Carol led Hal to a quiet corner of the yard, away from the children's laughter and the watchful eyes of their family. For a moment, they simply stood in silence, the weight of their complicated history hanging between them.
"I'm sorry," Hal said finally, the words coming out in a rush. "For four days ago. For pushing the Starjumper beyond limits. For the way I spoke to you. For... everything, really."
Carol's expression softened slightly. "You scared me, Hal. Not just with the test flight. When you called that night, talking about crashes and alien rings... I thought something had happened to you. That maybe you'd finally pushed too far."
"Something did happen to me," Hal admitted. "Just not what either of us expected."
"When the call cut off, when I heard that sound and saw that green flash through the phone..." Carol's voice trembled slightly. "I drove out to the desert. Found your motorcycle abandoned on that service road. No sign of you anywhere. Just tracks leading to this crater with some kind of ship... I thought I'd lost you."
The vulnerability in her voice, usually hidden behind CEO professionalism, struck Hal deeply. He reached out, taking her hand gently in his.
"I'm sorry I worried you. I'm sorry for a lot of things." He gestured to his uniform with his free hand. "This happened so fast. One moment I'm riding home from the museum, the next I'm accepting an alien ring and being transported across the galaxy. There wasn't time to explain, to say goodbye properly."
"Story of our relationship," Carol observed with a wry smile. "You running toward danger while I'm left behind wondering if you'll come back."
"I always come back."
"Until you don't." The words hung heavy between them. "Hal, the Pentagon contract—"
"I know," Hal interrupted. "With me disappearing for four days, right after that stunt with the Starjumper... I probably cost Ferris Aircraft millions."
Carol shook her head. "Actually, after yesterday's events, they're more interested than ever. Apparently, having a test pilot who's also a cosmic superhero is good for business. Who knew?"
"So I'm not fired?"
"I haven't decided yet," Carol replied, but there was warmth in her voice. "Depends on whether you can balance saving the universe with showing up for work occasionally."
"I'll do my best," Hal said earnestly. "Carol, whatever this is, whatever I've become... promise me you'll be careful. The world apparently needs Green Lantern, but some of us still need Hal Jordan too."
"That's my line," Carol protested softly.
A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind they'd once shared often before responsibilities and career ambitions had complicated things. Hal found himself studying her face—the determined set of her jaw, the intelligence in her eyes, the subtle curve of her lips when she was trying not to smile. How many times had he taken this for granted? How many moments like this had he rushed through, always eager for the next challenge, the next flight, the next adrenaline rush?
"You know," Carol said finally, "I've been CEO of Ferris Aircraft for almost three years now, and I still catch myself wondering what my father would do in difficult situations. If he'd approve of my decisions." She looked down at their still-joined hands. "I can't imagine what it's like carrying the responsibility you've been given."
"It's terrifying," Hal admitted, the confession easier with her than it had been with anyone else. "Not the powers or the training or even the fighting. It's knowing that there's an entire sector of space looking to me for protection. Billions of lives who don't even know I exist, but whose safety depends on me not screwing up."
"You won't screw up," Carol said with quiet certainty. "You never do, not when it truly matters."
Hal raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are we remembering the same Hal Jordan? Because I distinctly recall you listing all my professional failures during our last performance review."
"That's different," she replied, her lips quirking into a smile. "Those were calculated risks you took because you believed in something—in pushing boundaries, in testing limits. That's not failure, that's... being you." She met his eyes directly. "And for all the headaches you've caused me as CEO, I've never once doubted your judgment in a crisis."
Their conversation was interrupted by Faraday's appearance at the back door. "Jordan, there's been a development. When you have a moment?"
Hal glanced at Carol apologetically. "Duty calls."
"Go," she said, squeezing his hand before letting go. "But we're not done talking."
As Hal approached Faraday, his ring suddenly pulsed. "Temporal alert. Recommended departure for Oa in 36 hours to maintain scheduled training protocols."
"The ring just informed me I need to leave for Oa in about thirty-six hours," Hal told Faraday. "Something about training protocols."
Faraday nodded, his scarred face impassive. "Understood. We'll arrange transportation back to the crater site when you're ready."
"Actually," Hal said, glancing back at his family, "I can get there myself. But I'd appreciate if you could keep security on my family for a few more days. Just until things settle down."
"Already arranged," Faraday confirmed. "This situation has created... unprecedented circumstances. We're adapting as best we can."
Hal returned to his family, aware that his time with them was now limited but grateful for the extra day he'd unexpectedly been granted. His nephews were still playing on the construct jungle gym, their parents watching with a mixture of wonder and concern.
"Everything okay?" Jim asked as Hal rejoined them.
"Yeah, just... space cop business." Hal managed a smile. "I have to leave in about thirty-six hours. More training on Oa."
"Oa?" Jessica repeated, testing the unfamiliar word.
"Green Lantern headquarters. It's... far away."
"How far?" Tim asked, having overheard.
"About 25 trillion miles, give or take," Hal replied casually.
The adults stared at him. Thomas nearly dropped his coffee.
"Did you just say trillion?" Jennifer asked faintly.
"The ring handles the travel," Hal explained, as if that made it less mind-boggling. "It's actually pretty quick once you get used to it."
"My son, the intergalactic commuter," Jessica murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Will you come back?" Steven asked, his young face suddenly serious.
Hal knelt down to his nephew's level. "Always. I promise. Earth is my home, no matter how far I travel."
"And you'll show us more cool stuff with the ring?" Tim added hopefully.
"Every time I visit," Hal assured them.
He stood, looking around at his family—his anchors to Earth, to humanity, to the person he was beneath the uniform and the cosmic responsibilities. The fear was still there, a constant companion, but somehow it felt more manageable with them around.
"Before you go," Jim said, "there's something I want to say."
Hal braced himself for another brotherly lecture, but Jim surprised him.
"I'm proud of you, little brother. Dad would be too. Not just for the superhero stuff, but for facing whatever's been chasing you all these years."
The words hit Hal harder than any of Atrocitus's attacks. He found himself pulling Jim into a tight hug, years of distance and misunderstanding dissolving in that simple gesture.
"Thanks," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
When they separated, Hal saw tears in his mother's eyes. He hugged her next, then Jennifer, then the boys, and finally Thomas, who clapped him on the back with characteristic enthusiasm.
"Save the universe, come home safe, and for God's sake, answer your phone once in a while," Thomas said.
"I'll try," Hal promised, meaning it more than he ever had before.
As they headed back into the safehouse, Hal felt Jessica's hand slip into his, a gesture she hadn't made since he was a child. Her touch anchored him to the present moment, to Earth, to family. Whatever cosmic responsibilities awaited him, this—these people, this connection—was what he would be protecting.
"You have time for dinner, I hope?" Jessica asked. "I thought we could order something. It's not every day we get to celebrate my son becoming a galactic protector."
"Dinner would be great, Mom," Hal replied, grateful for the normalcy she was trying to create in the midst of their extraordinary circumstances.
"Pizza!" the boys exclaimed in unison, their priorities firmly established.
"Pizza sounds perfect," Hal agreed, catching Carol's eye over his mother's shoulder. She smiled in response, a genuine smile that reached her eyes.
The next few hours passed in a blur of familial warmth. They gathered around the safehouse's dining table eating pizza—pepperoni and mushroom for the adults, plain cheese for the boys—and for brief stretches of time, they almost managed to forget the armed guards outside, the alien ring on Hal's finger, and the fact that in less than two days, he would be leaving Earth behind again.
The conversation flowed naturally, deliberately avoiding the heavier topics of cosmic threats and interstellar responsibilities in favor of catching up on family news. Jim talked about a major case he was working on, Jennifer shared stories about the boys' school adventures, and Thomas regaled them with tales of the latest experimental aircraft designs at Ferris.
Carol, who had initially seemed uncertain of her place in this family gathering, soon found herself drawn into the warm circle of Jordan hospitality. Jessica had always liked her, appreciating Carol's no-nonsense approach to dealing with Hal, and Jennifer clearly enjoyed having another woman to balance the predominantly male energy of the Jordan clan.
As the evening wore on, the boys began to droop, the excitement of the day finally catching up with them. Jennifer gathered them for bed despite their protests that they weren't tired and that their uncle might leave while they were sleeping.
"I'll still be here in the morning," Hal promised them. "Green Lantern's honor."
"Is that a real thing?" Tim asked skeptically.
"It is now," Hal replied with a wink.
After the boys had been tucked in, the adults gravitated to the living room with cups of coffee and, in Thomas's case, a generous pour of bourbon from the safehouse's modest bar.
"So, an entire sector of space," Jim said, finally broaching the subject they'd all been dancing around. "What exactly does that entail?"
Hal considered how to explain the vastness of his new responsibility in terms his family could grasp. "Sector 2814 includes about 2,814 inhabited star systems. Earth is just one of them, though it's considered particularly important for reasons I'm still figuring out."
"Two thousand eight hundred and fourteen inhabited star systems," Carol repeated slowly. "And you're the only Green Lantern assigned to all of them?"
"That's how the Corps works," Hal confirmed. "One Lantern per sector, except in unusual circumstances. Though I do work alongside a Nova Corps Centurion named Rhomann Dey, who shares jurisdiction in a different capacity."
"And you're expected to police all of that by yourself?" Jennifer asked incredulously. "That's insane. Earth has millions of law enforcement officers just for one planet."
"It's not exactly traditional policing," Hal explained. "The ring alerts me to significant threats, and I respond accordingly. Most civilized worlds have their own local authorities for day-to-day issues."
"Still," Thomas interjected, "the logistics seem impossible. Even at whatever speed that ring lets you travel, you can't be everywhere at once."
"That's part of what makes Green Lanterns special, apparently," Hal said, looking down at the ring. "We're chosen for our ability to make impossible decisions, to prioritize, to act decisively even when there's no perfect solution."
"Like test pilots," Carol observed quietly.
Hal nodded. "Exactly like test pilots. Every time I go up in an experimental aircraft, I'm making split-second decisions that could mean life or death, success or failure. The ring just... expands the scale of those decisions."
"And the consequences," Jim added, his expression thoughtful.
A comfortable silence fell over the group, each processing the enormity of what Hal was facing in their own way. Jessica broke it first, her voice carrying the quiet strength that had seen her through the loss of her husband and the raising of three boys on her own.
"You've always been meant for something extraordinary, Hal," she said. "Even as a child, there was something in you—a light, a determination—that set you apart. Your father saw it. I see it." She reached across to take his hand. "This ring, this responsibility... it's frightening, yes. But it also feels right, somehow."
Hal squeezed her hand, unable to express in words what her understanding meant to him. Instead, he simply said, "Thanks, Mom."
The conversation gradually shifted to lighter topics as the evening wore on. Thomas regaled them with stories from Ferris Aircraft's test division, including a particularly harrowing account of a prototype vertical landing system that had malfunctioned spectacularly during its first test.
"So there's Carl, hanging upside down in the cockpit while the entire thrust array is spinning like a carnival ride gone wrong," Thomas explained, gesturing expansively with his bourbon. "And what does he say over the radio? 'Minor calibration issue, please advise.'"
The laughter that followed was warm and genuine, a brief respite from the weight of cosmic concerns. Even Faraday, who had maintained a professional distance throughout the evening, cracked a smile from his position near the doorway.
As the night deepened, the group gradually dispersed. Jennifer went to check on the boys, Jim stepped outside to make a call to his office, and Thomas retired to the guest room, claiming he needed his "beauty sleep" for whatever tomorrow might bring.
Jessica lingered, studying her middle son with the special perception that mothers seem to possess. "You should get some rest too," she told him gently. "You look exhausted, Hal."
"I'm fine, Mom," he assured her automatically, the response so habitual it preceded conscious thought.
She gave him a knowing look. "I've been hearing that since you were seven years old, and it wasn't true then either." She rose from her seat, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep, even Green Lanterns need it. We'll all still be here in the morning."
With that, she left him to his thoughts, her quiet dignity a constant in his ever-changing life.
Carol remained, her posture more relaxed than it had been all day. "Your family's pretty amazing," she observed, curling her legs beneath her on the couch. "They've taken all this remarkably well."
"Jordans adapt," Hal replied with a slight smile. "Kind of our family superpower, even before the ring came along."
"Speaking of the ring," Carol said, her tone turning more serious, "what happens after Oa? After your training? Will you be expected to leave Earth permanently?"
Hal shook his head. "Earth is still my home base. As far as I understand it, I'll split my time between here and patrols of the sector, responding to threats as they arise. Abin Sur—my predecessor—maintained a life on his homeworld for centuries while serving as Green Lantern."
"Centuries?" Carol repeated, her eyes widening. "Just how long do Green Lanterns serve?"
"The ring... extends lifespan, apparently," Hal admitted, only now realizing the full implications himself. "Abin Sur was over four hundred Earth years old when he died."
"Four hundred years," Carol whispered, processing this revelation. "Hal, that's—"
"A lot to take in, I know," he finished for her. "Believe me, I'm still wrapping my head around it myself."
"Does your family know?"
"Not yet," Hal replied, running a hand through his hair. "I'm still figuring out how to tell them that I might outlive not just them, but their grandchildren's grandchildren."
Carol was quiet for a long moment, her face illuminated by the soft lamplight. "It's strange," she said finally. "All these years I've worried about you dying young because of some reckless stunt, and now I find out you might outlive everyone on Earth."
"Life's full of surprises," Hal said with an attempt at lightness that fell somewhat flat.
"That it is," Carol agreed, her expression softening. "But some things don't change." She leaned forward, placing her hand over his. "Whatever happens, Hal—however long you live, whatever worlds you visit—you'll always have a place here. With your family. With..." She hesitated briefly. "With me."
The moment stretched between them, charged with everything unsaid over years of professional barriers and personal caution. Hal found himself closing the distance between them, his hand coming up to gently cup her cheek. Carol didn't pull away, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of vulnerability and certainty that took his breath away.
The kiss, when it came, felt like coming home—like the natural conclusion to a journey they'd both been on since they were teenagers watching Martin Jordan's test flights from the observation deck. It was gentle at first, then deepened with years of unspoken feelings and shared history.
When they finally parted, Carol's smile held a hint of her usual professional confidence. "Well," she said softly, "it only took an alien invasion and you becoming a space cop for us to figure this out."
Hal laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Better late than never?"
"Definitely," she agreed, her expression growing more serious. "But Hal, whatever this is between us—and I think we both know it's something—it doesn't change my concerns. You're still you, and that means you'll run headlong into danger when others would back away."
"And you're still you," he countered gently, "which means you'll call me out when I'm being reckless and remind me why coming home matters."
Carol nodded, accepting this truth about them both. "Partners, then? In whatever capacity we can manage with your new... commute?"
"Partners," Hal agreed, the word feeling right. "Though I should warn you, interstellar phone service is apparently spotty at best."
"Then we'll just have to make the most of the time we have," she replied, leaning in to kiss him again.
—
The next morning dawned clear and crisp, the kind of early spring day that promised renewal and possibility. Hal woke before the rest of the household, his test pilot's discipline asserting itself despite the emotional events of the previous day. He slipped quietly from the guest room, pausing briefly to check on his still-sleeping nephews before making his way to the kitchen.
To his surprise, Jessica was already there, methodically preparing coffee with the careful attention to detail that characterized everything she did. She smiled when she saw him, a mother's instinct alerting her to his presence even though he hadn't made a sound.
"Early riser, just like your father," she observed, pouring him a cup of coffee. "Some things never change."
"Force of habit," Hal replied, accepting the coffee gratefully. "Training flights wait for no man, especially not sleepy ones."
They sat together in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the early morning light strengthen outside the kitchen window. A pair of agents patrolled the perimeter of the property, their movements precise and professional, a reminder of the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them to this safehouse.
"I've been thinking about something Jim said yesterday," Jessica said finally. "About how you've been running from your father's death all these years."
Hal tensed slightly, not entirely ready for this conversation before his first cup of coffee was finished.
"He's right, you know," she continued gently. "But I don't think even he understands the full truth of it."
"What truth is that?" Hal asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Jessica turned to face him directly, her eyes—so like his own—steady and unflinching. "That you're not just running from the pain of losing him. You're running from the fear of becoming him—of loving something so much that it consumes you, of leaving behind the people who love you."
The observation struck with surgical precision, exposing a truth Hal had barely acknowledged to himself. "Mom—"
"Let me finish, Hal." Her tone was gentle but firm. "Your father knew the risks every time he climbed into a cockpit. He accepted them because flying wasn't just what he did—it was who he was. Just like it's who you are." She reached across the table to take his hand. "And now this ring has given you a new kind of flight, a new purpose that's both terrifying and perfectly suited to the man you've become."
"What if I fail?" Hal asked quietly, voicing the fear that had lurked beneath his confident exterior since the moment Abin Sur's ring had chosen him. "What if I'm not what the universe needs me to be?"
"Then you'll pick yourself up and try again," Jessica said simply. "Just like you did when you crashed your first bicycle, just like you did when your first solo flight hit turbulence, just like you've always done." Her smile was tender but strong. "That's who you are, Hal Jordan. That's who your father raised you to be. And that's why this ring—whatever cosmic intelligence guides it—chose you."
Hal squeezed her hand, unable to find words adequate to express what her faith in him meant. Instead, he simply said, "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, sweetheart," she replied. "Now, tell me about your plan for today. I know that look—you're not planning to just sit around the safehouse until it's time to leave."
Hal smiled, recognizing that he couldn't hide his intentions from her. "I thought I'd patrol the city this morning. Check on the reconstruction efforts, make sure there aren't any lingering threats from yesterday's attack."
"I thought as much," Jessica said with a knowing nod. "Just be careful, will you? For my sake, if not your own."
"I promise," Hal replied, meaning it.
An hour later, after a quiet breakfast with his family and a briefing from Faraday about the current security situation in Coast City, Hal stood on the safehouse's roof, ready to depart. He'd changed into his Green Lantern uniform, the black and green material forming seamlessly around him as the ring activated.
"Is the cape really necessary?" Jim asked, eyeing the dramatic addition to his brother's uniform with amusement.
"Not a cape, it's a construct-enhanced flight stabilizer," Hal corrected with mock seriousness. "Totally different."
"Right," Jim replied skeptically. "And the glowing aura is what, cosmic sunscreen?"
"Something like that," Hal grinned, grateful for his brother's ability to find humor even in the strangest situations.
Carol stood slightly apart from the others, her expression caught between professional assessment and personal concern. After their evening together, something had shifted between them—a new understanding, a deeper connection that both excited and terrified him.
"Standard patrol pattern?" she asked, slipping effortlessly into her role as CEO of Ferris Aircraft discussing flight plans with her chief test pilot.
"Figure I'll start with the coast and work my way inland," Hal replied, matching her professional tone. "Focus on the areas that saw the heaviest damage yesterday."
She nodded, her eyes conveying everything her words couldn't in front of the others. "Check in when you're done? For... debriefing purposes."
"Absolutely," Hal agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The boys watched with undisguised awe as Hal rose a few feet from the roof, the ring's energy surrounding him in a protective aura.
"Can I tell my friends at school about this?" Tim asked suddenly. "About you being Green Lantern?"
Hal exchanged glances with Faraday, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
"Not yet, buddy," Hal told his nephew gently. "It's important to keep this secret for a little while longer, to keep everyone safe."
"Like a real superhero identity," Steven interpreted, nodding seriously. "I get it."
"Exactly like that," Hal agreed, relieved at their easy acceptance. "I'll see you all in a few hours."
With a final salute to his gathered family, Hal shot upward, his form quickly becoming a streak of green light against the morning sky. Below, his family watched until he disappeared from view, their faces upturned in wonder and pride.
As Coast City spread out beneath him, Hal felt a strange mingling of emotions—the exhilaration of flight that never grew old, the weight of responsibility that came with his new role, and most surprisingly, a deep sense of connection to the world below that he'd rarely acknowledged before becoming its protector.
The ring pulsed gently on his finger, a reminder of the cosmic duty that would soon call him away again. But for now, for these hours before his departure, he was exactly where he needed to be—soaring above the city he'd sworn to protect, watching over the people who made it home.
"Ring, commence patrol sequence," Hal instructed, accelerating toward the coast where reconstruction efforts were already underway. "Let's see what needs our attention today."
The flight to downtown Coast City took less than two minutes, the ring guiding Hal toward the areas where criminal activity had been detected. The destruction from yesterday's battle was even more apparent in daylight—collapsed buildings, cratered streets, emergency vehicles still working to clear debris. Smoke still rose from several locations, and the sound of sirens created a constant backdrop to the city's recovery efforts.
But amid the chaos, opportunists had emerged. The ring highlighted several locations where looting was in progress, small groups taking advantage of compromised security systems and overwhelmed law enforcement.
"Criminal activity detected. Multiple locations. Prioritizing by threat level," the ring announced.
Hal descended toward the first incident—a jewelry store with its front windows shattered. Three men were inside, stuffing bags with whatever they could grab. One was behind the counter, yanking open display cases, while the other two were systematically emptying the wall safes that had been exposed when a Red Lantern's attack had torn through the building's facade.
"Really?" Hal called out as he landed in front of the store, his boots crunching on broken glass. "The city's trying to recover from an alien invasion, and you're stealing watches?"
The looters froze, their eyes widening at the sight of the Green Lantern. One dropped his bag immediately, hands raising in surrender. The other two exchanged glances, clearly weighing their options.
"I saw what you did on the news," one of them said, trying to sound tough despite his obvious fear. He was a large man with tattoos covering his arms, the kind who was probably used to intimidating others. "Those constructs aren't solid. They're just light shows."
Hal sighed. "Want to test that theory?"
The tattooed man's response wasn't what Hal expected. Instead of backing down, he lunged forward, swinging a heavy metal pry bar directly at Hal's head. "Get him!" he shouted to his companions.
Hal's ring reacted almost before his conscious mind processed the attack, a shield construct forming instantly between him and the oncoming weapon. The pry bar connected with a sound like a gong, the impact sending vibrations up the attacker's arms. The man staggered back, his expression shifting from confidence to shock.
"That felt pretty solid to me," Hal remarked, the shield dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. "Anyone else want to check?"
The third man, who had been momentarily frozen in indecision, made his choice. He grabbed a display case and hurled it at Hal with surprising strength, then bolted for the back exit. The second man, seeing his opening, pulled a pistol from his waistband and fired twice in quick succession.
Again, the ring responded with protective energy, the bullets slowing to a stop inches from Hal's chest before dropping harmlessly to the floor. Hal hadn't even flinched.
"Okay, now I'm annoyed," he said, his eyes narrowing beneath the mask. With a sweeping gesture, he created a glowing green net that expanded to cover the entire store interior. The man with the gun tried to dodge but found himself entangled, the energy construct wrapping around him despite his struggles.
The tattooed leader, however, was surprisingly agile for his size. He rolled beneath the net's edge and came up with another weapon—this time a canister that he immediately sprayed in Hal's direction.
Pepper spray, Hal realized as the cloud billowed toward him. Before his Air Force days, that might have been effective, but the ring's protective aura filtered the chemical irritants before they could reach his eyes.
"Smart move," Hal admitted. "But not smart enough."
A flash of movement caught his attention—the third man was almost at the rear exit. With a thought, Hal created a wall of green energy that sealed the doorway just as the looter reached it. The man crashed face-first into the unyielding construct with a dull thud and slumped to the ground, dazed.
The tattooed leader, seeing his escape route blocked and his companions captured, changed tactics. "Look, man, we're just trying to survive here," he said, his tone suddenly conciliatory. "The insurance companies are gonna cover all this anyway. Nobody gets hurt."
"Except the small business owner who built this place," Hal countered, unmoved. "And the employees who won't have jobs if it can't reopen. And everyone in Coast City trying to rebuild after a cosmic-level disaster."
As he spoke, Hal created restraining constructs for the two conscious looters—more elaborate than simple handcuffs this time, full body restraints that immobilized them completely while still allowing comfortable breathing. He'd learned that trick from Kilowog during training, though the drill sergeant's version had been considerably less gentle.
The tattooed man struggled against the restraints, his face reddening with effort. "This is excessive force!" he protested. "You can't just—"
"Actually, I can," Hal interrupted. "Green Lantern Corps jurisdiction supersedes local law enforcement in matters involving public safety during crisis situations. Section 42.7 of the Oan Legal Code." The technical citation came automatically to his lips, surprising him slightly—another bit of knowledge the ring had apparently downloaded into his brain during transport to Oa.
"The what code?" the man asked, confusion momentarily overriding his anger.
"Exactly," Hal replied. "Now sit tight. CCPD will be here shortly." He created an additional construct—a bright green flare that shot upward from the store's location, marking it for police attention. Several patrol cars were already visible in the distance, working their way through the debris-strewn streets.
Before leaving, Hal took a moment to secure the store's remaining inventory with a construct barrier that would prevent further looting until proper authorities arrived. He also checked the unconscious man by the back door, confirming he was merely stunned rather than seriously injured.