Half Pint
Eviledd1984
Guardian Angel Haruki
Supermaxx
GreenGrenade
Simple Unicycle
Lexisheeps
LG
IzurichNine seventeen, Oa standard time. Ch'p has taken the Sentinel to Scylla to follow up with a lead there. I'm returning to Sector Zero to follow a different line of inquiry. My name is Kai-ro. I carry a ring.
The child exited from out of the wormhole.
A momentary vertigo came over him, as the boy found himself propelled from the edge of space to the center of galactic traffic.
It was known as Sector Zero. It was home to a single planet. Oa, the world of the Guardians. A council composed of the last, lingering remnants of an ancient civilization that worked to guide the younger races before the Guardians took their leave of this plane of reality.
Nova Corps battlecruisers. Star Sapphire hospital ships. Interceptors, like the Sentinel buzzing like wasps. And a flurry of small, green figures who were just specks against the cosmic background. Heads of State and lowlife criminals came and went through the halls of justice that formed the intergalactic police headquarters that spanned some 5,000 sectors of space.
Navigating the traffic pattern, the Tibetan child descended down onto the emerald planet. Aside from the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps, Oa was home to several major urban centers. Embassies. Hospitals. Housing for the families of the Lanterns stationed there, supplying the overarching bureaucracy that managed the internal affairs of such a far-reaching organization.
At the heart of which was a Slyggian from Sector 1418.
As the boy's green-shod feet padded inside of the massive galactic operations center, the boy found the Green Lantern's own Chief of Police standing at the center of a massive green construct that displayed information about the deployment of the Lanterns across the galaxy. Pausing a respectful distance away, the child brought one hand up, palm flat with the thumb toward his chest, as he gave a formal bow toward the Slyggian. "Clarissi Salaak," Kai-ro intoned, addressing the veteran Green Lantern by his title.
The Slyggian barely spared the small form a glance. "Hmph. Kai-ro."
The boy did a double take, an awkward gesture that shattered the usual composed air with which the monk carried himself with.
To the best of his recollection, this was the first time that the two were meeting. So, on the one hand, he was shocked that someone such as Salaak would even know who he was. Let alone his name.
However, the manner in which it had been said left a rather distinct tone that rapidly soured first impressions. Perhaps this was a bad time?
"Speak, human. What do you want of me?"
To business then. Shrugging off the earlier sentiment, the boy folded his arms in front of him as he answered, "We found a body on Omicron Ceti IV. A Graxian female wearing the uniform of a Green Lantern, but were unable to find a matching profile in the Book of Oa." Allowing that synopsis a moment to sink in, the boy continued, "I was hoping that you might..."
One of Slyggian's four hands came up in a dismissive gesture that matched the wearied grunt, silencing the boy. "That's because there is no missing Green Lantern," Salaak barked gruffly. The triangular head swiveled around, at last looking at the boy.
And the gaze was withering.
"Your evidence is clearly the product of a contaminated crime scene, or else your coroner is similarly incompetent," Salaak declared, the contempt now barely contained, before the four-armed alien at last turned away and resumed his work.
There is no anger, there is only peace. Drawing in a cleansing breath, the young monk breathed out slowly before he tried again. "With respect, Clarissi, if you would look at the..."
"Respect my time, human."
The boy clenched his jaw. His pulse quickened. There is no offense where none is taken. Another cleansing breath, and the boy tried to push down the raw emotion that was boiling in his veins.
His back now to the boy, the Slyggian said, "The Book of Oa contains all that we know. If the information you seek is not in the Book of Oa, then it does not exist."
A dead end, at least with respect to attempting to gather information this way. Kai-ro did have a back-up plan, and this meeting was clearly getting off on all the wrong feet. Another bow, and the boy prepared to take his leave.
As he started to turn away, he heard Salaak say, "You will cease this investigation at once."
The youth turned his head, and caught sight to the wicked side eye now aimed his way.
"The authorities on Omicron Ceti IV should be more than capable of handling so mundane an investigation... which is more than I could say for you or that H'lven."
The child made a fist before he'd even realized it. His heart was racing, as anger rose up from inside him. He paused, his mouth opening as he started to reply...
...and thought better of it.
Opening and closing his fist, the boy flattened his palm back out into the common Buddhist gesture and ran a quick prayer through his mind silently.
"Still here? Don't you have parking tickets to write?"
The vein on the side of the child's head was starting to throb. A false smile flickered, not at all matching the coldly smoldering hellfire behind his eyes. Craning back his head, the boy feigned his usual polite demeanor as he quipped, "I think I did see a patrol cruiser that was double parked outside."
Inclining his head toward the Slyggian, the boy offered his parting as he said, "Thank you, Cla..."
Shutting off the constructs, Salaak just walked away from the boy.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Gweilo," the boy uttered softly, the Chinese curse leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.
Robot Emotional Underground was a club on the historic Pi-1A2 beachfront avenue on Scylla.
The discordant beats trickled out through the doors, the bright lights and clientele making it clear that this was a game for the young. The club branded their logo on the wristbands that they used. The same logo that had been on the band around Jane Doe's wrist.
The bouncer at the door was a Bolovaxian and had the mouth to prove it. "Lost, rodent?"
"Yeah, I can't seem to find my bacon," the H'lven quipped, even as he smoothly flipped his credentials into the air for porcine creature to see. "Why don't you get out of my way before I take it out of your hide."
Holding up his hands, the Bolovaxian simply stepped aside.
Descending into the disco from hell, Ch'p found himself trying to squeeze through a crowd of party-goers each trying to talk above the music, that was in turn played at a volume so to be heard over the sound of the people in the club. The kind of volume where the bass seemed to trigger a shockwave in your body, a migraine in your head, and a pit in your soul for the fact that the idiots gyrating to the musical genius of DJ Snakefist were the future of the galaxy.
Also, the bartender and the bouncer had the same lack of tact.
"Please, god, tell me you're not tonight's stripper."
Levitating over the bar, the H'lven cut the young man a cold glare before surveying the club. Three floors that he could see. The second level seemingly just a balcony overlooking the main floor. The third was glassed in. Private rooms. "Water, with lemon," Ch'p ordered, at last giving his attention to the bar man.
"You're kidding, right?"
"If that's too difficult, plain water will be fine."
"Yeah, okay. You want that in a thimble?" the college aged boy muttered, grabbing a glass, dropping in a wedge of lemon and decanting a splash of water over it. Sliding that across the bar, he gave her another skeptical look as he asked, "Can I help you officer?"
Landing on the bar top, the H'lven took a sip of water before he replied. "You worked here long?"
"About a year I guess."
A green construct depicting an artistic recreation of their Jane Doe flashed up in the air. "Ever see a girl like that come in here?"
The young man glanced at the photograph for a moment before giving a shake of his head. "Looks like about a hundred girls that come in here to me."
Nodding, Ch'p dismissed the construct with a casual wave of his hand.
"Excuse me, officer, is there some problem?"
From the nasal sound of the voice, he knew even before turning around that the person addressing him was a Muscarian. That would be the club manager. Owner possibly. When he had turned around, he found what he was expecting to see and an entourage of Daxamites dressed in the same black attire as the Bolovaxian he'd dressed down earlier.
There was a lot of money going into a nightclub for the twenty-something wild crowd.
"Officer Ch'p, Green Lantern Corps," the H'lven said, introducing himself formally as his credentials flashed in the air. "I'm investigating the murder of a young woman who had been a customer here the night that she died. You're monitoring the club. Do you have recordings that go back a year?"
The statement as to monitoring the club hadn't been a question.
"There's no security recordings," the Muscarian countered snidely. "And unless you have a warrant, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Funny. That's a Spektor-35J surveillance unit," Ch'p noted, tipping his head in the general direction of a small half-globe shape on the wall.
"You must be mistaken," the Muscarian reiterated, as the Daxamites moved to either side of the security officer. "And I'm sure you have better places to be, Green Lantern Ch'p."
Civil. But enough to raise the hairs on the back of his tail.
"At the moment," Ch'p conceded, levitating himself back into the air as he prepared to take his leave. Leveling a cold gaze down to the Muscarian, he added, "But only for the moment."
G R E E N L A N T E R N
"MARY JANE'S LAST DANCE" || PART VI || POST THEMEThe child exited from out of the wormhole.
A momentary vertigo came over him, as the boy found himself propelled from the edge of space to the center of galactic traffic.
It was known as Sector Zero. It was home to a single planet. Oa, the world of the Guardians. A council composed of the last, lingering remnants of an ancient civilization that worked to guide the younger races before the Guardians took their leave of this plane of reality.
Nova Corps battlecruisers. Star Sapphire hospital ships. Interceptors, like the Sentinel buzzing like wasps. And a flurry of small, green figures who were just specks against the cosmic background. Heads of State and lowlife criminals came and went through the halls of justice that formed the intergalactic police headquarters that spanned some 5,000 sectors of space.
Navigating the traffic pattern, the Tibetan child descended down onto the emerald planet. Aside from the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps, Oa was home to several major urban centers. Embassies. Hospitals. Housing for the families of the Lanterns stationed there, supplying the overarching bureaucracy that managed the internal affairs of such a far-reaching organization.
At the heart of which was a Slyggian from Sector 1418.
As the boy's green-shod feet padded inside of the massive galactic operations center, the boy found the Green Lantern's own Chief of Police standing at the center of a massive green construct that displayed information about the deployment of the Lanterns across the galaxy. Pausing a respectful distance away, the child brought one hand up, palm flat with the thumb toward his chest, as he gave a formal bow toward the Slyggian. "Clarissi Salaak," Kai-ro intoned, addressing the veteran Green Lantern by his title.
The Slyggian barely spared the small form a glance. "Hmph. Kai-ro."
The boy did a double take, an awkward gesture that shattered the usual composed air with which the monk carried himself with.
To the best of his recollection, this was the first time that the two were meeting. So, on the one hand, he was shocked that someone such as Salaak would even know who he was. Let alone his name.
However, the manner in which it had been said left a rather distinct tone that rapidly soured first impressions. Perhaps this was a bad time?
"Speak, human. What do you want of me?"
To business then. Shrugging off the earlier sentiment, the boy folded his arms in front of him as he answered, "We found a body on Omicron Ceti IV. A Graxian female wearing the uniform of a Green Lantern, but were unable to find a matching profile in the Book of Oa." Allowing that synopsis a moment to sink in, the boy continued, "I was hoping that you might..."
One of Slyggian's four hands came up in a dismissive gesture that matched the wearied grunt, silencing the boy. "That's because there is no missing Green Lantern," Salaak barked gruffly. The triangular head swiveled around, at last looking at the boy.
And the gaze was withering.
"Your evidence is clearly the product of a contaminated crime scene, or else your coroner is similarly incompetent," Salaak declared, the contempt now barely contained, before the four-armed alien at last turned away and resumed his work.
There is no anger, there is only peace. Drawing in a cleansing breath, the young monk breathed out slowly before he tried again. "With respect, Clarissi, if you would look at the..."
"Respect my time, human."
The boy clenched his jaw. His pulse quickened. There is no offense where none is taken. Another cleansing breath, and the boy tried to push down the raw emotion that was boiling in his veins.
His back now to the boy, the Slyggian said, "The Book of Oa contains all that we know. If the information you seek is not in the Book of Oa, then it does not exist."
A dead end, at least with respect to attempting to gather information this way. Kai-ro did have a back-up plan, and this meeting was clearly getting off on all the wrong feet. Another bow, and the boy prepared to take his leave.
As he started to turn away, he heard Salaak say, "You will cease this investigation at once."
The youth turned his head, and caught sight to the wicked side eye now aimed his way.
"The authorities on Omicron Ceti IV should be more than capable of handling so mundane an investigation... which is more than I could say for you or that H'lven."
The child made a fist before he'd even realized it. His heart was racing, as anger rose up from inside him. He paused, his mouth opening as he started to reply...
...and thought better of it.
Opening and closing his fist, the boy flattened his palm back out into the common Buddhist gesture and ran a quick prayer through his mind silently.
"Still here? Don't you have parking tickets to write?"
The vein on the side of the child's head was starting to throb. A false smile flickered, not at all matching the coldly smoldering hellfire behind his eyes. Craning back his head, the boy feigned his usual polite demeanor as he quipped, "I think I did see a patrol cruiser that was double parked outside."
Inclining his head toward the Slyggian, the boy offered his parting as he said, "Thank you, Cla..."
Shutting off the constructs, Salaak just walked away from the boy.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Gweilo," the boy uttered softly, the Chinese curse leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.
Robot Emotional Underground was a club on the historic Pi-1A2 beachfront avenue on Scylla.
The discordant beats trickled out through the doors, the bright lights and clientele making it clear that this was a game for the young. The club branded their logo on the wristbands that they used. The same logo that had been on the band around Jane Doe's wrist.
The bouncer at the door was a Bolovaxian and had the mouth to prove it. "Lost, rodent?"
"Yeah, I can't seem to find my bacon," the H'lven quipped, even as he smoothly flipped his credentials into the air for porcine creature to see. "Why don't you get out of my way before I take it out of your hide."
Holding up his hands, the Bolovaxian simply stepped aside.
Descending into the disco from hell, Ch'p found himself trying to squeeze through a crowd of party-goers each trying to talk above the music, that was in turn played at a volume so to be heard over the sound of the people in the club. The kind of volume where the bass seemed to trigger a shockwave in your body, a migraine in your head, and a pit in your soul for the fact that the idiots gyrating to the musical genius of DJ Snakefist were the future of the galaxy.
Also, the bartender and the bouncer had the same lack of tact.
"Please, god, tell me you're not tonight's stripper."
Levitating over the bar, the H'lven cut the young man a cold glare before surveying the club. Three floors that he could see. The second level seemingly just a balcony overlooking the main floor. The third was glassed in. Private rooms. "Water, with lemon," Ch'p ordered, at last giving his attention to the bar man.
"You're kidding, right?"
"If that's too difficult, plain water will be fine."
"Yeah, okay. You want that in a thimble?" the college aged boy muttered, grabbing a glass, dropping in a wedge of lemon and decanting a splash of water over it. Sliding that across the bar, he gave her another skeptical look as he asked, "Can I help you officer?"
Landing on the bar top, the H'lven took a sip of water before he replied. "You worked here long?"
"About a year I guess."
A green construct depicting an artistic recreation of their Jane Doe flashed up in the air. "Ever see a girl like that come in here?"
The young man glanced at the photograph for a moment before giving a shake of his head. "Looks like about a hundred girls that come in here to me."
Nodding, Ch'p dismissed the construct with a casual wave of his hand.
"Excuse me, officer, is there some problem?"
From the nasal sound of the voice, he knew even before turning around that the person addressing him was a Muscarian. That would be the club manager. Owner possibly. When he had turned around, he found what he was expecting to see and an entourage of Daxamites dressed in the same black attire as the Bolovaxian he'd dressed down earlier.
There was a lot of money going into a nightclub for the twenty-something wild crowd.
"Officer Ch'p, Green Lantern Corps," the H'lven said, introducing himself formally as his credentials flashed in the air. "I'm investigating the murder of a young woman who had been a customer here the night that she died. You're monitoring the club. Do you have recordings that go back a year?"
The statement as to monitoring the club hadn't been a question.
"There's no security recordings," the Muscarian countered snidely. "And unless you have a warrant, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Funny. That's a Spektor-35J surveillance unit," Ch'p noted, tipping his head in the general direction of a small half-globe shape on the wall.
"You must be mistaken," the Muscarian reiterated, as the Daxamites moved to either side of the security officer. "And I'm sure you have better places to be, Green Lantern Ch'p."
Civil. But enough to raise the hairs on the back of his tail.
"At the moment," Ch'p conceded, levitating himself back into the air as he prepared to take his leave. Leveling a cold gaze down to the Muscarian, he added, "But only for the moment."