They didn't bother waiting for the match to start. The very moment Kyle regained his bearings, he grabbed Hal by the sleeve of his cloak and dragged him through the complex of the Coliseum and into one of the abandoned, out-of-the-way tunnels. Once he was sure they were alone, he formed an invisible shield to muffle the sounds of their surroundings (and silently conceding to Hal to teach him the trick later) so no one could eavesdrop on them. After the all-clear, Hal crossed his arms and gave him a flat look.

"What the hell."

"I know," Kyle acknowledged, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. He could already feel the migraine forming. "I know."

"How…?" Hal trailed off, looking deeply disturbed.

"You remember those dead bodies on Okaara?"

"You think that was Mongul?"

Kyle shrugged, but his expression was grim. "Him and whoever the hell he brought him. I don't know why they were there, but it would explain why Larfleeze is here. Once Mongul was killed, a portion of his soul would be a slave of Larfleeze's and all it would take is a quick interrogation to find out about Warworld."

The other Lantern released a groan. "If that's the case, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"Technically, Warworld does keep Larfleeze in one place," Kyle mused, "which would fulfill a few directives of our mission. On the other hand, we can't exactly leave him in charge of this place any longer."

At Hal's questioning look, Kyle scowled. "Oh, come on Hal. You saw the streets out there — the population won't survive with him as their ruler. He's the avatar of greed; sharing is literally ananthema to him. He'll only give the people the barest minimum to survive and not much else. If we leave him in charge of Warworld, we'll be condemning thousands to death."

"Right. So, we need to usurp the usurper." Hal tapped his fingers against his elbow wonderingly. "How the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"I've got an idea, but it'll need to wait until Guy gets back here with G'nort. Until then, we should probably gather some more information about what happened so we have a complete picture of what's going on."

Hal glanced back towards the direction of the tunnel, where one could still hear the faint roaring of the crowd. "So we don't need to go back?"

"Nope."

"Thank God. The way that Tamaranean was using the Thanagarian's leg was just obscene…"


Their departure from the Coliseum was swift and (hopefully) inconspicuous. They made sure to make several treks throughout the city to throw off any pursuers who were suspicious, before making it to the outskirts of the area. As it was far from the center of power, this was where all the ne'er-do-wells of ne'er-do-wells resided if they wanted to keep away from Mongul's (and now, Larfleeze's) influence. If anyone had any information about how exactly the Orange Lantern came into 'possession' of Warworld, it would be here.

As luck would have it, they happened upon a bar — the perfect place to gather gossip about Warworld's new supreme ruler. Quickly entering it and shutting the door closed, a quick scan of the place showed it was completely empty aside from the bartender, a Peganan, who was giving them a curious look. Kyle quickly found the lock and latched it, as Hal approached the Peganan and handed him a card, explaining what they wanted.

It seemed the bartender had agreed, because the moment Kyle seated himself at the bar, he produced two drinks for them. Kyle took one, taking a slight sip. Not as good as the really good stuff from Rimbor, but good enough.

"So, what'da ya wanna know?" He asked in a sleazy accent. Kyle had to remind himself it was the ring interpreting this, which is why he was hearing this guy speak in a Brooklyn accent. That's just how the translators worked.

"The orange guy that replaced Mongul, and I don't mean the orange Mongul," Hal replied, doing the talking for them. "What's his deal?"

The bartender paused for a moment as he thought the question over, before shrugging. "It's a simple story, really. Kind of unexpected, but once you know all the rumors it makes kind of sense."

"What rumors?" Kyle asked, adopting a look of curiosity.

Their informant grunted. "The ones about the Green Lantern Corps," he said, not noticing how his customers stilled at his words. "It's been going all around the quadrant, if not the universe — the Corps' coming back, thanks to Hal Jordan."

"Jordan?" Hal said, trying not to betraying the thoughts whirling inside his head. "You mean that Ace Lantern that went insane? The one that originally destroyed the Corps?"

"Ya," the informant confirmed, nodding. "Him and another Lantern named Rayner, a really scary one if the rumors are true. See, Mongul was one of the people originally responsible for Jordan going nuts. He helped destroyed Jordan's hometown on his backwater homeworld. When he got word that Jordan was back and had all his marbles, he didn't take it well. But then he heard about Rayner and freaked."

Kyle tried not to smirk. "What so special about this Rayner guy?" he asked innocently.

"A lot," the bartender said, looking a little scared. "He's some kind of uber-Lantern that managed to take on the entire JL by himself. Some say he can even destroy a planet. It was hearing about him that caused Mongul to lose his shit — he was scared, not that he would ever admit it, that Jordan might ask Rayner for help in wrecking Warworld in retaliation for Mongul destroying his hometown. So, he decided to take some… precautions."

Hal and Kyle exchanged a look. Larfleeze.

"He started communicating with his underground contacts, trying ta search for a deterrent that would prevent those two from coming afta him. That's when he learned about a being on Okaara that even the Guardians feared before Jordan offed them — someone called 'Agent Orange'." The bartender took out a glass and began to clean it with a small cloth towel. "He took his best and loyalest soldiers with him on an expedition to find this Agent Orange. The plan was to make an alliance with him, if not outright make a slave of him altogether. All just to deter the Corps. Maybe even destroy them, if Orange was really that powerful."

"I take it didn't work out that way?" Kyle spoke, already knowing the answer.

"Not by the looks of it. At least, not in a way that Mongul intended," the bartender confirmed. "When he and ta expedition team returned, they were at ta beck and call of that Orange bastard, and handed control of Warworld over to him. They've been glued to his side ever since."

"What about the orange paint job?"

The informant shrugged. "Hell if I know! They just showed up like that, and nobody's got the guts to ask them why just yet."


With that final piece of information parted, the two disguised Lanterns thanked the bartender for his service. They finished their drinks, paid him for both the alcohol and the information, and then departed from the bar. The moment they were out, they headed back into the city and into an inn, acquiring a room to stay in for the night. And once they were in the safety of that, they dropped their disguises, reclining back into their respective beds.

"The bodies were definitely Mongul and his team," Kyle once more asserted. "I was right — Mongul sought him out, Larfleeze killed him, and used what information he got from the soul in his construct to take over Warworld."

"Well, I won't say I'm sorry about what happened to Mongul, but that still sucks. Now we gotta deal with this," Hal complained.

"Yeah," Kyle said with a sigh. "Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as they each surveyed their own thoughts, buried deep, analyzing all the implications of everything they learned that day.

"Hey, Kyle? Is it okay if I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"…the Orange Light doesn't absorb copies of souls, does it?"

Kyle blinked, and sat up, staring hard. Hal mimicked him and met his gaze unflinchingly. "…how did you figure it out?" asked Kyle after a long stand-off.

"You slipped," Hal explained. "Back in the arena. Instead of saying a copy of Mongul's soul was Larfleeze's slave, you specifically said it was a portion of his soul was instead. It could've just meant the same thing, just a slip of the tongue, but something in my gut tells me it wasn't." His expression flattened. "And I was right."

Kyle didn't say anything.

"Kyle, all those constructs you made…"

"They're copies," claimed Kyle, interrupting him before he could speak further. "Not a single genuine soul in there. But…" He swallowed.

"It's only possible with the White Light of Life, isn't it?" Hal finished.

"…one of the abilities of the White Light is that some degree of power over the threshold between life and death," the White Lantern admitted. "And of souls themselves. That's how I'm able to clone them. Once it's done, I can properly release any soul I've killed into the afterlife and just use their copy to automate their construct in my ring. I developed this workaround after I realized I could no longer avoid killing people in my duties as a White Lantern."

"But Larfleeze isn't a White Lantern," Hal noted. "He's never been a White Lantern."

Kyle shook his head. "No. And the souls in his ring are countless. Even the amount in mine are but a fraction compared to his. It's only to be expected for one of the oldest beings in the universe, comparable to the Guardians themselves."

"So when you said that Larfleeze is the Orange Lantern Corps, you were being literal," Hal surmised. "Those souls aren't just copies, they're the actual Lanterns themselves."

Kyle nodded. "Aside from myself and Larfleeze, everyone who has ever been an Orange Lantern is in Larfleeze's ring." He swallowed again. "When the Orange Power Battery was originally stolen by Larfleeze, it was with a team, and that team became the core group of the Orange Lantern Corps. But it's as I said — the very nature of the Light they stole destroyed them. They were all consumed by their greed and ripped each other apart for the battery, until there was only one left."

"But why only a portion?"

"Because not even the Emotional Spectrum can completely defy Death," Kyle explained, "once you're dead, you're dead. You can be brought back, yes, but Death still has a claim on you. What the Orange Light does is try to claim as much of the soul as possible, before Death comes to claim the rest. That soul is then stored into the ring, which the user can use to project that autonomous constructions."

Hal hummed, nodding, before peering at him closely. "You haven't used the Orange Light once during this mission, except to sense Agent Orange. Is it safe to say the connection goes both ways?"

His companion shrugged. "Possibly. As far as this Larfleeze goes, there hasn't been another Orange Lantern in over a million years. I'm not sure if he would be even able to recognize the feeling if I used it. But if he can…he'll come for me. And considering the power at his disposal, I'm not sure if this planet could survive a fight between the two of us."

"So what's the next move then?" asked Hal, rolling his ring around his finger.

"The main goal of deposing him hasn't changed, but we still need to be careful about it. As it currently stands, with Mongul dead we no longer have a new ruler that we can install in Larfleeze's place. And even if we did, that ruler still needed to have something on their side that would allow them to fend off Larfleeze in case he wants Warworld back."

"Not to mention, it would be nice to have a ruler that would be at least half-decent to the people here," Hal pointed out.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed, thinking.

"…You could probably do it."

"I could. But besides the whole 'our battle could destroy the planet' thing, I simply don't have the time to be running an entire planet," the artist replied flatly. "There's too much going on in the universe for me to just focus on Warworld."

"Then who do you have in mind?"

Kyle said nothing.

"You're kidding me!" Hal sounded incredulous. "G'nort? What is it about that guy that makes you think he can save the day?"

The White Lantern raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you don't trust G'nort? That you don't find him capable?" There was a grin beneath his tone, but he was careful not to reveal it. It was fun needling Hal like this.

And just like Kyle expected, Hal didn't disappoint. He sputtered helplessly at the question, already trying to backtrack. "No, no! Nothing like that!" Liar, Kyle thought smugly, that invisible grin morphing into a smirk. "It's just that…" Hal tugged the collar of his skin-tight suit. "You're putting a lot of faith in him."

"I am," Kyle acknowledged. "And I understand your reservations. But let me say this — G'nort is probably the only person in the universe that can help us with Larfleeze."

"But why?"

At that question, Kyle exposed just a tinge of his mirth. "You'll see. Now c'mon — we need to check in with Ganthet."


The report to Ganthet was prompt but nonetheless extensive. Always on top of things, one of the Corps' two Guardians confirmed that he would get the ball rolling in installing a new government for Warworld once Larfleeze was formally and officially deposed. He made a small joke about the amount of work on his head, which was strange to hear for Hal (a Guardian with a sense of humor!) but left Kyle smiling. He then gave them his own report on the progress of Guy, who was converging on G'nort's last-known location before the Corps' destruction.

In case G'nort had somehow lost his ring while he was in stasis — an unfortunately common event when it came to that particular Green Lantern — Guy carried with him a spare ring to replace it. If G'nort was somehow still in stasis, it would also allow Guy to arouse him awake. This was a relief to Kyle (not so to Hal, who was still skeptical of the whole thing), who told Ganthet in turn that as soon as Guy and G'nort had everything in order, they were to immediately go to Warworld. G'nort was their best chance of ending Larfleeze's regime with minimal bloodshed.

Those final words exchanged, they ended communications and settled in for the night. The following day, they readopted their disguises and headed back to the Coliseum, taking care this time to really pay attention to their surroundings and the current state of the people. Kyle noted, with some conflict, that things hadn't entirely turn for the worst under Larfleeze's regime. While yes, people were living, suffering, and dying on the streets, those that didn't suffer from the lack of resources were largely walking with a certain lightness to their step. There was a weight to their shoulders, yes, but it wasn't leaving them slumping in resignation and defeat.

What was more surprising were the conversations. The people here had no fear of speaking, and more importantly, complaining. He had heard Larfleeze insulted several times within the first five minutes of the trip alone, and even that was nothing compared to the various abuses Mongul's name and reputation went through with every person's breath. No one here had to hide the hardness and the hatred they felt when they spoke of both their former and current rulers, nor did Kyle see anyone seeking to punish someone for those words.

It took him only a moment to realize why. Larfleeze might be the new dictator of Warworld, but he wasn't a tyrant. A greedy being that was probably going to run this planet dry, but not one to take offense from words. Larfleeze, at the heart of it, didn't care about what anyone thought of him. As long as he got what he wanted, whatever the hell he wanted, people could insult him all they want. They were just words, after all — if they had actually tried anything, then he would do something, but only then.

That, Kyle was forced to admit, was marginally better than Mongul's rule, but only just. If it had just been that then perhaps Kyle could just leave things be and make direct entreaties to Larfleeze himself, but the fact of the matter was that these people needed help, and Larfleeze wasn't going to help them. Any agreements the Green Lantern Corps had were with Mongul, and Larfleeze had long since proven himself too insane and too whimsical to commit to anything of the same. With Mongul now dead and a slave to the Orange Lantern's will, the only course of action left without leaving the populace to a slow-acting, if unintentional genocide was to depose Warworld's new master and install a government more sympathetic to the needs of the people.

The sound of the crowd grew louder, and Kyle glanced up as the tower structure of Warworld's Coliseum stared down at him. And maybe one that won't find bloodsport a great distraction from the real problems, he noted grimly. The Coliseum, after all, served a twofold purpose: the 'circus' part of 'bread and circuses', and as a method to inure the people from violence for their eventually drafting into Mongul's army. With that no longer in play, this structure would be completely irrelevant, at least in regards to its original purpose. If the people wanted special events to distract themselves with, they could easily find something other than watching gladiators hack each other to death.


The gladiator battle going on inside the Coliseum was between the Tamaranean from yesterday and a Daxamite. The latter was a surprise — Daxamites had banned space travel from their planet, after all — and made Kyle wonder whether or not he needed to do a deep-dive investigation into the planet for some kind of trafficking ring. If all went to plan, then he could just have the Corps send in some other Lanterns instead. As a generally low-level, if important investigation, it would be a good way for some rookies to cut their teeth, or maybe help some recently-awakened Lanterns to get back into the groove.

Noise exploded into his ears as the crowd roared. The Tamaranean had managed to disarm the Daxamite and was now beating him into the ground with his bare hands. Both Lanterns winced as they heard a crack! and saw the poor Daxamite clutching his now broken arm. An injury like that against a Tamaranean? It was practically a death sentence. The other spectators seemed to agree, judging by the even further increase in volume.

To the Daxamite's credit, he didn't give in immediately. Then again, that really wasn't much of a choice. Unlike the Romans, the Coliseum of Warworld didn't offer the possibility of mercy. Every match was to the death, so even if the Tamaranean spared him, he would die anyway at the hands of the gladiators that inhabited the stables below. At least if he fought, he had the small possibility of landing some other lucky blow and surviving to fight another day.

Except luck just wasn't on his side today. The Tamaranean sliced downward, opening an absolutely massive cut on the Daxamite's chest. The amount of blood released from that wound was obscene, even for Kyle, who was no stranger to such violence. He couldn't hide his open cringe at the sight, and could only concur with Hal's horrified "Damn." Damn, indeed.

The fight was over, and everyone knew it. The Daxamite fell to his knees, clutching at the deep laceration which continued to gush away with abandon. He was dead, and it became a question of whether or not it would be a slow demise or a quick one. Kyle grimaced as the Tamaranean answered that question with a vicious decapitation. In the arena, the answer was obvious. It was all a show, after all, and there was nothing fun about watching a man bleed to death.

The crowd reached a fever pitch the moment the Daxamite's head dropped to the ground. They all began chanting the Tamaranean's name, Myrlan'r. Kyle filed it away for future reference as he watched Myrlan'r parade around the grounds with a powerful and proud grin on his face, soaking in the applause. It was a practiced routine, meaning that this particular gladiator must be one of the big names, the stars — and possibly an obstacle, if he had any devotion to this life. The Coliseum, in the end, wouldn't last under a benevolent ruler, and that wouldn't do for a tried and true gladiator.

As Myrlan'r continued his little show, a pair of gladiators entered the arena from one of the gates and collected the Daxamite's remains. No need to leave a carcass to rot on the sands, Kyle recognized. Or, he thought with a frown, as the trumpets began to sound once more, no need to have any distractions from the boss.

The crowd turned as one towards the direction of the balcony, where the orange construct of Mongul stepped forward with a grin on his face. Hal scowled, and Kyle had to grab his shoulder to remind him not to make a scene. He seemed to have gotten the message, and his shoulders seemed less tense when Mongul stepped aside and let Larfleeze center-stage, but there was still anger in him. Kyle doubted that rage would ever truly leave his friend until Hal had the chance to crush Mongul himself.

Larfleeze cleared his throat. "Larfleeze congratulate cat person for victory!" He said, to many cheers. Hal shot a look at Kyle, who shrugged. "Larfleeze now has new task for cat person!"

He pointed towards another gate, which lifted open. Kyle watched in trepidation as a bunch of people in ragged clothing were frog-marched to the center of the arena, near Myrlan'r. Oh, this can't mean anything good. He took another look at the balcony, specifically at the grinning Mongul, and flinched. No, nothing good at all.

"Mongul told Larfleeze of these people that have been stealing from Larfleeze! This no good!" He announced, silencing the whispers. "Stealing bad! Stealing must be punished! So, Larfleeze orders Myrlan'r to execute the thieves!"

Gasps and shouts of disbelief were heard at those words. Kyle bit back a curse, glancing at Hal to see that same appalled expression reflected back at him. Execution? For something as minor as thievery? But then, to someone as greedy and gluttonous as Larfleeze, that was the only logical conclusion. For a man who took ownership over everything, thievery would be a crime worse than murder. A crime that could only be repaid with death. So much for no longer being a tyrant.

But, Kyle thought on more reflection, Larfleeze wouldn't come into the idea of public execution on his own. When Agent Orange dealt with thieves, he didn't make a spectacle of it, a warning to others. No, he just killed the bastards and let them rot where they laid. This show only could've come from somewhere else, and Kyle had a feeling he knew where. He stared up at the balcony, at that same grinning Mongul, and grit his teeth. It was stupid to believe that Mongul ceased to be a threat just because he was now Larfleeze's slave. Larfleeze was so easily impressionable, so easy to manipulate once you knew his buttons. And Mongul may have been a tyrant and a brute, but he was hardly stupid.

But what to do now? It was one thing with gladiators. Not all the gladiators in this Coliseum fought unwillingly, and to some degree they had some autonomy in their choices. Those people down there, about to get their heads cut off by Myrlan'r, though? They were innocent, victims even. They had been deprived of food from a greedy ruler and now were facing a disproportionate penalty just because that ruler had no restraint and was puppet to one of his own slaves. Leaving them to die in a brutal execution, even if it was technically legal, left a bad taste in Kyle's mouth.

"Fuck this."

It seemed Hal agreed. Kyle didn't even have to look to know he had discarded his disguise. The screams of fear from the crowd were proof enough.


Thanks to Thaal Sinestro, Hal Jordan would forever live in infamy. No matter what he did to try and redeem himself, no matter how genuinely apologetic he was for the crimes he committed under Parallax's control, there would always be that one sliver of doubt, that one underlying current of fear, for him and what he might possibly do. That would always be the greatest blow his enemy would deliver to the Corps, permanently tarnishing the reputation of their greatest hero like that.

So, for him to appear suddenly in the middle of one of the biggest, most depraved corners of the universe was cause for concern for everyone, not just the criminals. Even with word coming in that Jordan was back to normal, that he hadn't been responsible for his actions, that he was trying to rebuild the Corps, wasn't enough to assuage the masses. To them, he would remain a wild card until some other incident, equally as drastic, told them otherwise.

Of course, Hal's appearance was distressing to another faction for an entirely different reason. Kyle was the only one to dare to peer up at the 'royal' balcony and observe the reactions of Warworld's master and his slave. Mongul was stunned, of course, if also some mixture of anger and terror. The White Lantern imagined the former was only possible because Mongul was already dead. No real harm could come to him now, even if it meant he was forever subjected to the whims of someone as insane as Larfleeze. And as for Larfleeze himself…

"Green Lantern…" The Orange Lantern hissed, his fury undercutting the roar of fear.

Hal hardly paid any attention to any of this, of course. His attention was entirely on the 'outlaws'. With a flick of his wrist, he blasted back those holding said 'outlaws' and released them. The men and women quickly fled, only barely flinching when Hal formed a barrier between them and the approaching Myrlan'r. The Tamaranean glared up at him, but did nothing. Even a gladiator like him stood no chance against the likes of a Green Lantern, let alone the greatest of them all.

"Why is Green Lantern here!" Larfleeze demanded, catching Hal's attention. "Larfleeze has deal with Guardians!"

"That deal only applies to the Vega System," Hal responded bluntly, rising up so he was level with the balcony, and thus Larfleeze. "We're no longer in the Vega System, as you can tell. And even if we were, this would be cause enough to end the agreement. We left you alone with the understanding that you would leave people alone as long as people left you alone. Yet here you are, having usurped the government of this planet and governing it under your rule. Poorly, might I add."

"Larfleeze usurp nothing!" Larfleeze yelled back. "Everything belongs to Larfleeze!"

"I beg to differ," retorted the Green Lantern, green energy flickering off him in a show of power.

Larfleeze snarled, and looked ready to attack, only for Mongul to throw his arm before his wielder. The former ruler of Warworld stepped forward, meeting Hal's glare with his own. The anger in Hal's expression multiplied tenfold the moment his eyes met Mongul's, and he started flexing his ring-hand, the sparks growing in volume. It seemed the entire arena was holding their breath once the sight of the confrontation took hold. Everyone present was well aware of the history between these two men.

"What do you want, Jordan?" Mongul asked, distaste seeping throughout his tone.

"What I want…" Hal spat out, "Is your boss off the throne. I understand you practice combat by champion on this planet, right? Well, I officially submit my challenge to you, Larfleeze!"

The crowd roared at this announcement, though quickly silenced themselves when Mongul gestured for their silence with a single closed fist. It had not been long ago since his rule over them ended, and few had forgotten what it meant to disobey the once-absolute ruler of Warworld. "My master will accept your challenge," started Mongul, and Hal could already sense the caveat, "But first, you must prove yourself! Defeat ten of our best gladiators and ten of our master's most powerful constructs in a gauntlet match, and only then can you fight him!"

Another roar rang out as the people whistled and cheered for blood — the blood of the most notorious Green Lantern of all time. Kyle narrowed his eyes, and he could tell by the tension in Hal's frame that he had realized it as well. A ploy. A bid to delay the match, to weaken Hal so Larfleeze could swoop in and finish him off quick.

It was logical, and smart, and probably the same thing any member of Era 2 would do in Mongul's situation. Hal might not be a match for Larfleeze, especially with Parallax no longer empowering him, but he was still an exceptionally powerful and skilled Lantern. Unlike a potential battle between the Orange and White Lanterns, a battle between the Orange and Green Lanterns did not guarantee the destruction of Warworld — but it was still a possibility, if a much smaller one. Any nonzero chance of that happening was too great a risk to take, so Mongul was trying to reduce that risk for when the fight inevitably happened. The weaker Hal was when he took on Larfleeze, the less likely Larfleeze was to use an extreme amount of force, and the less likely the planet would be destroyed in the crossfire.

Or maybe he just wants to watch Hal squirm and suffer before Larfleeze wipes him off the face of existence, Kyle thought, rather cynically. It certainly would be something Mongul would do, especially for someone he despised as much as he did Hal. The only person in the universe he hated more was Superman, and even that was rooted in his father's history with the Kryptonian. This was an enmity that was entirely a result of his own actions.

"Fine," Hal said, lowering himself so he was close to the arena floor. "I accept."

Mongul smirked. "Good. Your first opponent, then…is Myrlan'r!"

Hal growled as he sensed the swish! of a sword behind him, stepping aside to dodge a powerful swing. He quickly formed a shield to block the next swing, catching the blade in powerful clash. Cheers and applause broke out as the crowd realized they would be getting far more than they had originally bargained for with today's gladiator matches. Already, Kyle could several fleeing from the Coliseum, no doubt to spread the word and get more to watch the proceedings.

He didn't pay them any mind. Instead, he kept an eye on the action, and on the balcony above.

I hope you know what you're doing, Hal. Kyle thought grimly. The fate of this world might very well depend on it.


And, some action! Gonna get a lot of action in the next two chapters, I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for the late update, been busy with a project for the past week. But now it's over and done with, which means I can devote some time to this.

Next chapter: Hal and the Alien Hunger Games.