DC Elseworlds 1. Chapter 1

This is my 1st fanfic. No flaming, please!

What if Green Lantern was real in our world? What would people do/ What would the government do?

Chapter One.

Poor Soupbone. He never watched the news or listened to it on the radio.

Sometimes they were actually talking all about him...or about the crimes he committed. But he never knew it. He didn't care much for T.V. or the radio. Too many sappy, happy people who reminded him of the people he often victimized. He didn't care about them. He never wanted to care about them. He didn't care about the things they cared about.

Soupbone didn't care about news or the war in Iraq or politics. He didn't care much for religion either. Nothing like that ever concerned Soupbone. Big issues like abortion and gay marraige didn't faze him. If fags wanted to pretend to get married or women wanted to get rid of their kids,...well too bad for them.

Soupbone was too busy cogitating on drugs, booze and dirty sex with cheap hookers. Sometimes he thought about good food too...but usually he just got a meal at Mcdonald's or Burger King. Of course all that stuff cost dough,...so Soupbone was forced to break into houses and beat up the people he found there until they gave up their stashes of money and jewels.

Soupbone thought about the cops a lot too. Mostly how to avoid them.

Soupbone pretty much didn't care about anything or anybody. His family kicked him outdoors at fifteen and the local street gang took him in for awhile...until even they couldn't stand him. So poor old Soupbone had to leave yet again. He'd been in and out of jail a lot. A couple of hardcases he'd shared his cell with had beat Soupbone up pretty good once and they'd had to take him to the hospital for quite awhile. When he got back to the jug he joined a tough prison gang so he could put a shiv into both of those hardcases and get away with it. But the state released him early so he never got the chance. This made Soupbone mad. He'd really wanted to punch holes into those guys.

Poor Soupbone.

Soupbone had been a career criminal since he was twelve. His father hung the name 'Soupbone' on him because he couldn't decide whether he had "soup for brains" or was just a "bonehead". Soupbone has been arrested thirty-eight times for various offenses. Too bad the state never caught him when he managed to kill people in their beds or force himself on helpless females to "spread the AIDS". The state suspected him in many of those cases...but they could never prove anything. Prison had taught him how to cover up any evidence.

Ol' Soupbone was a very non-descript sort of fellow with a forgettable kind of face. He'd never been picked out in a police 'line-up'. He just had one of those faces that no one ever noticed...and that was the one good thing he had going in his favor.

So Soupbone walked the streets of Seattle...looking for stupid people who don't lock their stuff up or carry a gun. Soupbone is only twenty-three years old.

There's just one problem though. Washington State has a 'three-strikes-you're out' law. If Soupbone gets arrested one more time,...the state will put Soupbone in the can for a long, long time. Soupbone knows this...so Soupbone is careful nowadays. Soupbone scopes his victims out real careful-like before he breaks in.

Take the old lady in the house across the street...he'd been hanging around watching her for days. He knew she was camped out in front of her T.V. right now watching game shows...so she would not hear him force open the back door. He'd sneak up behind her, rip off her 'LifeAlert' button and drop her with a right cross before she even knew it. If she gave him any trouble he'd pretend she was a hardcase and punch holes in her.

Soupbone checked the street up and down one last time for cops or neighborhood security patrols. He wiped his runny cocaine-nose on his sleeve and snorted in the mucus.

Nothing up thataway...and nothing down thataway...

Time to go then.

Soupbone casually strolled across the street.

He wondered if she had some real expensive jewelry. He wanted to get a pretty hooker next time...but they cost a lot. If he could just score some real expensive bling this time...

The door opened easy enough when he pried on it with his heavy-duty screwdriver. The chainlock came next. Pretty simple.

The house smelled of cooking and 'old people'. He peered around at the room first...looking for indicators that someone else might be in the home as well. Nothing but doilies and dusty knick-knacks and goofy family pictures.

Soupbone hated nice families.

Down the hallway he heard the old cow laugh at something. He didn't like her laugh. He decided to hit her in the mouth a couple of times first to make sure she couldn't laugh again for a lo-ong time.

Smiling evilly to himself, he reached her door and gripped his screwdriver tighter. He pushed the door in quietly and looked at the back of her graying head as she stared at the tube. He felt the giddy energy of anticipation build up inside him. He was tempted to stab her right then and there with the screwdriver...but no,...no...gotta get the broad's panic button first. He resisted the urge to snort his mucus and gripped the doorway tightly, readying himself for a quick, deadly lunge.

He started to lean backwards, poised for a slingshot attack...but something had caught onto his feet. He tried to kick away whatever it was but his feet were immobile for some reason. Frustrated, he shot a glaring look downwards...and then became very confused.

Why were his feet glowing?

He couldn't move his feet...and they were glowing with a weird greenish light.

What kind of a weird freaking deal was this?!

Soupbone blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it.

Nope...that didn't work. His feet were stuck...and no matter how hard he tried...he couldn't take a step!

The old lady turned around then and saw him struggling in the doorway.

She screamed.

Damn!

She clutched at her heart and gasped for breath. It took her several seconds of staring at him before she had the presence of mind to fumble for her 'LifeAlert' button around her neck and click it.

Damn!...

What the hell was going on here?!

Damn-Damn! The cops were on their way here now. He needed to get out of this spook-house NOW!.

If he could just move his feet and get going...

Soupbone wiped his nose on his sleeve, then noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

He glanced to his left...down the hallway...and froze.

Then he saw him!

It was a guy!

A guy in a funny bathing suit! He was just standing there in the living room staring at him!

Where'd he come from?

Soupbone cursed and yelled at the guy in the funny suit...but the guy just stared at him...smiling.

Soupbone noticed something then...something really, really strange.

The guy had a ring pointed at him from waist-high. The ring was glowing green. A thin green laser light was coming from the ring and pointed at his feet!

The weird guy was doing it! The weird guy was trapping his legs with that crazy ring!

Soupbone snarled in anger at the man with the ring. He didn't know how the guy was doing it,...but now Soupbone was mad!

Soupbone thrashed around wildly trying to break free.

"Let me go you f---ing weirdo!" he screamed.

The man just smiled calmly and shook his head "no" very slowly.

Soupbone glared furiously at the strange man.

Soupbone then noticed that the man had some kind of a Zorro mask on his face.

Weird.

Just then the old woman screamed at him to "Get out!-Get out!-Get out!"...so Soupbone decided to throw his screwdriver at her to get her to shut up. He raised his arm to fling the screwdriver but it flew backwards out of his hand.

He glared at the weird guy again.

Sure enough,...

The screwdriver was floating away from him,...through the air...with a greenish glow around it. It stopped and dropped into the hand of the weird guy.

Now THAT...was REALLY weird.

Soupbone snorted in his mucus. He knew he was in trouble...but inwardly, he was glad when he saw the blue lights flashing through the window.

The weird guy backed away slowly...out the back door...and out of sight. Soupbone looked at his legs to see if the glow would disappear and he could run.

No such luck. He was still stuck...rooted to the spot.

The cops heard the onery old lady yelling at the cops about him. They kicked in the front door and aimed their guns at poor old Soupbone.

Damn-it-all!

Damn it - Damn it!

This was the third time!

The police officers tackled poor old Soupbone and cuffed him roughly. Soupbone started thinking of lies to tell the officers when he suddenly caught himself.

"Hey!" he yelled. "What about the other guy!"

"What other guy?" asked the lead officer seriously.

"The other dude..." cried Soupbone, "...with the ring and the bathing suit! He's in the backyard man!"

The lead officer strode out the back door and yelled at an officer who was already in the backyard.

"ZANE! YOU SEE ANYBODY BACK HERE?!"

"No" came the official reply.

"You check everywhere?"

"Yeah...why? What's he sayin?"

"Says there's a guy in a bathing suit back here."

"He's lying. No one here. He woulda had to fly out for me to miss him."

The lead officer cursed under his breath then strode back into the house.

"Offisah...I'm talkin' troof..."

"Shaddup jackass...you have the right to remain silent..."

Soupbone sat sullenly in the back seat of the patrol vehicle. He hawked and snorted a huge gob of brown mucus onto the forward safety screen. He tried to looosen the handcuffs a bit but it was no use. Eventually he was on his way to the local precinct.The old lady followed them in her ratty car to press charges.

The detectives at the station quietly booked him into jail. They took his personal effects (and drugs) from him and made him wear the orange jumpsuit. Then they led him to the interrogation room and started to question him. He told them all about the green guy with the ring and they laughed in his face. They threw him in a holding cell and left him there alone for hours. He tried to sleep but he kept thinking about the weird guy with the green ring. There was something familiar about that guy...he just couldn't remember what it was.

It must have been two in the morning when the detention officers grabbed him again and escorted him back to the interrogation room. An older-looking, moderately overweight detective then entered the room. Soupbone recognized him from a previous arrest and interrogation, but couldn't remember his name. Soupbone knew that the fat old cop could never catch him in a running situation, but he was pretty smart. He'd nearly got a confession from him once or twice before.

"Mister Carleton"...he sighed. "We meet again."

Soupbone just snorted and wiped his runny nose with his cuffed hands and stared off into space.

"I'm Officer Bridgestone. You remember me right? I sent you to jail on your last B & E..."

Soupbone snorted long and loud, then stared at the wall.

The old detective put a tape into the cassette player on the table, but he didn't turn it on. He sat wearily down in the chair across the table from Soupbone and rested his chin on his folded hands.

"Should I call you Mister Carleton or do you prefer Soupbone?"

"Whatever".

"Mister Soupbone..." began the old detective, "You know as well as I do that you're a three-time loser, right?"

"Whatever".

"You also know as well as I do that the old lady you snuck up on is going to be a very good witness."

The old detective let that sink in.

Soupbone stared at the wall.

"Breaking and entering...armed robbery...I'll bet you were planning on leaving us with another body weren't you?"

"The door was already busted befo...

"SAVE IT!" shouted the detective, "Save...those...lies."

Soupbone was nonplussed. He'd been through all this stuff before.

"You don' wanna hear what I gotta say you kin leave...cop!"

The old detective stared at the criminal and weighed his options. Soupbone was a career criminal and a drug addict. He was insufferable street trash that should never have been released from prison once he was there...but the system had let the people down. Time and again the state had let Soupbone and his bland features wriggle through the net.

But now...finally...he had Soupbone...poor old raping-murdering-crack-snorting Soupbone...and had him perfectly! Dead to rights...with a perfect witness willing to testify. It was almost too good to be true. The only thing that stood in the way of the perfect prosecution of this reptile was the weird 'green guy' story. Old, canny detective Bridgestone did not want Soupbone wriggling off the hook with an insanity plea. He needed Soupbone to hang himself...and he thought he had an angle. He just needed a few little details on tape.

"Mister Soupbone" began the old detective, smiling,"...tell me about the 'green guy'...the one that supposedly trapped your feet with his ring".

"I ALREADY TOL' THOSE OTHER F---ING COPS!"

"I know, I know..." the old detective replied cooly. "Just humor me and describe the green guy one more time".

"You think I'm making the sh-- up!"

The detective breathed slowly a few times, then stood up and leaned over the table menacingly.

"Humor me."

Soupbone sighed, snorted, and began to describe the events of the previous evening. The old detective quietly clicked the tape player onto 'record' and rested his chin on his hands again. Soupbone wearily described the 'green guy' in some detail. White...forty-ish...brown hair...green Zorro mask...didn't speak at all...can I have a cigarette...no...f--- you...white gloves and boots...shiny green and black bathing suit...looked like a superhero or something...there was a big green spot in the center of his chest or something...

The old detective stopped Soupbone's narrative then. He reached around and pulled out a folded magazine from his back pocket. He unfolded the magazine in front of Soupbone and held it under his drippy nose for him to see.

"Is this the guy you saw Soupbone?" he asked.

Soupbone gave the detective a wondering look then stared at the magazine.

It was a comic book!

Soupbone's eyes lit up as he recognized the figure on the cover.

"Thass HIM! Thass HIM!" cried Soupbone. "Thass the man I saw in de house!"

Soupbone tried to read the comic book's title.

"What that say? Green lanner..."

"It's 'Green Lantern'" corrected the old detective,"ever heard of him?"

"Ye-ahhh...I think so...my little brudder had one a dese comics...dats where I remembah it!"

"I see." replied Bridgestone satisfied.

Officer Bridgestone sighed inwardly. Soupbone had told him what he wanted to hear. He stopped the tape and ejected it. He pulled the precious tape out and stuffed it into his shirt pocket for safe-keeping. When he'd played Soupbone's first taped deposition, he'd laughed along with the other detectives. Slowly though, it dawned on him about the insanity defense Soupbone was building. He played the tape three times before it hit him: Green Lantern! Soupbone was describing a DC comic book hero! He rushed home then and dug through his son's comic book collection until he'd found it. A Green Lantern comic! All he needed was for Soupbone to say he recognized it and WHAM! Permanent jail-time!

And so he fell into the trap. Detective Bridgestone folded the comic in two and jammed it in his back pocket. No escape for poor old Soupbone now. A drug-induced memory...that's all. Not a fictitious mental demon...just an old memory...capable of sending him straight to Walla-Walla penitentiary.

The old detective had just leaned back to savor his victory when officer Wollenberg burst in.

"Heads up George!"

"What?"

Before officer Bridgestone could do more than look up, a tall official-looking black man in a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses brusquely entered the interrogation room. He had a Malcolm-X kinda look, a communication earpiece dangling from his collar and a no-nonsense attitude that reeked of ex-military.

"This interview is at an end" he said.

"Uh,...excuse me Mister?..."

"Agent Stillman...NSA." The man flipped open a black leather government I.D. and shoved it in directly in Bridgestone's face. At the same time he reached over and hit the eject button on the tape player and saw there was no tape.

"Detective Captain Bridgestone is it?" he didn't wait for the old detective to confirm the name. "Do you or do you not have a taped deposition from this suspect on your person?"

There was a hard edge tone to the man's voice that demanded an immediate response.

"Er...yes."

"May I have it please?"

Bridgestone hesistated.

"It's not really a request officer Bridgestone" intoned Agent Stillman with an ill-concealed rasp of menace.

Soupbone watched amazed at the governmental power struggle unfolding before him and began to smile at Bridgestone's obvious discomfort.

"Better give him de tape."

"Shut up Soupbone!" Bridgestone snarled...as he fished in his pocket for the tape. "I don't see what the government's interest is in..."

"What you see and don't see will be entirely up to me" ordered Agent Stillman. "For now you will hand over this prisoner and his personal effects to me along with all his fingerprint documents and arrest records. You will say nothing about this man or his case to anyone. Any further evidence regarding this incident will be referred directly to Agent Waters who will be arriving shortly. He will be our laison officer with this precinct and will be posted in a government van in the impound lot for the duration. You will give him everything he requires in order to finish his investigation of this...incident".

Agent Stillman's eyes bored directly into Bridgestone's.

"Are we clear detective Bridgestone?"

"Crystal" replied the old detective stiffly.

"Agent Brody!" shouted Stillman.

Suddenly a huge man dressed similarly in a dark government suit filled the doorway. He could have been a professional wrestler.

"Take Mister Carleton to the transport vehicle please".

Agent Brody reached out with massive hands and grabbed Soupbone by the shoulders and lifted him bodily out of the interrogation chair. Soupbone cried out in protest to no avail. He was hustled out in a blink by agent Brody as if he were a child being bum-rushed out of daycare. Agent Stillman then turned to face officer Wollenberg who was standing diffidently in the hallway.

"Arrest records...fingerprints...personal effects...all bits of evidence..." Agent Stillman reminded him sternly.

"Yes sir." replied Wollenberg as he waved a mock salute and strode off to gather the requested items.

Agent Stillman stood rigidly for a few moments with his back to detective Bridgestone. Without turning, he spoke succinctly to the old detective.

"What's your opinion of Mister Carleton's story detective?" asked the government agent.

Bridgestone cleared his throat and answered truthfully.

"It was a drug-induced memory of some sort. The guy's a known addict."

"Very good detective" commented Stillman. "Just keep believing that explanation. Have a nice day".

Agent Stillman marched out of the room and never looked back.

Bridgestone let out a sigh of relief...then he felt the comic book in his back pocket as he leaned backwards. He reached around behind and tugged it free. He unfolded it and set it down on the interrogation table and stared at it.

"It couldn't be...could it?"

R & R , Please!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Agent Stillman watched rigidly as officer Wollenberg scrambled together all the files on Soupbone and his latest indiscretion...plus all his past files.

There were plenty. The stack was starting to tip over.

"Get a box officer..." warned Stillman.

Wollenberg noted the stacking problem then nodded an assent. He began meandering towards the supply room.

The damage wasn't great here Stiilman thought. The old woman was half-blind...Soupbone was a headcase...Bridgestone came up with his own explanations.

Not bad considering the nature of the event.

He'd have to keep an eye on Bridgestone though. A good cop from his files. It'd be a shame to have to dispose of him.

On cue, Bridgestone strode out of the interrogation room in a half-daze. He was holding a comic book...patting his thigh with it as he shook his head in confused thought.

He finally shrugged after a second or two and started to straighten Soupbone's tower of files.

Agent Stillman noted Bridgestone's resigned attitude and adjusted his earpiece's volume control.

He listened bemusedly to agent Brody's noisy progress with Soupbone.

"MUH-FUH!"...(THUMP!)..."GAT-DAMMIT!"..."LEGGO MUH MUH-FUH HAIR!"...(CRASH!)..."UNGH!"...

He seethed inwardly.

He hated low-lifes like Soupbone. They reminded him of his own jail-issue father who had caved under societal pressure and abandoned him and his siblings when the going got rough. He had assumed control of his family at age 12 after his father's short trial. Then after a few useless trips with his mother to the state pen, he had decided his father was an embarrassing write-off. The safety of his family had depended on him after that...and he never let them down.

His friends in the neighborhood may have been fooled by the gangs and the drug dealers and the useless 'organizations' that offered feigned 'alternatives'.

But he knew better.

Follow the money...follow the power...

Out of necessity, he was a hardened man...inside and out.

First to protect his family...then to protect his country...then to protect the world...from that which clawed at the edges of everyone's comfortable reality...the 'unknown'.

Agent Stillman took of his glasses and wiped them stiffly.

Some, like his mother, thought he was too hard.

But he knew better.

The mind was the battlefield.

The mind was the weapon.

The mind was all that stood between man and oblivion.

Machine-like, his mind reviewed the problems...found the answers...followed through....no errors.

All the cases he had been handed by his government (yes...they still called them 'X-FILES' ) had been resolved without so much as a whimper in the news.

And the government was grateful...very grateful...

...and becoming more and more dependent on his skills and awareness.

Financially it was all good...but later...well...

...he'd see about later when it arrived.

For now, he needed to resolve this green man issue.

And he knew just how to do it. Watch the patterns...note the clues...heed the warnings...prepare the traps...

In his experience, everything was ultimately based in reality.

Everything.

There was no magic...no Gods...no supernatural phenomena...

It was a relatively straight-up world all-in-all...

Until now.

Wollenberg finally came out empty-handed out of the supply room and threw up his hands at Bridgestone.

"Where's a really big box George?" asked officer Wollenberg.

Bridgestone snorted. "Just look in the bathroom..."

Wollenberg rolled his eyes and strayed off again.

Now Agent Stillman's mind was churning furiously...like a hell-train...flames licking at the wheels of ironclad industrial reality...

...seeking answers....explanations...grounded truths...

His mind kept going over and over the events of the last few days...

**Thursday**: His inside man at the CIA had first sent him a warning text: 'ZEUS'.

'ZEUS'...all caps...meaning: 'New player...power unknown...'

That code had never been used before this.

He had his hacker squad bring him the data direct from the CIA and FBI mainframes.

It was not good.

Central intelligence and the FBI had noted a series of 'incidents' involving a 'green man'.

**First incident**: New York...10:54 PM...410 west 42nd st...outside Gotham Chamber Opera...theatre-goers...unlikely to lie...

"I'm sure I saw him. He just hovered there in mid-air...then just flew off."

"Yeah, like superman or something!"

"Dressed in a green bathing suit...or union suit or something..."

"He had a mask!...Don't forget the mask dude!"

"yeah, yeah...I saw the mask too...but I was way over by the pizza place next to the photo store...and I saw a big green flash!...and there he was just hangin' in the air!"

"Yeah...I saw that too!...Next thing you know...BAM! He up and flies off!"

**Second incident**: Chicago...12:45 PM...a row of houses by the tracks...six neighbors file a complaint about a 'scary green man'...

"I heard a scream...and I guess he like saved a girl who was being threatened in the tunnel."

"Yeah,...but she ran off scared, like right away...y'know?"

"And he was all, like, glowing green and just hovering in mid-air over the tracks...no wires or anything!"

"He had a Zorro mask...and green boots...and a bathing suit on..."

"He had a big green ring...just stared at it for the longest time...then BAM!...he was gone!"

"Yeah...didn't even see which way he went. Some kind of a magician or sumthin..."

"Can a man stand in mid-air like that without the power of God in him? I don't think so..."

"Well if ya ask me, I think it's some kind of government plot y'know?..."

"The kids just can't sleep now...stuff like this just pisses me off..."

**Third Incident**: Los Angeles...1:54 AM...410 W. 42nd st....a freeway overpass...

"Looky here offissar..I seen it...I ain't lying....I'm tellin' yuh...it was a guy in a green spandex whatever!...Just hovered over the freeway looking at me!"

"Did the green guy say anything to you?"

"Yeah...he tol' me to stop spitting on the cars!"

"And that's what you were doing?"

"Ummm...no-ooo...I was maybe just...y'know..."

"You were spitting on the cars...we've had complaints..."

"Shi....who cares bout dat?...Muh-fuh green Zorro guy flies up and makes me shit mahself! Thass the crime here troop!"

"So you think it was he who caused the accident?"

"Yeah! Muh-FUH freaked dem drivers out!"

"It wasn't your spit then?"

"HAY-YELL NO!"

"All the drivers under here are saying that all they saw was a green flash that saved them from going off the road."

"They right about the big flash. The green dude made it wit his hand or sumthin'."

"But the guy in Plymouth Voyager says it was a big gob of brown spit that landed on his windshield that almost caused a wreck under here."

"Awww...he fu----in' lying...you know..."

There were other incidents of course; strange lonely sightings here and there...but this one was different.

This event with Soupbone in Seattle was a bit more..dramatic....more comicbook...more Superman-Spiderman-Batman...more what-the-spandex...

And still no real clues as to identity.

No fingerprints...no footprints...no videos or still shots...

Nothing.

Not a stray hair.

Just hearsay.

Agent Stillman's mental gears ground off sparks behind his eyes as his fingers drummed on a stray desk.

Officer Wollenberg was sorting and stuffing Soupbone's files into a big cardboard 'CHARMIN' box.

What the hell? Who was going to carry that?

Agent Brody he decided.

"I'm gonna need for you two officers to try and find a third gear for me okay?!..." he barked.

Bridgestone scowled and shoved Wollenberg.

"Just stuff 'em in man..."

Stillman's fingers drummed on.

How many frickin files can a 23-year-old hood pile up?

Exasperated, Agent Stillman's mental gears returned to grinding on the bigger problem...

He flies.

he disappears in a flash.

He stops crime.

He aims a green lazer ring at his targets.

He can hover.

He can push cars out of harm's way.

He can freeze people into...motionlessness.

Is that even a word?...

(pauses...thinks)

...yes it is.

He keeps going to the same address in different cities.

Why?

Why indeed?

Agent Stillman watched over his glasses as officer Wollenberg stuffed still more of Soupbone's criminal files into a big cardboard box.

"Oh,...that is freaking it!" he thought inwardly.

A bead of sweat trickled down Stillman's forehead.

He wiped it away casually.

His mind now settled down and began to ponder a new problem...

...where to dispose of Soupbone's body?


End file.

DC Elseworlds, Adventure, Sci-Fi