Somewhere above the Earth's atmosphere—just beyond the city Hal Jordan once called his own—strands of green light tore through the clouds like celestial javelins. Fast. Focused. Violent in entry but silent upon arrival.
They hovered now, suspended in the air just above the city skyline. Four of them. Lanterns.
The largest among them, built like a war machine, floated forward slightly. Pink skin marbled with thick ridges, his jaw wide and tusked. His frame strained the edges of his uniform, bulk never quite fitting the mold. Kilowog's gaze drifted down, scanning the terrain beneath them with a half-squint.
His tone was gravel, roughened by experience and contempt for silence.
"So," he muttered, glancing down at the dull gray structures sprawling below. "This the place the ring said, huh? The one the Guardians marked?"
He opened his fist. Inside, nestled against his palm, a ring glowed faintly. Subtle. Still warm.
From behind, another figure glided closer. Sleeker. Taller. His body lean, scales faintly catching the light—green on yellow, fading toward translucent wings that folded along his back. Tomar-Tu's voice was calmer, but not soft. Measured, as always.
"It is," he said.
He paused, then tilted his head slightly. "We should meet with John Stewart before doing anything else."
Beside Kilowog floated a smaller lantern—Arisia. Slender, young, with pointed ears and short golden hair that barely shifted in the windless altitude. Her skin had the faintest glow, like moonlight on soft fabric. Eyes large, bright, and—at this moment—wide with awe.
"So this is Hal's home planet…" she said quietly. Her voice held something close to wonder. "It's so… different."
She didn't mean it unkindly. Just truthfully. Like someone who'd been told a myth and now stood inside it.
But the warmth in her voice found no echo.
Soranik Natu floated just beyond her, arms crossed over her chest, her posture straighter than necessary. Her skin was deep red, flawless and unyielding. Black hair pulled tightly back. Her beauty was precise—cut from sharp lines and colder features. Even her stance seemed professional.
"If by different you mean primitive," she said flatly, "then yes. It's very different."
Her eyes didn't move from the horizon.
"It's a shame. As a species, they hold potential. But they waste it."
There was no venom in her words. Just detachment. Like a scientist logging an observation she didn't expect to revisit.
Arisia scratched her cheek with one finger, awkward now.
"…I suppose you're right."
Then—whoooomph—a streak of green broke across the distant sky. Another light. Fast. Predictable.
No one flinched. But they adjusted. Slight shifts in posture. All four faced the oncoming direction, hovering in a loose diamond. The new arrival slowed—decelerating until he stopped just ahead of them.
John Stewart.
His presence was calm but exact. No wasted motion. No smile.
"I didn't think the Guardians would send four lanterns," he said.
He nodded once. "But I'm glad they did."
Kilowog scoffed. A short breath that sounded like an engine clearing its throat.
"They couldn't ignore what killed one of the Corps' best without a trace."
John met his gaze, firm. "I'm glad they see it that way too. But…"
His eyes wandered. Just enough to notice. No movement of the head. Just a shift in attention.
Soranik.
Arisia.
He said nothing for a moment.
"…Nevermind."
Soranik's brow creased. Her tone came clear, clipped.
"If you've something to say about me, Lantern Stewart, say it."
No hesitation.
John stayed steady.
"Well. You and your father haven't exactly been subtle about your views on human lanterns. Makes me wonder why you'd be sent. Or why you came."
Soranik didn't back off. But her voice lost none of its sharpness.
"I'm allowed to have opinions. That doesn't change the fact Hal Jordan was respected. More than most."
A pause.
Then a quiet, half-hearted, "Uhm… guys…" from Arisia.
She smiled nervously. "Hal wouldn't want us fighting."
Kilowog grunted, nodding.
"She's right. We're here for Hal. You two wanna throw down, do it later. Right now we've got a ghost to chase."
John looked at Soranik again. She didn't meet his eyes. But she didn't disagree.
Tomar-Tu, ever the pragmatist, spoke next.
"If you're finished, we should begin with the site the ring highlighted. If it leads nowhere, we'll need to recover Hal's battery and move forward from there."
John didn't blink.
"I already have his battery."
That changed something. All four shifted slightly. Even Soranik's composure cracked—just for a second.
John drifted downward a few feet, eyes falling toward the city.
"The site Hal died in—it's been under investigation. We only paused operations due to the Earth situation."
Kilowog's face darkened. He wasn't the only one. Even Arisia's cheerful curiosity dimmed.
Tomar-Tu's voice came low, wary.
"What situation?"
John exhaled slowly through his nose. Not out of exhaustion. Just the kind of sigh that came before a conversation no one wanted to have.
"The Earth situation," he began, eyes still on the city below. "It started with a man named Arias Markovic."
He drifted slightly higher, the others adjusting position to hear better.
"He rose out of Gotham. At first, it looked like he was just another rich radical. But he's… not that simple. He created systems. Academies. Infrastructure. Took over corporations. Nations started folding under his influence without a shot being fired. No mind control. Just promises that actually stuck. Peace through control."
John turned then, gaze moving across each of the four Lanterns.
"Global conflicts dropped. Crime rates in Gotham—the worst city on Earth—hit record lows. Trade stabilized. People feel safer."
He paused.
"But none of it's democratic. Not really. He answers to no one. And some of his methods—radical, surveillance, the Ark programs—don't leave a lot of room for civil rights."
Arisia's eyes softened. She shifted slightly, expression clouded by something between admiration and doubt. Kilowog didn't blink, but the muscle in his jaw tightened.
Tomar-Tu floated forward slightly, his face was carved stone.
"This Arias sounds like a tyrant, Lantern John Stewart."
His voice cut clean through the space between them.
"Why didn't you act? You're the designated Lantern for this sector now. Containment of threats like this falls to you."
The judgment in his tone wasn't hidden. He didn't shout. He didn't need to.
John's frown came fast. His shoulders squared.
"I didn't allow anything," he said, his voice lower now, but harder. "Arias Markovic isn't some thug you can throw into a cell. He's ten steps ahead, every time. You want to talk injustice? How many sectors do the Guardians avoid entirely because of tyrants they know they can't touch?"
He stepped forward, the air shifting slightly around him.
"Spare me your fucking opinion."
Tomar-Tu's brows furrowed. His lips parted, ready to fire back—
"Hey. Hey."
Kilowog raised one massive arm between them, voice flat.
"What did we just say? No butting heads. Not today."
John exhaled again, slower this time. His gaze dropped briefly, fists unclenching.
Then—
Vrrrrrrrroooommmmmm
All five turned in unison. A sleek shape cut across the sky—angular, black, fast. It angled toward their position with pin point trajectory.
Tomar-Tu immediately straightened, both hands up, ring flaring faintly. Kilowog rolled his shoulders once, the sound almost audible. He closed his grip tighter around Hal's ring.
John's voice came quick.
"Stand down. It's friendly."
He'd barely said the words when a voice echoed in his head—not his own.
John. Are you expecting other Lanterns?
Batman. Linked through J'onn, no doubt.
John's brow creased. He glanced toward Kilowog.
"You're the only Lanterns that came here, right?"
Kilowog blinked at him.
"Yeah. Course. We're spread thin as it is. Took enough convincing just to get clearance for this."
No, John sent back. There shouldn't be others. Why?
The answer came quick.
Because satellite tracking spotted more incoming. And they weren't green.
A pause.
They were yellow.