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.
GREEN LANTERN:DCF #5
"Class Reunion"
Written by David Lee
Edited by Alex Cook
NorAm: New York City, "Warriors" [January 15, 2113]
The crowd at the most famous bar in all of NorAm was unusually thin and quiet this evening. Most of the regulars were making a point of avoiding the place, and the current patrons consisted almost entirely of tourists who wanted to have a holophoto taken with the great Guy Gardner. For his part, Guy was most displeased by this state of affairs, but he had no one else to blame but himself.
Some ten months earlier, some college kids had called to book "Warriors" for their one-year class reunion. Having had a soft spot for kids, and having been offered an obscene amount of money, Guy had decided to let their dream come true. After all, he'd had every intention of paying Tim Drake back every cent he was owed. Unfortunately, these so-called college kids had failed to mention that they were recent graduates of the Justice League Academy.
By the time Guy had found out the truth, he'd already spent the advance he'd received, and it really wouldn't have been fair to back out of the deal at so late a stage, no matter how real the possibility was that his treasured place of business would be nothing more than a pile of rubble by evening's end.
"How the hell do I get myself into these messes?" said Guy aloud to no one in particular. Everyone in the bar, as few as they were, heard him quite clearly, but most of them had no idea what he was talking about. If they had, they would most likely have chosen to spend their evening somewhere else, someplace that would be more safe.
On the other hand, Martin Ulster was anything but worried. Indeed, he couldn't recall another time when he'd been this excited about anything. With luck and a little help from Guy, his days of wandering would soon be at an end, and New Coast City would once more become his home. In just a few short hours, he'd be with his friends again, the only real friends he'd ever known.
NorAm: New York City
As a general rule, New Yorkers are not easily frightened. Jaded by life in the big apple, they are rude and crude more often than not, and they never back down for tourists. However, every rule has an exception.
The crowds marching along New York City's busy side streets parted meekly for the large, black man striding confidently among them. They took one look at his muscular, seven-foot-tall frame, shaved head, and dark suit and diverged around him and his friends as the Red Sea had parted before Moses, quickly averting their eyes as this giant walked past.
"You know, I'll just never understand why people insist on treating me in this insufferable manner," said Saracen with a polished British accent that would do any diplomat proud. "I mean, do I really appear to be all that menacing?"
"Let's just say that ye take some getting used to," said Mulligan, not bothering to hide a smirk. "Not that it isn't rude, mind ye. It is, but these Americans have no bloody refinement whatsoever."
"I resent that," said Bugmaster Blue, pushing his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, we'd better get a move on. Fatboy and Gunsmith are probably already there with the girls, and Agnes and Caitlin might never forgive us if we take too much longer."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mulligan, raising his shillelagh dramatically. "Never let it be said that Kieran O'Kennedy kept the ladies waiting too long. Besides, I'm dying for a pint. Let's hope this Warriors place carries stuff what's drinkable."
"You're worried about the quality of the refreshments?" asked Saracen, one eyebrow raised. "I thought the point of having this gathering at Warriors was to meet Guy Gardner and pretend to be his twencen cronies for an evening?"
"I don't know about you guys, but I have every intention of getting an autograph," concurred Bugmaster Blue, holding his holopad up for all to see. "Guy Gardner has always been something of an idol of mine, ever since I was a kid. He still is."
For his part, Mulligan could understand why his friends were excited about meeting Guy Gardner and getting to see the famous drinking establishment known as Warriors. Still, he would never be able to accept the fact that they cared nothing about the quality of what they would soon be forced to drink.
"Bloody heathens."
NorAm: New York City, "Warriors"
The arrival of the Justice League Academy Class of 2112 caused quite a stir, but not in the way that Guy had expected. Indeed, they arrived in plainclothes, dressed like any other ordinary group of kids out for a night on the town, and Guy might have ignored their arrival completey had not one of them caused a scene by falling to his knees and bowing repeatedly with arms upraised before him.
"Saints be praised!" exclaimed Mulligan, tears streaming down his face. "They've Guinness on tap! They've Guiness on tap! Lord in heaven, they've Guinness on tap!"
"Great, another Irishman," said Guy, taking the time to pour the man as perfect a pint as he could and placing it on the counter before him. "What is it with you Irish and Guinness? You're the third one to do that this month."
"I'm afraid Guinness hasn't made it as far as New Coast City," said Bugmaster Blue, snapping a quick holo-image of Kieran bowing before Guy with his camera for posterity. "And yes, my friend Kieran here is Irish, a bit too Irish at times if you get my meaning. Anyway, my name is Beckett. Beckett Baker? I believe you've been expecting us. Has the rest of our class arrived yet?"
Just as these words were spoken, four more individuals arrived arm-in-arm. The two girls looked none-too-pleased by it, but the two men had wide smiles on their faces. The rest of the Class of 2112 had arrived.
Siren and Rainbow looked quite elegant in their Keravin prom dresses, and even Fatboy and Gunsmith looked more than presentable in their tuxes. Indeed, the year they'd spent on duty in Jerusalem had changed them very little, except for the fact Fatboy seemed even larger and that Gunsmith had grown some very long sideburns.
Soon, they were all shaking hands and clapping each other on the back, greeting each other with warm smiles. Only a year had passed since they were all students complaining about Montoya's physical training classes, but it seemed like ages.
"Boy, are you guys a sight for sore eyes," said Gunsmith, who couldn't quite believe that he was back in NorAm again. "Those Jerusalem women are enough to make you want to convert to Christianity."
"Way to ruin the moment," said Bugmaster Blue, stifling a groan. Simultaneously, Rainbow and Siren punched Gunsmith in the ribs in accordance with that sentiment. "Anyway, now that we're all here, why don't we get this reunion party going."
"I'll second that," said Mulligan, hunched over his pint of Guinness, staring wide-eyed as it settled. "Pints for everyone, Mr. Gardner, if you please."
"Aren't you girls a little young to be drinking?" asked Ollie, Guy's assistant for the night. He couldn't quite help noticing the eyes that Siren and Rainbow were making at him, and he felt obligated to make conversation. After all, that's what bartenders did.
"Appearances can be deceiving," said Rainbow, giggling just a bit. "Isn't Ambrosia a wonderful thing?"
In point of fact, Ollie, better known as Dragon of the erstwhile Suicide Squad, owned the company that produced the drug known as Ambrosia that slows the aging process. Naturally, this made him an expert on the drug's effects, as well as one of the wealthiest men in the world, not that he had any intention of mentioning it.
"What made you decide to take Ambrosia at such a young age?" asked Ollie, who'd been giving some thought to regulating its distribution. "I mean, your friends obviously haven't been taking it or only recently started."
"They're guys," answered Siren, batting her eyelashes for the briefest of moments. "They prefer to get past that gangly and awkward stage first. We girls prefer to stay young and cute as long as possible."
"Not to mention the victims of raging, teenage hormones," said Rainbow, beaming Ollie the most alluring smile she could manage. "Wait a minute! I know you, you're Oliver Hawke! Your company makes Ambrosia!"
"Wow, handsome and rich," said Agnes, turning on the girlish charm full stream. "And he even knows how to pour drinks!"
For his part, Ollie just smiled back and did what he could to remain distant. The last thing he needed after his breakup with Eve was to become romantically involved with a Justice Leaguer. Leaning towards Guy's ear, he whispered a few words into them.
"Well, here's another fine mess you've gotten me into."
Guy just groaned and wondered how long Ollie had been waiting to say that. Still, Guy had his own problems. Almost anything was better than listening to this Bugmaster Blue person go on and on about how much he worshiped the ground that he walked on.
"Seriously, Mr. Gardener, sir. You were one of my idols as a boy," said Bugmaster Blue, paging through his holographic tablet of Guy Gardner memorabilia. "I think I can honestly say that you're an inspiration to freckle-faced boys everywhere."
To his side, Guy could hear Ollie snickering, which didn't help. Fighting the urge to transform his arm into a gun and shoot someone, he tried to change the topic of conversation.
"So what's with the sideburns?" asked Guy, looking at Gunsmith. "As far as I know, they haven't been in style since I was a teenager. Don't they teach proper history at the academy?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Gunsmith, suddenly very self-conscious. "You don't think they're cool and retro? And what does my knowledge of history have to do with anything?"
"My friend, Hob Gadling, has a saying about people with long sideburns," said Guy as he wiped down the counter of the bar with a rag. "Those who do not remember the mistakes of history are doomed to repeat them."
Guy's words were greeted with laughter from all around as Gunsmith became very red in the face. Mulligan even went so far as to snort some Guinness from his nose.
Just then, Guy's other helpers emerged from the kitchen with trays of food for the buffet table, and the music kicked in, "Papa Gene's Blues" by the Monkees.
"Dinner is served," said Tara, trying very hard to be pleasant. It was bad enough that Guy had decided to force humility on her by making her wait tables, but he'd also insisted that she wear a name tag for this particular occasion, which she considered the ultimate indignity.
"Yeehah! Chow's on!" exclaimed Fatboy, making his way over to the buffet table as quickly as he could, which was surprisingly fast. "You got any chitlins or collared greens in there, baby cakes?"
Obviously, Tara had been mistaken. She was about to retort against this villainous treatment when Gunsmith asked her to dance.
"Hey, sweet thang," began Gunsmith, putting an arm around her shoulders and blowing into her ear. "Would you like to dance?"
"My name is Tara. Can't you read?" she asked, shrugging his arm off of her shoulder. She couldn't believe that one of these Justice League idiots was hitting on her, let alone the one with the long sideburns. Even worse, he was asking her to dance to the most hillbilly-sounding of Guy's favorite songs. He obviously had no taste or class at all.
"Hey, Tara. You can call me... Darvey," said Gunsmith, who'd made a habit of not revealing his real name to potential dates. Being Bill Gates III, heir to the TrumpGates fortune, had its benefits, but it also made dating extremely complicated.
"Anyway, I'm not allowed to dance with the customers," said Tara, coolly refusing to make eye contact with her would be suitor and turning up her nose. "It's one of Guy's policies. If you insist on circumventing it, then you'll have to take the matter up with him."
Gunsmith considered doing just that, but the look that Guy was giving him from behind the bar changed his mind very quickly. "Wouldn't want to offend the host."
In the meantime, everyone else had grabbed plates of food from the buffet table and sat back down at the bar, except for Fatboy, who continued to hover over it. Mulligan was already working on his eighth pint, and Saracen was tapping his foot to "I'm a Believer," another Monkees song.
"So what do you think of life in the twenty-second century, Mr. Gardner?" asked Bugmaster Blue, eager to make as much small talk with one of his boyhood heroes as he could. "Do you think people are just as industrious as they were back in the twencen, or do you think people are lazier and more dependent on modern conveniences."
"Enough with the Mr. Gardner stuff," said Guy, pouring Mulligan yet another pint. "You're not my kids so you can call me Guy. As for whether people have gotten lazier, I wouldn't exactly say..."
Guy was interrupted by the clatter of many metal objects upon the floor. He looked towards the buffet table where Chet, Julio, Derik, and Jean were busily gathering fallen utensils, and Fatboy was looking embarrassed.
"Dang it! Me and my big belly done gone and caused trouble again," said Fatboy, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head. "Sorry 'bout that. Guess I'm just too big for my own good."
"No harm done," said Jean, taking the collected sporks back to the kitchen. "I'll just grab some more. Be right back."
"Um, no comment," said Guy in answer to Bugmaster Blue's original question.
"Point taken, Guy," said Bugmaster Blue, thrilled to be on a first name basis with his boyhood hero. "And please, call me Beckett."
"Kieran," said Mulligan, raising his pint in a toast.
"Sammy," said Saracen, extending a hand. "You know, this music is quite wonderful. I've never heard anything quite like it."
Needless to say, Saracen was the first person to ever say anything like this to Guy in recent history. Guy was tickled pink, but even he blinked twice. Ollie and everyone else at the bar directed funny looks at Saracen.
"You really like the Monkees?" asked Guy, hardly daring to believe his own words. "Most people just listen to it because I don't give them a choice."
Ollie and the rest of the kids bobbed their heads in unison whereas the rest of the Class of 2112 raised their collective eyebrows. Guy and Saracen just ignored them.
"There's poetry in the lyrics and magic in the music," said Saracen, closing his eyes to better appreciate what he was hearing. "Indeed, I believe that it could inspire a most powerful dance."
"You mean like the Great Ghost Dance of the Native Americans?" asked Ollie, trying to be conversational.
"Or the Dance of the Seven Veils?" asked Gunsmith, who'd become quite enamored with it during the past year. Rainbow and Siren both started giggling, and the guys started chuckling as well.
"No, he must mean the Drunken Irish Iceberg Dance," said Mulligan, allowing yet another pint to slide down his throat. This last comment drew roars of laughter from just about everyone, including Guy's staff, who had recently seen the movie 'Titanic' at Guy's insistence. Even Guy laughed, which was rare when someone was making fun of the Monkees.
"Grife, Kieran! How many pints is that you've had so far?" asked Saracen, who'd stopped counting at eight.
"Twenty-four hours in a day, and twenty-four beers in a case. That's the way it was in the twencen, and that's the way it still is now. Coincidence, mate?" asked Mulligan, happily looking from face to face. "I think not, and I've a lot of catching up to do."
None could gainsay him, and they all raised pints of their own as Guy made an unexpected toast. "To the Class of 2112."
"To the Class of 2112!" they all cried in unison.
"And to Martin Ulster," said Kieran more somberly, raising another full pint. "In memory of the only member of the Class of 2112 who didn't survive to see this day. May he rest in peace."
"To Martin Ulster," they all said, raising their pints high before throwing back their heads to drain them dry in a single draught.
Off in his own corner of the bar, Martin Ulster raised his pint as well, looking on longingly. They were his friends, and he missed them desperately, just as they, apparently, still missed him. Even so, he kept to himself the entire time that they were there, knowing that it would be inappropriate to join them.
Martin watched them laugh and dance, smile, and make new friends. Maybe they were Justice Leaguers, but they were also people with the same hopes and dreams as anyone else. Too often, people forgot that nowadays, allowing their own hopes and dreams for the future to be shattered.
"To the Class of 2112."
NorAm: New York City, "Warriors"
Hours later, after the festivities had ended and the staff had gone to bed, Guy was taking his nightly stroll in the Lantern Lounge as was his habit. He loved walking through the place because of the memories that it had for him. Indeed, he could hardly believe that he'd even considered donating its contents to some curator named Leeds early in the previous year. He was gazing fondly at Arisia's statue when he suddenly noticed the reflection of a stranger in the glass protecting it. Indeed, he was so stunned that he accidentally crushed the empty pint glass that he'd just drained.
"Who the frag are you?" exclaimed Guy, accidentally crushing a glass to mere shards. He wasn't easily surprised, and the Drake Industries security system was supposedly state-of-the-art.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, Mr. Gardner," said Martin, extending a hand. "My name is Martin Ulster, and I was wondering whether I could talk to you for a bit. I was hoping you could give me some advice."
"About what? And how did you get in here?" asked Guy, looking Martin over. He sized him up rather quickly. Muscular, fit, and very athletic, there was a stern aspect to his bearing that made Guy think he was a soldier, but there was also timid look in his eyes that indicated something else. "Wait a minute, did you say Martin Ulster? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," said Martin with a smile, fighting off a sudden bout with indecision. "I'm sorry. I guess humor really isn't appropriate to this situation. Maybe it would be better to start over at the beginning?"
Guy raised an eyebrow quizzically as the young man before him seemed to steel himself, take a deep breath, and then extend a hand again.
"Hello, Mr. Gardner. My name is Martin Ulster, and I'm the new Green Lantern. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
NorAm: New York City, "Warriors"
Several hours had passed before Martin had finished telling Guy the whole story. Skepticism had been followed by calculated disbelief followed by wary acceptance. A demonstration in which Martin repaired the glass that had been broken did much to make Martin's story more believable.
"Let's say I believe this story that you're telling me," began Guy, doing his best to maintain a skeptical bearing. "Why come to me? I mean, if you have all the knowledge and experience of Ganthet, shouldn't you be able to figure this stuff out by yourself?"
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," said Martin, shrugging his shoulders. "The knowledge comes and goes as I need it, and not always. It's there, but it's not really mine yet, at least not until my mind develops enough to handle it. That probably shouldn't take more than a century or two."
"Makes sense, I guess," said Guy, rubbing a thumb along the side of his jaw. "Anyway, I suppose it can't hurt to give you a little advice. What do you want to know?"
"Where do I begin?" muttered Martin, having no idea what to ask first. "I guess it's just the weight of the responsibility. I mean, knowing how to use it comes naturally. It's actually something that I was born to do. The problem is knowing how to use it wisely."
"I can only imagine," said Guy, a low whistle passing his lips. "I mean, if your story's true, then you've got more power than any other Green Lantern that's ever been, except maybe Hal. That pretty much means you can do anything you want."
"And more," said Martin, extending a hand palm upwards. Suddenly, there was a bright green flash and a power ring was lying in that hand. This was followed by more flashes and the appearance of even more rings, and then, just as suddenly, they were all gone.
The act was performed very casually, but it frightened Guy as little ever had. He could sense in his bones that the power rings were real, that the young man before him had the power to create an unstoppable army in addition to personal power that dwarfed that of most, if not all, of Earth's heroes.
"But what do I do with it?" asked Martin, clenching that extended hand into a fist. "I could destroy Justice and the League and let Patriot take over, or I could force Patriot to give themselves up or expose them to the League. The problem is, I have no idea which side to take."
"Well, I don't think you should take sides at all," said Guy, who could easily envision any action taken by this young man causing more problems than it solved. "You asked my advice, and my advice is that you take things slow. In time, you'll figure this all out for yourself."
"But what should I do in the meantime?" asked Martin, feeling despondent and directionless. "Won't I ever be allowed to have friends? Call a place home?"
"Well, let me ask you this..." began Guy, putting a hand on Martin's shoulder. "It's been what? Six months since you faked your death and abandoned the League? What have you been up to since then?"
"Mostly, I've just been wandering around aimlessly," said Martin with a sigh. "Oh, I've rescued the occasional cat stuck up a tree and run into my share of other metas from time to time. Mostly though, I've just been traveling from place to place, seeing what the world is like, basically wasting my time."
"I wouldn't say that," said Guy, wishing he had a full pint in his hand. Suddenly, he did, and Martin had one, too. He looked like he needed one. Trying not to look startled, he continued. "Sounds to me like you've been pretty busy seeing how ordinary folks live, people without super powers or meta-human abilities."
"Is that important?" asked Martin, a confused expression on his face.
"More important than most people realize," said Guy, trying to look serious. "From what you've told me, you haven't had much in the way of a normal childhood and little or no contact with ordinary people. It's important that you do what you can to make up for that. Otherwise, you might end up like a certain misanthrope from Gotham City I used to know."
"Well, we wouldn't want that," said Martin, his mood brightening at the thought that he'd been spending his time productively after all. "So you think I've been getting in touch with the common man, trying to get a feel for life as a normal person. Let's say that's true. What should my next step be?"
"Kid, I wish I knew," said Guy, taking on a fatherly tone. "I'm hardly an expert on training superheroes or even being a Green Lantern, and you should know that. From what I'm hearing, I'd say what you want is to become a superhero yourself, and the advice I gave you before still stands."
"What do you mean?" asked Martin, sifting through his short term memory. "Are you saying that I should take things slow?"
"Exactly," said Guy, smiling for the first time since this conversation began. "You've got to learn to walk before you can run. Being a superhero isn't just about fighting supervillains. It's about helping people. There's a difference, and way too many people don't pick up on it. Believe it or not, I made that mistake when I was starting out."
That brought an amused smile to Martin's lips as well. Guy was still somewhat notorious for his escapades during the twencen, and what he'd just said was something of an understatement, and they both knew it.
"So how do you suggest I go about doing that?" asked Martin.
"Just start slow," said Guy, clasping Martin's wrist in warrior fashion. "If you want to learn to be a superhero, then practice by being a hero first," he continued, putting his psychology training to what he hoped was good use. Considering the inordinate number of beings with superhuman powers or legacies that were coming to him for advice, he was starting to wonder whether he shouldn't set up an office with a psychiatric couch and start counseling them professionally. Actually, that wasn't such a bad idea. "Does that help?"
"Actually, it does," said Martin, returning the power of Guy's grip. Raising his pint, he tapped it against Guy's before draining it completely in a single draught, and Guy did the same. "Actually, it does."
NorAm: New Coast City [February 4, 2113]
The New Coast City Fire Station was as hectic as always. Crime wasn't exactly on the rise, but the Justice League still kept the local firemen busy on a daily basis, not to mention the local police. In an age when weapons fired lasers instead of bullets, there were too many fires that needed to be put out.
"Damn it!" yelled Chief Ramirez as the automated switchboard lit up to indicate that yet another fire had been started in the Chinatown district. "Alright, I want Unit 24 out of this place in five seconds! Move!"
Considered little more than a cleanup crew for other, more important public service departments by the majority of the populace, few were drawn to the profession. Needless to say, the high mortality rate didn't help matters, and most fire departments were ridiculously understaffed.
Still, the profession did have its benefits. In addition to the usual benefits, all firemen were provided with housing and substantial pay. Also, the fire department's computer was interconnected with those of the Justice League, the police department, the hospitals, and all of the most prominent news bands. Naturally, this last benefit wasn't of much concern to most firemen, but it was more than enough to draw the attention of the New Coast City department's newest recruit.
"Madre de Dios! Who the hell are you and what do you want?" asked Chief Ramirez, somewhat surprised. Preoccupied with monitoring activity on his holographic map of the city, Chief Ramirez hadn't even noticed that someone had walked into his office. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to intrude. My name is Martin Ulster, and I'm interested in joining the New Coast City Fire Department..."
- End of GREEN LANTERN:DCF #5 -