Note:
In this story, the Lantern Corps and their colors are more modeled after the Plutchik Wheel, which is a diagram that's used to classify emotions. On the Wheel, the emotions having to do with happiness are either yellow, or a shade of it. Ergo, the Yellow Lantern Corps, in this story, gets its powers from emotions such as ecstasy, joy, serenity, and limited amounts of love and optimism.
Throughout the universe, there are cops. In lieu of uniforms, though, they wear rings of power.
This is a star. It generates yellow light. All around it, portals open and close. These portals ferry the star's energy...light and all...to the interstellar police force who has the most use for it.
This is the planet Gaudius. It's HQ for the Yellow Lantern Corps. The planet is both sentient and a cyborg; its cybernetic appendages are tantamount to half of an ecumenopolis (i.e. a planet/megacity). Most of the intact parts of its surface otherwise have either tropical climates, subtropical climates, or vernal temperate ones. Freshwater covers more than half of its surface; its few seas are inland seas. There's a sole ocean, and it's smaller than Earth's Arctic Ocean. It, by contrast, though, has a hotter climate.
The Corps's HQ, as one might expect, is in the midst of the cybernetic/urbanized half of Gaudius. It's like a police precinct...only bigger. And yes, Yellow Lanterns have been known to come here for coffee and/or doughnuts between jobs. In fact, it's become so common that a variety of private vendors now serve both commodities...and then some...in semi-isolated kiosks all over the planet's urbanized half.
There's a Big Belly Burger here, too, it seems... It might very well be the biggest Big Belly Burger in the universe... Too bad one of the current human Yellow Lanterns isn't an Azeri; if so, there'd likely be a KFC here that'd dwarf the biggest on planet Earth...which, BTW, just so happens to be in Baku, Azerbaijan's majestic coastal capital.
The Yellow Lantern Corps is a very strong police force...if not the strongest in the universe. In a good year...whether that be one of Earth's or one of another planet's...the Corps is staffed by 7200 Lanterns; a pair per sector. Its Lanterns get their power from certain emotions such as ecstasy, joy, serenity...and to a conditional extent, love and optimism, too. Much diversity, this force has recruited. And they do it all in the name of the emotional health of the universe...as well as what smaller part they have to play in it. Smaller...but not necessarily the smallest there is.
This vast police force is overseen by the Healers of the Universe, an assembly of physicians, paramedics, and surgeons from all 3600 sectors of the universe. Many are maltusian gnomes...although the Healers have become more racially diverse in recent decades. It's just as well; racism has never made any mind healthy.
One of these Yellow Lanterns resembles a spotted hyena of Earth. Another resembles a laughing kookaburra from the same place...if not the same place of that place, of course.
One of these Lanterns looks like a chameleon. He turned yellow on the day his power ring chose him...and he has seldom, if ever, changed color since.
One looks like a zână; a pixie from Albanian lore. She's one of the smallest Lanterns in the Corps. Alas, she won't likely hold that trophy for much longer...
One's a yellow martian. He's a monk of sorts; most of his yellow kin walk a similar path.
One's a warzoon. Not to worry; he's nothing like Mongul...a skilled warrior, though he is.
A large one looks like a tikbalang; a humanoid horse from Filipinx myth.
One looks like a thunderbird.
One is a tamaranean woman.
One is a hopefellow, from a pocket world called the Despairing.
One looks like a rokurokubi; a yōkai with an unusually long neck. If some didn't know better, they'd say he was a Japanese Big Shot, of the Secret Six, with an elongated neck...
One looks like a nokken; a Gothic merman from Norse lore. Most of his teammates don't know if he can walk; he has an undine's tail in lieu of legs. And naturally, he levitates whenever he visits HQ.
One of the bigger ones looks like a ninmenju treefellow. Via his many blossoms, he has many senses. Ever since he became a lantern, most of his blossoms have been yellow.
Many look like moon hares.
One looks like a kuntilanak; a white lady from East Indian lore. She's also from the Antimatter Universe.
One of them is a euphorian.
One's a dominator. The red spot on his forehead is small...but not too much so. In his race's world, he holds the rank of sigma. Hence, the Dominion barely misses him when he's not there to win bread. The ones who he'd feed the bread to are probably better off without it anyway.
One is a daxamite.
One looks like a chort; a sort of imp-demon from Slavic lore. He's got the horns of a bull. His hair became blonde on the day he became a Yellow Lantern. At least he didn't become a yellow devil...or Roark Jr from Sin City...
One looks like a cat-sìth; a spectral black cat with a white spot on its chest from Scottish lore.
One of the bigger ones is an arloran; a giant butterfly-like humanoid.
Many look like alebrijes; boho-colored chimaeras from Aztec lore. These alebrijes, in particular, seem to have more yellow in their boho...
Many look like ahuizotls; prehensile-tailed, spike-backed water opossums from Aztec lore.
One's an aellan.
This is merely part of the Corps' roster, of course. And naturally, there are at least two humans on it. One of them is about to become a major character in this story...if not a major character with minor proportions. He'll make his debut soon enough. But for now, a demonstration of the Corps' prowess might be in order.
This is a planet. Ot is its name.
This land is flat. Its cool seasons are long, and its rains are seldom.
Every now and then, tumbleweeds blow across the ground. Some of these have been known to be sentient.
This is a trailer park. The trailers that are parked here look a lot like the stock trailers of Earth...only bigger, and more furnished. This park is a religious/medical establishment, as well as a residential one. It must be; most of its residents have been the ever-too-recent near-victims of an attempted genocide.
A windmill, too, stands in the midst of the park. Its top doubles as a weathervane; it always spins in the direction the wind blows. This happens in conjunction with the blades' relatively predictable movements.
At the windmill's base, seven stock tanks surround it. They're not just stock tanks; the residents here have versatile use for them. It's sometimes a better thing, though, that humans aren't around to observe some of their more macabre uses for them... For most of them, though, of course, it's a relief for them to finally get to do such things again; the race that once tried to cause their genocide seldom ever let them do such things. They sure knew how to abuse a pair of fire-heated farrier's tongs... And that was only part of that.
There are sick pens in this park, too. Within them, there are capstans. They're often in operation; both the pens and the capstans. But then, anyone who's been the near-victim of a genocide knows very well how long it can take, and how hard it can be, to rebound from the most horrible memories of said genocidal attempts.
Something insensitive has been here. The paths through the park are filled with equine humanoids, the Weegorses, who're either laughing manically, or passed out along the paths for having done so.
Down from the sky, a patrol of Yellow Lanterns arrive. The Omega Men's spaceship soon straggles.
One of these Yellow Lanterns looks like a babay; a horned lizard-like bogeyfellow from Slavic lore. He lands on a rock just outside of the park and posts a watch. He's prepared to bleed yellow, from his eyes, if trouble comes...
The tikbalang-like Yellow Lantern, from before, has joined the patrol that's arrived. As one might guess, this is his home planet. Most of his teammates still think he shouldn't have come; this case, as many of them dread, is way too close to home for him...literally. He doesn't live on this part of Ot, though; his home is within an archipelago of tropical islands farther southeast.
The thunderbird-like Yellow Lantern has come, too. He flies around, scouting around. He doesn't even need his wings; his own power ring, like all of the other rings, allows him to levitate.
A few of these YLs are nachtkrapp-like; i.e. they're bogeyfolk who can shapeshift into crows, from Old Germanic lore. During this investigation, they switch back and forth, between the bogeyfolk and the crows.
The yellow martian YL has come, too; his purpose is mostly medical. But then, that's often the case with most of the YLs' jobs... While here, he courteously shapeshifts into a Weegorse himself. He also wears the green robe of one of the imams of the local religion; the local religion has traits that make it akin to Sunni Islam of Earth. And hence, the green robe would have a gold crescent moon symbol across its back.
Other Yellow Lanterns who're on the patrol include the alebrije/boho chimaera-like ones, the bull-horned, imp/demon-like one that's like a chort, the tamaranean woman, and the superhumanly long-necked rokurokubi-like one.
Just outside the park's outskirts, the Omega Men's ship lands. Its docks lower. The Omega Men disembark and do some sleuthing.
In the southeast skies, storm clouds gather. Every now and then, they flicker with lightning. Just as often, and with delayed action, they generate thunder; this, at times, makes some of the horsefellow residents of this trailer park nervous. It seems as if most of them haven't evolved too much away from their equine ancestors... But then, most of them still have horses' faces, as well as horses' feet... Most of their other appendages are humanoid, though.
The heroes do their rounds, granting medical treatment to the victims. Most only require some serotonin supplements. A few require a nanite inoculation; nanites for the purpose of cleansing their blood of manic humor-inducing pathogens, that is. This might not have been a Joker attack, but it certainly has some of the signatures that'd be reminiscent of one. Also, the real Joker would stick around to make fun of the vigilantes, once they arrived.
A tree has been planted in the middle of the park. It generates many white blossoms. These blossoms...seem sentient. They also seem like they're in good humor; too good, for that matter...
Some of the nachtkrapp YLs land in the tree's branches. With their beaks, the pick both on and at the sentient blossoms. They seem to have an allergic reaction to the nachtkrapps' attempts to contact them...or harass them, is probably how the blossoms themselves would interpret it; like the first time the cat ever had to deal with the dog's radical, and not to mention space-invading, attempts to socialize with it.
The Yellow Lantern that looks like a ninmenju (i.e. a treefellow) is a part of this patrol. He wanders over to the plant and does some sleuthing. He smells them...and takes note of what shape the flowers occur in...
One of these Yellow Lanterns is a graxosian woman. The graxosians are elf-like; most are gold-skinned and blonde; in black-and-white, though, she just seems white all-over. This one is, too. She and a certain human Yellow Lantern were once very close... In a way, they still are. At present, though, most of the Corps is still reeling from the human's apparent demise...and not to mention still investigating the whereabouts of his power ring, if he's dead...
This graxosian YL notices that the foreign ninmenju-like tree has anemone-shaped blossoms... (Anemone flowers, that is... Buttercup flowers of the genus Anemone would be their Earth-borne kin.) Hence, aside from a fellow ninmenju-like alien...and the ninmenju among them has already reminded them that most specimens of his race have a moral code that would forbid them from doing something like this, to aliens or otherwise...there is one other suspect. They'd come from a race whose specimens were clownfish-like.
At this moment, the graxosian blinks, and acknowledges her own bare shoulder. She seems confused... Also, as gorgeous as she is, one would expect her to be used to how her shoulder looks by now...
One of the Omega Men arrives. He notices the graxoisan's strange behavior, and questions it.
"Nothing," she admits, nervously adjusting one half of her bobbed blonde hair. "It's just that... I once had a human coworker who'd react to news such as this by flying off into space, and leaving the rest of us hanging." She looks up into the sky, and narrows her blonde brows... "And while this might sound just as strange to you as it does to me...I can't help but sense that...he somehow already has..."
She might actually be right...much though she still doesn't understand how. There is, in fact, a human Yellow Lantern giving chase to the crime's most likely suspect, as the YLs, Omega Men, and horsefolk here speak of such matters. Alas, he's been through an ordeal of late. And for that reason, he'd feel more secure if he went after this space-crook alone...and in the way of stealth, wherever practical... If he can stay sane, then he can make this work...at least until he and the space-crook have to fight one another.
This is Northwest City. Again, it's a black-and-white noir world.
In the city streets, police sirens wail. Their flashing roof lights are always bright white; black-and-white tends to have that effect on all.
In a revered spot among the city's nightlife, the Otago Lounge sits...shining yellow lights both all around it, and within it; especially where the disco balls can reflect it. This nightclub bears many characteristics that make it akin to the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham; this would include a substantial penguin exhibit. The penguins who live in it, though, are yellow-eyed penguins. The mob boss who owns this place is known as the Yelloweye; he's Southeast New Zealander bourgeois, by birth. It's been rumored that he's akin to the Cobblepot family...but this remains to be confirmed.
Uptown, there are villas. Here, palms and yuccas grow. Many fences fence in many pools; one pool per yard, is the average. As for certain villas who'd play host to two such pools...they're either really rich, or really crazy, or both.
In an upstairs room of such a villa, the cotton drapes dance in a breeze that's afoot. Good thing the breeze isn't the harbinger of the remnants of a tropical storm.
Across a California king bed, a couple lies. The man is a mountain, and dark-skinned. The woman is raven with straight hair, and often wearing black. At present, of course, she doesn't wear much...if at all.
In a closet nearby, a set of uniforms hang. Their owner is a buck sergeant. His Schwartz, though, has been known to dwarf the Schwartzes of the sergeants major who've commanded him. But then, sergeants-major are more notorious for prostate issues.
Outside, the breezes cause wind chimes to subtly sing.
Upstairs, the man cracks his eyes.
In another room, a radio sits near an abandoned sole twin bed.
The man, called Gunn, comes in, and sits on the twin bed's bedside. He flips the radio on...and turns the volume down super-low, right after doing so.
In one part of the world, the Joker is on the move. In another, the Boogieman is. Batman, of course, is hard at work battling the Joker. Likewise, Swamp Thing and Sandman are hard at work battling the Boogieman. Alas, it seems hopeless. What's even worse, both villains have a knack for recruiting armies.
Gunn sighs and stands. Regardless of how hot the woman he sleeps with is, he's got a job to do. He can't stay away from it indefinitely. Plus, he's been doing this for a long time. Also, he's contracted more than a few bayonet scars from his job. They still bleed, at times, when he does certain contortions.
Without bothering to shower, he begins dressing himself in his BDU (i.e. his battledress). The battledress, it seems, has an ARGUS IR IFF patch on one of its shoulders. IR is infrared; IFF is how warriors tell the difference between friends and foes in the heat of battle. Gunn, alas, can only wish that today's battle tech was at the level of the fatherboxes of Apokolips.
As he dresses, his mistress wakes. She's already sensed that her true love...so to speak...is about to go right back to his job without a sole qualm. But then, she's also very sure that if he was too capable of having qualms, Uncle Sam would've had icier feet about recruiting him. But then, Uncle Sam always did look a bit like Jordan Mahkent/Icicle...
"I don't recommend," Ms. Omoboni speaks, "what you're about to do."
Gunn sighs. "This nation needs defense," he insists. "And quite frankly, most of its defenders could use some new muscles."
"The world's got more than enough heroes protecting it right now. In fact, from what I've heard, the universe does, too. Most people don't know this, but aside from the Green Lantern Corps, there are also at least seven different Lantern Corps actively protecting the universe... And Earth, as I hear it, has at least two Lanterns from each corps..."
"Wager all you want. I belong among gods, kings, and monsters."
She shrugs. "Again; the world's got plenty of those. What some women need is a man who can commit to something else besides an enlistment. If you'll just come back to bed..."
"The villains are on-the-move." He buckles his communicator to his belt. "Can't let them win again."
Before long, a Lyft driver is outward-bound from the neighborhood. He drives a Land Rover. It's purely by chance. Or rather, it looks like it's by chance...
In Gunn's absence, the passing coastal breezes continue to lend dancing maneuvers to the windows' long white cotton drapes.
In a revealing black camisole, Ms. Omoboni stands at the window, gazing into space. Once again, she's been left alone. If these men keep doing this to her, then one day, she's going to have to reconnect with her kin working for the mafia...
This is the bathroom suite. It's got multiple shower stalls...as well as multiple toilets and sinks.
This is the bidet. Ms. Omoboni is no stranger to its use. She wouldn't have been as a girl, either.
On the side of the bathtub, a yellow rubber duck sits. It's got the company name COBBLEPOT branded on part of it... The rubber duck is a colored device against a black-and-white background. As bright yellow as it is, it's a stark contrast.
Out from the toilet, a sapient clownfish emerges. He, too, is a colored character against a black-and-white background. He's yellow where his orange would be if he was a clownfish of Earth. He is not, though; nor did he used to be. He's an alien whose race is akin to Earth's pomacentrines (i.e. damselfish and clownfish). The average one is also about the size of one of Earth's pomacentrines. This one is no different...although he's clearly more used to assassins' work than most anemones that Earth's clownfish live/hide in.
High in the black night sky, a yellow star shines. Ms. Omboni should be more wary; cities are infamous, after all, for keeping its stars concealed by night. And yet, the Lanterns often come down from space to protect it.
Behind her, the alien clownfish doesn't seem like much of a threat. He's very small. Plus, he's a clownfish; only folks in Gotham would be likely to take him seriously. Plus, this city is West Coast; Gotham is notoriously East Coast...and not to mention Jerseyan. (That doesn't mean dairy cattle. Ms. Omoboni would know; she's got kin within New Jersey's world-famous Italian demographic.)
On a cushion in a chair nearby, a wine glass sits. Its burgundy wine looks black, in black-and-white noir. With seemingly black-polished hands, Ms. Omoboni helps herself to some more "vampire's blood;" as the wine often looks like to those who don't know what it is. Ms. Omoboni's just happy it doesn't taste like that...a few vamp fantasies though she's had, since she went through puberty... Not that she's got her sights set on joining the Church of Blood, or anything.
Behind her, the alien clownfish shapeshifts one of his fins into a very long, very scary-looking blade. The blade is curved. He soon turns his other fin into a matching blade, too. NOW he looks threatening...
A shriek, from behind her, finally causes Ms. Omoboni to whirl and gasp. On the floor before her, the alien clownfish attacks the blue cat from upstairs. The blue cat is very large; not quite a panther, but certainly no kitten, either. Either way, the tiny alien clownfish attacks her. Full of sadistic ecstasy, he's making way too easy work of her. Ms. Omoboni worries, of course, that she'll be next, once the cat has been...
A tiny meteor flies right past her ear, and charges towards the fight. As he does, he generates bright yellow light; this is made obvious against the black-and-white noir backdrop of this world; like the alien clownfish and the rubber duck from before, he stands out.
This guy is a Yellow Lantern. He gets his powers from certain emotions such as ecstasy, serenity, joy, and certain amounts of love and optimism. He's a human...albeit he's ten thousand times smaller than a normal one. Many would wonder what makes that likely...if not dwarfstar or Palmer/Choi tech. Hence, allow the narrative to elaborate:
It all began in the abyss of a black hole. Amari and a team of fellow Yellow Lanterns were doing a salvage job, all while being overwhelmed by the dark mass's gravity.
A mega-engineered space barge had drifted into the hole's currents. A patrol of Yellow Lanterns had requested assistance, while initially struggling to do the job themselves. Amari was part of the assistance that arrived to help. With many partly-interwoven nunchaku, meteor hammers, kusarigamas, flails, sabaton laces, and much death ray tech, (the yellow energy-forged duplicates of all of the above, that is,) the Yellow Lanterns and their spacecraft, converted into space-tugboats, struggled to haul the space-barge from the Infamous Black Hole of Mustard...
Among the chaos, great mega-tardigrades, all undead, all immune to both deep space and black holes, arrived via portals, and started becoming reinforcements for the Yellow Lantern phalanx already present. Their help was greatly needed and appreciated. Also, they're yellowfolk...and hence ideal companions for the Yellow Lanterns. Rumor has it they come from the same world as the space dolphins...but this remains to be proven. Most of them don't talk...and the ones who do don't say much.
The Omega Men came to the Yellow Lanterns' aid, too.
From deep space, alas, a hazard loomed; a heap of space debris. Unclear, as to how it got all the way out here... At times, Amari would rather not know such things.
Like a hailstorm, the debris rained into the abyss, as the Yellow Lanterns worked. Some were wounded. Some, even, were killed. As they died, their bodies unforgivingly fell deeper and deeper into the hole. As this happened, and as one might expect, their power rings abandoned their hands, and ascended out of the black hole, and deep into space, seeking out a successor for their fallen master.
The Omega Men, too, lost one of their own. He got struck by a piece of debris, spiraled into the black hole, and never came back up. Now the Omega Men are a man short...all because some space liner chose to empty its trash bin in the wrong place.
The mega-tardigrades were barely affected by the trash storm; most of them could likely take a nuke to the belly without dying. They've also been known to absorb the full force of detonating antimatter explosives at point-blank. They and the Strength Force, then, should have a beer sometime. Some of the mega-tardigrades do, though, open portals and return to their respective worlds, either because of the trash storm or for another reason. Good thing they don't inadvertently take some of the debris back with them through the portals, as they go... Good thing part of the debris isn't a tuna net, and they don't accidentally bring that upon one, or more, of the space dolphins...if space dolphins are even vulnerable to that sort of thing...
Amari didn't die, as a result of the trashy storm. He did, however, get hurt. Nonetheless, he helped his comrades finish the job; his talent of remaining positive while surrounded by such record-breaking darkness...and not to mention equally record-breaking gravity, was a likely reason why his ring chose him.
Nonetheless, he ended up in sick bay of his own team's craft, after the job was finished. The ship's AI had trouble attending to him. She was, however, aware of a procedure that could be done about it. The only downside...or, foreseeably, anyhow...was that he'd have to go all the way to the ecumenopolis Katarth just to stand a chance.
To Katarth, Amari was soon taken. It's a city of many tropical gardens, waterworks, and arboretums. The people who live here are humanoid, and yellow. (Actual yellow; not East Asian yellow.)
The ship's AI had already contacted the katarthan healers and let them know Amari was coming. There were a few miscommunications...but nothing that Amari couldn't reason his way past. Amari had already known, before being brought here, that the katarthans are legendary pioneers in the tinkering of nanotechnology. For that reason, they are both allies and rivals of the imskians.
As Amari made his way down the hospital hallways, he got to peek into a couple of rooms, and encounter two different guests he never thought he'd meet so far away from Earth. One was Wing How, the Chinese butler/chauffeur of the Crimson Avenger, Earth's first superhero. The second was Wu Cheng, a Chinese warplane pilot, and a member of the Blackhawk Squadron. It seems like the katarthans aren't the only yellowfolk in this ecumenopolis after all... Amari's almost sorry that Avery Ho doesn't get her Medicaid from somewhere here...
On a bed, they had Amari sat. The yellowfolk of this world had him inoculated. Not too much longer later, Amari yawned, and took a nap.
Alas, while Amari was unconscious, Katarth was attacked...by the Eden Corps. His healers were compelled to abandon him, for the purpose of attending to a sudden rush of much-more-urgent patients who needed more urgent care. In their absence, nanites swarmed in, and picked up their slack. What happened next was outside of anyone's control...including the nanites'.
When Amari woke, his world had become ten thousand times bigger...as he is now that small. A nanite AI attended to him and explained that while the katarthan healers had done everything they could...this was the way things would have to be indefinitely. They don't know when or if they can ever re-size Amari back to normal.
Since then, the few other Yellow Lanterns who've learned of Amari's condition have advised him to return to his planet and avoid giant foes for a while. Alas, Amari only recalls one conversation from his past that took a similar course: the one where Amari's own mother once begged her son not to become a big game hunter, because of such dangers. Like a good boy, though, he didn't listen to her...just as he's failed to listen to all of his coworkers, in the Corps, who often mistake him for a yellow-glowing nanite...as if they'd never seen their own power rings' glow in a mirror, when they'd look in one. It's funny, in a way; one of Amari's coworkers is, in fact, an orinoca amazon from Mirror World. At least they're not a bizarro from Htrae... And at least it's not Amari's bizarro from Htrae...
Either way, Amari's got work to do...just as the Corps always will. Shrinks can't attend to all depression issues, after all...
With that said, it looks like Amari's arrived just in time. As far as he could've told only moments before, Ms. Omoboni was on the verge of leaping off that terrace and falling to her death. (Not most likely; Amari just likes to tell himself such things, just to motivate himself to do his job...and mostly be playful, too. What's being a Yellow Lantern, after all, without a little child's play?)
Near the floor near where the alien clownfish molests the cat, Amari lands, and skids across the floor's slickness. Where his skid would dead-end, he does a flip, and comes back down on his feet. Around him, his Lantern energy still glows.
Now standing atop the blue cat's damaged rump, the alien clownfish acknowledges the rivalry. For this, he conjures his pectoral fins into even bigger and longer curved blades... The cat clearly isn't a day's work for him. But then, Amari has fought other types from his species; they might not be the Joker, but they fight just as insensitively, sardonically, and sadistically as the same.
With the yellow energy of joy, Amari conjures a meteor hammer for himself; the weapon, as it often is with the Lanterns, is made of pure energy. The weapon looks like a pair of bolas...but their use is more akin to a flail. As a named weapon, it's a fit companion for a space-faring cop.
The alien clownfish comes down off the cat, of course. And the fight is on. Both scream a lot, while trying to strike one another. They miss one another just as often as they barely raze one another. The alien clownfish bleeds yellow. But at least he doesn't bleed harlequin...like Joker probably does.
A relative giantess in distress, Ms. Omoboni takes cover behind a couch. From behind it, she peeks, with her big brown mascara-treated eyes, as the tiny fight on the floor of her villa continues.
With his power, Amari conjures a stretcher beneath the cat, and moves her to safety. She might require a vet. But of course, Ms. Omoboni would feel more secure sending her to one if she didn't think that alien clownfish would attack her as she tried to.
During the energetic strike-fight, Amari turns his energy into several weapons. It becomes a weaponized yo-yo. It becomes a deck of card-grenades. It becomes giant snowballs, hurled at his foe like meteors. It becomes a normal-sized sabaton, in a failed attempt to crush his foe like a bug...or a minnow-out-of-water, even. It becomes a series of discus-like hand fans. It becomes a frying pan. It becomes a pair of curved spadroons (i.e. military officers' swords). It becomes a pair of high-caliber SMGs (i.e. submachine guns). It becomes a punt gun (i.e. a humongous boat-mounted shotgun that was once used in commercial efforts to hunt ducks).
Watching the fight, Ms. Omoboni gets an idea. She creeps into the kitchen, stealthily opens cabinets, and starts fishing for something...no pun intended, seeing as the opposition is an alien clownfish...
Speaking of whom, he gets the upper hand. Now, he has Amari pinned. He's got long, fleshy fins radiating out of his butt, and connecting to his tail fins...both physically and skeleto-muscularly. Like a great scaly rug...or even a big rug-shaped sabaton...he's now got the fallen Yellow Lantern pinned.
For this, the villainous clownfish turns his left pec fin into a giant pulwar (i.e. a Pashto sword, from the early 19th century...back when the Phulra princes ruled KPK, and when the Qandahar princes and Pashto emirs ruled Afghanistan). Not that the clownfish would know this; his mother probably laid her fry in some sea anemone-like alien on the surface of some planet FAR from the nearest Pashto hearth...or armory...
With harsh humor in his eyes, the striped fish-like beast raises his improvised weapon to slay the Yellow Lantern. This could be the end...
Like a stealthy giantess, Ms. Omoboni sneaks up, and uses a frying pan to swipe the tiny monster to one side. With that done, she raises the pan, and shrieks, while smashing the pan over his clueless body; the pan shatters into much cast iron shrapnel, as she does this.
Passionate though this is, this barely harms the alien clownfish. He soon leaps, produces a flail of his own, spins around in the air, and harnesses his weapon to, and around, Ms. Omoboni's neck. Just like that, he's taken her hostage.
On the floor, and back on his feet again, Amari stands. He's compelled to stay back; the clownfish, of course, is threatening to strangle her to death if he tries to kill him again.
By now, though, the cat has recovered. She leaps, grabs the fish in her paws, and pins him to the floor. She's got vengeance in her eyes. But then, he has tried to kill her.
Alas, the clownfish sprays acid and generates malodorant, both blinding the cat and making the cat want to vomit, for having sniffed a skunk's butt. The cat backs off, of course.
With his Yellow Lantern powers, Amari produces a kusarigama (i.e. a chain-sickle)...which, too, has been forged of pure energy. From its handle, he swings both the sickle blade and the iron weight, from two different strands of the chain. With the weight, he constrains the monstrous clownfish. With the sickle blade, he continually tries to jab the ever-dodging monster.
Having gotten away, Ms. Omoboni returns to her kitchen and goes cabinet-fishing again. This time, she finds a sack of pesticide pellets... She's, more or less, about to try to pull a Poison Ivy... (The villainess, not the plant; although yes, the plant is, in fact, relevant...although it might not be the pesticide's active ingredient...)
The clownfish escapes, and has the Yellow Lantern pinned again. Into his fin, he conjures a ball of energy. It swells, the longer he holds it... Soon, it's too big.
Beneath his carpet-like tail fins, poor Amari gapes. He's got a hunch that the villainous clownfish is about to force him to swallow it...after which it'll blow up, while still inside him. And to think Amari once thought that Jimmy the Loaded Goat, from the Andy Griffith Show, would've been a macabre revolution if the goat every actually blew up...if he didn't...
Ms. Omoboni sneaks up behind the fish, grabs him by the dorsal fin, and hauls him across the floor. She pins him to the floor with her hand, and quickly forces him to swallow one of the pesticide pellets. She promptly stands, backs away, and watches, with her hands on her fists...
Like a boho rhapsody that's losing its mind, the clownfish changes colors several times. The life leaves his eyes. He belches...releasing malodorant gases, acids, and riot control chemicals, and grenade gases and flames while doing so.
Over his and Ms. Omoboni's airways, Amari conjures masks. He also hovers near her forehead and conjures a shield for the both of them.
Still changing color and shedding poison gases and fireworks, the clownfish starts flipping across the floor, and into the bathroom. Near the toilet, he breaches. While airborne, he tosses a final boomerang. He then falls through the toilet's U-bend and splashes down into its recently-flushed waters.
Aloft, the boomerang lands in such a way that it'd hit the flush handle. The maelstrom begins...and the dying clownfish gets caught-up in the current. Down the pipes, he goes...and is soon a memory. Or rather, he will be...once he gets to the sewers.
Now that the danger's passed, Amari hovers near the cat, and uses his powers to heal the cat's injuries. In a hurry, the cat scurries out the kitty-door, once she can run. She clearly expects to be billed...if he's going to charge her at all. But then, cats have always had a reputation for being too monarchist for their own good...
Next, he hovers next to Ms. Omoboni's ear, to make sure she can hear him. "Are," he asks, "you okay?"
Without otherwise moving, or turning her head, Ms. Omoboni nods. She's still overwhelmed by what's happened; Amari can tell. At least he can still use his powers. He does not yet need recharging.
"My bae wasn't here to protect me," she admits. "And the cat couldn't." She finally looks at him. In her giantess hands, she attempts to cradle him, as if he was a yellow light-generating firefly. "Thank you...whoever you are."
"My name is Amari," he finally gets to introduce himself. "I'm a Yellow Lantern from Sector 2814."
She raises her black brows...and fixes part of her long straight raven sheeny hair. "There are 2,813 others?!"
He scoffs. "Actually...there are 3,599 others. It's the universe; did you really expect it to be so compact?"
"Good point. But..." She surveys him...and giggles, a bit...before refreshing the dramatic look on her face. "How did you get to be...?!"
"This size? It's a long story. I'd love to share it with you, but..."
"No, please! Could you not stay a while?! My bae just left me to go fight a war, and I'll be alone for that long."
He looks around. "Something tells me you're used to that."
"I don't get so attacked very often. I've been chased by men who've required a karambit knife to get the point, but... Aliens attack me less often...and this is the first time one's attacked me in my own villa."
He sighs. "Very well. I'd be lying, anyway, if I said I was in a hurry to get back to HQ. They've been making fun of me, ever since this happened to me."
She coy-smiles. "You've fought bravely." With her huge fingers, she attempts to fix his hair. "I've seen it for myself. I could've used some of my stilettos to crush the fish under my foot at any time, and yet... He was so scary."
He scoffs. "You should try having a beer with the Bat sometime, and ask him about the latest time he's had to stop the Joker." He hesitates. "Not that I have, understand. I have met the Comedian, though...but I don't recommend it." He surveys her enormous beauty. "Especially not to you. He has a history of rape under his LBE...and not to mention within his underpants...smiley-face emoticon-patterned, they surely are."
She nods, with lowered eyelids. "I know of whom you speak. I've worked with a few Khmer women, at old jobs. He'd be a laughingstock among them...if not for the rape scars he's left for them, still across their bums."
He shrugs. "I seem to have an easier time talking to him than most. But then, I've also had conversations with the Joker, too; half of them have ended in him trying to kill me. And to think I still haven't had a beer with the Dark Knight, because of it..."
"I wouldn't know... But I once heard a rumor that the Dark Knight's alter-ego is more the champagne flute-nursing type. I know that sounds insane, but..." She adjusts her revealing top, a bit. "It'd make sense, since it'd explain where he gets all of his Batgear from...and how he gets it to do what it does..."
Amari takes an admiring posture and surveys her. "Something I should know, Ms. Omoboni?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing urgent." She fixes her hair again. "Want to take a bath with me? I can't remember the last time I had one."
He looks around. "I...don't know if I'm ready for this..."
"O, don't be so cold-footed. You'll do fine. I promise I won't try to drown you. You can swim, can't you?"
He scoffs. "Do I look like a stranger to a water park to you?"
And so, the two of them take a bath together. It's a bubbly one, of course. They play games with the rubber duck and the bar of soap; most of them are hardly platonic. Ms. Omoboni seems secure, now. And as for her new hero...she's pretty sure that none of his fellow Yellow Lanterns could do a fraction of the favor for him that she's doing, at present... And if there are such Yellow Lanterns, she'd be confused as to why he'd never talk about them...especially if he thought he could make her jealous, by doing so... She's already told him that she has a bae, after all...and that he fights wars for a living...
In the streets of Northwest City, the Comedian, of the Watchmen and formerly the Minutemen, is on patrol. He wears his smiley-face emoticon badge on his chest, as always; like the rubber duck, clownfish alien, and Yellow Lanterns, its bright yellow color stands out in a black-and-white noir world.
For once, he's exhausted. Tonight alone, he's fought Scarecrow...and Deadshot...and Chemo...and China White...and Peacemaker...and Dark Archer...and Killer Moth...and Killer Croc...and Gentleman Ghost...and Azrael...and a few paradooms of Apokolips. It's nights like this that get Comedian to seriously consider retiring from hero work... He's always been more of an antihero, anyway...or even, at times, the villain...
With an automatic rifle over his shoulder, he makes his way through the streets.
Here and there, he sees a few hookers. It's so hard for him to resist the urge to go fishing in their low-cut attire...
Meanwhile, from the sewers, the dying alien clownfish makes it to the seas. Once far enough out, he finally kicks the bucket...by becoming a nuke.
The clownfish explodes and creates a mushroom cloud over the local shallows. Throughout the city, everyone gapes in awe. Ensuing shockwaves cause some of the blocks to lose their power. Several of the lampposts, on the street on which Comedian is currently on, go out. One of the weaker lampposts falls over...totaling a car on the other side of the street while doing so.
Overwhelmed, Comedian scoffs, and returns to his patrol. "I gotta go on another teetotaling binge," he mutters.