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“The Struggle Within”
Phoenix, Arizona
1:30 in the Afternoon, 82 Degrees and Sunny
The three tore down the bustling streets with surprising ease. It was like they were being carried by the dry southwestern wind. The large man at the lead cut through traffic ignoring the cars angrily screaming at him in their monotone wail. He turned down a sidewalk and rushed by pedestrians, knocking a few to the ground forcefully, anxious to shake the two that diligently pursued a couple yards behind. The man had hoped that he could lose them in the livelier street, but his broad frame, wild electric blue hair and arms covered in tattoos hardly helped to blend him in with the commuters.
“God-damnit!” one of the pursuers hissed as he spun around a confused old man and quickly sidestepped by an oblivious woman on a cell phone and a baby carriage, never breaking his stride.
“I’m gonna shoot him,” the man’s partner stated in between breaths. “I’m gonna shoot him and I’m gonna like it.” Her frustration had grown over the nearly four miles they’d been chasing the large man, ever since they had rolled up on his house to ask him some routine questions. Lt. Lisa Hunter figured that if she kept up this pace for another half-a-mile she was going to fall over, puke and pass out. SCU officers were well trained and in great physical condition, but she doubted a marathon sprinter could have maintained this intensity for much longer either.
Lt. Anthony Drake figured, as he tried to avoid getting run over as they darted back into traffic, that he was probably in far worse physical shape than his partner, let alone the speeding suspect, but he showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. Where the Hell is Terry Tate when you need him? Imagining how great it would be if the terrible ‘Office Linebacker’ just blind-sided their suspect, stopping this non-sense abruptly, buoyed his flagging stamina.
Up ahead the suspect they chased sped by the storefronts grouped together in a plaza. A man walking out of a pizza shop ended up having the box smashed against his face. Seconds later the two cops trampled over the dropped box, further infuriating the startled man. The suspect sharply ducked into an alley next to the plaza.
They turned to follow, Lisa cautious to keep her footing firm in the dirty, slick alley. When she tried to regain her speed she suddenly felt very much out of shape, when there was little reason for feeling so.
It didn’t look like they were ever going to gain on the fleeing man. I’ve got to end this soon, Tony thought, knowing now was the time to close the gap. Willing psychoplasmic energy onto himself, his leg muscles swelled and pumped faster, gaining steps he didn’t have before. The suspect never looked back, so there was no way he could have avoided the tackle that slammed hard into the back of his knees, driving them both to the pockmarked pavement in a tangled mess of arms and legs.
Tony untangled and rolled away from the suspect, quickly bringing himself to his feet as he drew and leveled his Glock 22 onto the man’s chest. The larger man pushed himself to his feet. His face and palms scuffed, the jeans were torn and dirtied on the knees. In contrast, Tony didn’t have a scratch on him.
“Put your hands up, Shaker,” Lt. Drake ordered.
“Fuck off, asshole. I ain’t got nothing to say,” he declared with a snicker. The metahuman’s cheek twitched, his beady close-set eyes bored holes into the officer. The ground around them began to vibrate; his name derived from his powers to create earthquakes.
Tony’s eyes focused on Shaker, silently praying that he wouldn’t be forced to injure the meta. He really disliked firearms. They were too blunt and too barbaric, often doing far more damage than what the situation warranted that couldn’t be easily fixed. Tony preferred to dispense a massive amount of non-lethal force in the unique manner he possessed, leaving a couple bruises at worst. Fortunately he saw Lisa, behind Shaker – out of his focus, draw an M-18 Taser square at the meta’s back. To be on the safe side Tony created a glimmer to mask her presence.
The quaking grew violently worse.
“Damnit! Put your hands up and stop the earthquake!”
When Tony didn’t get an immediate response he gave Lisa the nod and in an instant Shaker dropped to the ground in convulsions as two coiled wires, stuck into Shaker’s flesh by two metal prongs, transferred 26 watts over 50,000 volts into his body for a full five seconds. Shaker lay quiet on the concrete as his nervous system attempted to regain control.
Wasting little time Tony pinned Shaker to the pavement by pressing a knee down in the middle of the suspects back. He flung the muscled arms back and slapped shut titanium handcuffs tightly on the wrists. “One more tremor and you’ll get another five. Got it?”
Shaker replied with a weak “Yes.”
“Good. Now, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”
Another weak “Yes.”
Lt. Drake stood, leaving the meta face down on the ground. He turned to his partner, who still had the taser firm in her grip. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll radio in for transport back downtown.”
Downtown Operations Unit
Special Crimes Division
She hated to admit it, as it violated her personal pride to do so – though it would make her psychiatrist proud for allowing such a revelation, that it was a little hard to adjust to this new role. Especially, after returning from an extended leave that the DEO strongly ‘suggested’ she take along with seeing the aforementioned shrink to work through her anger issues. The crusade she had launched against the Titans West had nearly cost her her job – the fact that Director Bones abandoned her didn’t help. Now, Dakota Jamison had to cope with being the new Threat Analyst for the Department of Metahuman Affairs for the Western United States. It wasn’t glamorous, but she guessed she should be thankful she had a job.
Dakota had already traveled to a dozen or so cities down the coast before she ended up in Phoenix to repeat, yet another time, the task to learn about the emerging meta’s and assign an official threat level and report them to the DEO for future surveillance. Her hazel eyes scanned the folder that laid spread eagle in front of her, exposing the papers it normally hid between its manila flaps.
“So, you’re certain he’s not a rogue? That he doesn’t present a threat?” Agent Jamison asked the three that sat across from her at the long conference table. The slim blonde was the first to reply.
Sgt. Roxy Leech pushed a strand of hair out of her eye. “He really hasn’t given us a reason to believe he’s a threat. Even though his actions have been rather small and contained, especially for a man of his power, they’ve all been positive.”
Agent Jamison shook her head. “That’s what I don’t get. It’s just suspicious to me that he hasn’t gone public. In my experience most meta’s cannot wait to announce their presence to the world.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Roxy muttered, thinking back to her early days in Hawaii when her dad, Rex, acted as an agent to Superboy. Even she managed to get suckered in to her dad’s crazy scams, including volunteeringly throwing herself out of a helicopter over a hundred yards above the Pacific in order to be ‘saved’, last minute, by the teen sensation. She blamed her lust over Superboy and her loyalty to her father for performing such a stupid stunt.
The heavy set woman with round glasses and mousy features sitting to Sgt. Leech’s right, staff psychiatrist Emma Franklin, spoke up. “I’ve thought about that myself, Agent Jamison, and the longer we’ve been investigating him, the more familiar I’ve grown with this case to the point that I feel comfortable enough to present to you a profile about him.”
“A profile based on what? No offense, but all I’ve seen here is a map with thumbtacks stuck in it and police reports that raised more questions than answers?”
“Exactly, it’s the lack of information that was the clue. This Green Lantern’s modus operandi is drastically different than what we’ve seen others of his ilk practice,” Emma raised a finger with each point she nailed, starting with her thumb. “While other Lantern’s are very visible, this one chooses not to be by operating at night and at a distance – using his constructs. While other Lantern’s have joined various leagues and organizations around the world, this one – to our knowledge – remains alone.”
“In fact, my more recent theory is that this Green Lantern has had his ring for a very long time. I can’t be too sure for how long, but it’s not just something he acquired two and a half years ago since we’ve been alerted to his presence. His current behavior is based on a deep-rooted need of secrecy. He’s had to hide his powers for so long, for whatever reason, that it’s become second nature to practice in mystery and to use his ring in more covert fashions.”
Agent Jamison pulled on the gold choker around her neck out of habit. “Okay, then if this GL is such a creature of habit then why break that secrecy two and a half years ago?”
All eyes fell on to the only man in the room with the three women, silently telling him that he should be the one to answer as he was the only one in the room present at the incident. Sgt. Matthew Donnovan uncomfortably cleared his throat and ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair. “Well, his ‘debut’ directly coincided with an incident the department was involved in that resulted in the death of one of our officers,” he shrugged. “I dunno, maybe the GL reacted to the gunshots and couldn’t think of a stealthy way to handle the situation.”
“Who was the officer?”
“Sergeant Jonathan Parker. He was shot and almost immediately after the Green Lantern responded. He had to have been close by.”
Despite the convincing the SCU tried to give Agent Jamison she was still leaning on giving the Green Lantern a moderately high threat level until she was further influenced by the GL’s own actions to drop the threat level to a lower rating. She flipped the manila folder shut. “Have you found evidence of his activity before that unpleasant event? Staying with your theory that he’s possessed the ring for a long time, it makes sense that he’s been doing this for longer than this.”
Sgt. Leech shook her head, making a mental note to get her layers shortened to keep her blonde locks from falling into her face. “I only transferred here about a month before that from Hawaii. Until then I had no idea that a GL even existed here.”
“I’ve been here for a few years before and I had no idea myself,” Sgt. Donnovan added. “This isn’t a very high priority project for us. It’s only something we do on the side in our down time between cases. It took almost all of that time just to track his movements and assemble what we have now. There just isn’t a lot to report. Let alone figure out what reports relate to him before his presence was known and the reports tagged.”
Dakota dropped the folder into the leather bag next to her on the floor. “Until we’re sure about what this Lantern’s motive and intentions are, I want reports submitted to me every week,” she then grabbed the back and stood, flinging it over her slender shoulder. “I’ll be making the rounds every month, so expect to get very familiar with me.”
Across the table the three SCU officers stood in unison. Without any further farewell fanfare Dakota Jamison stormed out of the conference room.
Matt looked over at the two women. “That went well,” he said sarcastically.
“So, what do you know about this truck hijacking?” Lisa slid a photo of showing a semi trailer completely trashed with the cab sitting in a giant split in the road. “Kinda looks to me like you had something to do with it. Last I checked, Arizona is pretty quiet seismically.”
Shaker didn’t bother to look down at the picture in front of him. He sat across from Lt. Hunter while Lt. Drake leaned against a wall to their side. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Tony protested. “Nothing happens in this city without your knowledge. You’re telling me that you knew nothing about a delivery from Keystone City to S.T.A.R. Labs?”
“Nope.”
Lisa leaned a little closer to the suspect. It took a good amount of self-control to keep her bias in check. She hated sitting this close to the metahuman. “That’s bullshit. You’re scared. I can see it in the way you’re fidgeting,” Shaker consciously stopped his leg from shaking. “We know you’re involved. So, why are you afraid to talk?”
Shaker huffed. “’cause you don’t go around talkin’ shit or messin’ with other people’s shit and expect to be alive at the end of the day.”
“If you’re that worried then why not ask for a lawyer?” Tony asked.
“I told you before, I don’t need no lawyer as I ain’t got nothing to say.”
Lt. Drake pressed on as Lisa dropped another picture in front of Shaker showing a white and teal costume. “One of the items stolen was ‘The Suit’. It’s a super-suit that gives the wearer some marginal abilities along with some major firepower…almost enough to level half this city. Who would want this?”
Shaker tried to shrug his muscled arms, but the large chain restraints that secured them to the floor prevented the casual movement. “Fuck, dude, who wouldn’t?”
“Stop being an asshole,” Lisa hissed. “You’ve done nothing but avoid the questions with crap answers. If you help us, it only helps yourself.”
“Help me do what? I ain’t done nothing. You can’t charge me with shit.”
“Wrong. How about assaulting police officers?” Lisa shot back. “Or did you forget about that?”
Shaker’s face turned red as he fumed, but kept his protests to himself.
The Lieutenants exited the interrogation room and slid into the observation room next door where their Captain, Joseph Higgins, watching through the one-way mirror. “He’s definitely holding something back,” Joe observed as his officers joined him.
“I think the freak is making it all up to cover his ass. He did it,” Lisa stated.
Tony nodded. “I agree. He won’t incriminate himself or who he was working for.”
Without warning the fluorescent lights in the rooms flickered, their normally quiet humming grew in intensity as they overloaded with electrical current. They looked up at the lights just as there was a sudden flash of light, followed by a loud *POP* as the bulbs exploded. Fortunately the thin white shards showered safely onto the clear plastic coverings.
Everything was now pitch black as there were no windows to allow natural light into the room. Tony resisted the powerful urge to create a light of his own.
“What the Hell?” Captain Higgins asked. He walked to the door and twisted the handle. It didn’t budge. The electronic locks were activated before the power outage. “We’re locked in!”
Lisa slammed down the phone into the cradle. “Phone’s are out too!”
The room suddenly shook. Something slammed repeatedly against the outside wall of the interrogation room as they observed through the mirror. With each subsequent thud the rooms shook more. They looked around confused until the wall finally gave out, sunlight flooded into the interrogation room through the murky cloud of concrete dust and huge gaping hole. Silhouetted in the light was a giant figure in gleaming silver armor.
“Stand back!” Tony ordered as he pulled his sidearm and squeezed the trigger twice, firing into the one-way mirror.
Shaker’s screaming filled the rooms, unimpeded by the barrier. “Get away! I told them nothing!” He struggled against his restraints, but they did not yield. “No! I swear they know nothing!”
“Freeze!” the officers yelled, their weapons ready.
The mysterious silver figure, whose features remained in shadow, ignored them as he reached out with a fist so large it could swallow a basketball. He acted in the span of a sneeze. His arm stretched out and smashed through Shaker’s head like it was a watermelon, splattering bone, blood and brain matter all over the darkened room.
“Drop him!” Captain Higgins ordered. The three Glocks thundered, unloading their payload in powerful a sequence of spitting fire.
The hand recoiled. The giant paid no mind to the gore that dripped off his mammoth fingers or to the bullets that bounced harmlessly off his silver armor. Satisfied that he had performed his task, the armored giant simply faded from view until he was completely gone.
The room plunged into silence. Joe slid the pistol back into its belt holster. “What in the Hell was that?”
Drake sighed; his arm flopped limply to his side, the pistol held in a loose grip. “Proof…” he stated in a crushed tone.
“Proof of what?” asked Lisa.
Tony looked at the headless body, still propped in the chair. “That he had reason to be scared.”
Emergency generators kicked the lights on minutes later, yet they did little good without intact light bulbs to create light. As a result there were strings of lights stretched out in every hallway and room of the precinct.
The bathroom was bathed in the yellow glow of several incandescent light bulbs and shadows were made that normally would not exist with the original fluorescent generated light. None of that mattered to the bathrooms lone occupant who sat in a closed stall, with his elbows resting on his knees, his head resting in his open hands.
“What good is this power if I can’t even use it in front of people?” he muttered quietly under his breath. Nobody needed to hear his conversation but himself.
Guilt grew inside Tony, confident that if he were able to become a Green Lantern he would have prevented Shaker from getting murdered right in front of three police officers.
“This is complete bullshit. I shouldn’t have to make a choice…wrong, there isn’t a choice,” he spat. “Face it, Tony, there was a life on the line and you blew it. You thought of your own ass.”
The door to the bathroom swung open and a soft footfall echoed in the tile room. Drake stood, already dressed since he hadn’t actually used the bathroom, but he flushed the toilet anyway to hide the fact he just needed to get away.
He pulled open the teal aluminum door and stepped up to one of the four white sinks lined against the opposite wall of the toilets.
“Hey, Tony,” Matthew said as he walked in and saw Tony standing over the sink. “You throw up too?”
“Huh?” Tony asked quickly as Sgt. Donnovan turned on the sink to wash his hands, having just come from scooping up Shaker’s brains.
“I kind of...got sick after I saw it,” Matt informed him. “Always had kind of a weak stomach. Not good in this line of work, I know, but -”
“I could have done something,” Tony interrupted as he looked down into the white porcelain. “I could have saved that asshole’s life, whether he deserved it or not.”
“You can’t always save the day,” Matt said as he slapped his hand on Tony's shoulder after drying his hands, completely misinterpreting Tony’s remarks. “Not even Superman’s perfect.”
“I guess he isn’t,” Lt. Drake said as he turned to leave. “I just know I could have -”
“There’s always a ‘could have’,” Matt told him as he looked at Tony. “We all have our ‘could haves’. You think you’re the only person who wishes he could turn back the clock and save everyone who’s suffered?”
Tony remembered his deceased partner, Jonathan Parker.
“Who’s your someone?” Tony asked.
Matt looked at his own reflection in the mirror. “Not important.”
Matt walked past Tony and exited the restroom.
Elsewhere
She sat in the middle of a large cylindrical room in a chair that was suspended from the ceiling. Her body illuminated by the soft glow of the hundred thirty-inch monitors that surrounded her, the gunmetal outfit and exposed skin on her thighs and chest looked nearly indistinguishable in the blue light. Amunet Black was oddly attractive. That’s not to say that she wasn’t a naturally striking Latin beauty, but the metal shapes that decorated the flesh of her face and neck looked more like tribal tattoos that marred her good looks.
Her steel blue eyes examined footage of Supergirl that one of her spy satellites had recorded during her excursion to the city nearly two weeks ago*. The activity that attracted Supergirl also managed to attract the attention of the mysterious Green Lantern that dominated the screen now. He seemed to be an enigma to everybody and she was growing tired of pussyfooting around. It was time she set the rules. On the screen next to GL was footage of a storm ravaging the coast of Japan. In the middle of the pounding wind and whipping rain was the form of a man. She had waited three long weeks for him to turn up and now that she knew his location preparations would have to be made.
From behind a hologram flickered into existence in the form of a man. His radiant neon green body cut through the moderate darkness like a glow stick in a cave. Multiple rows of binary code scrolled across his body that could have made one nauseous if they stared too long. The only difference was the glossy metal head that represented the brain enhancing “Thinking Cap” the Thinker wore before ascending into a cyber existence.
{Computron has completed his task. Shaker has been eliminated,} the Thinker stated in an artificial voice that only simulated the natural one he used when he existed as cyberpunk maniac Clifford Devoe. {In the process he inflicted a great deal of structural damage to the Downtown Operations Unit’s building.}
Blacksmith dismissed the attack on the SCU. “Excellent. There’s no telling what that thug would have revealed to the SCU about The Network. It was only a matter of time before he outlived his usefulness.”
{They asked him about The Suit.}
“It’s of no matter. The Suit’s in our possession, the fact they connected it to him means their lead dies with him. Has The Suit’s modifications been completed?”
It took a fraction of a second for the Thinker to search out the answer. {They haven’t. The modifications were to follow the exorcism that was only now just completed. The spirit that inhabited The Suit put up a greater fight that the technicians were prepared for.}
Fortunately, Blacksmith accepted the excuse. Even she knew that there could be unforeseen setbacks. “Very well. I will explain to the buyer that we will be delayed. Tell the techs they have two more days. Longer than that and no excuse will save them from the consequences.”
{Done.} The Thinker fell silent again as the server’s protocols alerted him to an incoming transmission. {Speaking of. There’s a communiqué coming in.}
Blacksmith’s chair spun around to another block of monitor’s. One of them flickered from stock coverage to a man with well-styled black hair and an expensive gray suit. “Good evening, Mister Watson. What can I do for you?”
Squaw Peak
8:30 in the Evening, An Impoverished Suburb, 72 Degrees and Dusky
His street was quiet, the kids having already gone inside hours ago to eat supper and watch ridiculous TV. It was a little too quiet, or maybe it was his imagination, as he made his way to the back door of his single story house, so quiet in fact that Tony wondered if anything else was alive around him. Then he came to the conclusion that even if everything were dead around him that right now he couldn’t care less.
Tony pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen, greeted by silence and darkness. With a sigh he shut the door and flipped the light on, revealing the sparse décor. Tony wondered what type of porn he was gonna search for on the internet as he pulled a beer bottle out of the fully stocked fridge as an emerald opener popped the cap off then disappeared. He just wasn’t in the mood to bother dealing with another person, even going as far to turn down a liaison with Roxy Leech – who served as an occasional ‘fuck buddy’. They were good enough friends, he guessed, but he doubted anything more would ever develop from their casual relationship.
The 46-inch LCD Projection TV turned on even though nobody touched the controls and the remote remained on the other side of the room on the stand under the TV. As Tony dropped himself into the cushions of his olive green recliner the stress of the day felt like it was finally lifting from his body. He took another sip of the beer, long ago abandoning the desire for intoxication – the ring prevented the alcohol’s affect. The very green ring he stared at on his right middle finger.
Would it ever be more useful to him than keeping his clothes unstained and his body free from influence? Maybe he should get off his ass and accept the responsibility of the ring, but would he dare risk the exposure that would follow? Would he risk the safety of his job?
“Aw, fuck it,” he spat in disgust.
Tony sat the bottle down and vacated the living room in favor of the bathroom. Perhaps a quick shower and a jerk would calm his mind a little bit.
In the threshold of the kitchen and living room stood a transparent, golden skinned woman with long flowing orange hair that touched the top of her ass. Tony exited the room oblivious to the pair of eyes that watched him with sadness.
Cactus Park
9:01 in the Evening, An Affluent Suburb, 70 Degrees and Dusky
Her neighborhood was quiet. Families either out to dinner or secure in their homes watching ‘American Idol’ or some other stupid reality show. Lisa took a quick peak down her street to see the lights on in many of the homes, but not another soul on the street. Though, Lisa figured, even if there were a professional football game being played on this block, at this very moment, she could still hear the TV that blared from the house that she approached with two plastic grocery bags in her hands.
“Are you ready kids?”
“Aye-aye Captain.”
“I can’t hear you…”
Nobody noticed when Lisa walked into the house or heard the door shut, least of all her sister who frantically battled something that used to resemble food but was now a charcoal briquette that billowed smoke like ‘The Towering Inferno’. Her seven-year-old daughter sat oblivious on the floor, practically two feet away from the screen she was glued to. Lisa grinned; it was business as usual.
“Aye-aye Captain!!”
“Oh! Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?”
“SpongeBob SquarePants!”
No matter how hard she tried to fight it, Lisa always felt a pang of regret when she looked at her daughter. It wasn’t because Lisa didn’t want Savannah, far from it. Savannah was the best thing to happen to her in nearly fifteen years. It wasn’t even because Lisa was forced to raise her on her own, or that the father was a self-important abandoning douchebag. It was because Lisa’s parents would never get to know their grandchild. The joy associated with turning her parents into spoiling grandparents would never be felt.
She never fought the anger that always followed that sense of regret swelling in her soul. Instead, she let it burn righteously. Lisa could never get over that feeling of unfinished business and the guilt that went with it. It wasn’t totally because of Savannah. Last she saw her parents they were all screaming at each other and Lisa had left the house with the argument hanging in the air like a dark storm cloud. She hated that they had to die feeling that they hated each other when that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
She hated that they died because the so-called heroes let some alien despot destroy her home uncontested, yet Metropolis – the fucking crown jewel of the United States – managed to escape the same fate that several million people suffered simply because their hero was more popular. Nobody bothered to save Coast City, fought to protect it as hard – including Coast City’s own hero who managed to be conveniently not there. Probably saving somebody else’s home.
Lisa kicked off her shoes, rubbed her TV entranced daughter on the head and walked into the kitchen. The sound of the plastic bags striking the counter top finally attracted her sister’s attention.
“Haven’t you learned by now to just give up trying? Or will the whole house have to burn down before you get the point?” Lisa asked, amused.
Anna slammed the oven door shut and looked at her older sister. “I’m just trying to help out.”
“You do enough just by watching over Savannah.” Lisa was grateful that Anna had insisted on following her out here when she enrolled at the Academy. Phoenix had great colleges to attend and having family here already made being far from home easier to deal with. Lisa didn’t know what level of sanity she’d be at if she had ultimately lost everybody in her family. Anna deserved to have her potential explored.
“Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta learn how to cook something other than pasta in this house. Seeing that I do nothing but sit on my ass all day I figured it’d be me.”
“Until you figure it out, Giada, I brought home a frozen pizza. I’m gonna go and grab a quick shower, if I can trust you with the oven again.”
“Har, Har…” Anna mocked.
Lisa chuckled and left to go upstairs.
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The End...
* See Supergirl #16 - #18 – EF
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