform entered.
"You... you're the spitting image of your father, boy," said Simon Ulster, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Hi, Grandpa," said Martin, struggling to keep from betraying how shocked he was at seeing his grandfather looking so old and frail.
"Well, come closer, boy, and let me get a good look at you," said Simon, reaching out his hand for Martin to take. Looking his grandson up and down, he could see that he was a strapping young man, able-bodied and strong. More than that, Martin did look almost exactly like his father, except for one detail. "You know, I never really thought about it before, but I guess you've got your mother's eyes."
"My mother?" asked Martin, somewhat surprised. As far back as he could recall, his grandfather had never once made mention of his mother. Now that he thought about it, he supposed that was quite unusual, but what was even more unusual was that he himself had never thought to ask. Why was that?
"Your father had blue eyes just like mine," said Simon, staring into his grandson's eyes, which were a brilliant shade of green. "She was probably a very beautiful woman."
"You... you don't know for sure?" asked Martin, uncertainty evident in his voice. "Didn't you ever meet her?"
Pursing his lips, Simon let out a deep breath. After all these years, the moment he'd been waiting for had finally come, and he had no idea how to go about saying what he had to say, what he'd rehearsed so many times in the past. "How do I begin...?"
Not sure how to respond, Martin just kept silent. At the moment, there were so many questions running through his mind that he didn't know which one to ask.
"I never told you how your father brought you to me," said Simon, staring at the ceiling, finding it easier to talk that way. "I pretty much thought you were too young to understand, but I always meant to tell you once you were old enough. Now, here you are, all grown-up."
Lost in his reverie, Simon started imagining that he was in another time, another place. Suddenly, it wasn't Martin standing beside his bed, but Tristan, and it was night, not day.
"It happened just like this, with me lying in bed, and Tristan appearing from nowhere at my side," said Simon, his thoughts drifting. "I remember I hadn't seen him in years. Always assumed he was on some secret mission for the Blackhawks or something, but I never did find out exactly what. At that moment, though, I didn't really care."
Closing his eyes, Simon thought back to how surprised he'd been, how happy he'd been to finally see his son again for what would turn out to be the last time.
"Do you know that he had a present for me?" asked Simon, staring off into space. "Tristan was always a thoughtful kid, and I loved him, by God! Almost as much as I loved the present he brought me. Do you know what it was, Marty?"
At a complete loss for words, Martin could do nothing but shake his head, responding in the negative. He watched as his grandfather turned to look him in the eyes again, smiling warmly.
"That gift was you, boy," said Simon, his smile widening. "You were practically newborn, probably not even a month old, but already perfect. He put you in my arms, and then he asked me to take care of you, raise you like I raised him."
"But... but who is my mother? Why couldn't he raise me himself...?" asked Martin, even more questions flooding his thoughts.
"I wish I could tell you, boy, but I can't. I just don't know," said Simon, sighing with regret. "All he told me was that your name was Martin, and that you were his son. That you had a special destiny. That you might even save the world someday. Somehow, he already knew about the powers you'd have one day, even then."
Holding Martin's hand that much more tightly, Simon suddenly found himself sobbing uncontrollably. He struggled to stop, but he found that he couldn't keep his tears from falling.
"He never told me who your mother was or what he'd been doing," began Simon, finally allowing his tears to flow freely. "When I looked up at Tristan, I looked at him closely for the first time. There was a laser burn right over his heart, boy. Your father was dead, boy, deathly pale, and he faded away right before my eyes. And just like that," he finished, snapping his fingers for emphasis, "he was gone."
Martin could see the toll that this story was taking on his grandfather, who suddenly seemed even older to him, very tired and weak. He was crying, for Godsakes, and Simon Ulster never cried. He didn't want to press him with questions that he couldn't answer, but there was one question he had to ask. "Why... why are you telling me this now?"
Smiling, Simon pulled his grandson close, hugging his head to his chest. "Lots of reasons, boy," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But I can't really call you 'boy' anymore, can I? You're a man now, and you're going to do great things, just like your father foretold."
Kissing Martin's head, Simon laid his head down on his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to completely take in the moment.
"I'm telling you this because you have a right to know," said Simon, his heart beating more quickly. "And now that you do know, you can finally go out and look for all those answers that I can't give you. I love you, Marty, but I'm tired, more tired than you can possibly imagine. Forgive me, Marty, but now that I've told you what you had to know, I can finally move on."
Not entirely comprehending, Martin lifted his head away from his grandfather's chest and turned to look at him, looking him in the eyes. The calm he saw there both frightened him and reassured him simultaneously.
"I'm finally ready to die," said Simon, who'd always wanted his grandson's face to be the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes for the last time.
A nearby machine registered Simon Ulster's words and voice print and instantly deactivated all of the artificial life support systems connected to him, simultaneously delivering a painless, lethal injection. In a matter of mere seconds, Simon Ulster lay dead, and a computerized voice was declaring the time of death.
Too moved to cry, too stunned to weep, all Martin could do was bow his head and allow his grandfather to die with grace and dignity, observing a moment of silence.
"I love you, too, Grandpa."
NorAm: New Coast City, JLHQ [May 1, 2112]
Completely resolved not to let themselves cry again, Bryan and Beckett just stared at the holo-monitor like lifeless automatons.
"Did Marty ever tell you about this?" asked Bryan, his voice noticeably soft and quiet. "He never said anything about it to me."
"Not a word," said Beckett, somewhat dumbfounded. "I thought I knew him, but I can't believe he kept this all bottled up inside without opening up to anyone. First Velocity, and then his grandfather? Can you imagine what he must have been going through?"
"Only too well," said Bryan, looking at Martin with new-found respect. "Not a word of complaint, and he never let what he was going through interfere with his duty."
Turning to face Beckett, Bryan's eyes were alight with new-found faith in his friend and the importance of saving his life.
"Maybe he has a real future in the Justice League."
NorAm: New Coast City Cemetery [January 17, 2112]
The funeral arrangements had been handled quickly and quietly. Simon Ulster didn't have any surviving friends or relatives other than his only grandson. Martin Ulster kneeled beneath the torch that had been lit over a century ago in honor of those who had died when the original Coast City had been destroyed.
"I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you," said Martin, facing his grandfather's headstone, "but I understand why you left. I'm also sorry you didn't really get to know the man I've grown up to be, but I promise to make you proud. To protect and serve the world, and to keep it safe."
Standing at attention, Martin saluted crisply before walking away, paying no heed to the other figure in the cemetery. Only a few yards away, another man was kneeling before another grave, saying words very similar to his own.
"Hello, Amanda," said Ian, running gloved fingers over the cold marble headstone that bore the name of the only love he'd ever known. "I don't know if you know this yet, but Velocity is dead, killed while fighting for the League. She was a good friend, Amanda, maybe even as good a friend to me as she was to you."
Tracing the letters of her name with his finger, Ian moved his hand to a blank portion of the stone, carving the words 'Friend of Anne-Marie Godwin' into it, an emerald glow emanating from that hand.
"The war goes badly, you know," said Ian, picturing Amanda's face in his mind's eye. "We're so disorganized that we're doing more harm to each other than we are to the UN or the Justice League. I've heard that Patriot cells in Boston are even recruiting children. I don't think it's right, and I know you wouldn't, either."
Standing up, Ian raised his hand and closed it into a fist, his eyes closed. "What we need is a symbol to rally everyone together, something pure for everyone to believe in," he said, raising his eyes to look up at the heavens. "What the world needs is hope, and I've been blessed with the means to spark its light. That light is green."
Suddenly, Ian's body was surrounded by an emerald aura, and his clothing was gone, replaced by technological armor, bright green in color. A mask appeared over his eyes, and the familiar symbol of the Green Lantern Corps was emblazoned upon his armor's chest plate.
"Wish me luck," said Ian, and with that, he flew off into the heavens, leaving the Earth's atmosphere. His flight ended next to an old satellite, one that was over a century old but still orbiting the Earth, a remnant of the Star Wars program that had been secretly initiated by the United States government.
The original plan had been to stockpile nuclear weapons onto an orbiting satellite, missiles that could be targeted at the planet below. Mention had often been made about the inherent risks of the proposed program, the danger of radioactive material being accidentally released into the atmosphere.
Unfortunately, these warnings were given no heed until after the accidental explosion of the Space Shuttle Challenger, which made it clear that accidents could happen. Publicly, the Star Wars program had been canceled, but it had actually been replaced by something far more insidious.
At the time of its launch, the population-at-large believed it to be nothing more than a malfunctioning space telescope, but that had been nothing more than a ruse. Subsequent shuttle missions to 'repair' the satellite had in fact been necessary only to secretly install the laser components.
Under the pretext of scientific discovery and the exploration of space, a weapon had been launched into orbit, capable of raining death down on the planet. An orbiting laser, it was designed to focus rays of sunlight undiluted by a planetary atmosphere down onto the unsuspecting planet below. Indeed, it had done just that during the NAF riots of 2041.
Its continued existence was a testament to both tyranny and the violence that stems from paranoia. Just as the Statue of Liberty was a symbol of freedom, the Hubble Space Telescope was a symbol of oppression and betrayal. No longer.
A beam of emerald energy lanced from Ian's hand and enveloped the ancient piece of technology, causing its orbit to decay. Hurtling through the atmosphere, many mistook it for a falling star as it streaked towards New Coast City. Finally, it crashed into the statue of Justice that had replaced the statue of Hal Jordan in Central Park.
Taking control of a nearby communications satellite, Ian tapped into its systems, broadcasting a message that was transmitted simultaneously on every holo-vision frequency.
"People of Earth! I am here to issue an ultimatum to the United Nations and the Justice League on behalf of Patriot and the other rebel organizations that would see their tyrannical rule put to an end! Unless the Justice League is disbanded, and the vote is made universal, then this is only the beginning! I hereby declare war against Justice, the United Nations, and the Justice League!"
Causing the image to magnify, centered on his masked visage, Ian completed the speech that he'd spent so many hours preparing, the ultimatum that he would once never have even contemplated delivering.
"So says the Green Lantern!"
When the Greene Knight came before the King,
He stood in his stirrops strechinge,
And spoke with voice cleere,
And saith, "King Arthur, God save thee
As thou sittest in thy prosperitye,
And maintaine thine honor!
- End of GREEN LANTERN:DCF #3 -