Nick Fury had seen plenty of war rooms in his career, but the tension in the White House Situation Room felt different today. It wasn't the usual anxiety of military planning or crisis response—this was the palpable uncertainty of men who'd just watched their understanding of global security crumble in the span of a week.
President Matthew Ellis sat at the head of the conference table, his normally composed features showing the strain of recent events. To his right, the Joint Chiefs of Staff occupied their traditional positions: Admiral Michael Mullen, Chairman; General George Casey, Army Chief of Staff; Admiral Gary Roughead, Chief of Naval Operations; General Norton Schwartz, Air Force Chief of Staff; and General James Conway, Commandant of the Marine Corps. Each wore expressions that ranged from concerned to openly skeptical.
Fury noted the additional attendees with professional interest. Amanda Waller sat rigid in her chair, her stocky frame radiating the controlled intensity that had made her ARGUS's most effective director. General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross looked like he hadn't slept in days—understandable, given that his Hulk containment operation had leveled half of Harlem just four days ago. General Samuel Lane, ever the hardliner, maintained his perpetual scowl, probably already formulating arguments for militarizing whatever response they developed.
"Director Fury," President Ellis began without preamble, "you've had twelve hours with the Green Lantern. What can you tell us?"
Fury adjusted his eye patch—a gesture more habit than necessity—before responding. "Mr. President, what we're dealing with is unprecedented in scope but not entirely without historical context. Harold Jordan is currently secured in Safehouse Delta with his immediate family. Director Faraday is maintaining surveillance while giving them space to process recent events."
"Process?" General Ross interrupted, his voice rough with exhaustion and frustration. "We've got half of downtown Coast City in ruins, Harlem is still smoking from Banner's rampage, and you're giving this Jordan time to 'process'?"
"With respect, General," Fury replied evenly, "Jordan isn't Banner. He's not an uncontrolled variable. Based on preliminary assessments, he's a trained military test pilot who's been conscripted into what amounts to an intergalactic police force. Heavy-handed tactics would be... counterproductive."
Amanda Waller leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table. "The energy readings from yesterday's conflict match signatures we've seen before. This isn't our first encounter with this particular technology."
The room's attention shifted to her immediately.
"Explain," Ellis commanded.
Waller glanced at Fury, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "During World War II, there was another individual who wielded similar power—Alan Scott, the original Green Lantern. He was a founding member of the Justice Society of America."
General Lane's scowl deepened. "The JSA. Scott was there when Rogers became Captain America, wasn't he? Part of Project Rebirth."
"Correct," Fury confirmed. "Scott was instrumental in several key operations, including the rescue of Sergeant Barnes from Red Skull's headquarters. He fought alongside Jay Garrick—the original Flash—and Diana Trevor."
"Wonder Woman," Waller added. "She's maintained an extremely low profile since Steve Trevor's death seven years ago. Occasionally consults, but mostly stays with her family."
"They continued operating into the 1960s," Fury explained. "The team dissolved after the Blue Marvel incident—when it became public knowledge that their most powerful member was African American. The government's response... wasn't our finest hour."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. The forced retirement of the Blue Marvel remained a controversial chapter in American history, one that had effectively ended the first age of heroes.
"Scott retired quietly," Waller continued. "We maintained loose surveillance, but he never posed a threat. His ring, however, was different from what Jordan displayed yesterday. Scott's power came from what he called the 'Starheart'—mystical in nature. Jordan's energy signature suggests something more... technological."
"There's also James Rogers," Fury added, noting the slight tension that crossed Ellis's face at the mention. "Captain America's son. Still operates occasionally under the codename Carter, though he's kept a low profile since his father's disappearance."
Admiral Mullen cleared his throat. "Let's focus on the immediate situation. In the past week alone, we've had the Stark Expo attack, the Hulk-Abomination battle in Harlem, whatever the hell happened in New Mexico with those... Norse god impersonators—"
"They weren't impersonators," Fury interrupted. "Preliminary analysis suggests Thor, or someone matching mythological descriptions, actually engaged an extraterrestrial weapons platform in Puente Antiguo."
"—and now alien police fighting alien criminals in Coast City," Mullen continued, looking increasingly agitated. "Not to mention reports of Gotham City turning into a war zone with assassins and whatever the Batman actually is. How did we get here?"
"We've always been here, Admiral," Fury replied. "The only thing that's changed is visibility. Superman's emergence two years ago started a cascade effect. When someone that powerful chooses to operate openly, it emboldens others."
"Or attracts threats," General Lane interjected. "Every one of these incidents has escalated in scale. First it was enhanced individuals fighting crime. Now we're dealing with alien invasions."
"With respect, General, that's a mischaracterization," Fury countered. "The red... what did Jordan call them? Red Lanterns? They came looking specifically for him. This wasn't a random invasion—it was a targeted operation that our planet got caught in the middle of."
President Ellis held up a hand, silencing the brewing argument. "Director Fury, you mentioned historical context. Walk us through what we actually know about these 'Lanterns.'"
Fury activated the holographic display built into the conference table. Images flickered to life—grainy photographs from the 1940s showing Alan Scott in action, his green uniform notably different from what they'd seen yesterday.
"Alan Scott first appeared in 1940," Fury began. "His cover story was that he'd found a magical lantern in a train wreck. The truth, as we later learned, was more complicated. The artifact he found was extraterrestrial in origin, though he never made contact with any organizing authority like this 'Green Lantern Corps' Jordan mentioned."
The display shifted to footage from yesterday's battle. "Jordan's power source appears more advanced. The constructs are more refined, the energy signature more stable. And unlike Scott, Jordan claims to be part of a larger organization—thousands of beings across the universe with similar abilities."
"Christ," General Conway muttered. "An alien police force with jurisdiction over Earth?"
"Over our entire sector of space, apparently," Waller corrected. "Sector 2814, according to Jordan's initial statements to Faraday."
Ross, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "And we're supposed to just accept this? Some kid gets handed a magic ring and suddenly he's got authority over our planet?"
"The alternative being?" Fury asked pointedly. "Those Red Lanterns weren't here for diplomatic negotiations, General. Without Jordan's intervention—and the assistance of Superman, Iron Man, Flash, and Aquaman—Coast City would be a crater right now."
"Speaking of which," Ellis interjected, "what do we know about these other individuals? The Flash and Aquaman in particular?"
Fury pulled up additional files. "The Flash—based on energy signatures and movement patterns, we believe he's the same individual who's been operating in Central City for the past eight months. Local law enforcement has been... cooperative in not pursuing his identity, given his track record of actually reducing crime rates."
"And this Aquaman?" Admiral Roughead asked, professional interest evident in his tone. "The naval implications alone..."
"Arthur Curry," Waller supplied. "Son of Thomas Curry, a lighthouse keeper in Amnesty Bay, Maine. His mother's identity remains unknown, but given his demonstrated abilities, we suspect Atlantean heritage."
The room fell silent for a moment as that sank in.
"Atlantis is real," General Casey said flatly.
"As real as aliens with power rings and Norse gods in New Mexico," Fury confirmed. "The world got a lot bigger this week, gentlemen."
President Ellis rubbed his temples. "Let's talk practical implications. Other nations are responding to this new reality. What's our intelligence suggesting?"
Waller pulled up a global map, various hotspots highlighted in red. "Russia's accelerated their enhanced individual program—what they're calling the Winter Guard Initiative. China's being typically opaque, but satellite imagery shows increased activity at several research facilities. The UK's expanded funding for MI13, their paranormal division. And those are just our allies."
"Or nominal allies," Lane muttered.
"What about the Xavier situation?" Ellis asked. "The public still largely dismisses mutants as urban legend, but we know better."
"Public skepticism works in our favor," Fury reported. "Most people still write off mutant abilities as special effects or hoaxes, despite occasional incidents. The Xavier School continues to operate discreetly, and our... understanding with Charles remains in place."
"An understanding that keeps how many potentially dangerous individuals off our radar?" Ross demanded.
"The same understanding that's prevented widespread panic and potential conflict," Fury replied coolly. "The public's ignorance about the true scope of enhanced individuals has helped maintain stability. Xavier's people have been cooperative, especially since Superman and other public heroes normalized the idea of powered individuals serving society rather than threatening it."
"Speaking of which," Ellis said, "what's the current status of our known enhanced assets?"
Fury pulled up a classified roster. "Superman continues to operate primarily out of Metropolis, though he responds to global threats as needed. His engagement to Lois Lane appears to have... grounded him somewhat. Iron Man maintains his independent status while occasionally consulting with the military. Batman remains an enigma—we know he's real now, but his methods and identity are still unclear."
"And now we add Green Lantern to that list," Conway observed. "Along with Flash and Aquaman. That's quite a power bloc forming without any governmental oversight."
"They seemed to work together effectively enough yesterday," Waller noted. "The coordination was impressive for individuals who'd apparently never met before."
"That's what concerns me," Lane said. "Effective coordination suggests natural leadership emergence. Group dynamics. The potential for them to organize formally."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" Ellis asked, surprising everyone. "A rapid response team for threats beyond conventional military capability?"
The Joint Chiefs exchanged glances. Admiral Mullen spoke carefully. "Mr. President, the power disparity these individuals represent fundamentally alters the global security paradigm. If they organize outside governmental authority..."
"They've already demonstrated they'll act independently when necessary," Fury pointed out. "The question isn't whether they'll organize—it's whether we want a seat at that table when they do."
Ross slammed his hand on the table. "This is exactly what I warned about with Banner! We're talking about individuals who could level cities, and we're debating whether to ask nicely for a seat at their table?"
"What's your alternative, Thaddeus?" Fury asked sharply. "Your Hulkbuster units performed admirably in Harlem, didn't they? Oh wait—they made the situation worse, caused billions in damage, and nearly got a significant portion of New York's population killed."
Ross's face reddened. "Banner is different. He's unstable, uncontrollable—"
"Banner didn't ask for his condition," Fury cut in. "Neither did Jordan ask for that ring, from what we can tell. The difference is how we choose to respond."
"Gentlemen," Ellis intervened before the argument could escalate. "We're losing focus. Director Fury, what's your assessment of Jordan's immediate intentions?"
Fury considered carefully before responding. "Based on Faraday's preliminary report and our psychological profile, Jordan intends to honor his commitment to this Green Lantern Corps while maintaining his identity as an American citizen. He's not looking to establish authority over Earth—he's looking to protect it as part of his assigned territory."
"And you believe him?" Lane challenged.
"I believe a test pilot who's served his country with distinction deserves the benefit of the doubt," Fury replied. "More importantly, we need him cooperative. Those Red Lanterns made it clear this was just the beginning of something larger."
Ellis nodded slowly. "What about the technology itself? Any chance of replication?"
"Negative," Waller answered. "The ring appears to be keyed specifically to Jordan. Even if we could replicate the technology—which is centuries beyond our current capabilities—the power source remains a mystery."
"So we're dependent on Jordan's goodwill," Conway summarized grimly.
"We're dependent on maintaining a positive relationship with someone who's been drafted into a cosmic conflict," Fury corrected. "There's a difference."
The President stood, signaling the meeting's shift to decision-making. "Here's what we're going to do. Director Fury, you'll continue managing the Jordan situation. Keep it friendly, but gather as much intelligence as possible about this Corps and their operations. General Ross, you're to suspend all Hulk containment initiatives pending a full review of the Harlem incident."
Ross started to protest, but Ellis continued over him. "General Lane, I want contingency plans—but subtle ones. If we need to defend against Lantern-level threats, I want options that don't involve declaring war on people who just saved an American city."
"Sir—" Lane began.
"That's an order, General. Waller, coordinate with Fury on historical records. I want everything we have on Alan Scott and any other documented ring-wielders. And reach out to our allies—quietly. We need to know what they know without sparking a panic."
"What about the public narrative?" Mullen asked.
"We stick to the message from my address. These individuals are allies until proven otherwise. But I want daily briefings on all enhanced individual activity. If this is the new normal, we need to adapt quickly."
As the meeting began to break up, Fury caught Waller's eye. They'd need to have their own conversation soon—about the things they hadn't mentioned in this room. The Tesseract. The Skrull incident from the '90s. Captain Marvel. The various other secrets that might become relevant as Earth stepped further into the cosmic spotlight.
"Director Fury," Ellis called as others filed out. "A moment."
Fury waited as the room cleared, leaving just him and the President.
"How bad is this going to get?" Ellis asked quietly, the weight of office evident in his voice.
Fury considered lying, offering reassurance. But Ellis deserved the truth. "Sir, in my experience, this is just the beginning. Superman was the herald—the sign that Earth was ready to join a larger universe. What happened yesterday? That was our formal introduction to cosmic politics."
"And Jordan?"
"Jordan's a good man thrust into an impossible situation. But he's also our best chance at understanding what's coming. Those Red Lanterns mentioned something called 'the Blackest Night.' If that's as ominous as it sounds..."
Ellis nodded slowly. "Keep me informed. And Nick? Whatever resources you need to keep Earth safe—you'll have them."
"Understood, Mr. President."
As Fury left the Situation Room, his mind was already racing through contingencies. The age of heroes had arrived whether they were ready or not. The question now was whether humanity could rise to meet it.
His secure phone buzzed—a message from Faraday. Jordan was ready to talk.
It was time to learn exactly what Earth's newest protector knew about the cosmic storm heading their way.
—
The safehouse's atmosphere shifted palpably when Hal suggested going outside to play with his nephews. Director Faraday had hesitated initially, citing security concerns, but something in Jessica Jordan's expression—that particular maternal steel that had gotten her family through the worst days after Martin's death—made him reconsider.
"Thirty minutes," Faraday conceded, his hand unconsciously adjusting his tie. "The perimeter is secure, and we have agents positioned throughout the neighborhood."
"Come on, Faraday," Thomas Kalmaku interjected from his spot on the couch. "The guy fought off alien rage monsters yesterday. I think he can handle suburban lawn care."
Faraday's scarred face twitched in what might have been amusement. "Nevertheless, protocols exist for a reason."
Tim and Steven, Hal's nephews, practically vibrated with excitement as they followed their uncle into the backyard. The boys, ages nine and seven respectively, had been unusually quiet during the tense discussions inside, but now their natural exuberance burst forth like water from a broken dam.
"Uncle Hal, show us the ring!" Steven demanded immediately, his eyes wide with wonder. "Can you make anything? Like, anything at all?"
"Pretty much," Hal replied, unable to suppress a smile at their enthusiasm. He held up his right hand, the ring glowing softly in response to his attention. "What do you want to see?"
"A dinosaur!" Tim shouted, jumping up and down.
"No, a spaceship!" Steven countered, shoving his brother playfully.
"Boys, don't push," Jennifer called from the doorway, but her reprimand lacked heat. She was watching Hal with the same fascination as her sons.
"How about both?" Hal suggested, concentrating on the ring. Green energy flowed from it, coalescing into a small T-Rex riding in a perfectly detailed spacecraft. The construct moved with fluid animation, the dinosaur waving tiny arms as the ship performed a loop in the air.
Both boys gasped in delight, reaching out to touch the creation. Their fingers passed through it slightly, the energy warm but insubstantial.
"It's like a hologram," Tim observed with the seriousness of a nine-year-old scientist. "But you can kind of feel it."
"The ring creates solid light constructs," Hal explained, surprised at how naturally the technical explanation came to him now. "They're as real as I need them to be."
"Can you make us fly?" Steven asked, bouncing on his toes with barely contained energy.
Hal glanced toward the house, where he could see his mother, Jim, and Jennifer watching through the window. Carol stood slightly apart, her expression unreadable. Thomas had wandered out to join them, a cup of coffee in hand.
"Maybe something a little less likely to give your parents heart attacks," Hal suggested, remembering Jim's protective instincts. Instead, he created an elaborate jungle gym construct, complete with slides, swings, and climbing walls—all glowing green and perfectly safe.
As the boys scrambled onto his creation with delighted shrieks, Hal felt a hand on his shoulder. Jim had come outside, his expression caught between wonder and concern.
"They've missed you," Jim said quietly, watching his sons play. "We all have."
"I know," Hal replied, the words carrying more weight than usual. "I'm sorry I've been... absent."
"Absent is one word for it," Jennifer added, joining them. She'd always been direct, a quality that had initially intimidated Hal but which he'd grown to appreciate. "Try 'completely MIA for every major holiday for the past three years.'"
"Jen," Jim warned softly.
"No, she's right," Hal acknowledged. "I've been a pretty lousy uncle. And brother. And son."
Jim studied his brother's face, taking in the subtle changes—the new lines of stress, the weight of responsibility in his eyes. "You look different. Not just the uniform. Something's changed."
"Everything's changed," Hal admitted. "In the span of a few days, my entire understanding of the universe has been rewritten. And now I'm somehow responsible for protecting a piece of it."
"Heavy burden for a guy who can't even remember to return phone calls," Jim said, but his tone was gentle, understanding.
Hal laughed, the sound surprising him with its genuineness. "Yeah, well, the ring doesn't come with a day planner function."
"Maybe it should," Thomas chimed in, sipping his coffee. "Seriously, Hal, you missed my birthday party last month. I had a cake shaped like an F-15. It was beautiful."
"I'm sorry, Tom. I was probably doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous with an experimental aircraft."
"So, Tuesday," Thomas replied dryly.
"Uncle Hal!" Steven called from atop the construct slide. "Can you make it taller?"
With a thought, Hal extended the structure upward, adding new levels and challenges. The boys' delighted laughter filled the suburban backyard, a sound so normal it almost made the extraordinary circumstances feel surreal.
"Show off," Carol murmured, finally approaching the group. She'd changed from her business attire into jeans and a sweater, looking more like the Carol he'd known in college than the CEO who regularly chewed him out for protocol violations.
"You're good with them," Jim observed, ignoring Carol's comment. "Always have been. Remember when Tim was born? You were the only one who could get him to stop crying those first few weeks."
"I just flew him around the room making airplane noises," Hal recalled. "Nothing special."
"It was to him. To all of us." Jim's expression grew more serious. "Mom told me about your conversation last night. About what you said at the museum."
Hal tensed slightly. "She wasn't supposed to—"
"She's worried. We all are. This thing that's happened to you, becoming... whatever you are now... it doesn't change the fact that you're still carrying all that weight from Dad's crash."
"Jim—"
"Let me finish." His brother's lawyer voice emerged, the one that commanded courtrooms. "You've been running from that moment for twenty-two years. Running toward it at the same time, if that makes sense. Every test flight, every risk you take—it's like you're trying to rewrite that day."
Hal watched his nephews playing, their joy unmarred by the complex realities of loss and fear. "Maybe I am. Maybe I've been trying to prove something. To him. To myself. That I can face what he faced and come out the other side."
"And now?"
"Now I'm wearing an alien ring that chose me because I can 'overcome great fear.'" Hal's laugh was hollow. "Ironic, considering fear has been my co-pilot since I was seven years old."
"Is it still?" Jessica asked, having joined them so quietly that Hal hadn't noticed. His mother had a way of moving through the world with gentle precision, as if trying not to disturb the air around her.
Hal met his mother's eyes, seeing the concern there, the love, the lingering grief that never quite faded. "Yesterday, when I was fighting Atrocitus—that's the big red alien who led the attack—I felt it. The fear. But for the first time, I pushed through it. I used it somehow." He paused, looking down at the ring. "But today? Right now? It's still here. Like an old friend I can't leave behind no matter how lame his movie nights are." His attempt at humor to lighten the mood was particularly pitiful.
"Fear isn't the enemy, sweetheart," Jessica said softly. "Your father knew that. He used to say fear was just wisdom in disguise."
"Dad said that?" Hal asked, surprised. In his memories, Martin Jordan had been fearless, invincible.
"All the time. Especially after close calls with test flights." Jessica's smile was tinged with sadness. "He'd come home shaking sometimes, though he'd never admit it to you boys."
"Uncle Hal!" Tim interrupted, racing over with his brother in tow. "Can you show us your superhero pose? Like in the comics!"
Hal glanced at the adults, slightly embarrassed. "I don't really have a—"
"Come on!" Steven pleaded. "Every superhero has a pose!"
With an exaggerated sigh, Hal struck what he imagined was a heroic stance—chest out, fists on hips, chin tilted upward. The ring added a subtle glow effect that made him look like he'd stepped out of a movie poster.
"Hal, what the fuck are you doing?" Jim asked, though his grin betrayed his amusement.
"Language!" Jennifer scolded, covering Steven's ears.
"Sorry, sorry," Jim said, not looking sorry at all. "But seriously, you look like you're auditioning for a breakfast cereal commercial."
"See what I have to deal with?" Hal asked his nephews conspiratorially. "Your dad has no appreciation for superhero aesthetics."
"I have plenty of appreciation," Jim protested. "I just think you look more like Captain Crunch than Captain America."
The boys dissolved into giggles, and even Hal couldn't help but laugh. It felt good, this moment of normalcy amid the chaos his life had become.
"So what's it like?" Thomas asked, gesturing to the ring. "When you're using it, I mean. Does it hurt? Is it like flexing a muscle?"
Hal considered the question. "It's... strange. Natural and alien at the same time. Like discovering you've always had an extra limb you never knew about. The constructs come from my thoughts, my will, but the ring translates them into reality."
"And being a space cop?" Steven asked eagerly. "Do you get a badge? A space gun?"
"No badge or gun," Hal admitted. "Just the ring and the uniform. And a lot of responsibility I'm still trying to understand."
"But you've been to other planets, right?" Tim pressed. "What were they like?"
"Incredible. Terrifying. Beautiful." Hal created small constructs as he spoke—miniature planets, alien landscapes, the crystalline structures of Oa. "There's so much out there. Civilizations that make our most advanced technology look like stone tools. Beings who've existed for billions of years."
"And you're supposed to police all that?" Jennifer asked skeptically. "One guy from Coast City?"
"Not just me. There are thousands of Green Lanterns, each responsible for their own sector of space. And we work with the Nova Corps—think of them as another space police force. Different methods, same goals."
"Space politics," Jim mused. "As if Earth politics weren't complicated enough."
Before Hal could respond, Carol stepped forward. "Sorry to interrupt the family bonding, but Hal, could I speak with you for a moment?"
The others recognized the tone—CEO Carol had arrived. Jim squeezed his brother's shoulder. "I'll watch the boys. Take your time."