Green Lantern: Deserted Red

Hal Jordan soared through the stars with a purpose. After months of off-world duty in the far reaches of Sector 2814, negotiating interstellar treaties, quelling rogue asteroid miners, and fighting off the ugliest creatures known to the Guardians, it was finally time to head home. Earth. Sweet, chaotic, deep-fried Earth. Hal thought about the first greasy burger he was going to annihilate the second he landed. The fresh gooey cookies his partner made. More than that, he smiled at the thought of seeing Carol again. Not as Green Lantern, a soldier of the Corps, but just as Hal. Her Hal. As he got closer to the blue-green marble, his power ring chirped. However, just before he approaches the planet Mars, his ring beeps at him. A distress signal is coming from the barren red planet ahead. Hal furrowed his brow. Mars? That couldn’t be right. The red planet was nothing but rocks, dust, and defunct rovers. “There’s no life on Mars,” he muttered, mostly to himself. For a moment, he actually considered ignoring it. Just for a second. But duty had a way of digging into his gut like a burr. What if someone really was in trouble? Some wayward traveler on an intergalactic road trip? A lost diplomat being harassed by pirates? A Green Lantern’s work was never done. He sighed. “Of course.” Hal veered off his Earth-bound course and arced toward Mars, the red haze of the planet washing over him as he approached. “Here’s hoping this is just a roadside emergency and not a full-blown alien shoot out.”
Hal hovered just above the Martian surface, red dust swirling beneath his feet as he glided across the desolate landscape. His ring glowed a faint green, pulsing in time with the distress beacon he was trying to lock onto. “Alright, come on... show me something,” he muttered. His eyes scanned the terrain, the endless dunes and jagged rock formations casting long shadows in the sun’s distant glow. There was nothing but a peculiar hunk of metal jetting out of the sand. A ship? An old ship that looked like it’d been there for years. It looked worse than unflyable, it looked unrepairable. The only thing that looked remotely usable was the very beacon that called him there. Still, no signs of life. Just rock and silence. Hal frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. “Great. Wild goose chase.” He turned to leave, floating up and away, chalking it up to some weird technical blip, until a voice pierced through his mind out of nowhere, “This way!” Hal stopped cold, every hair on his body standing up. He turned sharply in mid-air, heart pounding just a little faster. “What the hell…?” he muttered, scanning the area again with a renewed urgency. “Please,” the voice echoed again, clear but distant, “take shelter for your own safety.” Hal narrowed his eyes, his ring flaring to life with defensive energy. “Not the most comforting way to say hello,” he yelled to no one. Then, he saw it, a pile of rocks began to shift, no, float, revealing some sort of tunnel, or rather, a burrow-like cave carved into the Martian soil. The mouth of it yawned open before him like a secret, and Hal slowly descended toward it, shoulders tense, every instinct alert. This was no glitch. Something, or someone, was definitely here.
Hal moved cautiously through the cave, his Green Lantern ring casting a steady emerald glow along the tunnel walls. The air was still and dry, heavy with the scent of dust that hadn’t shifted in his lifetime. His boots crunched softly on the rock beneath him, the sound oddly loud in the silence. “Alright,” he called out, voice echoing faintly, “mind telling me what was so bad out there you needed to lure me into your underground hidey hole?” The glow of his ring danced across jagged stone as he pressed deeper into the cavern. The voice returned, calm but urgent, echoing directly in his thoughts. “There is a danger on this planet. It has waited centuries to escape.” Hal frowned, ring lifting slightly in front of him. “That’s a pretty vague warning,” he muttered. “And last I checked, Mars was supposed to be uninhabited. No danger. No life. Just red dust. Which makes me wonder if you’re the danger, and this little cave detour was the trap.” A shimmer rippled across the tunnel ahead, and in a blink, the air distorted, revealing a tall, imposing figure where there had been only empty space. Hal took a startled step back, ring flaring in defense as his eyes went wide. Standing before him was a being unlike any he had ever seen. Towering and lean, with smooth green skin, deep red eyes, and an air of quiet solemnity. Hal tensed. “And what the hell are supposed to be?” The figure stepped forward slowly. “My name is J’onn J’onzz,” he said, his voice echoing inside Hal’s head as his lips did not move. “And you are right to be cautious. There is a trap on this planet, but it is not mine.” Hal stared, lowering his hand only slightly. “You’re a Martian. A real, green, Martian.” He shook his head, the weight of disbelief crashing down. J’onn nodded gravely. “I am among the last. The only other of my kind that I know still survives remains trapped here. But he has not given up on escaping. If he succeeds, many worlds will suffer.” Hal’s eyes narrowed. “So, what happened to the others? And why would this guy want to escape to hurt people?” J’onn hesitated, then tilted his head slightly. “If you allow me, I can show you.” Hal raised a brow. “Show me?” “My species are telepaths,” J’onn explained. “I can share memories, images, emotion. Instead od simple verbal explanation.” His tone held no threat, just a quiet sincerity. Hal hesitated, instinctively wary. But something in J’onn’s presence, the weight of centuries behind his eyes, felt honest. Against his better judgment, Hal gave a cautious nod. “Alright. Show me.”
J’onn raised his long fingers and placed them gently against his temple. The world around them melted away into an ever-shifting mindscape, swirling colors and echoing sound, ancient and alive. Hal stood in the center of a vision that was not his own. A world unfolded before him, vibrant and alive. Millennia ago, before the asteroid that wiped out Earth’s dinosaurs ever pierced the sky, Mars thrived. Towering ziggurats reached toward crimson skies, their forms etched with the artistry of a culture as rich and storied similar to Earth’s ancient Aztecs or Egyptians. Hal marveled as floating canals shimmered under twin moons and streets buzzed with life, telepathic communication rippling through the air. It’s knowing silence felt like music. Martian civilization was at its peak, a wonder of science and soul. But the paradise was not built to last. Mars had always been a fragile world. Its thin atmosphere, composed almost entirely of greenhouse gases, gave little protection from the temperature and less room for error. The rivers, scarce to begin with, began to dry. The air grew harsher, the skies more red than gold. Yet, Martians adapted. Their bodies, already perfectly evolved to withstand the inhospitable, became even more miraculous. Cities moved underground, where water could still be drawn from the stone and sunlight filtered in carefully calibrated slivers. Hal watched as entire civilizations descended beneath the surface like a great migration of ants, leaving their glorious ruins to be swallowed by sand and time. But not everything that grew below was beautiful. J’onn’s voice echoed through the vision, layered with pain. “Among us were two peoples, green and white. Same in every way but one: color. And yet, that difference was enough.” The vision shifted again, flashes of civil unrest, protests, battles. Soldiers clashed in cavernous halls lit by bioluminescent minerals. The white Martians, pale and sharp like ghosts, waged war against the green. Hal felt the heat of the conflict, the tragedy of it. He saw a younger J’onn among the ranks, fierce and stalwart. Years passed. Decades. Eventually, the bloodshed burned itself out. The white Martians, bitter and unwilling to share what little remained of the planet, took to the stars. They left their red homeland behind, seeking new worlds and leaving the green Martians to reclaim peace in the silence of subterranean solitude. And peace did come. The vision softened. Hal felt it, warmth, joy, a sense of home. He saw J’onn walking hand in hand with a woman, their minds brushing like wind against wind. He saw a small child running ahead, her laughter like light. J’onn’s voice cracked, soft and reverent. “For the first time in my life, I knew something other than war. I had love. A family. A future. It was… perfect.” The mindscape shimmered gently like the last moments before a dream turns cold. “I never saw it coming,” J’onn whispered. “The terror was already upon us.”
J’onn’s voice lowered, thick with the gravity of what came next. “It wasn’t war that ended our world,” he said, his eyes narrowing in the shadows of the cave. “It was extermination.” The mindscape pulsed again, shifting into colder, harsher tones. Hal stood amidst a storm of steel and fire, the skies over Mars filled not with weather, but with machines. Red light drowned beneath blue as merciless mechanical men descended from above. “The Manhunters,” J’onn said. Hal’s head turned sharply, his voice cutting through the vision. “Wait, the Manhunters? As in the old machines from Oa?” His ring crackled slightly, as if protesting the implication. J’onn nodded once, slow and certain. “The very same. Created by the Guardians of the Universe. The forebearers to your Corps. They came to Mars under the banner of order. Justice. But they brought only genocide.” Hal’s brows furrowed and his tone snapped defensive, “The Green Lantern Corps isn’t like them. We’re nothing like them. We protect life. I’ve even fought one of those relics, a rogue Manhunter on a prison world years back. They’re ancient mistakes. We’re better.” J’onn held up a calming hand. “I know, Hal Jordan. I’ve seen that the Lanterns are different. The Guardians grew wiser. Perhaps even noble. And I do not blame you.” J’onn looked down, solemn. “But understanding history means accepting that no tragedy is born of a single hand. The blood of my people is on many.” Hal stood in silence, his jaw tight. But curiosity stirred beneath the tension. “Alright,” he said. “But why would they attack Mars in the first place? Even defective lawmen don’t open fire on a planet for no reason. What made you a target?” J’onn’s expression dulled, “Because the white Martians made us all a target.” Hal’s brow arched. “Go on.” The vision swirled again. Images flickered past like a projector reel on hyperdrive, foreign worlds, peaceful capitals, faces not Martian, yet familiar. “When the whites left Mars,” J’onn explained, “they hid among the stars. Shapeshifters, blending into other species, becoming their neighbors, their leaders. They wormed into power across systems without shedding a drop of blood.” Hal blinked. “They just assimilated? High positions even? Without being noticed?” J’onn met his eyes. “You underestimate our gift. With enough time and study, a Martian, especially a powerful one, can know a person better than they know themselves. Thoughts, habits, desires. They became the people they replaced.” A heavy silence followed. “And those who saw through the illusion? They disappeared.” Hal swallowed, the weight of that sinking in. The Manhunters hadn’t seen green or white. They saw a race of deceivers. A threat. And their programming did what it was built to do, eradicate it. J’onn let the images fade, leaving Hal standing in the quiet dark of the cave once more. “And so,” J’onn said softly, “Mars became a memory. A red planet, not just in color, but in blood.”
Hal stood still, his eyes searched J’onn’s, looking for any crack that might reveal the story to be something else, a distortion, an exaggeration, a mistake. But all he found was truth, ancient and aching. “We need to stop them,” Hal said, finally, firmly. “Whatever white Martians are left, we find them. We stop them.” J’onn didn’t return the certainty. His voice was quiet, cold like stone. “Your Guardians have already tried.” A flicker of green light danced across Hal’s ring. “With the Manhunters,” he muttered, the realization creeping in. J’onn nodded once. “The Manhunters became aware of the white Martians’... influence. Their infiltration. Their silent occupation of worlds that never saw it coming. The Guardians issued a response.” The cave grew darker, colder, as J’onn continued. “They developed a method of detection. A way to track Martian DNA signatures across the cosmos. But what they didn’t understand, what they never asked, was that our biology is the same. Green and white, we are one species, evolved in parallel. To a Manhunter, there was no difference.” Hal’s stomach turned. “They couldn’t tell you apart.” “No,” J’onn said. “And worse… they didn’t care to.” He turned away, as if the memory still burned. “Martians are gifted with telepathy, emotion, empathy. Traits that mean nothing to machines. The Manhunters were immune to our minds. Resistant to our abilities. All we had was brute strength and shapeshifting, and even that wasn’t enough.” Hal’s throat felt dry. “They came in numbers,” J’onn confirmed. “Dozens, then hundreds. Descending from the stars like a divine hammer. I fought. We all fought. Families turned warriors overnight. We buried our children in the sands before we were buried ourselves.” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Hal heard not the stoic Martian, but the grieving father. “My partner. My daughter. Burned alive before my eyes. There was nothing I could do.” Hal’s lips parted but no words came out. He stared, silent, as a tear welled in the corner of his emerald mask. “And somehow,” J’onn whispered, “I survived. I fought until the last Manhunter was scrap and ash. And when the smoke cleared, there were two of us left. Myself and Ma’alefa’ak.”
J’onn said the name with the weight of a stone dropped into still water. “That’s who called you here.” Hal frowned. “The distress signal? It came from him?” J’onn nodded, “He’s been trying to leave Mars for years. We were soldiers once, comrades in arms. We fought side by side through the wars, shared the same foxholes. I trusted him with my life. And for a long time, I think he did the same.” Hal tilted his head. “So what changed?” J’onn’s expression nearly vanished into the shadows of the cave, “Isolation… grief… time. All of them twisted his grief into something vengeful. He began to see justice in extremes. He wanted to punish the universe for what happened to our people.” Hal went concerningly puzzled, “How extreme?” “Ma’alefa’ak wants to find every world that once hosted a white Martian colony,” J’onn said. “And he wants to bring them all down. One by one.” Hal blinked. “He’s going to destroy entire planets?” J’onn’s eyes narrowed. “He believes that the Manhunters failed. That somewhere, anywhere, white Martians still remain, hiding in skin that’s not their own. If left alone, he believes their secret empire will grow again, stronger than before.” Hal stood in silence, absorbing it. “So… why haven’t you stopped him?” “I am trying,” J’onn said, quietly. “Every time a ship comes close enough for a signal, Ma’alefa’ak tries to find it first. If it’s occupied, he assimilates. If not, he scours it for any means of escape. And I intercept when I can. Sometimes I catch him, sometimes I’m too late and I have to destroy the ships myself. Just to make sure he never gets off-world.” Hal glanced over, “So he’s setting up beacons. Luring people here.” “There must be wrecks all over the planet,” J’onn confirmed. “Most are not functional. But some… still sing.” Hal stood firm, “Then we’re done playing defense. Let’s face him.” J’onn’s jaw clenched. “I… I can’t. I’ve tried, but I can’t bring myself to kill him. He may not be the same, but once, he was my friend.” Hal took a step forward, placing a firm hand on J’onn’s shoulder. “Good thing I don’t plan on killing him. The ring doesn’t allow for lethal force.” J’onn looked up, confused. “Then what do you intend?” Hal gave a sharp smile, his aura starting to glow. “Let’s just say Oa’s got plenty of cell space for chumps like him.”
J’onn hesitated. His eyes drifted to the mouth of the cave where the Martian winds howled through the rocks. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “After this… if we stop him, if we trap him… what then? What do I become?” Hal lowered his ring for a moment, his voice softening. “You become free, J’onn.” J’onn looked away, his jaw clenched. “I lost everything. My family, my people, my purpose. The only thing I’ve had left is making sure he never leaves this planet. And if I take that away, what am I?” Hal didn’t hesitate. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But trust me, there’s always something after. A new path. A new reason.” He powered up the ring again, green light humming as a massive drill construct shimmered into existence, rotating with a mechanical roar. “But we don’t get to find out what comes next until we finish what’s in front of us.” J’onn stared at him for a long moment, then turned toward the massive pile of stones blocking their path. With a heavy sigh and a reluctant nod, he raised his hands. The rocks trembled, shifting and sliding aside with eerie precision. Sunlight pierced through the gap as the boulders rolled away, revealing the red horizon of the Martian desert. The two figures stepped out into the open. Wind whipped across the barren landscape as they prepared to face the prisoner of Mars.
They hovered just above the rust-colored dunes, the stillness of the Martian sky stretching endlessly above them. The silence was thick, Hal’s ring glowing softly at his side. Hal squinted into the distance, searching for any sign of movement. “How long do you think he’s gonna take?” he asked, impatience creeping into his voice. “Maybe he’s shy.” J’onn stood motionless beside him, his eyes scanning the horizon. “He is not shy,” he said. “He’ll come.” “Well, let’s make sure he knows where the party’s at.” Hal raised his ring hand skyward and fired a brilliant, searing green flare into the atmosphere. It arced like a flare from some interstellar god, illuminating the Martian wasteland for miles in every direction. Hal smirked. “That ought to do it.” J’onn didn’t smile. He only nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “It will.” Minutes passed. Long ones. The kind that bend time with their stillness. Until something stirred. Far on the horizon, a dark cloud bloomed, thick and swirling, rising like a storm made of smoke and malice. Hal’s smirk faded as he stared at it. “Uh… that doesn’t look like you,” he muttered. “What the hell is that thing?” J’onn’s eyes narrowed, voice low. “I may have… forgotten to mention,” he said. “Ma’alefa’ak takes his name from an ancient predator that once hunted these lands. That form you see, he favors it. An apex form. One meant to intimidate.” “Mission accomplished,” Hal muttered, raising his hand to construct a massive armored gauntlet, its surface gleaming with runes of willpower. The wind kicked up as the smoke storm closed in, the beast at its heart becoming clearer, massive, hulking, tendrils writhing from its back, a maw of jagged teeth open in anticipation. The moment of contact was explosive. Ma’alefa’ak leapt from the storm with monstrous fury, jaws wide and screaming. Hal didn’t flinch. His emerald gauntlet swung hard, landing a clean right hook across the creature’s face. The sound rang across the desert like thunder. “Tag,” Hal said. “You’re it.”
The clash between will and wrath turned savage. Hal and Ma’alefa’ak clashed like titans in the blood-red dust, a storm of chaos and green light. Every swipe of the Martian’s monstrous claws was met by a radiant construct, spiked shields, battering rams, hammers the size of cars. But Ma’alefa’ak was tireless, shifting shape mid-attack, slipping around the edges of Hal’s will-made defenses like smoke with claws. Hal gritted his teeth, panting, every breath strained as he dodged, blocked, retaliated. J’onn hovered above the fray, distant, casting boulders with a flick of his fingers. His power was visible, but his spirit seemed anchored in hesitation, as though every strike burned him from the inside out. “Hey, tall dark and haunted,” Hal called mid-dodge. “How bout a little more help, please?” Hal landed a blow, a brutal one. Hal’s glowing construct gauntlet smashed into the side of Ma’alefa’ak’s twisted jaw, and for the first time, the Martian bled. The viscous, dark green blood slid down the beast’s chin as he wiped his mouth with a clawed hand. His monstrous eyes narrowed. Then, his body began to shift again, upright and towering, the beast looking almost civilized. Civilized and pissed off. He stared straight into Hal’s eyes. Not just at him, but into him. Hal gasped, staggering mid-air. His body locked up as an icy invisible hand seemed to reach inside his skull and scrape the inner walls. Vivid, relentless memories then began flooding in. His father’s bomber spiraling down in flames. The scream in his throat that never made it out. The sound of metal shrieking. The smell of fuel and fire. Feelings he had buried that day deep. But now it was unspooling before him like film on fire. He screamed. J’onn’s fingers trembled, torn between dread and action. He had seen this tactic before, Ma’alefa’ak’s cruelest weapon was never his strength, but the way he hollowed a man from the inside. But this time, J’onn moved. He pressed his hands to his own temple and reached out psychically, thrusting himself into the storm raging in Ma’alefa’ak’s mind. The beast flinched. Hal gasped, air rushing back into his lungs, body breaking from the mental grip. He barely had time to think before acting, snapping his fingers and forming a massive, glowing green Iron Maiden, blades lining its walls like hungry teeth. With a crack of light, it snapped shut around Ma’alefa’ak. Inside the mental plane, J’onn was still locked in battle, memory for memory, agony for agony. But Ma’alefa’ak had saved his sharpest knife for last. With a sneer of thought, he flooded J’onn’s mind with fire. The one that caused his family’s screams that echoed in the walls of his soul. His wife. His daughter. Charred bones and ash. Nothing left but smoke and silence. J’onn screamed an anguished soul-rending wail and the mental link snapped. Ma’alefa’ak finds himself in the glowing green iron maden and scowls at Hal before turning fading invisible and density shifting right out of his construct. The Iron Maiden cracked open, empty. Hal spun, eyes scanning wildly. “No, no—where did he—?” Too late. J’onn floated beside him, silent. They both watched the dust settle. Ma’alefa’ak had vanished. Whether he’d turned invisible, density-shifted through the ground, or dissolved into the wind, they couldn’t say. But he was gone. Again. And somewhere on that dead red world… he was waiting.
Hal hovered above the dusty red surface, teeth clenched and hands balled into fists. “Damn it,” he muttered. “We let him slip right through my fingers.” His ring dimmed slightly as his shoulders fell. The battle had taken its toll, and not just physically. Watching something so dangerous vanish into thin air didn’t exactly inspire confidence. J’onn floated beside him, arms crossed. “He will return,” he said with quiet certainty. “Ma’alefa’ak never lets things lie. It’s only a matter of time.” Hal scoffed. “Would’ve been nice to know he could phase through hard light constructs. That might’ve been useful intel before I tried to trap him in a glowing torture box.” J’onn gave a small nod. “To be honest, I did not know he could.” Hal gave him a sideways glance. “Seriously?” “We are the same species,” J’onn explained, “but we are not the same. Not anymore. His abilities evolve in ways I never imagined. Still, now that we know, we’ll need a new approach.” “Great,” Hal said flatly. “So now we’ve gotta knock him unconscious before we can even think about containing him. Easier said than done.” J’onn’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I believe I must enter your mind next time we face him.” Hal blinked. “What?” “If I fight him inside your mental field,” J’onn elaborated, “while his focus is on you, I can strike from within. A psionic ambush.” Hal rubbed his temples. “You want him to attack my brain again. But this time with me holding the door open?” “Only long enough for me to do what I must.” “Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard pass,” Hal grunted. “Unless we put a safety net in place.” J’onn raised an eyebrow. “We call in backup,” Hal said, tapping the side of his ring. J’onn says “There is likely not enough time to call in a Lantern from another sector. Ma’alefa’ak will come back before they arrive.” Hal smirked subtly, “There’s another Lantern stationed real close. Earth’s just a stone’s throw away. John Stewart. He could be here in less than an hour.” J’onn hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. That could work. But send the message now. I doubt Ma’alefa’ak will wait.” Hal raised his ring and focused. A faint glow pulsed from the emerald band as he spoke, his voice direct and clipped. “Stewart, this is Hal. Mars. Urgent. Code red. We’ve got a dangerous Martian threat. I need backup, fast.” He dropped his hand. “Signal’ll take about eight minutes to reach him at the speed of light. If he’s paying attention, he’ll be on his way.” J’onn’s gaze drifted toward the horizon. “Then we prepare.”
Hal and J’onn sat back-to-back on a pair of Mars boulders, their eyes scanning opposite horizons, locked in vigilant silence. The Martian wind blew soft waves of red dust across the cracked surface, and the eerie quiet stretched on endlessly. Mars minutes felt longer than Earth hours. Conversation came and went in short bursts, mostly Hal trying to lighten the mood and J’onn answering in the kind of serious calm that made Hal feel like he was talking too loud. Eventually, even the banter died off. Hal rubbed his eyes. He’d been awake for close to two Earth days now to make his way back home, and his body was starting to cash the checks his willpower had been writing. His head nodded once. Twice. A third time, and then he was out. A faint distant noise then startled him awake. Hal jolted up, heart pounding, and his ring flared to life as he launched himself skyward, scanning the horizon with glowing eyes and fists raised. The adrenaline drowned out any lingering drowsiness. But instead of a charging monster, he found something else rising over the ridge, someone. Arms raised high in mock surrender. “Jeez,” John Stewart called out, “I come all the way to Mars to help you out and you wanna vaporize me? Maybe I’ll just turn around and head home.” Hal’s shoulders dropped, tension melting away as he lowered his ring. “Oh, man. John. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” John descended and landed beside him. “Alright, space cowboy. Debrief me.” Hal exhaled and gestured toward the rocky landscape. “Turns out Mars wasn’t as empty as everyone thought. There were Martians, a whole civilization once. Two left now. Green Martians.” John blinked. “Wait, what? Seriously?” He looked around. “We’ve had rovers, satellites, how the hell did no one know this?” Hal shrugged. “They used to live underground. Way underground.” John’s brow furrowed. “Used to?” “They’re all dead now. All but two.” John rubbed his jaw, then glanced toward the horizon. “Okay… where are they now?” “One’s helping me,” Hal said, pointing past the next ridge. “He’s just over that hill.” John’s expression shifted, his stance tightened, his eyes narrowed. “Woah, woah, hold on. You’re trusting him? Just like that?” Hal raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.” “For all you know,” John pressed, “they’re both playing you. One’s the distraction while the other tries to slip away. C’mon, Hal, you’ve been out here, exhausted, isolated. Maybe they’re just… I dunno, pulling strings.” Hal stood firm, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve seen a lot in the Corps, John. I know manipulation when I see it. This guy, J’onn, he’s different. He’s lost everything. He’s trying to do the right thing.” John wasn’t convinced, not yet. But Hal’s voice didn’t waver. Not once.
From just over the crest of the hill, a shadow moved, J’onn’s elongated Martian form peeking over the ridge. His red eyes locked onto the scene unfolding below, and in an instant, his expression twisted in horror. Without warning, he sprang forward. “J’onn, wait!” Hal barely got the words out before J’onn J’onzz collided with John Stewart, tackling him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and dust. The impact sent a shockwave of confusion rippling through the moment. “What the hell are you doing?!” Hal shouted, charging toward them as J’onn pinned John with monstrous strength. “Do not trust him!” J’onn growled, his voice raw and urgent. “That is not your ally!” Hal held up a hand. “What are you talking about? That’s John! One of the good guys!” J’onn didn’t let up. His eyes bore into the man beneath him. “Then why,” he asked, his voice low and damning, “does he not defend himself with his ring?” Hal froze. Just for a beat. He turned to look, really look, and sure enough, John hadn’t even raised a hand. No ring constructs. No shield. Nothing. Just an easy, slow smirk forming across his face. “You fools,” John whispered, and then his voice warped. The skin on his face bubbled and shifted, his features melting like wax into something longer, leaner, sharper. His Green Lantern uniform unraveled. Ma’alefa’ak. “You’ll pay for your ignorance,” the Martian snarled. His gaze snapped to Hal, and suddenly, like a vice clamping down on his brainstem, Hal felt the invasion begin. Ma’alefa’ak was in his mind again.
Inside the endless black expanse of Hal Jordan’s mind, the chaos took shape. Floating memories shimmered like fragile glass panes, suspended in the void, each pulsing with painful clarity. Ma’alefa’ak’s voice slithered through the space like smoke, smooth and venomous. “What is it that troubles you most, Lantern?” he purred, drifting lazily through Hal’s thoughts. “What little ache have you buried deep inside that even your willpower can’t silence?” Hal gritted his teeth as scenes began to flicker and flash before him, each one a stab sharper than the last. His father’s plane, engulfed in flames. Corpses on alien worlds. A thousand close calls. Faces he couldn’t save. Guilt. Failure. Fear. The burdens of a protector. They hit like waves, crashing into him again and again until, “Oh…” Ma’alefa’ak’s eyes lit up. “A female.” The scene sharpened. Carol Ferris. Smiling in the sunlight. Laughing in the cockpit. Her hand in his. Hal’s breath caught. He couldn’t stop it, his defenses crumbling. “She is your deepest pain,” Ma’alefa’ak whispered with a smug tilt of his head. “You don’t want to be a savior, do you? Not really. No, what you want is far more… mundane.” Hal dropped to his knees as the whisper echoed from every direction, somehow louder than any scream. He pressed his hands to his ears, but there was no blocking it. This wasn’t noise, it was presence. It was inside him. “You want to be happy. You want to be loved,” Ma’alefa’ak cooed. “To start a family. A home. To fall asleep each night next to Carol Ferris. Not guarding the galaxy. Not glowing green.” Hal shook his head violently, “Shut up.” “And yet, you won’t,” Ma’alefa’ak said, crouching down before him, “Why is that, I wonder?” The answer came before Hal could muster a word. “Oh right. That damned willpower,” Ma’alefa’ak sneered. “You think you have a duty. That this ring gave you responsibility.” Hal let out a scream as the truth pressed into him like a crushing weight. Ma’alefa’ak stood tall, arms wide like a preacher delivering the gospel. “How sad. You built your own prison, Lantern. You lock yourself in and throw away the key.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a hiss. “And I thought my confinement was bad.”
Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed through the dark chambers of Hal’s fractured mind, but not his own. Ma’alefa’ak’s form jerked violently, his cruel grin collapsing into a snarl of pain as he fell hard onto the glowing psychic floor. The distortion of the mental plane flickered, and from behind the fallen Martian, a tall silhouette stood behind him. J’onn J’onzz, stoic and solemn, stepped into view, his presence like cool water dousing fire. He walked forward with careful grace and placed a gentle hand on Hal’s trembling shoulder. “Stand, Hal Jordan,” he said softly. Hal didn’t respond. He knelt there, shoulders hunched, chest heaving with sobs. Tears streaked down his face, each one carved from the bedrock of guilt, longing, and the unbearable truth that had just been unearthed within him. J’onn’s gaze softened, deep with the kind of empathy that can only come from shared pain. Then, with a breath, he severed the link, and the three of them were pulled back to reality. Hal blinked against the red Martian dust. His body still shook. Ma’alefa’ak lay crumpled in the dirt nearby, unconscious. The psychic war had taken its toll. J’onn turned to Hal, his voice low, grave. “I know what it is to miss someone so much it suffocates you.” His crimson eyes flickered with memory. “I know what it is to see their face in your dreams and wake up alone. But there is a crucial difference between you and I, Earthling.” Hal looked up at him, blurry-eyed. “Your love is still alive.” Hal’s breath hitched, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a broken whisper, “But the time we spend together, is it even worth it?” J’onn didn’t miss a beat. “That,” he said firmly, “is up to you.” He knelt down, his tone steady but kind. “You are not a prisoner of your will, Hal Jordan. You are the master of it. Your life is not a punishment. It’s a story. And you get to decide how it ends.” Hal wiped his eyes, jaw clenched. “I have a duty.” J’onn gave him a sharp look. “Nonsense.” Hal blinked. “You have a duty to yourself,” J’onn said. “To choose what makes your life worth living.”
Out of nowhere, a brilliant green streak tore across the Martian sky, painting the red atmosphere with light as it approached. Hal blinked upward, eyes squinting as he wiped his remaining tears. The familiar silhouette descended with precision, boots crunching against the dust. John Stewart, the real John Stewart, stood with his ring at his side. He looked from Hal to the unconscious form of Ma’alefa’ak sprawled in the dirt, then back to Hal, raising an eyebrow. “Okay,” John said, voice dry as the Martian wind, “What the hell did I miss?” Cut to a few moments later, Hal has his arms crossed, leaning against a Martian boulder, explaining the situation while John conjured a green cop car hovering above the surface. It was decided. Hal, having planned to return to Earth anyway, would stay back and cover his home sector for the time it would take John would transport the shapeshifting war criminal back to Oa for incarceration. The green vehicle hovered, Ma’alefa’ak floating in a suspended containment field in the back seat. Hal gave John a half-smirk, “It’s funny.” “What is?” John asked. “You,” Hal said, nodding toward the construct. “Green Lantern. Space cop. Driving a cruiser.” John acted bashful, “Just doing my job,” he said, before blasting up into the Martian sky and vanishing into space. Hal turned to J’onn, who stood quietly beside him. “Hey,” Hal said. “Thanks. Really. I’d be space toast if it weren’t for you.” J’onn gave a small nod. “You ever get tired of the silence out here,” Hal continued, “you ought to visit Earth. Lotta noise. Lotta people. You’d blend right in.” J’onn looked at him, unmoving. “I appreciate the invitation. But solitude is familiar to me now.” Hal tilted his head. “Yeah, but Earth could use someone like you. You’ve got strength, heart, and you can read minds, which would honestly save us a fortune in therapy.” J’onn gave him a sidelong glance. Hal pressed on, “I’m serious. I think you could make a real difference. Especially now, with Ma’alefa’ak off-world, Mars doesn’t need you watching over it anymore.” J’onn’s expression faltered for just a second. A flicker of hesitation, or maybe curiosity. He looked back toward the desolate red horizon, then back to Hal. “Perhaps,” J’onn said slowly, “a trial run could suit me well.” Hal lit up. “Atta boy.” He raised his ring, letting the familiar green glow envelop them both, forming into an absurdly stereotypical flying saucer with blinking lights and a dome-top. “Let’s ride, Marvin.” J’onn gave it a blank stare, entirely unamused. “Is this standard?” Hal grinned. “What? No, it’s a joke.” J’onn didn’t move a muscle. “I do not understand.” Hal sighed. “Yeah, we’re definitely gonna get you some Earth television. You’re missing out on a killer punchline.”
A soft breeze swept through the outdoor patio of the Coast City diner, catching the corner of a napkin and fluttering it over the edge of the table. Hal Jordan reached across the booth, gently brushing Carol’s fingers with his own as the two sat in the fading golden glow of sunset. The remnants of milkshakes sat half-melted, the plates cleared, but neither of them had moved for some time. They’d laughed, they’d reminisced, they’d pretended, just for a moment, that the universe didn’t need saving. Carol looked at him, her smile fading. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” Hal’s eyes dropped to the table. He hesitated. God, he wanted to say no. He wanted to stay. Just stay. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I have a job to do.” Carol’s jaw tightened, just a little. Not out of anger, out of ache. “You always have a job to do.” Hal reached out again, cradling her hand in his. “I don’t want to,” he said. “More than anything, Carol… I want to be here with you. Every night. Every morning. But—” “Duty,” she finished for him, her voice a whisper. He nodded. The silence that followed was unbearable. Hal stood, reluctant, and stepped out into the street. His ring began to glow. Carol followed him out, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re gonna burn out one day, Hal,” she said. “And I’m scared I won’t be there to see it.” Hal looked back at her, his chest tight. “Maybe,” he said. “But if I don’t go… someone else might be the one who burns instead.” The green light enveloped him slowly, rising from his boots to his shoulders. He hovered slightly off the ground now, haloed in emerald energy. Carol stared up at him, her heart breaking in silence. Star-crossed lovers, destined to never quite be on the same page, never in the same place. “Save a dance for me,” he said. “I’ve saved so many already,” she replied. And with a final, mournful look… he was gone. A streak of green fire across the sky, vanishing into the stars.

Page updated

Google Sites

Report abuse