[ Written by Joygirl. Plotted by Joygirl and Avenging_X_Bolt. ]
For the rest of WotRL, future updates, and a glance at the full roster, check out (and make sure to recommend!) the Wrath of the Red Lanterns user list, which will be acting as the library and central hub for this title!
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Guy Gardner shrugged his shoulders as he stepped through the doors of Oa's newly-built Warriors bar. He had felt tense since being given his new mission. A slight burn in his stomach, a cramp in his upper back. Things like that. Handling the Red Lantern Corps was above his paygrade and he knew it – with a team of other high-powered heroes, the abilities of a Green Lantern were indispensable, and they could take on the most unstoppable of forces. He needed Superman, Wonder Woman, the martian... hell, with a task like this, even Batman would be welcome.
But the Jay-Ell was busy on Apokalips for the foreseeable future, and the Guardians insisted that this remain a “Lantern problem,” not important enough for earth's heroes to have to worry about. He prayed their decision wouldn't get him killed.
“Well, what're you two waiting for?” Guy barked as he stepped into the space-tavern, his squinted eyes quickly locating Arisia and Tomar-Re. The pair were sitting sheepishly at the bar, both without drinks and seemingly relatively silent. “We've got a freakin' job to get done.”
“What exactly are we doing, Guy?” Arisia said, lifting a brow. “The message just said to meet you here, nothing about what we were actually going to be doing.” The beaked alien nodded for solidarity, and Guy huffed.
“There's been a little, uh, problem, with a space station. Lotta casualties. We're supposed to check the situation out and see what actually happened over there.”
“Are there any suspects?” Tomar-Re asled.
“I, uh, well... yeah,” Guy coughed slightly, hiding his face with his arm. “The, uh... rdlnthncorp....”
“The what?” Arisia pressed.
“The Red Lantern Corps!” Guy growled, sitting down at the bar and quickly motioning for a beer. “The Red Lantern Corps were involved. Specifically, three of them. The three of us are going to go on a diplomatic mission to check things out.”
“Which three?” Tomar clucked.
“Wait, they sent you on a diplomatic mission?” Arisia quickly followed.
Guy growled quietly as he got his pint, taking a deep swig out of it and setting it back down, hard, on the bartop. “Reports say that the three involved were Razer, Zilius Zox, and that bitch Bleez. And yes, they sent me, for the same reason they're sending you–” he motioned to Arisia for a moment. “Because they know us, and as far as they know they might be willing to tolerate us. Like it or not, we're the guys for the job.”
“This sounds like a suicide mission.” Tomar-Re stated firmly. “But I'm in.”
“So am I, I suppose. It's either that or another patrol around 384.” Arisia said, though she certainly looked displeased. While her relationship with the Red Corps wasn't as personal as Guy's, she had some experience with them – Bleez in particular – and knew that such a small team was utterly outmatched if anything went south, which they probably would.
“Good. Then we'll set out ri–” Guy was cut off mid-sentence by another voice, one entering the bar just now. The voice of Hal Jordan.
“Arisia, can we talk?” The dark-haired human said quickly. Even though he sounded serious, his voice continued to carry a natural swagger. That implacable charm that even people who hated Hal had to respect. He motioned with one hand to the back of the bar, and Arisia nodded, getting up and following him without a word. Hal paused for just a moment, glancing back to Guy. “Won't be long.”
When Guy turned back to his beer, taking another deep chug from it, he found Tomar's eyes weighing heavily on him. “What,” he grunted.
“This is a dangerous assignment, for you.” The alien said softly. “You know that Atrocitus converts as many as he kills, and you are one of those he covets. You'll have to keep in control at all times.”
“You think I don't know that?” Guy snapped. “I didn't wanna take this freakin' job. I'm pissed about it already, and the fact that I'm pissed only pisses me off more. Hal and Ganthet pushed me into it, with a team that's too small.”
Tomar nodded slowly, inhaling and keeping his eyes on Guy. “I will do my best to help you. But as usual, the mission will rely on your actions and decisions. It's your job not to let your rage get the best of it, or the Red Lanterns will taste it.”
“I know, dammit. I know that.” Guy pounded the last of his drink and slammed the glass down, turning his head away from the beaked man so that he could no longer sense his gaze. “What's takin' Flyboy so long? I'm ready to get this show on the road.”
“I'm afraid I know nothing of his dealings with Miss Rrab, do you have any suspicions?”
“If I know Hal he's seven miles into Pork City.”
“Come again?”
“Nothin'.” Guy hid his small sneer as Hal and Arisia re-entered the bar from the back room, both looking and acting as if nothing important had been exchanged.
“Good luck, the three of you,” Hal said firmly, glancing at his ring to telepathically check its charge. “I'll see you on the other side.”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
“Well, it's certainly important, if nothing else,” Skallox murmured. “And if I'm not wrong, it's qwardian.” The lanky, beast-headed lantern held up a large device, eying it closely and toying with the moving parts. It resembled a exotic rifle, but a bit larger. Perhaps some sort of heavy weapon.
“You know nothing more?” came the booming voice of Atrocitus himself. Only a few other lanterns watched Skallox do his work in the citadel's modest armory – namely, Laira and Ratchet. The team of three reds who had recently brought down that rogue vessel had managed to bring a few things back from the wreckage they had created, but it hadn't been much. A few weapons, a few pieces of tech, all of which seemed remarkably advanced for the type of people who had been using them. The force cages that had kept Zilius detained, if nothing else, were far beyond the ability of most civilizations.
“Do educated guesses count as knowledge?” Skallox said, setting the weapon down and turning his gaze to Atros.
“If they must,” the massive man growled.
“In that case,” Skallox lifted the gun up again. “Qwardian weaponry only goes so far. It's nice, but it isn't this nice. That said, some years ago they had a Weaponer of legendary skill under their payroll. Guy named Ojo.”
“Years ago?” Ratchet burbled, quick to catch on to that little hook in Skallox's statement. “Not now?”
“Nope, not now,” Skallox admitted. “He disappeared a few years ago, and nobody's seen him since. His tech must have been scavenged by the bozos Bleez's team ran into... some of it, anyway.”
“This is the stuff that was able to hold Zilius?” Laira chirped. “And they couldn't get him out without bringing the entire ship down?”
Ratchet nodded, and Skallox continued. “We don't know if Ojo made that piece specifically, since it got lost in the wreckage. But if I was a betting man, I'd say yes.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I am a betting man, by the way. Whaddya say, a week of Veon-handling to the loser?”
“No thanks,” Laira said with a brief smile, before turning back to Atrocitus. “Orders, my lord?”
“I want this Weaponer found,” Atrocitus said firmly. “While we are strong individually, our Corps lacks finesse. We need ships, equipment. We need technology. We need this Ojo man, if he is still alive.” The massive red man turned, his broad back silhouetted against the light outside the citadel. “I'm assigning you, Skallox, and Razer to this. Find the qwardian. If you cannot, find what of his missing work you can... and a suitable replacement”
Laira nodded quickly, her breath catching. “Yes, lord Atrocitus.”
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