When Sindy's dazzled eyes cleared again, the travelers' host was seated in his overstuffed chair once more, dressed in a green and black leotard, and gazing at his visitors over steepled hands. J'Onn and the others, she noted, were now seated in the guest chairs Hal had provided.
Hal still didn't look any too reputable, and now that the bar was gone, Sindy saw that part of the reason was the slovenly, disordered state of the bordello-decorated room. She noted the piles of unwashed leotards, discarded cans of something called "Oa Ale," a stylized campground lantern gathering dust on a high shelf, a dartboard-portrait of the goateed man from the ringer line, and a wide-screen TV freeze-framed to the opening title of a video called "Triumph of the Will." A wheezing refrigerator and a stove piled high with dirty pots and pans completed the picture of seedy bachelorhood.
But Hall was speaking: "Now then, honored delegates," he stated casually, as if he had just stepped in from another room rather than a such sordid display of gratuitous sex, "what can I do for you?"
J'Onn looked annoyed. "We stated our errand earlier," he reminded the man.
Hal grinned. "Yeah, well, I was a bit preoccupied just then, right? Refresh my memory."
"If you but consumed a little less Oa Ale--"
"Hey, I don't wave your weaknesses in front of your face, Mister Oh Help, a Match," snarled Hal, his voice hardening. "I got a job here, c'mon, make it official."
"You can activate your connection with your colleague in the Heroica segment, naturally," J'Onn replied, with ill-concealed impatience. "And then, jointly, connect to Peripheral, so that we may conduct our final conference. Are you so far gone you need me to tell you your duty, Hal?"
"Not if you do yours and follow the new security procedure."
After a silence that dragged out a moment longer than it should have, J'Onn responded. "Yes. Of course." The Martian turned to D.J., who was now, as she had been since her transformation, swathed and hooded in a long purple robe that hid her features. Something seemed to pass between them -- telepathically, Sindy assumed. Then, as if prompted by J'Onn's glance, D.J. got up and glided toward their host.
Hal looked up, bored. "Let's see," he said. "Reep Daggle, right?" He snickered. "Unless the Dementors from the Horror Sector have taken to wearing purple, anyway. Must say, I always liked you better as the bald golden boy with the antennas. But I appreciate you following the rules."
"You made it quite clear when you took this assignment," said J'Onn dryly, "that it was only on the understanding that your phobia against the color yellow be pandered to--"
"Phobia? Phobia?!?" Hal leaped to his feet. "I'm not afraid of anything, Greeny!" Hal screamed at J'Onn. "Least of all that dirty little color! I'm the man without fear, remember?!?"
"Thought that was Daredevil," murmured the invisible Dabbler from her position next to Sindy, startling her. Seeing Sindy's confused face, she explained. "'Hal' is really Green Lantern," she whispered. "His powers don't work on anything yellow -- the Backstage's golden mana atmosphere must really give him the shakes. Odd to find him here in the Villains' area, though, he's supposed to be a Hero, not to mention dead...."
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Wed Nov 12 00:38:05 2003
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