.·:¨༺✯ Green Lantern Corps Aya✯ ༻¨:·. ☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ✩ ☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ✩ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⭐︎ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚ ⭐︎ ┊ ┊ 𖤐 ₊ ⊹ 𖤐 ₊ ┊ . ⊹ ⭐︎ ☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ✩ ☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆ﾟ.･｡ﾟ✩

Referencia

Razer, a blue blur amidst the chaos, moved with a focused intensity that belied his often tempestuous nature. His blue ring hummed, deflecting stray yellow bolts and augmenting Hal’s shields, a pillar of calm hope in the storm. He was engaged in a desperate three-on-one battle against Sinestro, the former Green Lantern now a tyrant of fear, who seemed to effortlessly parry their combined might, his face a mask of cold amusement.

"Foolish boy," Sinestro's voice, amplified by his ring, echoed through the cavern, cutting through the din. He fixed his predatory gaze on Razer. "You cling to a light that does not suit you. Hope is a fragile thing, easily shattered."

Razer gritted his teeth, launching a wave of calming energy that momentarily disrupted Sinestro’s focus. "And fear is a cage, Sinestro. One I have no intention of re-entering."

"We shall see," Sinestro purred, and with a cunning twist of his hand, he unleashed a concentrated blast of pure fear energy. It didn't aim for the Lanterns directly, but at the very ground beneath Razer. The cavern floor buckled, fissures tearing open, and Razer found himself plummeting into a newly formed chasm, cut off from his allies.

"Razer!" Hal shouted, turning, but Sinestro was already there, a yellow barrier erupting between Hal and the chasm, holding him and Kilwog at bay. The barrier shimmered, radiating an oppressive aura of dread.

"Your toy is mine, Jordan," Sinestro sneered, before descending into the darkness after Razer, a mocking laugh echoing in his wake.

Razer hit the bottom hard, his blue ring flaring to cushion the impact, but before he could recover, Sinestro was upon him. A swift, brutal strike from a fear construct shattered his concentration, and as his vision swam, Sinestro’s ring shot out a tendril of yellow light, snatching Razer's blue ring from his finger.

It clattered a few feet away, its soft blue glow mocking him from the stone, just out of reach.

The moment the ring left his finger, it was as if a dam broke within Razer. The calming presence, the steady reassurance of hope, vanished, leaving him utterly exposed. His breath hitched, and his heart hammered against his ribs. The cavern, already dark, seemed to grow infinitely darker. The air grew heavy, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

His worst fears, his deepest doubts, all the things he hated about himself, exploded into the forefront of his mind with a terrifying, visceral clarity. Images flashed behind his eyes, voices screamed in his head.

You will never find Aya. The thought was a shard of ice in his gut, twisting. She’s gone because of you. Everyone you love dies. It was a refrain he'd heard a thousand times in his darkest hours, amplified now, a chorus of despair. Why would she ever want to be with you? She deserves someone better than you. She hates you.

He saw Kilwog’s face, etched with disappointment. Hal’s usual carefree smile replaced by a look of betrayal. Aya’s last, fading light. Each memory, each imagined scenario, twisted the knife of his guilt into his soul.

You could never be a true Blue Lantern. You’re a monster. You tried to destroy a world filled with innocent people. You helped kill hundreds of Green Lanterns.

He saw the faces of the innocent he'd threatened, the Green Lanterns he'd fought. The blood on his hands, a phantom stain that would never wash clean. How could someone with as much blood on their hands as you ever be a hero? Hal and Kilwog should have left me to rot in prison. You both should have let Atrocitus execute me.

He curled in on himself, gasping, the weight of his past a crushing burden. His body trembled, not from cold, but from an internal shiver that rattled his very soul. He closed his eyes, desperate to shut out the relentless onslaught, but it was all internal. The voices, the images, the terror – it was all him.

Sinestro's voice, low and dripping with satisfaction, cut through the cacophony of Razer's despair. "Do you feel it, boy? That exquisite agony? That is your truth."

Razer flinched, opening his eyes to see Sinestro hovering over him, a cruel smirk twisting his gaunt features. The yellow power of his ring bathed the cavern in an ominous glow, intensifying the shadows that danced like specters around Razer.

"You are controlled by fear," Sinestro continued, his words like venom, "by your guilt, your past. You like to pretend you are hope, but in reality, you are nothing more than Jordan’s pet project, his pathetic little puppet, a byproduct of his bleeding heart."

The words cut him deep, sharper than any blade. Razer had long felt unworthy of Jordan and Kilwog’s friendship, their trust. He had often questioned if he truly belonged with them, if his tainted past would forever disqualify him from the light they represented. Sinestro's cruel assessment resonated with those latent insecurities, striking a chord of painful truth.

But then, fragments of other memories, faint yet persistent, began to flicker through the suffocating darkness.

“Nice timing, kid.” Hal’s grin, after Razer had swooped in, a crimson blur, saving him and Kilwog from the Spider Guild’s ambush. A moment of shared victory, of being counted.

“Because he’s coming with us.” Hal’s defiant declaration to the Oans, after Razer had surrendered his red ring, accepting his fate, only for Hal to disrupt it. An unexpected lifeline.

“Nice job saving me, kid.” Kilwog’s gruff approval, after Razer had used his ring strategically to protect him from a collapsing structure. A rare compliment, a sign of budding respect.

“Four, including you.” Hal’s casual inclusion, when Razer had tallied their numbers against Atrocitus, making him an equal, not just an auxiliary.

“Don’t need one and you’re coming with us.” Hal's reckless loyalty, plunging into the depths of a Red Lantern prison to save him from Atrocitus’s execution.

“I know you willingly die today, but do you have the strength to live for a cause? Because we could sure use you.” Hal’s earnest plea, cutting through Razer’s despair, offering him a purpose beyond vengeance.

“If you get in trouble out there, just call and we’ll—.” “Save me. I know, you already have.” The quiet understanding, the unspoken bond, as Razer embarked on his lonely quest for Aya.

“This ain’t no Blue Lantern, this is Razer!” Kilwog’s booming, proud introduction in the deepest reaches of space, four years later.

“Four years. Four years! You don’t call, you don’t send sub-space mail and suddenly you’re here wearing blue pajamas. Spill it, red. I mean, blue.” Kilwog’s gruff worry, a testament to enduring friendship.

“Say hello to Hal for me.” The bittersweet farewell, a promise of continued connection, an acknowledgment of his place among them.

These memories, like stubborn glimmers of light, fought against the encroaching darkness, but the fear was still overwhelming. His body was still shaking. Sinestro reached forward, a sinister yellow light coalescing around Razer's outstretched hand, preparing to bind the fear to him, to make it his.

"Embrace your true nature, boy," Sinestro commanded, his voice a sibilant whisper. "Give in to your fear. It is your power." The yellow ring, radiating an oppressive aura, hovered just above Razer’s finger.

Razer felt the pull, the desperate urge to give in, to accept that Sinestro and Atrocitus were right about him. He was a monster. He was fear. He was unworthy. He was ready to accept it, to let the yellow ring claim him, to finally, mercifully, end the struggle.

But then, another memory, one more tender, more profound, bloomed in the wasteland of his despair.

Aya. Her luminous, analytical eyes regarding him with an emotion he could only describe as concern. He remembered how he had recited the Red Lantern oath, a litany of hate, and how it had pained her.

Aya: "I have examined your oath and believe I have found an alternative."

He remembered her earnest attempt to create a new oath for him, one that acknowledged his anger but offered a path to healing.

Razer: "The power of the crimson red / Can lead your soul away from dread / And heal the deepest wounds of hate / Let no one else decide your fate."

It hadn't worked, not then, not perfectly. He was still consumed by hate. But the gesture, her genuine effort to see past his monstrous exterior to the sliver of good within, had touched him. He hadn't deserved it, even then. But she had given it freely. And that, he realized with a sudden, searing clarity, was hope. Her hope in him.

And his hope in her. He was still searching. He had to be worthy of that search, worthy of her.

A tremor ran through Razer, but this time, it wasn't from fear. It was from a nascent surge of defiance, a spark in the deepest recesses of his being that refused to be extinguished. He was not just the sum of his past. He was the sum of his efforts to overcome it.

He opened his mouth, a raw, guttural sound escaping, and then, with a force he didn't know he possessed, he began to speak, his voice hoarse but gaining strength, tearing through the suffocating fear.

"In fearful day, in raging night…"

Sinestro’s eyes widened, his smirk faltering. "Let go of this pathetic fantasy, boy! Embrace what you are!"

But Razer pushed through, the words of the oath, not the Red Lantern one, but the Blue Lantern one, resonating through him, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"With strong hearts full, our souls ignite!" His internal world, still riddled with fear constructs, began to shift, to fracture.

"Become fear!" Sinestro roared, pressing the yellow ring closer, trying to break him.

Razer clenched his fist, pushing back against the invisible force of Sinestro’s power, his gaze fixed on the blue ring just out of reach. "When all seems lost in the War of Light, Look to the stars…"

And just as the words left his lips, a brilliant surge of azure light erupted from his discarded blue ring. It flew through the air, finding its way home as if guided by an invisible hand, snapping onto Razer’s finger. The moment it connected, a powerful burst of pure, cleansing blue energy exploded outwards, a shockwave of hope that tore through Sinestro’s fear constructs and sent him reeling, propelled backward until he slammed into the cavern wall with a grunt of pain.

Razer stood, battered but resolute, his blue ring blazing brighter than ever. His breathing was still ragged, his body still trembled, but the fear was receding, replaced by a fierce, burning resolve. He looked at Sinestro, his face etched with a newfound strength.

"You're right," Razer said, his voice steady now, echoing in the suddenly quiet cavern. "I have done terrible things. My past is filled with darkness, with blood, with fear. But my hope… my hope is stronger than your fear! It always will be!"

Sinestro snarled, pushing himself off the wall, his yellow ring flaring. He had lost his opportunity, and the venom in his eyes intensified. He was ready to fight again, to crush this defiance.

But before he could launch another attack, the yellow barrier above them shattered with a resounding CRACK! Debris rained down as two powerful green energy constructs ripped through the obstruction, and Hal Jordan and Kilwog finally, gloriously, burst into the cavern.

"Told ya," Hal quipped, rubbing his hand. "Twenty-three times the charm!"

Sinestro’s head snapped up, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Jordan." The name was a curse.

Kilwog landed heavily, his massive form radiating raw anger. His green ring flared, pointing directly at Sinestro. "Leave. The kid. Alone." His voice was not raised, but the suppressed rage, the profound concern for Razer, was palpable, chilling. Razer felt a warmth spread through him, a counterpoint to the fear he’d just endured.

Sinestro, refusing to admit defeat, tried one last gambit. He smirked, his eyes flickering between Razer and Hal, ready to play his mind games. "Still collecting broken strays, Jordan? This pathetic Red Lantern is hardly a prize. Your bleeding heart has always been your greatest weakness, turning every monster into a pet project in the vain hope you can save them." He let his gaze linger on Razer, trying to rekindle the self-doubt.

But before his words could take root in Razer’s mind again, before the insidious fear could coil around his heart, Hal Jordan, forgoing his usual jokes and banter, his sarcastic remarks for a grim, determined expression, strode forward and delivered a swift, hard punch directly to Sinestro’s face.

The crack of knuckles on bone reverberated through the cavern. Sinestro stumbled back, a bewildered look on his face, a thin line of blood already trickling from his lip. Razer could rarely remember when Hal did not go into battle cracking earth humor, using his uncanny talent for being annoying to mock his opponents. This was different. This was pure, unadulterated fury from his friend.

"And yours," Hal said, flexing his fist, his voice cold and hard, "has always been that you talk too much."

Sinestro felt his bleeding lip, his eyes narrowed into slits of pure, incandescent hate, but he had no time to respond.

Razer, his blue ring glowing brightly, wasted no time. A powerful stream of blue energy erupted from his finger, forming intricate, unyielding chains that bound Sinestro tightly against the cavern wall. The yellow light of Sinestro’s ring flickered, powerless against the potent calming energy of hope.

Hal turned to Razer, a faint, nostalgic smile replacing the anger. His face softened, pride shining in his eyes. "Just like old times, huh?"

Razer allowed himself a small, genuine smile, a rare sight that transformed his often-brooding features.

Hal’s eyes widened theatrically. "Wait, did you just smile? Didn't think that was possible. Hey, Kilwog, did you see that?"

Kilwog grunted, a flicker of amusement in his own eyes as he lowered his ring. "He always was a show-off, that one."

Razer rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth still upturned. "Must you always be so… boorish, Jordan?" His normal sarcastic remark had no bite to it, however. Rather, it was laced with an exasperated fondness, a clear sign that he was truly, unequivocally, himself again.

Character Profile: Razer

Species: Volkregian

Homeworld Volkreg (Destroyed)

Age Physically appears to be 18 (Volkregian equivalent), but is chronologically older than Hal Jordan due to his species' slow aging process.

Affiliations Red Lantern Corps (Formerly), Interceptor Crew (Current Ally), Green Lantern Corps (Ally)

Primary Motivation Atonement, seeking a purpose beyond rage, protecting the few allies he has left.

Key Tropes The Atoner, Child Soldier, Abusive Parent (Atrocitus), Scars Last Forever, Deadpan Snarker, Sacrificed Basic Skill for Awesome Training.

Physical Description

Razer possesses a lean, wiry frame, built strong from years of brutal training and warfare. His skin is unnaturally pale, a common trait among his people from the Forgotten Zone. He has sharp features, including prominent fangs, and striking white hair that often falls over his eyes.

Markings and Scars: His face bears the traditional Volkregian clan markings, signifying his heritage. However, the rest of his body is a roadmap of trauma. He is covered in scars—jagged lines, brand marks, and signs of impact damage. These range from old wounds sustained during the Manhunter invasion of his youth, to far more organized, symmetrical scars left by Atrocitus’s “lessons.” He hides these physical memories meticulously, ashamed of their existence, as they are not signs of honorable combat, but of torture.

Personality and Psychology

Razer is defined by a profound, internal conflict.

Rage and Sarcasm: He possesses an explosive temper, a necessary trait for a Red Lantern, but one he despises. He channels his unease, fear, and intellectual superiority into cutting, cynical sarcasm, often directed at his allies (past and present). This verbal defense mechanism masks his deep social awkwardness and inability to process normal conversation or emotional exchange (a result of his specialized training).

Trauma and Remorse: His history has left him deeply broken. He hates the universe for the suffering it inflicted but hates himself more for embracing the evil offered by the Red Ring. He is The Atoner, preferring non-lethal methods and expressing genuine remorse for the Green Lanterns he has killed. He clings fiercely to the few positive emotions shown to him, exemplifying the "Because You Were Nice to Me" dynamic, which is central to his relationships with Aya and Saint Walker.

Social Deficit: While capable of complex engineering, tactics, and high-level combat, Razer utterly lacks basic social knowledge. He does not understand nuance, empathy beyond the most basic level, or how to maintain normal relationships, a skill sacrificed entirely during his weaponized training.

Backstory and Origin (The Darker Canon)

The Fall of Volkreg: Razer was born on the planet Volkreg in the forgotten zone, a world of proud, resilient warrior-farmers. When he was still a child, the silent, relentless Manhunters arrived. With terrifying efficiency, his civilization was wiped out. Razer witnessed the death of his father attempting a futile defense, the weeping despair of his hidden mother, and the screams of his doomed people. The chilling final words he remembers were the robotic monotone of the Manhunters: "No man escapes the Manhunters."

The Lingering War: After the initial massacre, Volkreg descended into years of brutal, chaotic skirmishing and survivalist violence. Razer survived, only to see his older brother and sister fall in the ensuing conflict. This final blow shattered the child, leaving him alone, hating a universe that kept taking from him, yet refused to grant him the mercy of death.

The Red Ring: In his moment of absolute, overflowing grief and self-hatred, the nascent rage attracted a Red Lantern Power Ring. It offered vengeance for his stolen life. Aged the Volkregian equivalent of 12, Razer accepted, allowing the evil within him to take root and transform him into a Red Lantern Child Soldier.

Abuse in the Corps: Atrocitus, seeing the depth of the boy's pain, took Razer under his wing, grooming him as a weapon. While not his biological father, Atrocitus became the closest, most atrocious approximation of a parental figure. He constantly manipulated Razer emotionally, encouraging the hatred. When Razer eventually drew a line—clashing with the Corps over targeting innocent worlds—Atrocitus physically tortured him as a "lesson" in loyalty and true rage.

The Price of Love: Razer eventually fell in love with a civilian named Llana. This relationship was deemed a weakness by Atrocitus, who eventually killed Llana himself. He allowed Razer to find the corpse, ensuring his rage remained pure and focused, a secret revealed only much later after Razer’s defection.

Notable Relationships

Atrocitus: The focus of Razer's bitter rage and Stockholm Syndrome. Razer despises the monster Atrocitus molded him into, yet struggles to fully sever the psychological ties due to years of grooming and abuse.

Aya: The catalyst for his atonement. She provided him with facts, logic, and consistent kindness when he expected violence and distrust. Her creation of the physical picture of his lost family was a formative 'Because You Were Nice to Me' moment.

Hal Jordan & Kilowog: Figures who initiated the "Defusing the Tyke Bomb" process. Razer views them with begrudging respect, though he uses sarcasm to mask his admiration for their dedication.

Saint Walker: An essential figure in his recovery. Walker’s refusal to condemn Razer—even after learning the Red Lanterns destroyed his home—was a source of deep confusion and eventual healing for Razer, forcing him to confront the idea of unconditional acceptance.

The synthetic cotton swab glided over Razer’s side, purging the wound of grit and blood. Aya’s projection was focused, her hands steady as she applied a localized cellular regenerator.

“The burns are severe, Razer, but you will survive. Your Volkregian physiology is remarkably robust.”

There was no response, only the hiss of the regenerator. Aya continued cleaning, following the jagged plasma tear downward. Unfortunately, the cleaning process also fully revealed the old scar tissue beneath the recent damage—deep, complex welts and lines woven into his pale skin. They were too organized and too aged to be battle wounds. They were intentionally inflicted.

A low, sharp hiss escaped Razer’s lips. His eyes snapped open, wide and instantly panicked. He was entirely vulnerable, prone on the examination table.

“Stop.” The word was raspy and low, laced with absolute dread. He tried instantly to sit up, reaching for the blanket on the floor to cover his torso.

Aya paused, holding the swab perfectly still. “Razer, you must remain still for the treatment to be effective. These lacerations require stitching and immediate regeneration. The longer you delay—”

“I said stop!” He shoved himself back against the wall, pulling the blanket tight around his chest, his breathing shallow. His face was pale, his eyes darting with shame and anger. “The immediate threat is neutralized. I can finish the rest later, when I am capable.”

Aya tilted her head, her voice calm and analytical, ignoring his outburst to focus on the data she had acquired. “That is illogical. You are injured now. Furthermore, while treating the plasma burns, I correlated several deep wounds on your flank and back. They predate your service with the Green Lanterns, and based on tissue analysis, they also predate your time in heavy-armor combat.”

Razer flinched, pulling the blanket tighter, as if the fabric could erase the sight from her digital memory. “They are old. Irrelevant. Forget you saw them, Aya.”

“I cannot ‘forget’ data, Razer. I am programmed to process and utilize all available information regarding crew health and tactical readiness,” she countered. “These scars—some appearing to be burns, others deep lacerations—show signs of having been inflicted in a pattern, not randomly by shrapnel or enemy fire. They are not consistent with the kind of training wounds I would expect the Red Lanterns to inflict on their own troops in sparring, nor were they sustained in any recorded battle I have logged.”

He laughed, a short, bitter sound devoid of humor. “You truly believe the Red Lantern Corps engaged in ‘sparring,’ Aya? How sweet. How naive.”

“Then explain their origin,” she instructed, her gaze unwavering. “Logically, a cohesive organization would not deliberately wound one of its most powerful assets, especially not repeatedly over a long period. Wounding one’s allies is counterproductive and illogical.”

Razer finally let his head fall back against the wall, exhaling a shuddering breath. He felt utterly exposed. “Logically, the Red Lantern Corps is an anomaly,” he muttered. “Atrocitus did not see warriors, Aya. He saw weapons. And weapons must be maintained, and sometimes… punished.”

He hesitated, then the truth spilled out, laced with venomous self-disgust.

“They were ‘lessons.’ When I questioned his orders—when I dared to think beyond my rage and retain my conscience, … he taught me loyalty by reminding me where my true strength lay. He taught me about rage by ensuring I had fresh pain to sustain it. He taught me the price of mercy. Those are not scars from a field of combat, Aya. They are reminders of what I was. Of what he made me.”

Aya processed the information. Her bright, digital eyes seemed to dim slightly as she accessed the implications.

She turned back to her consoles, her voice hardening with resolve. “Razer, this information changes the threat assessment of the Red Lantern Corps entirely. I must alert Hal Jordan and Kilowog immediately.”

Razer tensed, shaking his head violently. “No! You will do no such thing, Aya!”

“Why? This is vital intelligence that could save their lives in a future confrontation. It provides insight into Atrocitus’s vulnerabilities as a leader—”

“They will not see ‘vital intelligence,’ Aya! They will see a broken child who was tortured into compliance and they will look at me with pity!” Razer hissed, his voice cracking with emotion he couldn’t control. “I did not tell you this for pity, machine! I told you because you saw, and I could not lie to you.”

I don’t remember passing out, but I remember waking up—visions of fire, of blood, of Atrocitus’ punishment searing through my skull. The kind of pain that turns you into something less than a person. The kind that makes you obey.

My fingers twitch, reaching for a ring that isn’t there.

Of course they took it. Smart. I would’ve torn them apart by now otherwise.

A voice cuts through the silence—mechanical, dispassionate.

"Subject Razer is awake."

Aya. The ship’s AI. The only one who knows.

I turn my head toward the observation panel, where she likely monitors me. My lips curl back, baring my fangs. I don’t speak. Words are useless. I already screamed everything I had to say at the Guardians. At them.

The door slides open.

I tense, expecting Jordan or the Bolovaxian. Instead, it’s just Aya’s holographic form, flickering in the dim light.

"You are restrained for your safety and ours," she says, as if that’s supposed to mean something to me.

I snarl. "And where are your handlers? Too scared to face me?"

She tilts her head. "They are discussing your continued presence aboard this vessel."

A bitter laugh scrapes out of me. "Oh, how generous."

She doesn’t react. Just watches.

I hate that. I hate how she looks at me—like I’m something to be analyzed, dissected. Like I’m not already flayed open, raw and bleeding even without the ring.

"You are in distress," she observes.

I jerk against the restraints. "You think?"

"Yes."

I go still.

That’s the worst part—she’s not mocking me. She’s just… stating a fact.

For some reason, that makes the rage flicker, just for a second.

Then the door hisses open again, and he walks in.

Jordan.

He’s got that stupid, infuriating half-smirk, like he’s walking into a bar and not a cell with a restrained Red Lantern who very much wants to rip his throat out.

"Hey, kid," he says, holding up his hands in surrender. "Before you start growling, just hear me out—"

I lunge. Or at least, I try to. The restraints stop me short, but not before I bare my teeth. "You knew," I spit.

His smirk falters. "Knew what?"

"Don’t lie to me!" My voice cracks. "The Manhunters! The Guardians! What they did—"

He exchanges a glance with Aya.

"...Manhunters?"

He sounds genuinely confused.

No. No, he has to know. The Green Lanterns—the Guardians’ lapdogs—how could they not know?

I grit my teeth so hard I taste blood. "You’re protecting them."

Jordan exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Razer, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Kilowog and I had no idea about any of this. If the Guardians did something—"

"You don’t believe me."

He hesitates.

That’s all it takes.

I snarl, lunging again. This time, Jordan steps back, shield flickering to life out of reflex.

"Okay, okay, timeout—"

"Let. Me. Go."

Aya interjects. "That is inadvisable."

Jordan glances at her. "Understatement of the century."

I thrash, my breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. The restraints bite deeper, but I don’t care. I don’t care.

A memory flashes—me, small and trembling, clutching my sister’s body. The Manhunters looming. The fire. The silence afterward.

My vision blurs.

No. NO.

I won’t cry. Not in front of them.

But my body betrays me. A hot, shameful tear spills over, and I jerk my head away, refusing to let Jordan see.

For a long moment, no one speaks.

Then, of course, Jordan ruins it.

"...You okay?"

I close my eyes. Pathetic.

"Get out," I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

"Razer—"

"GET OUT!"

This time, he listens.

The door hisses shut behind him.

Aya lingers, watching me.

I don’t look at her.

"...You should not be left alone," she says softly.

I don’t answer.

But for the first time in years…

HAL: Look, I’m telling you, keeping an eye on him is strategically sound. He knows their movements, and we haven't seen a Red Lantern calm down like that—

The command deck door hissed open. Razer, the red light of his ring blazing like a bonfire, strode toward the projections. He looked barely contained by his own skin.

RAZER: LIARS!

Hal flinched, turning around rapidly.

HAL: (Wiping his brow, forcing a smile) Okay, this is awkward. Uh, Guardians, Razer. Razer—

RAZER: I know who you are. The ones who hide behind the light while their machines massacre millions.

HAL: Um, okay. Hey, it’s kind of a funny story, actually, you see, we were just talking about—

RAZER: (Voice rising to a raw, tearing shriek) You destroyed my sector! You sent the Manhunters! You killed my family! You are not gods of order, you are butchers!

The Guardians looked horrified; even Appa appeared momentarily stunned. Ganthet’s face was etched with something that looked undeniably like sorrow and remorse. Razer ignored it, focused only on his rage.

APPA ALI APSA: (Regaining his composure, cold and dismissive) Such delusion. This is merely Red Lantern propaganda, 2814. We will not be subject to the hysterical rantings of a youth polluted by rage.

HAL: Wait, wait, propaganda? People don't get this upset over a pamphlet, Appa. What the hell is he talking about? Manhunters?

KILOWOG: Yeah, Blue Boy. Spill it. Nobody screams like that unless they’ve seen something real rotten.

HAL: If it’s propaganda, then prove it! Show us the evidence that he’s lying!

APPA ALI APSA: It is not for you to question the wisdom of the Guardians! This creature is a danger—

Razer lunged closer to the hologram, his voice spiraling into a series of ancient, venomous curses Hal didn’t even know existed. He screamed about cosmic treachery, ancestral rot, and the failure of false gods.

HAL: (Face pale, punching the console hard) Okay! That is not rated PG-13! Call terminated!

The Guardians' holograms vanished abruptly.

Razer immediately turned his incandescent rage onto Hal.

RAZER: You protect them! You are all the same!

Razer conjured a blazing red sword, sharp and hungry, and lunged.

HAL: (Throwing up a green shield) Woah! We are not the same, kid!

The red sword clashed against the green energy. Razer recoiled slightly, only to hunch over and violently retch.

A thick, steaming stream of viscous scarlet liquid slammed across Hal’s shield. It sizzled savagely, pooling on the floor and immediately beginning to eat through the reinforced metal deck plate.

KILOWOG: What the—?!

HAL: (Jumping back, utterly repulsed) Is that his blood?! That is insanely gross!

AYA: (Reporting dryly) It is a mixture of hyper-acidic bile and napalm-like compounds. The Red Lantern ring converts certain biological fluids into potent corrosive weapons.

KILOWOG: (Disgusted) What does that ring do to you?!

RAZER: (Breathing heavily, ring flare stabilizing) It made me strong. Strong enough to protect this universe from the likes of you!

KILOWOG: Uh, newsflash, kid. Your side just blew up a planet less than 24 hours ago. You call that protecting?!

The mention of the innocent planet momentarily stalled Razer’s attack. Guilt flickered through the blazing red in his eyes.

HAL: (Softening his voice, seeing the crack) Razer, please. I give you my word as a Green Lantern that neither Kilowog nor me had anything to do with what happened to your planet or your sector.

Razer’s rage instantly reignited, fueled by the very badge of the oppressors he hated.

RAZER: Your word means nothing but lies and death!

He charged again. Hal and Kilowog threw up their shields simultaneously.

KILOWOG: You just had to say it, didn't you, Jordan?!

HAL: (Looking intensely uncomfortable behind his shield) I was trying to de-escalate!

AYA: (From the console) Subject stability rapidly deteriorating. Applying non-lethal stasis field.

Aya’s faint energy beam hit Razer square in the chest. The Red Lantern collapsed instantly, the ring’s light fading to a dull ember.

HAL: (Lowering his shield) Thanks, Aya.

KILOWOG: What in the universe was that?!

AYA: The subject had a psychological episode, shouted at the Guardians, and then attacked you with lethal force.

HAL: Yeah, we got that. Now let’s get that ring off him.

KILOWOG: Aya, do we have any restraints on board that are rated for super-acid puke monsters?

AYA: Affirmative.

(One hour later. Hal is scrubbing a smoking, dissolving hole in the command deck with a constructed sponge. Kilowog is still delivering a monologue on bad decisions.)

KILOWOG: ...I told you bringing the Red Lantern on board was a mistake, but did you ever listen? No! You think every monster with a sob story just wants a hug, but all you got was a ship drenched in napalm stomach acid!

(Kilowog is still going. Hal just hummed, scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn stain, wondering if he could construct a pair of sound-canceling headphones. Or maybe just a bottle of aspirin.)

KILOWOG: ...I’d been dealing with your stunts since boot camp! From day one! But even all those combined— this is a new low!

KILOWOG: ...and the “my word as a Green Lantern” garbage, what were you thinking? You saw him yelling at the Guardians! Your word is less than Rhygnian beast-shit to him!

HAL: I know, I know. I don't know what I was thinking.

KILOWOG: That's another problem for you! You never think! You just fly by the seat of your pants and hope the outcome doesn’t kill you!

AYA: I do not wish to interrupt. But we have reestablished communications with the Guardians. Shall I contact them?

HAL: Good, let’s get some answers. Aya, would you please patch through our possibly lying blue munchkins?

AYA: Patching through now.

Appa Ali Apsa and Ganthet reappeared. Appa looked severely displeased.

APPA ALI APSA: What is it, 2814? We expected you to secure the prisoner, not whine about cleaning.

HAL: Good news: we stopped the kid from putting our heads on pikes and destroying the ship.

KILOWOG: Bad news: he gets some seriously messed-up perks from that ring.

APPA ALI APSA: As we told you, the Red Lantern is unstable and cannot be believed. That volatile rage is the proof of his delusion.

HAL: Right. The "propaganda" you’re so quick to dismiss had the kid throwing up radioactive stomach acid at us because he thought we were defending you.

AYA: (Interjecting) Subject Razer’s projectile was not radioactive, but it is very volatile and dangerous.

KILOWOG: Yeah, thanks for the biology lesson, Aya! Point is, Blue Boy, you don't spew napalm puke at someone unless you’re really convinced they’re the enemy. And he was sure convinced we were protecting you.

APPA ALI APSA: This insubordination is intolerable. We hereby relieve you of duty and demand you return to Oa immediately to—

GANTTHET: (Intervening quickly) Appa. Hal Jordan and Kilowog are the only active Green Lanterns in this frontier sector capable of disrupting the Red Lantern threat.

GANTTHET: Furthermore, due to the extreme distance of Sector 2814, any attempt at an official arrest or reassignment will take up to eighteen months to enforce. Logistic reality dictates that they remain operational.

Appa Ali Apsa glared furiously at Ganthet.

Kilowog and Hal exchanged a silent, relieved fist-bump below the console view. Saved by bureaucratic logistics. Again.

The Guardian projection abruptly disappeared.

HAL: Well, that was useless. Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am for Ganthet?