章 4: ISSUE 03 RETURN TO FORM
Monday Morning September 4th, 2024. Northern-Hollywood, California.
As usual, he fell asleep at his desk. Pencil in hand. Still drawing faintly— even in his sleep. It helped him dream. Sometimes he'd wake up to entire dreams laid down on comic panels. Unfortunately they were never related to his work. And never not ruined by drool.
His alarm let off a mechanical scream that sounded all too similar to Ohm.
He jumped out his chair and aimed his ring-bearing hand at the alarm clock.
"OHM!.... What am I doing?" Kyle dropped his fist.
The door into his apartment opened from behind him. He spun around and tried to clean up. It was too late.
His roommate stood in the doorway— less than thirty feet from him, watching with disappointment. He was large— imposing and militaristic. He was even sporting grays in his low cropped fade and mustache. Fellow college student and art partner all the same.
"Morning, Mr. Stewart." Kyle ran a hand through his hair.
"Kyle, call me John. Also, how many times do I have to tell you not to sleep at your desk. You're going to have the back of a sixty year old blue collar worker by thirty."
Kyle waved him off and got to cleaning up his desk, "Ah…. S.T.A.R Labs will just make orthopedic suits if enough shut ins like me continue to wither."
"…. That was specific? You been watching the news?" John asked.
"What?"
"Some psycho in a suit from S.T.A.R Labs just got beat by the titans and a Lantern."
"That's on the news??!"
John dug into one of his grocery bags and pulled out a roll of newspaper. He threw it across the room, causing it to smack straight into Kyle's head.
He picked it up, "Real nice gramps."
"No problem, kid."
He was on the front page. Smack dab in the center, shielding Aqualad and Ganthet from Ohm's assault.
"Alright now, we've seen worse." John caught him staring. "What's up with you today?"
Kyle sighed and threw the newspaper in the trash. "….Todays my first day since…"
"Right. How could I forget? My apologies." John was at his side immediately with a calloused hand on his shoulder.
"It's fine. I'm fine. I went to visit her grave yesterday. Made some promises I intend to keep. I'm ready to hit the ground running."
John smiled. He was a stiff— years as a marine left him cold. So the smile was… debatable. "That's the spirit, hoo-rah!"
Kyle laughed at his reply, "Alright. I need a shower."
"And a brushing." John nodded, "Ink plus morning breath is an unpleasant combo. Even for a college student."
"Roger that." Kyle blew his breath extra hard in John's direction as he walked away.
"You know I have a gun, right? That I can use expertly."
"Uh-huh."
As Kyle got himself set up in the shower, John called out to him a final time.
"You said you visited Alex's gravestone yesterday right?"
"Yea… why?"
"No reason." John replied as he looked over the newspaper. In the background of the photographed Lantern, gravestones loomed. "No reason at all."
***
Kyle stepped out of the shower, walking through thick clouds of steam. Cursing his fan for cutting out like everything else in his apartment.
He approached his mirror and ran a hand across the foggy film collecting on the glass.
In the newfound clarity he stood looking back at himself in a green eye mask with white-green eyes and a skintight suit.
"THE F—" He jumped, bringing his hands up to shield his face.
When nothing came, he opened his eyes and scoured his hands for the ring. Checking if it snuck back onto his finger.
It did not.
He didn't feel that focused itch.
He looked back up at the mirror.
"Normal Kyle. What's up, man?" He greeted his reflection.
As a child he used to hate his reflection. It just gave him questions.
He didn't look much like his mother. The only person to raise him. She was beautiful…. And violently Irish. Her skin was so pale she was nearly translucent. She couldn't take him to the beach without bathing in sunscreen and wearing a sweater. Her auburn hair was both curly and unimaginably frizzy. It only added to her wild beauty. He could almost see her green eyes in his minds eye. Glowing. Flashing. Light taking sha—
"Stoppit!" Kyle shook away the thought, focusing instead on his face.
Even after a summer of being inside all day and night, his skin was bronze. His dark hair was only visibly red in tint under the sun at certain angles. It fell around his face in an overgrown middle part. Not nearly as frizzy or curly as his mothers. The one similarity they held was the long shape of their noses and high cheekbones. His father was probably Hispanic. Not that he'd ever know for sure….
Kyle finished up his routine with a shave, face wash and rigorous tooth brushing before styling his hair and putting on clothes. All while trying to ignore the scars on his arms and shoulder from the previous days battle.
He settled for a knitted black henley, cargo pants and green tote bag for his supplies. It was the only one he had.
He could've sworn it was brown before…
Upon stepping out of the bathroom, he found John standing at his desk, flipping through his dream writings.
He approached his roommate to see what he was looking at. After sleep-drawing for so long, he often didn't check his work. Especially when he had bigger fish to f—
"Awe damn!" Kyle thought as he peered over John's shoulder and found a full frontal spread of a first person view of someone flying through space. On their outstretched right hand they wore a green power-ring and shot it into the face of the sun…. Only now the sun was a fiery gaseous space demon with flaming tendrils.
"Wild dreams, huh?" John asked.
"Uh….. yea. I gotta stop reading sci-fi comics." Kyle stammered.
John shrugged, "I mean it's not bad…."
"It's nonsense." Kyle reached past him and grabbed the paper, throwing it in the trash, "Anyway…. Do you have my backdrops?"
John nodded before walking back to the dining room table behind them where his suitcase sat. He dug into it and pulled out a stack of papers. "Finally putting my architecture degree to good use."
"You're a lifesaver, John. Your landscape and building designs are always so real. I don't get how you do it."
John smiled in that faint way, "I have a lot of practice."
Kyle nodded.
"Now…" John brought up his arm to check his wrist watch, "Last I checked, art classes start at nine am. And it's seven forty-five. What did I tell you about military punctuality?"
"Arrive before the leading figure to show that you're a soldier ready to serve." Kyle replied
John deflated as if he didn't like his old teachings all of a sudden. "Right…. Yes. Now get out of here. Take the day. You've earned it."
Kyle gave a play salute and left his apartment.
***
The outside California air was fresh. The sun beamed. When the winds blew ocean-side he could taste the salt on the air beneath the car exhaust.
He used to ride a bike to class. Alex got it for him. After, well, you know, he couldn't ride it comfortably. So instead, he walked a few miles.
He passed neighborhoods he grew up playing in. Houses he egged on holidays and snuck into on bootycalls. After three months it felt like a trip straight down memory lane. Unpleasant memory lane.
Multiple houses had monuments and flowers on windowsills. Reminders that he wasn't the only one who lost someone when Coast-City was bombed.
He picked up his pace, making it to Light-Bringer College of the Arts at eight-fifteen.
The campus was massive. State of the art architecture and historical phenomena spread like a solid blanket. Something smooth and streamlined covering a comfy homely base. Apparently John worked on the designing process years ago. It's what got him his second scholarship after leaving the service. Wherever he went.
People he distantly recognized blew past him. The soccer team looked through him as he walked past the field to reach the south wing. They were running a morning scrimmage with the freshmen. Promising recruits from what he saw. One student in particular was an amazing striker. He was fast— moving on legs seemingly powered purely by muscle and violence as he blew past two second years and launched the ball into the goal from across the field.
"The hell are you looking at?!" The goalie snapped as he got up to find Kyle staring from behind him.
"Nothing." They used to eat lunch everyday together.
He must've looked entirely different. He'd lost a few dozen pounds. Abandoned his letterman jackets. That was without considering how he ghosted everyone.
Good thing he wasn't looking for forgiveness from anyone but…..
They kicked the freshman off the field after his goal. Hazing still prominent no matter what college you attended.
"What's the deal?! If your goalie can't block the ball from a freshman it's not bloody likely he'll manage in the real games."
Kyle spun around at the sound of his voice and accent. He lived in California— a cultural hub unlike many other places. But all his life he only knew two people with English accents.
Alexandra D. Moore and her younger brother, John "Jack" Moore.
He was unrecognizable. Older. Taller. Bigger. He'd buzzed his once long curly brown hair and was covered in tattoos. He looked like he aged a decade.
Kyle made a b-line straight for them as they left the field and headed past the bleacher stadium surrounding them. The only thing behind the stadium was a parking lot that had been under construction for something like a decade.
He rushed— ignoring the senior players calling after him to mind his business. Focusing instead on his promise to Alex.
In a rush, he jogged through the tunnel where their cleat prints scratched the pavement and emerged on the other side to find John taking a beating from his teammates.
"Hey— what the hell are you doing?!" Kyle jumped in and shoved off the three senior players.
"Kyle….?" Jack looked at him once in surprise before facing the other players spilling into the abandoned parking lot.
Kyle stood beside Jack. "Guys… be serious. Are we really doing this over a freshman scoring on you?"
"Since you're here, you could say we're also doing it because you left us at the championships without a midfielder last year." The team captain replied.
Jack put up his fists, "Come on then—"
"No." Kyle stepped in front of him. "I promised A—"
Jack shoved him. "Piss off, man."
"What?"
"I don't need my dead sisters trashy boyfriend trying to be my father. You don't look fit for a scrap anyway. Go kick rocks, while I do heads." Jack jumped into the brawl.
Kyle tried to follow only to recieve a cleated kick to his back.
He hit the asphalt hard. When he tried to get up, another kick slammed into his ribs followed by a skin-splitting stomp to his hands.
Through the spiked stampede he found Jack on the ground with him, roaring with rage as he blocked kicks and swung from the ground, splitting his knuckles on shin guards and kneecaps.
The sight of him hurt worse than any kick to the face. Kyle left him alone for three months.
And there he lay, watching him be beaten. Left unprotected again. Stars spun in his peripherals as the beating overtook him.
His finger itche—
The star in his peripherals crashed into the abandoned parking lot, splitting the unfinished pavement and birthing a mushroom cloud of dust.
Everyone slowly turned around to face the blast.
From the ashes and dust rose a figure. Large— looming, even as be stood from the crater. He was almost comically muscular…. And purple. The symbols MF gleamed in gold from his chest.
"Hello boys, I'm here on business. Any of you seen a Green-Lantern around here?"
クリエイターの想い 
_Avatar0FFury_
_Avatar0FFury_ OG KYLE RAYNER readers know who just pulled up. if you don’t, you will next chapter.
so far there’s been three characters introduced. lmk how many you caught. Some where obvious, others less so. I’m taking full advantage of my AU priveleges. thanks for reading and lmk what you think!
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