#dailygreenlantern

The world is upside down.

Everything is a lazy swirl of shadow and his fingertips are so numb that he can scarcely even feel them. Hal isn’t sure if he knows where he is anymore. Space is black and endless and empty. And everything is so, so cold.  

“......big bad dino......big bad dino ahead.......”

That’s Guy’s voice. He recognizes it immediately ― that’s Guy’s voice. That’s Guy’s nonsensical mutterings and that’s Guy’s limp body floating nearby. Hal blinks and tries to chase away the blurred pictures in his mind; the strange haze of light and color and darkness.

“......big bad di-no-saur ahead, yeeup. Big baddie dino with big bad teeth,” Guy’s head is tipped forward, chin resting against his chest as he blabbers on. Hal can see him properly now ― just a few feet away and outlined faintly in green.  

“Di-no-saur! Yeeup, yeeup!” the ginger slurs again to no one in particular. His words are the only noise in the silent vacuum of space.

Big bad dinosaur.......big bad dinosaur? Hal can’t make sense of it. All he knows is that his head hurts and that it hurts bad. He winces, teeth grinding together, trying to bite down against the pain. It feels like there’s an iron spike being driven into the left side of his skull, over and over and over.......

Weakly, Hal lifts his fingers to his temple. Wet. There’s something wet against his skin. He pulls his hand away, narrows his eyes, and tries to get a better look at it. The more accustomed he becomes to being awake, the sharper his surroundings appear. They’re all beginning to look real now; like proper images instead of smears of color and light.

There’s blood on his fingers. He’s bleeding. Hal chokes slightly, takes a deep breath and pulls in air from nothing. There’s no oxygen in outer space. But somehow, he can take it from his shield ― from the green light surrounding him.  

Hal groans and touches his head again. It’s still wet, but the bleeding has begun to slow down and the blood itself has started to harden around the edges of the wound. He guesses it to be some sort of cut across the left temple.

“.......di-no-saur......di-no-saur......di-no-saur.......” Guy remains close by, still lolling around on his back. But something doesn’t seem right when Hal looks at him this time around. Because this time his eyes are swollen shut by bruises; and his whole lower face and jaw is stained with blood. His neck is red and covered in marks. His limbs twitch.

It takes Hal a few moments, but finally the image registers and he jolts forward in surprise. Muscles tensed and eyes widening, he’s hit with a sudden wave of panic. Guy is injured. Oh fuck, Guy is injured, and he’s injured bad.

Despite the shooting pain in his temple, Hal starts glancing frantically about himself. Where are they? Where are they and how did they get here? What happened? His heart rate picks up. Hal’s body trembles and he parts his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.  He searches the empty star fields in vain. It feels like his mind is going at a million miles an hour. What’s happening? What’s happening? What’s happening?

Hal squeezes his eyes shut. No, stop. He clutches his head in his hands and barks angrily to himself, don’t panic. Don’t be afraid. You’re in space and you’re with Guy, and you’re both in bad shape but he’s worse off. But you’ll be okay ― you’ll both be okay. Call John. Call Kilowog.  

He pulls his bloodied hands away and breathes in. The ring on his finger is burning cold. It reminds him of stepping into the shower when his feet are numb; the way that hot water feels as it washes over chilled skin. Hal’s whole body is tingling.  

If he’s going to call for help, he’s going to have to tell the ring who to call. So, he focuses on John’s face. He tries to imagine the way his nose slopes and the exact hue of his irises. It’s a face that Hal knows well, so it shouldn’t be hard, now should it?

But when he thinks, he can’t think of John. And when he reaches out for a face and for a name, it isn’t John’s. It’s someone else’s. It’s someone the ring can’t call.

Barry. It’s Barry’s face. It’s his square jaw and round cheeks, and his short, golden hair. And when Hal tries to push the face and name away for Kilowog’s instead, it doesn’t go. He wants to show the ring a fellow Lantern he can call, but his mind isn’t listening. He can’t see John’s face and he can’t see Kilowog’s. The only name is Barry’s name. The only face is Barry’s face. His snub nose and big blue eyes. His easy, all-American smile.

There’s a stab of wistfulness in Hal’s chest. Something that he can’t really describe, some sort of sorrowful feeling that fills him with inexplicable joy. He’s seeing Barry’s face and he’s remembering something. A recent memory, but nothing all that important in the grand scheme of things. A memory.......

He was sitting in a red leather booth in some cheap diner in Missouri. It was a Saturday or maybe a Sunday; a day when Barry could get off work early if convinced. And Barry was sitting across from him, dressed in a blue argyle sweater vest and pleated long sleeves and khakis. And Barry was smiling too. And he was digging into his meal, and pensively tapping his foot against the tiled linoleum floors. He looked so handsome in those clothes. They fit him so well and the blue of the sweater brought out his eyes.

So naturally, Hal made a remark about him looking like a nerd. Barry rolled his eyes and ate a French fry. Then he pointed out a bruise on Hal’s cheek and started scolding him over it. And Hal tried to wave him off ― told him it was from a skirmish with Black Hand or some other earthbound baddie. But Barry knew better. He always seems to know better. And Barry stared at him for a moment, almost unnervingly serious, and then finally his face broke out into a wide grin.  

“Liar!” he exposed Hal right away, “You and Oliver were being stupid and messing around again, weren’t you?” And Hal tried to act offended, tried to hide his embarrassment at Barry having so easily realized the truth. He’d been sparring with Ollie in the boxing ring at the Arrow hideout when Dinah had stopped by to watch. And when she’d leaned against the rails, the boys had started yapping their big mouths off; started teasing her as they mock-fought.    

Not a good idea, naturally. Because then she’d jumped into the ring and kicked them both hard in their sorry rears. “And a kiss on the cheek each didn’t exactly make it any less painful, Di,” they’d have liked to say. And when Superman asked Ollie how he’d gotten a black eye, he’d panicked and claimed he’d walked into a door. He’d started blushing like a madman when Hal laughed, and Hal was the lucky one because he didn’t need an excuse. No matter what, it seemed like there was always some sort of scrape on him, so people had eventually just stopped asking. Except for Barry, of course.

And in that little Missouri diner, Hal had finally surrendered to Barry. He admitted that Dinah had “whooped his ass” and that “if we’re being honest, Ollie got it worse ‘cause he called her a ‘wannabe Joan Jett’ and that was just rude.” Still smiling, Barry shook his head and muttered a “knew it”, continued emptying another carton of fries. And Hal shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He knocked his knee against Barry’s, heard the speedster hum approvingly, and smiled back at him. Smiled when he sighed and said, “What am I going to do with you?”  

But he’d also kept an eye on the other patrons too. Because as much as he hates to admit it, deep down, he’s always been rather self-conscious. And he didn’t exactly want to deal with anyone going on about stupid stuff then either. Not then, when Barry was sitting across from him, smiling like the sun and telling him all about his day. And he’d had a really good day, so Hal had wanted to hear all of it. The fingerprint analysis that Barry and his colleagues worked on that had helped solve a case down at the station. The two friendly border collies he’d met in the park during his morning run. The little girl he’d helped get her kite out of a tree and who’d given him a hug in thanks. And Hal sipped the strawberry milkshake he’d weaseled away from Barry and listened to him rave about the new materials the lab would be getting next week.    

“And this microscope is so much more powerful than the one we have now. It has twenty different lenses, and you won’t believe how sleek it looked in the catalogue......”

“Hey! Di-no-saur! Di-no-saur! Bad, bad, bad!”

Hal tumbles back into the present. His eyes widen when Guy yells and the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He’s weightless. There’s nothing solid beneath him, no leather booth in Missouri or concrete sidewalk under his feet, only empty space, only distant lights scattered across eternal blackness. Only nothing.

The cut on his head doesn’t hurt anymore. When he touches it, the wound throbs gently, but any pain it gives off is so minor that he can barely feel it. Hal lurches forward and the blood drains from his face. Guy is unnaturally pale.

He’s still muttering nonsense and floating too far away from him for comfort. Hal settles his quaking limbs and looks his comrade over, trying to gauge the exact distance between them. Five and a half, six......? He propels himself forward a few feet and maneuvers around Guy as carefully as he can. He slips his hands under Guy’s arms and pulls him up against himself. Guy’s head is tilted back, chin pointed upwards and jaw twitching slightly as he rambles on. The faint green aura from his ring appears to be the only thing keeping him afloat.

Hal curses under his breath and tries to adjust his hold on the other Lantern. Guy may be a thousand times lighter in space, but whatever beating Hal received earlier isn’t exactly helping his arms stay steady. The wound on his head doesn’t hurt anymore, but the rest of his body sure aches like a son of a bitch.

What happened? He’s racking his brain, struggling to remember. Where are they? How the hell did this happen? How the hell did they end up here? How......?

“Dino......dino......” Guy sputters childishly, his shoulders knocking into Hal’s chest. The other man winces but doesn’t let go. His ribs must be bruised ― that would explain the tugging in his chest whenever he breathes. “Dino......dino......dino.......”

Then it hits him. Dinosaur. Hal remembers now, oh goddamn, he remembers now. Dinosaur. Atrocitus. The Red Lantern’s hulking form looms over Hal’s memory and he clutches onto Guy a little too tightly in response. He knows where they are, why they’re here, what happened, and everything else in between.  

The Corps had gained intel on some recent Red Lantern sightings out in sector 2075 in the Oberix and Talmayn systems. The more the number of sightings increased, the more uneasy the Guardians became about the possibility of a reformation of the Red Lantern Corps ― a not at all unfounded concern. Especially considering the jailbreak incident roughly one Earth year back, and the fact that former Red Lantern general, Atrocitus, happened to be one of the escapees.  

Salaak had sent Guy and Hal, by order of the Guardians, to do recon out in sector 2075. After all, word-of-mouth rumors don’t guarantee reality. In order to act, there needs to be confirmation. And it was their duty to deny or to confirm.  

Well, Hal thinks to himself as he floats aimlessly about, Guy dangling in his arms, at least our suspicions have been confirmed. Joy.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have sent Hal Jordan on a Red Lantern reconnaissance mission, knowing that Atrocitus would almost certainly be involved. General Atrocitus, who happens to have a vendetta against plucky Green Lantern “captain” Hal Jordan. Because Hal Jordan was the one that foiled his grand invasion of Oa. He was the one that defeated him in battle in front of his own men and then imprisoned him in a science cell to rot for (hopefully) the rest of his life. Yes, that Hal Jordan.

If one thinks about it rationally, they might come to the conclusion that a mission tends to become a bit more dangerous when the enemy in question would like nothing more than to flay you alive. It’s just common sense, really.

Hal struggles to hold back his laughter. He’d rather not test the pain receptors in those bruised ribs of his with a verbal expression of self-loathing.  

He and Guy had scoured the entire Oberix system without any luck, and by the time they’d reached the Talmayn and it’s yellow dwarf sun, they’d gotten a bit lazy. Instead of giving straight-backed salutes to the occupants of the mining operations and refueling stations they’d swung by, the two had plowed in with informal bursts of sardonic humor and good-natured jabs. Guy had accepted free drinks at a rest stop bar almost took quickly, and Hal had wowed a company of Yulqazz miners by breaking his record of consecutive backflips in space.

Thirty-seven, to be exact. The trick is to breathe deeply and consistently, and to focus on your core so you don’t get dizzy.  

None of the locals in either solar system had much of anything to say about the supposed Red Lantern sightings. Most of them denied seeing anything at all, while the few that did couldn’t seem to place any specifics. As far as Guy and Hal were aware, there really wasn’t anything substantial this side of sector 2075. Maybe the Uhbeld system would’ve been a better place to check.

Whatever the answer was, the two of them had conceded that there was no point in staying there anymore. So, Hal recalls himself and Guy taking off from the docks of a refueling station, headed for the nearest long-jump portal back to Oa. They’d started talking ― of course, talking with Guy had always been a trip, and it is even more so now after his onslaught of head-related injuries.

Guy’s brain damage certainly causes him some issues. His memory, his speech patterns, and his ability to compartmentalize things are all pretty muddled. The past couple of years have been quite rough for him and he’s had to relearn a surprising amount of basic tasks. But, luckily for him, the medical expertise offered by the Green Lantern Corps is far more advanced than that on Earth. And even though Guy has never exactly been one to trust doctors or hospitals ― and Hal can’t blame him for that, seeing that he’s very much the same ― Guy has been remarkably lenient with what the Corps have provided.  

That makes sense to Hal though. The Corps may not always know what they’re doing, but if he were given a chance to significantly fix the damage done to his brain, he would jump on it immediately as well. Thinking about that, Hal winces at all the brain cells that he’s probably lost to concussions and alcohol. It certainly isn’t a small amount.

Guy still sounds rather childish when he speaks sometimes. Not that he ever had a very sophisticated manner of speaking before, but Hal finds there’s still something notably immature in the way he talks. Maybe it’s how he sounds things out or the words he chooses to use ― again, Hal isn’t sure ― but there is a distinct difference in how he communicated before and how he communicates now.

He was calling Atrocitus a “big bad red dinosaur with a face full of warts” when they got ambushed. Ah, yes. They’d been ambushed. Hal remembers now, how they’d been joking amongst themselves when at least twenty Red Lanterns had shot out from behind a cluster of asteroids and taken them by surprise. And Atrocitus had happened to be one of them.

It was a miracle that Guy had managed to finish his sentence at all.

“......Hal? .......Hal?” speaking of the ginger brickhouse, he appears to have opened his eyes ― or at least tried to. With those nasty yellow-green bruises, it’s hard to tell.

Hal’s heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his own name, and he turns around to grab his comrade by the shoulders, “Guy! Oh god, Guy, you’re awake! Stay awake, okay?” He knows from experience that drifting off after a bad beating or a blow to the head is far from a good thing.

Guy tilts his head slightly, a look of confusion crossing his face. But he doesn’t say anything in return. He just blinks his eyes and then starts looking around slowly, as if he’s just woken up from a long nap. Hal isn’t sure if he can see out of such bloated eyes, but at least he can still feel things, because when Guy flexes his fingers, he winces and holds them still. He must have broken something or hurt the joints while throwing a punch.

Hal moves around him and tries to get a better view of his head. There doesn’t appear to be any serious damage to Guy’s cranium, which is good. He’s already gone through enough; another round of brain damage issues would just be cruel by this point. They’d probably make his current mood swings even worse.  

After examining the other man’s head, Hal swings back around to face Guy and puts his hands firmly on his shoulders. They’re roughly an arm’s length apart and floating somewhere in the Talmayn solar system, in a sector that Hal knows fairly well. If he’s being honest with himself, it could be worse, and Hal is glad that it isn’t.

He draws one hand away from a still woozy guy and brings it up to his face, eyeing the green light. He needs to call for help and this time he can’t get distracted. There are Red Lanterns in sector 2075 and they are undeniably dangerous. They’re also still out here somewhere, and that doesn’t ease Hal’s nerves in the slightest.

Especially seeing that he and Guy are still alive. That’s the part that really worries him.  

Why would Atrocitus and his men ambush him and another Green Lantern only to let them live? It would have made more sense to kill them for vengeance or to capture and imprison them to hold for ransom or to torture for information. So why beat them senseless and then leave them alive? Atrocitus was no idiot ― he wouldn’t have just assumed they were dead, he would have made sure. So why just leave them where he found them instead of taking them as prisoners if killing wasn’t his intent?

Hal doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this one bit. He has to call John and he has to call him now. Hal closes his eyes and conjures up the name and face he needs ― needs not wants ― he reminds himself bitterly. He needs someone like John, someone that can help him. He wanted Barry. But Barry can’t help him. Barry’s lightyears and lightyears away and even the fastest man alive can’t run across the stars.

Besides, it would be cruel to ask him to. Hal’s chest clenches at the thought of everything that Barry might do for him. Because Barry’s a good man, and even though it seems cliché to say it, Hal really can’t think of another way to explain it. He’s just a good man. And he believes that Hal is too. That Hal deserves to have someone who would leave the Milky Way for him. Who would leap over Orion’s Shield and dart across the Pillars of Creation.  

Who would come to him galaxies away from Earth with hope in their eyes and tell him that everything will be alright.

And that thought is just too much. It makes Hal’s limbs weak again and it makes his grip on Guy’s shoulder go slack. Hopefully the other man is conscious enough to stay in the same orbit as him, because Hal really doesn’t know if he has the strength to pull him back in right now. He needs Barry to leave his mind. He needs to think with his head and not his heart.

John’s face comes into view of his mind’s eye. Strong cheekbones and broad nose, tight mouth and curious eyes. He’s as quiet and contemplative-looking as always and Hal can’t help but snicker a little. People always seem to imagine John as some sort of “deep-thinker” ― after all, he always looks so lost in thought, like one of those ancient Greek philosophers.

People always assume things.  

Just last week, during the Justice League’s most recent meeting, John had given everyone in the room that deep-eyed look. He’d nodded thoughtfully and tilted his head in consideration each time someone spoke. And then, roughly half an hour in to yet another one of Batman’s monotonous and excruciatingly boring speeches, he’d leaned over in his seat and whispered to Hal, “I had to wake up real early on Oa, so I could get here on time and I’m damn sure that I accidentally put Katma’s ear lotion on my toothbrush. I can still taste it. Can you make some sort of distraction, so I can grab a cup of water? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past six hours.”

A real deep-thinker, alright. The next Socrates, for sure. Hal stops himself from trying to laugh at the memory ― his chest still hurts when he exerts it too much.

Instead he focuses on his ring. It’s begun to glow more brightly than before, as he draws in all the willpower he can. The low hum it gives off is reassuring, and if you listen closely enough, the ring sounds like it’s singing. Hal told Ollie about it once before, but he didn’t believe him. Even when Hal had put it up close to Ollie’s ear and let the ring settle into a harmony, Ollie said he still couldn’t hear a thing.  

But Hal knows he can hear the ring. It sings to him because that’s how it communicates. He made Dinah and Barry listen to it too, and even Tom when he first realized that it could. Yet none of them heard it. So, he was anxious when he asked John if his ring sang to him too ― he hadn’t wanted to look stupid by asking Kilowog or Sinestro at the time when he was younger. He’d asked John if the ring sang to him and John looked at him as though the answer was obvious.  

“Of course, it does.”

So, he asked Kilowog and Katma and Tomar Re too, and all their answers were the same: “What kind of question is that? Of course, the ring sings.” And that settled it then. Only ring-bearers can hear the ring. No one else can make sense of it ― all those melodies are just distant hums to them. They can’t hear the songs and they can’t feel the words that the songs embed into the ring-bearers’ minds. A shame, really......there’s nothing else in the universe like it.

“This is Green Lantern, John Stewart. Who is this?”

Hal hears that familiar voice and he feels like he could fly to the moon and back. Finally, John. Good old John. He tries to cry out the other man’s name in excitement, but he finds himself breathless and croaking out a weak, “Jo-hn” instead. Hal winces at the sound of it, yet still, he continues, “It’s Hal. I’m with Guy and we’re fucked, dude. We’re fucked up.”

“Hal?” John’s voice is warbled slightly by the ring, “......do you and Guy still have all your limbs?”  

It’s a slightly ridiculous but understandable question. In fact, Hal takes a moment to glance over himself and then Guy again just in case, before replying, “Yeah. Everything’s still there. We got ambushed, John. There were Red Lanterns, ‘bout nineteen or twenty of them. And Atrocitus ― Atrocitus was there........”

He can hear a muffled, “shit......” from John’s end. “Where are you two?”

Floating around aimlessly, Hal struggles to gain his bearings. He searches the open space around them, the asteroid fields, the distant stars, the occasional planet as it falls into view. “We’re still in sector 2075,” he rasps, “somewhere near the Kylaaq Belt.........Talmayn System.......I, I think we might be near the planet......Givnuer? Terrestrial, no native life......yellow dwarf star. Talmayn’s the one with the yellow dwarf, Oberix is red.......”

Guy has started babbling incoherently again, his head lolling against Hal’s shoulder. He looks as if he may start drifting off into unconsciousness and that isn’t a good sign at all. Hal grunts and carefully pushes Guy about arm’s-length away from him. He shakes his shoulders a little, trying to keep him awake. The murmuring ceases and Guy blinks drowsily.

“How far?” John asks, and Hal thinks he can hear concern.  

“Huh?” Hal looks back to his ring. He’s still in a bit of a daze himself.  

“How far from Givnuer?”

Keeping his hold on Guy, Hal twists his head around as best he can and attempts to judge their distance from the planet. “Four......four AU.......maybe three?” He gives the area a quick scan with his ring and waits for the responding hum, “......yeah. Yeah, about four.”

“Okay,” John sounds relieved despite the vocal distortion the rings tend to cause, “If your rings are looking low on power, jettison over there immediately. Try to conserve energy. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.”

“Thanks, John,” Hal sighs, his shoulders sagging and his free hand dropping away from Guy’s arm.

John exhales, “Of course,” and then ends the call, already heading off to go fetch a proper rescue team. In the meantime, Hal turns his attention back to his less stable teammate. Guy is wobbling back and forth, still gazing blankly at the empty space around himself. The dried blood from his nose and jaw cover the entire lower half of his face, and it almost looks like some sort of patchy reddish-brown beard; not entirely unbelievable for the ginger to have.

“Hal.......” he murmurs, “Hal, I heard Johnny.......”

Hal steadies him with both hands again, “That was Johnny. I called him, he’s gonna come get us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Guy hums in consideration before slumping forward, resting his head against Hal’s shoulder, “Don’t feel good. Hope Johnny comes soon.”

“He will,” Hal accepts the weight and cocks his head to the left. He narrows his eyes in the direction of Givnuer. Would it be best for them to go there and rest like John suggested, or can they just wait it out......?

“Hal?”

He tears his eyes away from the distant planet and says to Guy, “Yeah? What is it?”

The concussed Green Lantern screws up his battered face, looking more like a curious child than a six foot four Baltimorean, “Were you scared?”

“......what?”

“Were you scared? When the dino showed up?”

“...........”

Hal doesn’t blink. He isn’t looking at Guy anymore though — his gaze is fixed on Givnuer again. It looks pale and reddish from a distance, reminding him vaguely of Mars. Mars; J’onn’s home planet, less than one Solar AU from Earth. And Earth, so far away from here........  

“I was,” Guy says nonchalantly and (Hal wonders if even he knows it) with incredible irony, “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it back home. Were you thinkin’ ‘bout home, Hally?”

“......no.”

“Hhm......I was thinkin’ ‘bout home......I was thinkin’ ‘bout my Tora an’ ‘bout Bea too. An’ stupid Ted an’ Booster even......an’ I was thinkin’ ‘bout my old students......hell, my old woman an’ her husband too — even if they’re awful.......I was scared I wouldn’t see any of ‘em again......”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.......” it’s strange to hear Guy speak so softly; speak so calmly and in little more than a whisper, “......Hal? Were you thinkin’ ‘bout anyone?”

Hal throws Guy’s arm over his shoulder. He shifts around a bit, trying to support him in a half-carry before finally setting course for Givnuer, “I guess I was.”

Guy’s cheek is pressed against Hal’s shoulder. His swollen eyelids droop and he doesn’t look at the other man when he speaks. Like Hal’s are, Guy’s eyes are focused only on the approaching planet, “......your Barry?”

Though every nerve in his body is immediately struck with the desire to freeze, Hal presses onward instead. His skin is riddled with pinpricks and the green blaze of light around him takes on a wavering image. There’s something heavy stuck in his throat. Something heavy sliding slowly — so painfully slowly — and dropping down into his chest. There’s something heavy settling between his ribs. Something heavy trying to smother the delicate façade onto which his heart so desperately clings.    

His Barry.........his Barry.

The two Lanterns fly on in silence. Hal gives no response and Guy doesn’t push him to. At one point, Hal worries that Guy has fallen asleep; but fortunately, the other man blinks through his bruises and manages to keep his chin up. He even musters enough strength to straighten out his back, easing some of the pressure off Hal. Roughly halfway to Givnuer, they both get a twenty percent warning from their rings and Hal speeds up a fraction or two.

Guy starts humming something under his breath. It’s some sort of song, maybe even a lullaby, but Hal doesn’t recognize it. Despite his exhaustion, the inky void of space still makes for a surprising comfort. The shivering stars and roving meteors seem to urge him forward as he pulls his comrade to safety. Hal tries not to think about Atrocitus or the Red Lanterns. He tries not to think about Earth and certainly not anyone on it. He tries not to think about.......Barry.

Guy stops humming as they reach the edges of Givnuer’s outer atmosphere. He gives a little burst from his own ring to aide Hal as the two of them prepare for entry. The world around them turns starkly rose-colored, and the burning green light of their shields become tipped with fuchsia. Guy and Hal descend softly into the afternoon sky, streaks of color trailing behind. Both men are as silent as the barren world below them.