Chapter Five — The Man Of Steel
1993 ; twelve
"Never meet your heroes kids, because they're human too and just as fucked as everyone else."
Arley, in civvies, sat next to her mother in a nice Gotham hospital room that like usual— ever since she had gotten the ring Arley couldn't remember her mothers room being bare —was covered in flowers. Arley's favorite were the sunflowers. Just like potatoes which could seemingly be found everywhere, in every corner of the universe sunflowers also seemed to follow, popping up everywhere and anywhere. It was nice to go to a random alien planet on a Tuesday and see a sunflower.
Her mother was asleep; the rise and fall of her chest was steady and the bear that had a I survived my trip to NYC shirt sat upright next to her mothers head.
Unlike the flowers who were bought and sent by strangers Agent K had gotten Maria the bear so that, even when Arley was off world her mother would never be alone.
The Lanterns thumb traced the curves of her mothers knuckles.
"I have an interview soon mami so I probably won't be able to stay for too long today, but—" Arley said with a grimace, "—Nurse Logan said she'd turn it on even if you were asleep, something about about a new study coma patients hearing everything going on so hopefully you'll be proud of me."
All Arley wanted was people being proud of her; she yearned for it. Though most of all, she wanted her mother to be proud of her. Arley wanted the woman she barley knew but loved with all her heart to wake up and take her into her arms and hug her in the way she saw mothers across the galaxy hug their young.
"Miss Gluck?" Arley turned and saw her mothers neurologist, Foreman, a somewhat tall, bald African American man with his hands folded in front of him standing in the doorway.
"Doc!" Arley beamed; Foreman had been her mothers doctor since she'd been admitted and over the years Arley had grown to like the man.
At first he'd been awkward around her, she'd been seven and demanding to know just how bad her mothers condition was and he had tried to skirt around the "We don't know if she'll ever wake up" but since the streets and the ring Doctor Foreman had seemed to relax around her. He treated her more like an equal than just some patients stupid kid. It was why he was one of the few people in the world freely allowed to call her Miss Gluck and not be corrected to Green Lantern or Arley. Back before the ring people always called her Kid if not her name; Miss Gluck had just been Foreman's way of showing her some basic respect.
"Hey," the doctor greeted, "Nurse Logan said you were in, figured I'd say hi."
"Thanks Doc," Arley grinned. "How're you doing?"
"Good, my boss is an ass but that's not really new," Foreman said with a shrug. Arley had heard all about the hospital Head of Diagnostics from her mothers doctor; and nurses, if anyone hated the man more than the doctors under him then it had to be the nurses who also had to put up with the man only without a doctors salary.
Nurse Logan had told her once the department head had once put a fetal pig experiment in the nurses fridge in the lounge because it was gross and he wasn't putting it in the doctors fridge with his food.
"Anything new outside of work Doc?" Arley wondered. "Like a girlfriend?"
Foreman chuckled as he stood by her mothers feet. He grabbed her mothers chart.
"Like I have time for a girlfriend," Foreman rolled his eyes, "With the hours my boss has me pulling, I don't need anymore responsibility."
"That's fair," Arley shrugged. Carol always used that excuse whenever someone would ask if she was going to start dating anytime soon because it wasn't as if she could say she was still, in fact dating Hal Jordan he was just in space.
"What about you?" Foreman wondered.
"What about me?"
The doctor chuckled once more, "You're what thirteen now?" Twelve. She was twelve but she wouldn't correct the Doc on her life. It was easier when people thought she was older; they didn't seem to doubt her as much. "That's when I got my first girlfriend."
"I don't have the time to date," Arley parroted. Being a Lantern took her everywhere, she wasn't on any one planet enough to date. It wouldn't be fair to whomever she was with; Arley— rather regularly —saw the heartbroken look Carol tended to cast up to the stars whenever she didn't think Arley was looking.
And that was the truth. Sort of.
Arley couldn't imagine leaving someone outside of her mother and Carol behind when she died; if someone loved her in spite of everything she'd done over the years— looked over the blood on her hands —and then she died on them because of her duty— something she'd known would happen since day one —Arley couldn't think of a more evil thing to do to someone she care about.
"What about the Wayne kid?" Foreman wondered.
"Dickie?" Arley blinked. "He's like ten."
Foreman blinked at Arleys response. "What? No I saw you two-how tall are you?" The doctor wondered, Arley didn't answer leaving Foreman to repeat, "Ten?"
Arley felt the apples of cheeks redden; she knew she was tiny. She was four foot seven so far and she wouldn't grow much more after puberty hit her.
If it ever got the chance too.
"Yeah," Arley muttered, "He's ten."
"Your mother is five foot three, only slightly below the average height for a woman. How tall was your father?" Arleys eyes fell to the floor automatically at the doctor's question.
"No clue he was dead before I hit one," Arley said softly. Her eyes lifted and she watched as Foreman's eyes fluttered shut; as if she had physically hit him.
"Right, Miss Gluck—"
"—It's cool. Everyone forgets," Arley shrugged, "One time I had this interview and they asked me what memory of my parents kept me going when I was saving people, like they'd said something inspirational to me and the ring had just appeared after that because I'd been so empowered by whatever they'd said."
"Still," Foreman said kindly, "I'm sorry."
Once more Arley shrugged; she hated speaking of her father. Thinking of him.
How could she measure if he'd be proud of her if she really only knew his name. Alfie J Gluck. Arley only knew the J stood for Jeremiah because of the files Carol had gotten for her at her request but that didn't know she knew him. Her fathers asylum file has been barebones; besides his name all it was comprised of was that he had been a pacifist who refused to fight— the irony wasn't lost to Arley —and his birthday was in June.
"Any plans today?" Foreman asked a moment later. "It's nice out, anything fun in mind?"
"I wish," Arley snorted; the weight that came with the mention of her father still sat on her shoulders, "I have an interview in Metropolis for two."
Carol's assistant had booked her a news interview with Ron Troupe and Cat Grant at Metropolis Daily Planet. Arley was supposed to talk about politics with Ron— with MIB's public sector only just stepping out into the limelight —and more and more aliens were finally— officially; publicly — making contact with Earth and how the planet being pushed into the intergalactic spotlight— because of her and the Corps —would affect the planet. While she was supposed to speak to Cat Grant about the new uniform Carol had hired someone to design and how Ferris Industries was branching out and taking a step in the direction of companies like LexCorp and Wayne Industries by investing in other business ventures outside of aircrafts, like textiles and toys.
"No, not a fan of the lights and cameras?" Arley felt her smile slip into a grimace at Foreman's question.
"Sure," Arley said sarcastically, "I love it. The best part of my job is going on air and talking about politics and fashion and if I can do my job or if I should just hand my ring over to some adult." Arley rolled her eyes bitterly.
Arley was worthy of her ring; she was more than worthy. She'd proved it countless times since she'd been chosen and yet no matter how many bank robberies she stopped or Yellows she fought or asteroids heading straight for a heavily populated planet— Earth, Heliopolis, Kormorax —everywhere she went people questioned her.
Because she was eleven, because she was a girl, because she was human or because of something else.
She was never good enough.
The only good thing about the interview— in Arley's opinion —was that it gave her the opportunity to track down whoever this Superman was afterwards.
Like Batman had been— was still —operating in Gotham, there was someone in Metropolis saving people, and while this Superman might not have only struck during the night like Batman, he hadn't yet made a public appearance the same way Arley did every time she had to save the day as he had stuck to back alley purse snatchers and such.
"I think you're doing a great job," Foreman said, "Everyone here at the hospital does."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Foreman said steadily, "We do."
"Thanks Doc."
"No problem Miss Gluck."
…
Arley's new uniform had a hood; no longer was she wearing the standard issue Green Lantern uniform but rather something a designer Carol had hired had cooked up. She had pockets, which Arley loved as they were deep and allowed for the young hero to bury her hands into them; she also had sneakers instead of boots, high tops that though never needed to be laced or tightened, always formed to have a perfect bow.
There were patches of black— padding —that stopped right above her knees; the padding on her arms started on her shoulders and stopped right below her elbows. The gloves she had were streamlined into the sleeves of her new uniform, though like with her elbows and knees, the green ended at her fingers joints and the black started back up, leaving Arley too look like she was wearing fingerless gloves.
The Corps symbol was still in the middle of her chest; proudly shown off for all the universe to see.
But it was the fact her uniform was different now that was why Arley, as she was led through the Daily Planet by the Chief Editor— his name started with a P; Arley was sure of it —had her hood drawn up over her head and her hands stuffed into her pockets. She could feel the media outlets staff gawking at her the same way everyone did when they noticed her.
If she didn't look at them— if Arley kept her head down and didn't acknowledge the reporters and spell checkers and other staffers looking at her as the editor leading her around rambled on about the Daily Planet's history —then Arley could tell herself they weren't looking at her.
Or at least she had been able to. Arley felt her side clip something and as she spun so as not to get knocked back by the burly force she'd accidentally hit, Arley saw a large dark haired Daily Planet staffer spill the stacks of papers he'd had in his hands.
"Clark!" A squeaky voice called out. Arley's eyes went wide as she dove forward before the stringy teen with a camera hanging around their neck could.
"Kriff," she swore to herself; the Daily Planet staffer who had greeted her in the lobby spun on their heel, "Sorry!" Dropping to her knees, without any hesitation Arley smiled apologetically at the person she had knocked into.
It was a man— a young man —with large, thick bottle cap glasses. The man had a dark curl hanging down into his face; he was huge, Arley noted. Not like Kilowog or Vox were but large; the kind of big you found standing outside of clubs acting as muscle, not inside news headquarters.
The teenager with the camera— a pasty, spotty faced redhead whose terrible acne blended in with his freckles —dropped to his knees as he started to help collect the papers Arley had caused to spill.
"I'm sorry-my bad," Arley apologized again, as she shuffled papers into her hands, "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"It's no problem, Miss," the dark haired man replied politely; he had a thick country accent, the kind Arley heard when watching old Cowboy movies. "It would've happened even if you had been lookin'."
The redheaded teen at his side snickered, Arley's eyes flickered to the teen as he bobbed his head in the dark haired man's direction; a brown haired woman approached the person who had been leading Arley on a tour of the news outlet and the man— as the woman leaned into his ear to say something —turned a purple sport of color before muttering something back to her.
"He's right, even if you hadn't knocked into him Clark here would've found a way to trip over air. He's sorta the resident klutz."
"Still," Arley said as the three of them stood up, "Sorry."
From the corner of her eye Arley watched as the man who had been giving her the tour walked away; the woman that had whispered something to him stayed behind, lingering where the editor had stormed off from.
As Arley straightened her hood had fallen down and flattened against her back; she could see the newsroom full of people watching them. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
The dark haired man— Clark —went to open his mouth only for the redhead to stuff the stack of papers he'd collected under his arm, so that he could stick his hand out towards Arley. He had multicolored braces on his crooked teeth.
"Jimmy Olsen, intern and junior photographer." Arley stuffed the papers she had in her hand under her arm, just as Jimmy Olsen had and took his larger hand in hers so that she could shake it.
"I'm—"
"—Arley Carmen Gluck, the Green Lantern," Jimmy Olsen said, the same way someone would read facts off a Snapple-cap, "Twleve years old and Earth's very own resident superhero, I've read everything there is about you."
Arley controlled the twitch in her hand; if there was one thing Arley hated about the job it was the fact though everyone knew of her no one knew her and yet everyone acted as if they did.
Only four people on world actually knew her— and even then, none of them, not even Bruce or Caroll, knew everything about her —and yet everyone else in the world always acted as if they did because they read some article or watched some news segment about her.
"Just call me Arley," she said as she took her hand back; Arley turned to Clark and handed him the papers. Her head had to tilt back so that she could look at him; Arley knew she was short— four foot-four —but the man in front of her made her feel downright tiny.
"Here you go, sorry about knocking into you-you know, again."
Clark took the papers from Arley— and Jimmy Olsen —with a shrug and a good natured smile,
"It's not a problem, honestly."
"Hey Miss Green Lantern?" Jimmy Olsen wondered, Arley turned to look at him, "You think I could take a picture of you? Maybe like, in a cool pose or something? With Clark maybe!" He suggested eagerly as he picked the camera that was strung around his neck up.
No , Arley wanted to say, she was already going to have to go on air for the next hour, she didn't want to stand and pose for the next ten minutes so that he could get the perfect picture, but then she saw the hopeful and excited gleam in Jimmy Olsen's eyes and Arley felt the air that had swelled up inside her lungs deflate.
"Jimmy," Clark said in a kind but pointed tone, before Arley could nod, "Green Lantern here probably has to get to Ron and Cat."
"Yeah," Jimmy Olsen said, "But—"
"—Jimmy," Clark said, Jimmy Olsen's shoulders sagged and he nodded. Arley bit back her own grateful smile. "Right," the teen brightened up, bouncing back immediately as he refocused his attention onto Arley, "It was nice to meet you."
"It was nice to meet you too."
"Clark," the woman who had said something to the editor Arley had met in the lobby, "Perry had an emergency to tend to, he asked me to takes these off your hands," the woman snatched the papers from Carks hands, "And to tell you to take our hero here—" the woman flashed Arley a dazzling, almost dizzyingly beautiful smile, "—To Troupe and Cat while he handles Lombards mess."
"Right, thanks Catherine," Clark replied, Clark looked at Arley, he held his hand out for Arley to pass him by, "I guess, right this way, then miss."
When they were on the other side of the office, closer to the elevator than Jimmy Olsen, Arley peaked at Clark, the corner of her mouth tipped upwards.
"Thanks," she said lowly as Clark and her stalled in front of the elevators, her head bobbing back in the direction they'd come from. The fact she didn't like photographs rested on the tip of her tongue; Clark pressed the up button.
"It's no problem," Clark drawled, "It's nice to know that even us normal people can help out a hero from time to time."
Arley's smile— if only for a moment —flickered into a grimace, at that word; hero . She wasn't a hero, she was a Lantern, a soldier, a warrior, a protector and maybe the people of Earth thought she was a hero but that was only because the Justice Society had died over eighty years ago and Batman— a real hero —refused to step into the limelight and show the world how real heroes acted.
"Please don't call me a hero," Arley said, her smile tight, her voice gentle. Clarkes brows furrowed together. The elevator dinged and when Arley and Clark saw that no one was on it, the pair stepped on.
"Why not?" Clark wondered as the doors shut; he pressed the number fifteen.
"Firefighters are heroes, doctors and nurses are heroes, social workers-good ones, they're heroes. I just fight bad guys," Arley simplified. She killed bad guys— Yellow and Red Lanterns, Warlords, intergalactic pirates and smugglers —when she needed to; she did whatever the greater good of her sector called for because that was her job, "I'm not a hero like those people."
Heroes didn't hurt people; not the way she did. They didn't do what she did.
"No," Clark said, peering over the edge of his glasses at Arley, "I suppose not, but just because you're not a hero like them, doesn't mean you're not a hero at all."
Yes it did. He didn't get it and he never would and Arley knew she would never see the Daily Planet staffer again after today— unless of course she came back for another interview —and yet all she wanted to do was shake him by his broad shoulders and make him understand.
She was a warrior. A soldier, not much different from the boys who had just come back from the Gulf the year before and no one called them heroes. In fact Arley could remember the protests the news showed; people had called those soldiers killers.
Monsters .
Arley just turned away from the young man, her hands shoved back into her pockets. Clarks shoulders sagged and a moment later— as he opened his mouth to say something else to Arley —the elevator door dinged open to revolve a studio news set.
Dozens of people were running around; several cameras were pointed at the set where a bubbly looking blonde woman and slightly older African American man with a short-flat top hair cut both sat chatting to one another.
Clarks hand pressed against the elevator's side so that the doors didn't close on them as both he and Arley stepped out onto the new station's floor. As they stepped onto the floor, personal assistant's, people manning the hanging mics and camera men seemed to turn their way; the reporters— Ron Troupe and Cat Grant —both stood from their seats.
Arley wanted to flick her hood back up, she wanted to hunch her shoulders forward.
Why did everyone always have to look at her?
She didn't though; Green Lanterns didn't show weakness. Arley straightened her shoulders and smiled pleasantly at the people she passed as Clark led her towards the set.
Cat Grant was the first to meet Arley, she was practically vibrating; the blonde woman was dressed in a bright pink dress that ended in the middle of her calf, her pointed nails though, were painted a bright lime green. Everything— from her close to her baby blue eyes, to her pearly white smile —about the woman was bright. Almost blindingly so.
"Clark!" Cat Grant greeted, smiling at the young, dark haired man, pivoting on her beige stiletto heel before Clark could fully raise his hand to greet her back, Cat Grant looked at Arley. "Arley Gluck it's an honor to meet you, I love the new costume, I cannot wait to talk to you about it-would you prefer to be called Arley or Green Lantern on air?" Cat Grant fired off quickly as she stuck her hand out for Arley to shake.
Shaking it, Arley shrugged.
"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Grant, and Green Lantern is fine with me on air-off you can just call me Arley if you'd like," Arley answered, "And this isn't a costume Mrs. Grant," Arley tacked on, "It's my uniform."
Cat Grant meagerly blinked in reply as Arley pulled her hand back so that she could shake Ron Troupe's hand; Ron Troupe had a space tie on and strands of gray littering his hair.
"Nice to meet you sir," Arley said. Ron Troupe nodded back,
"Pleasure to meet you too," Ron Troupe said, when Arley released his hand Ron Troupe stepped back, "We should get you settled in before we go on air, go over a few questions and just make sure you know what you're doing."
Arley's tongue slipped between her top and bottom teeth; Arley knew what she was doing. Carol had been so busy the past few months, expanding Ferris Industries that ever since the interview had been booked, the only time Arley and Carol managed to speak it was when they were going over the answers Arley would give.
Carol was as nearly as bad of a drill sergeant as Kilowog had been in boot camp; phrasing the same question eight different ways so that she wouldn't get tripped up or say the wrong thing.
And even if Carol hadn't turned into a drill sergeant over this particular interview, it wasn't like the CEO hadn't had Arley give other interviews almost three full years. She wasn't new at this.
"Right," Arley said; Cat Grant and Ron Troupe both turned to head back over to their seats as Arley turned to Clark. Arley shoved her hands back into her pockets and craned her neck to look up at the Daily Planet staff member. She flashed him a smile, this one far more genuine then the others she'd been giving people since she first stepped foot into the building.
"Thanks for showing me up here. And sorry again for knocking into you," Arley said.
"It's no problem, like Jimmy said, if you hadn't knocked into me I would've found a way to trip over air." Arley nodded, she went to turn only for Clark's hand to shoot out and for the pads of his fingers to gently touch the top of her shoulder.
Arley spun back around, her brows raised.
"You should revise your definition of hero; when you showed up with that ring of yours you—' Clark paused, "—You're my hero, have been for a while now. All I'm saying here is maybe you should start thinking of yourself as one."
How could she? Heroes were good guys and yeah she did good things— saved people from burning buildings, stopped hostage situations, stuff like that —but she also did horrible, awful things in the name of her duty.
Most nights she woke up thinking she was covered in someone else's blood or still feeling the heat of a battleship she'd destroyed months ago still hot against her skin.
"Sure," Arley said tightly. Clark's small smile fell as his hand dropped from Arley's shoulder; spinning away from him Arley's feet lifted off the ground as she swept over to the open seat between Cat Grant and Ron Troupe.
…
A half hour later, after the weather and local news had been done, and after Arley and Cat had spoken about just who had designed her new uniform— Karl Lagerfeld —and if she had a boyfriend— no, she didn't; she was eleven and there were times she was off world for weeks at a time —and all about Ferris Industries expanding outside of military contracts and into other business ventures, Ron Troupe leaned one arm against the edge of the table as he looked at Arley.
"You've been the Green Lantern for how long now? Two years? Three?" Ron Troupe asked, Arley smiled at him.
"Three next month," Arley answered; while it had only been three years since she had passed through boot camp and come back to Earth, it'd been almost three and a half since she had gotten her ring.
"So Green Lantern, last week aliens from the planet Scylla made first contact, what are your thoughts on this?" Ron Troupe asked.
"I'm excited," Arley said, "There's so many other planets in this sector alone. So many other galaxies, and the Sol galaxy, the Milky Way," Arley corrected herself for everyone watching, "Well, we're one of the few in the universe that has no contact with any other planet."
There were planets out there that were self isolated; but those were planets— like Rann —who had already reached for the stars and saw what lay beyond them only to turn away for one reason or another.
Arkkis Chummuck, another Lantern— his sector was three-zero-one-four —had once called Earth, and the rest of the galaxy , Backwater. Ch'p, the Green Lantern from sector one-zero-one-four, thought the fact that humans lived and died on the same planet without ever having the chance to see what else was out there was blasphemous .
"I'm excited for people to see what I see every day," Arley added on.
"You aren't worried?" Ron Troupe asked, "These Scyllians could be dangerous, right?"
"They're not," Arley replied, "Look just like here, there are criminals on Scylla but the officials that came to make contact with Earth, they aren't doing it for nefarious reasons, they're doing it for the same reasons the US trades with England or Argentina, because Earth offers new trade options, new options for resources, stuff like that."
"And what if these Scylla get greedy?" Ron Troupe wondered, "What if they attack us for our resources?"
"What if Earth gets greedy?" Arley said; she visibly twitched at her knee jerk response. That wasn't what she was supposed to say; Carol had coached her to tell Ron Troupe and the people watching that she would protect the Earth. Her teeth scraped against her bottom lip, her answer was supposed to be diplomatic, 'If Earth is attacked I'll protect it, if Scylla gets attacked I'll protect it. My job is to protect my sector.'
"Why hasn't anyone made contact with us before?" Ron Troupe wondered, "Why now?" Arley could hear what wasn't being said; 'You're the reason aliens are coming to Earth, aren't you?' .
"Just because no one's come down with a neon sign doesn't mean no one's come down; there are hundreds of aliens on Earth right now. There's people who look like me and you who are descendants of aliens who landed hundreds or thousands of years ago. I mean, if you're asking why no one's come to tell us to take them to our leader, it's probably because up until a hundred years ago we didn't know what steam power was and up until ten years ago, almost everyone in the universe only ever thought about Earth in passing when looking on a map." Ron Troupe blinked,
"Ten years?" Not three and a half?
"There was another Lantern before me," Arley said, she never mentioned Hal by name as he had wanted to keep his animosity a secret even when he was patrolling the sector. "I know I've said that before, but up until ten years ago the last human Green Lantern, Waverly Sayre, was actually partnered to a Scyllaian, Green Lantern Laham, back in the sixteen hundreds, and between me and the last guy the universe is finally remembering that we exist."
"Right," Ron Troupe replied, there was a beat, "Do you think other planets will reach out? Other galaxies?"
"Sure," Arley shrugged, "I don't see why not. I mean, there's three thousand and six hundred sectors in total and all those sectors hold dozens of galaxies. There are thirteen in our very own. Now that people across the universe are finally seeing Earth, why wouldn't they want to come here?"
Ron Troupe leaned his head back, just as he leaned forward once more, Arley's ring beeped; the ring alight and Arley's eyes moved from Ron Troupe to her ring. Cat Grant moved in her chair so that both she and Ron Troupe could look at Arley.
Suspicious alien activity.
Arley's mind flew back to the alien who she and Batman had come to blows with over a year before— her mind flew to Darkseid who the Guardians refused to act against; one rogue agent meant nothing to them —before she stood from her seat.
"I have to go," Arley said curtly. Her feet lifted off the ground as a small, palm sized map appeared over her ring; downtown Metropolis.
"Go?" Ron Troupe blinked, "We're in the middle of an interview."
"Sorry," Arley lied, "Duty never rests." Or something, Arley thought that's how the saying went.
Arley flew into the air of the newsroom; the camera's followed her as she shot towards the stairs. Due to how high up they were the windows wouldn't open so it wasn't like Arley could just fly out of them and with how unpredictable elevators could be it wasn't like she was going to wait for an elevator, not when peoples lives were in danger.
Not when she had a job to do.
…
When Arley touched down in downtown Metropolis Arley didn't see a fanged alien like her and Batman had fought but rather, instead— amongst the overturned cars, the smoke and disarray that had become Jefferson street —Arley found a large pink alien with a cybernetic arm that doubled as a weapon— the arm looked more like a blaster then a limb —and dark mohawk.
Arley could hear the oncoming police sirens in the distance. Some civilians peaked out of their windows; others who had been shopping and going about their daily business littered the closed doorways of several stores, all of them huddled together behind the glass doors.
"Hey!" Arley, with a taunt spine and hands cupped over her mouth, called out as she watched the alien fire at an already overturned car, the alien lowered their arm and spun to look at Arley who's arms had been thrown out in front of her, "What the hell!"
Arley looked at the dark clothes the alien was wearing; there was a discolored piece of fabric on the alien's left breast where some kind of patch had once been. Knives were strapped to the aliens left thigh and there was a pouch of some kind tied around their waist; a lot like a fanny pack. Flickering between the alien and the area behind them, Arley scanned the area behind the alien, looking for any civilians that could be hurt.
Though the alien was at least fifteen paces away from Arley, Arley saw the alien's dark eyes narrow as they eyed the symbol on her chest, his chin tilted up in question; the alien peered down his nose at Arley.
"You're this sector's Lantern?" They asked loudly. Their voice echoed throughout the street.
"Yeah," Arley nodded, "Now I repeat my question, what the hell?"
"I'm Hakk, I was hired to look for the last Kryptonian. I tracked them here, to this city. I will not be leaving without them," the alien— Hakk —said. Arley's brows raised, she knew almost all the planets in her sector— it had been one of the things she'd needed to learn in boot camp —and Krypton wasn't one of them.
Though it did sound familiar.
"What, are they a criminal or something?"
"Does it matter?" Hakk asked. Police cars stopped at both ends of the street; ambulances lined up behind them. Police, with their weapons drawn, exited their cars but didn't take a step closer. They were waiting; perhaps for their commanding officer's instructions, or perhaps for Arley's signal to fire.
Behind the police cars and ambulances news vans rolled up to the scene.
"Yes," Arley snapped, "I'm not letting you kidnap some Kryptonian anymore then I'm going to allow you to terrorize people in my sector. Look if they're a criminal, give me their name and the last place you've tracked them to and I'll find them—"
"—And if they aren't?" Hakk interrupted Arley with a mocking tone.
"Then I'll only ask you once, leave. Otherwise you'll be arrested for property damage, disturbing the peace and whatever else the cops can charge you with."
Hakk let out a chuckle, the smile he wore was sharp and Arley's feet moved so that her knees were bent, her shoulders tensed.
"Neither of those will be happening, Lantern. I'm going to find this Kryptonian and I'm going to take them to the person who hired me." Hakk's smile dropped, "Don't make me fight you, I would hate to be on the Corps watchlist for killing a child."
"Right," Arley breathed, her fists moved so that they were in front of her, "You're under arrest or whatever asshole."
Hakk raised his cybernetic arm— the one that doubled as some kind of gun —and fired. Arley used her ring to throw up a shield so that she could block the blast; diving out of the way, allowing her construct to drop, Arley formed a giant snake with her ring.
The glowing construct was about the size of a city bus; it slizzered forward and shot out to wrap around the pink alien; only for Hak to reach into the pouch he had tied around his hip. Pulling something out as the construct wrapped around him Arley's eyes widened as Hakk threw three dark, golf ball sized balls towards one of the storefronts.
Dropping her construct, Arley's fist shot out so that a bubble would form around the small handheld bombs Hakk had thrown; the bombs— as Hakk raised his arms once more in Arley's direction —exploded inside the bubble.
Arley dove to the side, behind a car, as Hakk fired at her once more. Arley made eye contact with one of the officers that was huddled behind their car; she couldn't worry about them and herself. Arley furiously shook her head, as if telling the cop to get back, and though the cop hesitated, they nodded before turning their head down and speaking into their radio.
Arley's head peaked out from behind the car only to duck down once more when Hakk fired at her again. The blast sailed over her head and into a lamppost.
"Why are you hiding! I thought Green Lanterns were fearless!" Hakk called out.
Arley grit her teeth. Throwing her arm up and over the side of the car— firing in Hakk's direction —Arley spun out from behind the car. Only to find, when she was out in the street with her arm held out in front of her Hakk was nowhere to be found.
Arley's eyes darted around.
"Behind the Gree—" Whatever the civilian whose head had poked out from above their windowsill was yelling was cut short by Hakk, lifting a green Volkswagen Bug clear over his head with one arm. Arley grimaced and as Hakk threw the car at Arley a dome appeared over her head.
Super strength, Arley thought, Of course he has super strength.
The car fell behind Arley and Hakk lunged; Arley dropped the dome and as Hakk swiped at her with one of the knives he had pulled from the holster he had wrapped around his thigh; Hakk swung down at Arley, Arley blocked the attack with her left arm as her right arm darted out and hit Hakk in the stomach.
Coming back up— spit hanging off his lip —Hakk tried to stab Arley once more, and as the knife's tip bared down on Arley one of her hands grabbed Hakks wrist while the other grabbed at the fabric on Hakks upper arm, her foot slid between Hakks as she turned and forced the alien up and over her, throwing him onto his back.
Hakks cybernetic arm raised inches away from Arley's face. Arley's ring glowed as Arley threw herself back, out of Hakks way, allowing for the alien to get to his feet. Getting to her own feet, with her hands up in front of herself, Arley grit her teeth.
Hakk still had his knife in his hand; Arley formed a knife of her own. The weapon's glowing green handle fit perfectly into her palm.
Arley stiked first, her arm darted out as she lunged at Hakk, and Hakk batted her hand away with his cybernetic arm, allowing him to hover over her back for half a second. A second was all Hakk needed to stab her in the area between her spine and shoulder blade.
It was different from when Amon Sur had stabbed her two years ago; different from all the other times she'd been stabbed or shot, because before Hakk ripped the knife out of her back, he twisted it.
For a second, Arley saw white as she felt the air escape her, she hit the street; Arley landed half on Hakk's foot. The alien didn't hesitate to kick her off, several feet away. Arley landed on top of a car, crushing the windshield.
'Once you put this ring on, your life isn't guaranteed. A Lantern's life can end like that—' Hal had snapped three and half years ago. 'Are you sure this is what you want?'
Yes. Because she had gotten a family out of it; she'd gotten friends. Bruce and Dickie and even the agents at MIB.
Arley threw herself off the car, grunting as she hit the asphalt; the world around her was spinning and Arley could feel the blood under her suit running down her back, she could see Hakk, as he approached her flipping his knife in the air like he was enjoying the fight.
And maybe he was.
Arley stumbled to her feet.
"Chayra's soul kid, give up," Hakk laughed, "You're bleeding. Step aside and let me find who I'm looking for, I'm sure those Guardians of yours will give you a pat on the back for trying."
"Go to hell," Arley snapped, her ring sparked to life on her finger, leaking light as ideas for constructs flickered through her head, "The Kryptonian is in my sector, asshole, meaning they're under my protection. The only way you're getting to them is over my dead body!"
Hakks shoulders dropped, he flipped the knife once more.
"Have it your way." Hakk took a step towards Arley and a spear formed in her hand. It was twice her size and both ends were pointed; Laira had shown her how to use it the last time she was on Oa. After Kilowog, Laira— the Lantern from sector zero-one-one-two —was the next Lantern Arley would want at her side.
Hakk raised his arm to swipe the blade down at Arley only for something— someone —to seemingly come out of nowhere and land in between both Arley and Hakk before either party could attack the other.
Arley's eyes widened at the sight of a bright red cape; she took two steps back and watched as Hakk's knife bent against the newcomer's arm. Arley gapped as the newcomer easily— without so much as a sweat —picked Hakk up by the front of his shirt, only to throw the pink alien into one of the cars that lined the street.
The tan colored car bent around Hakk as the alien crushed the hood under his weight.
She caught sight of an equally bright red 'S' on his chest; Superman , Arley thought. Just as Batman had the symbol on his chest and Arley had her Corps' symbol on hers, Superman must have his symbol on his chest.
The newcomer— Superman —turned to Arley and though he had attacked Hakk, Arley stilled and gripped her construct tighter; she could be wrong, this could be someone else entirely. The symbol on his chest didn't have to mean he was Superman; Arley's grip loosened at the sight of the newcomer's warm smile aimed in her direction.
All the whispers about Superman said he was strong, that bullets bounced off of him the same they would ricochet off a wall; they also said he was kind. Where Batman would simply disappear into the night after having saved someone, this Superman would hover at the side of whoever he had saved until the sounds of sires had been heard and he could no longer stay.
"Thank you," Superman said, there was a hint of some kind of accent in his speech, "I'll handle this from here. You should get medical attention."
Superman's smile dropped and they turned back to Hakk, with their broad shoulders pushed back the newcomer started towards the pink alien; they didn't bother to stop as Hakk, still in the wreckage of the car, raised his cybernetic arm and fired.
Like the knife hadn't, the blast didn't even affect Superman, Arley's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open— " Holy shit he's real!" Someone, a cop maybe, or a civilian perhaps, exclaimed loudly —as Superman once more picked Hakk up by the front of their shirt.
"I heard you were looking for me," Superman said, Hakks face dropped.
"You're the Krpytonian?"
Superman wasn't some dude who'd fallen into a vat of nuclear waste; he wasn't the descendant of some alien who had inherited their recessive traits, Superman was the alien.
"I am."
A myriad of emotions passed though Hakks face; the pink alien's fist swung out and hit the side of the Kyrptonians face, only for Hakk, with a mangled cry, to reel his hand back. Superman— even with Hakks super strength —acted as if he'd never been hit; using the arm that wasn't holding Hakk up, Superman grabbed the end of the other alien's cybernetic arm and squeezed.
Once he was finished squeezing the barrel of the Hakks cybernetic arm like a finished soda can— so that Hakk could no longer fire at either him or Arley —Superman dropped Hakk.
With a vengeful snarl, Hakk's legs kicked out and Supermans' feet came out from under him; Arley as Hakk jumped on top of the Kryptonian, thrusted her arm out and a glowing green hand shot out from Arley's ring, ripping Hakk off of Superman and throwing him once more, back on top of the already ruined car he had landed on before.
Superman, as he got to his feet, looked to Arley, "Thanks."
"It's no problem," Arley said as she maneuvered her construct to unstrap the holster full of knives from around Hakk's thighs and the fanny pack like bag from around his waist. "I owed you one," Arley added. She turned to the police and nodded.
Arley and Superman carefully watched as several officers and a handful of EMT's came rushing forward; the police swarmed Hakk, their guns were drawn as a few of them, and some of the EMT's who had rushed forward, began to lift him off of the car. Once Hakk was secured into a stretcher three EMT's swarmed Arley and Superman, gawking at the both of them.
Arley loved saving the day but she hated when afterwards people looked at her like she was an exhibit in the zoo. Like some sort of sideshow to marvel at. She wasn't; no one marveled at firefighters after they put out a blaze or doctors after surgery.
But then again, firefighters and doctors were heroes.
Slowly civilians began to come out of the stores they'd gone to hide in; like the EMT's they were looking at Arley and Superman. An elder man though, hovered by the destroyed car both Arley and Superman had sent Hakk into.
Superman, as Metropolis civilians, continued to look at him and Arley, shifted closer to the young Lantern.
"Lantern one of the officers said you'd been stabbed—"
"—I'm fine," Arley told the EMT; a young man with golden hair and brown eyes, "My ring will take care of it."
"Are you sure?" Superman asked. "I saw what happened."
"I've had worse," Arley answered somewhat sharply; she didn't need to be second guessed in front of civilians, not when they had already seen her get her ass kicked. Not when they already doubted her. "Besides, we need to talk before I go down to the station to find out what the police are going to be doing with Hakk."
The public sector of MIB— BETTA, much to Zeds charging —had stepped into the spotlight weeks ago; and while the Metropolis police department was legally bound to hand the alien over to BETTA, Arley wondered what MIB would do as Hakk would be the first alien they tried publically.
She also wondered where they would hold Hakk. If MIB couldn't hold him Arley was sure Vox had room in a science cell back on Oa.
"We do?" Superman blinked. Arley's eyebrows raised as she nodded. "Okay."
Arley sucked in a deep breath as she lifted herself into the air; Arley moved her arm to form a platform for Superman to stand on only for Superman's own feet to lift off the ground after her. Impressed, and keeping it to herself, Arley led the way, leading Superman to the rooftop of an old warehouse fifteen minutes away from where the two of them had fought Hakk.
No one was around; the area was on the outskirts of Metropolis and while it would be more livly later that night, at the moment— noon on a Tuesday —it was dead.
"You're Superman, right?" Arley asked the Kryptonian before her feet had even properly touched down; Superman nodded, his mouth lifted up into a kind smile.
"I am-or at least that's what people have been calling me. My parents-my adoptive parents though," Superman said, allowing his accent to get thicker in a very familiar way, "They call me Clark."
Arley's mouth dropped open, she blinked once and then twice.
"Like, Clark from before? That Clark?" He nodded. "Dude!" Arley laughed, "Why didn't you say something before!"
"Because-because I'm not sure about all this," Superman— Clark —waved his arms around them, "The way people were looking at us before, the way Jimmy looked at you back at the station. The way they always look at me after I help them, it's like—"
"—They're not sure whether to thank you or run away screaming?" Arley suggested. People looked at her— had looked at them —like they were both grateful and fearful, like while they were wonderfied at what she had done and at what she could do, but they were also, almost waiting for her— for them; Arley or Superman, Batman —to make the wrong move.
To prove they didn't deserve their powers; that they weren't worthy.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Yeah, that part of the job sucks," Arley told Clark, "But if you're not sure then why'd you come help? I would've handled it myself, I mean, you showed yourself," Arley pressed, "People are going to be expecting you to show up to everything now, you get that right?"
"I do," Clark said.
"That means people are going to start looking at you too," Arley explained, her eyes owlish; confused on why he would appear if he hated how people looked at him. "That's not going to go away."
"I know, but you got hurt because of me," Clark said, "I heard what the alien said, how he was looking for me. I heard what you said, how the only way he was going to get to me was over your dead body. I couldn't just stand around anymore after that; I didn't-don't care," Clark corrected himself, "How anyone looks at me."
Arley felt her heart warm; she placed her hand on Clarks elbow.
"Dude I got hurt because it's part of the job," Arley told him, "It's not on you okay? I wasn't kidding when I said I've gotten worse than this-it's part of the job. If Hakk hadn't knocked me around I would have gotten it on patrol later or tomorrow."
"How are you okay with that?" Clark asked sharply, "You're—"
"—A kid? A little girl?" Arley blinked, mockingly at Clark, her mouth twisted and slotted to the side, her tongue licked the outside of her teeth as she regine in her anger. "I was picked, trained and chosen, okay? The same way you chose to go out today and show the world you're real, I chose to pick up the ring when the Guardians offered it to me! I was given an out, I didn't take it. I didn't want to."
Clark titled his chin up at Arley, his light blue eyes seemed to get darker and his young face hardened; for a moment Arley thought Clark was going to call her stupid; a fool. Selfish maybe; not that Arley didn't already know she was selfish, she fought— killed —because the Corps had offered her a home, a family, a bed, food. Because she'd had to and Arley didn't know the meaning of roll over and die.
He didn't though, he smiled kindly at her; a lot like Dickie did. Like he got her.
"I'm sorry," Clark said, he didn't expand, and instead, as his mouth pressed together into a thin line, the Kryptonian leaned back, his fingers digging into the concrete edge. The afternoon sun gleaming off his cape.
"It's cool," Arley said lowly a moment later, she took the seat next to him. "Do you think I could get your autograph though, my friend K, he's pretty into Superheroes."
Clarks booming laughter rang out over the rooftops; "Sure," he said, "Anything for a fellow hero."
And though Arley had issues with that word— hero; Arley wasn't a hero —she ignored the need to argue that welled up inside of her and instead smiled, because Clark, he wasn't like her. He was like Batman; he wouldn't get it.
Firefighters were heroes, doctors were heroes; Superman, Batman, they were heroes. She wasn't, she was a Green Lantern.