Only a couple of minutes later, Kyle was drifting down onto the street in front of a tall, spotlighted building on the Sunset Strip. He walked into it, taking in the high ceilings and art-deco interiors, and was so distracted that he didn't notice the squat, gray-haired man obstructing his path.
“Do you have a pass?” The security guard asked him.
“Ummm...no...?” Kyle said, hesitant. “I'm, er, I'm guest-hosting tonight.”
“Who are you supposed to be, exactly?”
“I'm Green Lantern.”
“Well, Mr. Green, tonight's guest hosts are The White Stripes. I would suggest you catch the show on your TV at home.”
“Come on, can you please just call down to Wes? I swear to you, I'm a superhero with a publicity agent. I mean, really—what other superheroes even HAVE publicists?”
“Booster Gold.”
“You got me there. But really, I can do magic things with this little ring I have on. Why else would I be wearing this silly outfit? You think this mask is comfortable on a hot day in California?”
“You'd be surprised what people will do to get on TV. Wait here—I'll call down to the stage, but if you try to sneak past, you'd better hope that ring keeps me from tossing you out of here on your kiester.”
“I'm guessing it would,” Kyle said, finally cracking a smile. “But I'll be good anyway. I promise I'm on the level.”
As he sat on an overstuffed, beat-up leather chair near the entrance, Kyle was entertained by two men he recognized as cast members, walking through the lobby arguing between themselves. He couldn't hear all of it, but the tall, black man was fairly convinced that something wasn't going to go on the air and the skinny, white guy was advocating for it. Kyle strained to hear them until they rounded the corner, and only started to realize that he could use the ring to listen in, as the security guard came back to him and put a pass in his ring-hand.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Green. They didn't bother to tell us down here that Jack White had laryngitis. I'll see to it you get a ticket for you and a plus-one to the after-party if you want.”
Kyle thought about this—about how much fun it would be to go to the after-party as Kyle the graphic designer, how much he'd love to meet with the studio heads and the like—but then he quickly snapped out of it and realized that if he went, it would have to be in costume and his plus-one couldn't possibly be Alex. He smiled apologetically.
“No, I think I'd better head out after the taping. What if something happens and the city needs saving, but I'm three drinks in at the party, right?”
“Fair enough. Have a good show.”
“Thanks.”
Kyle stood in the elevator and was struck for the first time with the oddity of his powers—they rendered elevators redundant. If he wanted (and if there were no ceilings), he could just float up the four floors to the broadcast studio.
“That's the kind of thing they don't teach you in superhero school,” he muttered under his breath as the doors slid open. On the other side, giving him a puzzled look was the tall, black man he'd seen talking earlier. He had a grave expression on his face. What was this guy's name, again? Sam? Steve? Something with an S...? Kyle couldn't remember.
“Good evening, Citizen!” Kyle said, and plastered on a big smile as he passed the man. The tall, black cast member smiled back warmly and walked past him into the elevator.
“Howdy, Spaceman,” he muttered as the doors closed behind him.
A wild-haired, fifty-something man with a frumpy suit walked up to Kyle. “Green Lantern, I presume?” He said, and fixed on Kyle with a labored smile.
“You're Wes Mendel!” Kyle gushed. “I've been a fan for years.”
“Well, I like what you do, too,” Wes said, offering a terse handshake. “Thanks so much for filling in at the last minute—let me walk you over and introduce you to Cal, he'll get you all set. We're having a hell of a night, so I'm going to have to run.”
Wes led Kyle into the back room, and then wandered off scowling. “Is he alright?” Kyle asked Cal, a tall, rotund red-haired man with glasses.
“Aw, he's fine,” Cal told him, “he just needs a good show tonight. Some stuff going on.”
“I'll see what I can do to help out in that department, I guess,” Kyle said.
A moment later, the power in the building shut down. Cal groaned, and started to yell something, but Kyle couldn't hear it over the roar of something crashing down in the street outside the dressing room window. The ring began to glow brightly out of control.
“Imminent danger!” The ring hollered in Kyle's head.
“Threat detected—extraterrestrial craft has crash-landed. Proximity extreme. Fatalities in the hundreds. Ring has isolated the craft in an effort to minimize fatalities.”“What the hell is it?” Kyle asked.
“Race unknown. Chronal anomaly detected. Craft may be time-traveling.”“Time--? What the hell!” Kyle crashed through the window and saw, about a block from the studio, an enormous starship the size of two city blocks.
It had rolled over a good chunk of the city, but appeared to have come almost directly down onto its current spot. There were small fires, people running, screaming, bleeding and crying all around it. Houses and businesses were crushed under parts of the damaged craft, which was billowing smoke out of its aft engines.
“What the hell?” Kyle said. “Scan for life?”
The ring took a moment to respond.
“There are two unidentified reptilian/humanoid life forms on board. The ship appears to have been piloted by automated system. There is no other life anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the ship.”“Are these--?”
“It appears likely that this craft may have been responsible for eradicating all life in the small area we encountered on the way to your appearance.”“Dammit,” Kyle said. “The show will have to wait.” He flew toward the craft, which had already started to construct for itself a protective tent of some kind. He was, frankly, a little stunned, a lot scared and more than a bit confused. Thinking back to every cop movie he'd ever seen, he knew that this was a time to make his stand—to let the bad guys know that he was a bad-ass, and that he had the full authority of the universe's most powerful law enforcement agency behind him.
Of course, that was assuming they hadn't already heard the Guardians were dead and that their current torch bearer was totally faking it. Using the ring as a megaphone, he shouted into it: “I am Green Lantern, representative of the Guardians of the Universe and protector of this planet! Surrender yourselves immediately, or I will consider this a hostile attack on Earth.”
At that last part, Kyle winced as he realized that it would probably panic onlookers, which it did. A moment later, a small, gold ship sped through the atmosphere at an incredible speed, and landed on top of a two-story storefront adjacent to the crash site. Two space-suited figures stepped out of it. Each of them was wearing a white, traditional-looking space suit, except with a small yellow star on the right breast instead of the flag of any country.
“Please identify yourselves, astronauts. I am Green Lantern, representative of the Guardians of the Universe.”
“Didn't there used to be a bunch of you fellows?” asked one of the astronauts, removing his helmet to reveal a wild-eyed old man with thinning, gray hair. “We need to take into custody the half-breed filth that controls that craft there.”
“Who are you?” Kyle asked again.
“I am Rik Sunn, leader of a space faring law enforcement agency. The monster who just trampled your city is a deposed dictator who has the stolen treasures of thousands of planets on board his craft. He must die for his numerous atrocities...” Sunn drew a shiny, red pistol from his suit. “...And I'll be the one to carry out his sentence.”
Cal was standing on the street below, trailed by a camera man who was documenting all of this.
“So I'm guessing you're not coming back, eh, GL?” Cal asked, as loud as he could.
“Sorry, but what with the mass murder and the crazy old space cop, I'm guessing that tonight isn't a good night for me to be doing sketch comedy.”
To Be Continued...
