Anyway, when confronted with a situation like this, if one is foolhardy enough to care about the setting and/or explanation of the game world in the first place, one has to devise interesting mental maneuvers to explain such discontinuities. This... is one of them.]

Friday, March 9
Gotham City

It's funny how even the most bizarre situations can eventually become routine if they persist long enough. One of the oddest quirks of human nature is that we can get used to just about anything.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into the phenomenon by attributing it to all humanity, I don't know. Maybe it's more of a Gotham thing. Because here, at least, that's how most of us responded to the Brainiac invasion. After a few weeks, we stopped paying much attention. Dealing with it became part of the routine. Wake up, brush teeth, check the Justice League website to see where the hotspots of the day are, make coffee. We even stopped really noticing the hovering harvester ships after a while. Nothing to do with us ordinary citizens, after all. We just hoped the battle of the day wouldn't make us late for work. Getting to the office was hard enough with the El destroyed.

That's what I was doing Friday morning. Walking to work, cursing the robots under my breath - once because they destroyed the El and once because on that particular day, they were raiding a neighborhood between my apartment and the office, so that I had to take the even longer way around. If I'm honest, I was cursing the heroes a bit too. I mean, I know even the Justice League can only do so much, and the Brainiac thing was happening worldwide, but even so, when the siege has been going on for more than a year with no evident progress in either direction, a person kind of can't help but feel a little underserved.

And it was raining.

Then, naturally, my day got even worse, because that's what happens in Gotham City.

I wasn't mugged - that too would have been routine. I was born and raised in Gotham, I've lived here all my life. I know how to deal with muggers, and one of the relatively few nice things about this town is that the police know how to properly appreciate a citizen who does a little piece of their job for them. Hell, on that particular morning it would have been therapeutic for some little punk to volunteer as my taekwando dummy.

But no. No, the gods were not even inclined to be that kind to me last Friday. Instead, I had an origin.

I was just starting to wonder if I should've gone a couple blocks further north before turning west - I could still hear the sounds of the firefight going on by the construction site across from the 9th Precinct house - when something hit me in the side of the head. Not "holy crap am I going to die" hit me - more "ow, who the hell's throwing pebbles" hit me. I turned to look for the thrower, thinking I might get some therapy in after all.

There was a glowing green piece of jewelry hovering in the air beside my head. Oh crap, I thought, I've heard about this.

"Greetings," said the ring.

"Go away," I replied. I backed away, but it hovered after me, maintaining the same distance.

"I am a power ring sent by the Guardians of the Universe," the ring continued.

"I know. Go away," I told it.

"You possess the capacity to overcome great fear," the ring went on implacably.

"You couldn't prove it right now," I said.

"I am programmed to obey your mental commands so long as they do not conflict with the Code of the Guardians," droned the ring.

"Does leaving me alone conflict with the Code of the Guardians?" I asked it. "Because I command you to leave me alone."

Apparently so, because the next thing it said was, "Welcome to the Corps, Green Lantern of Sector 2814," and then before I could do anything about it, it was on my finger.

"No, hey, hang on," I said as the green light ate away my work clothes and replaced it with a uniform. I tugged at the ring, but it wouldn't budge. "This is not acceptable," I told it. "I already have a job. A soul-crushingly unfulfilling one, I grant you, but - and this is critical to my long-term career goals - one that's not going to get me killed by Brainiac."

What can I say? I'm a stress talker.

Anyway, the ring didn't reply. It might've been programmed to obey my mental commands so long as they did not conflict with the Code of the Guardians, but it was evidently not programmed to give a damn that I didn't want to join the club. Nor did it appear to be programmed to tell me what I was supposed to do with it.

The reason why I was experiencing that great fear the ring mentioned earlier was because I'd read something online about this phenomenon. The thing is that Earth normally has, I think, four Green Lanterns. There are two who have secret identities, there's John Stewart, and there's... what's-his-name, Ginger Moe Howard. But with this Brainiac thing happening, someone at wherever their intergalactic home office was decided that we needed a bunch more. And I mean a bunch more. Which, well, fine, right? More superheroes during a planetary robot invasion apocalypse. D'accord!

Unfortunately, it appears the Guardians of the Universe are having HR problems and couldn't come up with the personnel necessary to back up that order. At which point some unspecified genius at GL Central seems to have hit on the perfect solution: Just send a dozen gross of power rings to Earth unsupervised and let them do the recruiting themselves.

The obvious flaw in this problem - obvious to anyone but the Guardians of the Universe, anyway - was that these new recruits had no idea how to operate the rings, and had suddenly acquired superpowers they didn't know how to use on a planet where anyone with superpowers was automatically a target of killer robots.

Like I had, just now. Great.

Suddenly, making it to the office was no longer my highest priority, though that did raise the awkward question of what should replace it. I mean, yes, staying alive, but what specific steps was I going to take - could I take - to make that happen?

I decided to make a run for the 9th Precinct. The cops wouldn't have any better idea than I did, but I'd heard tell that they had a ground station for the JLA in there someplace. Maybe I could get ahold of a real Green Lantern and he could convince this ring that it was barking up the wrong -

- I came around a corner and ran smack into a patrol group of Brainiac's robot minions.

Crap.

The one nearest me turned and said something like, "Oan energy signature detected. Apprehend the human."

For a second, my mind went blank with a surge of panic that made what I'd felt when the ring attached itself to my hand feel like mild concern by comparison.

Way to go, "Guardians of the Universe", I thought. You just got me killed. But as I had that thought, a funny thing happened.

Samuel Johnson, the great lexicographer, was reported to have once said, "Depend upon it, sir: When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully." I'm here to report that this is also true of people who learn that they're about to be disintegrated by evil robots from outer space.

OK, ring, I thought, time to start coming across on that "mental commands" thing.

Then, hoping I wasn't about to hurt myself and then die feeling really stupid, I punched the nearest robot as hard as I could.

Not bad.

Of course, the celebration was short-lived, because it turned out they only needed to see me for their boss to beam me up, but at least as I blacked out I had the satisfaction of knowing that that unit wasn't going to make it to the victory party.

I wasn't really expecting to wake up, so that was a nice surprise.

Mind you, the fact that I came to in some kind of high-tech prison pod, feeling like I'd just been dumped out of the Matrix, kind of muted the pleasure, but still, any alien abduction where you wake up at all...

"OK, power ring," I muttered. "For the record, it would've been nice if you had, I don't know, stopped them from beaming me up."

"I am programmed to obey your mental commands," the ring replied.

"... Did you just snark at me for not saying Simon Says?"

"Command not understood."

"OK, that's it, you've got a new name," I said. "From now on I'm calling you Jerkface."

"Designation logged."

I snorted, feeling a hysterical giggling fit coming on. That would never do. I knew myself well enough to know that it would just be the leading edge of a complete freakout. OK. Calm down. Get a grip. Take stock. What the hell is going on?

"Subject secured," a voice - not as mechanical as the one the robots at street level had had, but still not exactly what you would call warm and reassuring - announced from somewhere. "Commence digitization process."

Uh-oh.

"Warning," said Jerkface. "Threat of imminent dematerialization. Recommend immediate action to counter."

"For once we agree," I muttered. "Any suggestions as to how?"

"Command not understood."

I sighed. You'd think omnipotent aliens from the center of the universe could come up with a better context-sensitive help system for their ultimate weapon.

Hmm. It said "mental commands" earlier, and wanting that one robot to explode had worked out reasonably well. Maybe all I had to do to avoid being dematerialized was really want to not be dematerialized. I hoped so, 'cause I was kind of out of ideas otherwise.

"Error," said the first voice. "Digitization process failed. Interference from alien energy signature detected. Error - "

Now that I'd calmed down a little and could concentrate, I could feel the energy - the green aura that surrounded me, emanating from the ring - pushing back against... something... outside it. I focused on that sensation, pushing back harder, then harder still.

The aura punched outward into a sphere, tearing the pod that imprisoned me apart from within. I hadn't really been expecting that to happen, and as a result ended up faceplanting on the deck below before I could catch myself, but what the hell - I contend that there are no style points in escaping from alien disintegration chambers.

"Ow." I pulled myself into a sitting position and looked around. Big, alien-looking metal room. Bunch of pods like the one I'd just smashed my way out of on the walls.

"Jerkface, we've got to get a new travel agent," I mumbled.

"Command not understood."

"You're a lousy conversationalist," I told it, "but I'm going to keep addressing you so I can pretend I'm not, in fact, talking to myself. Even though I figure anyone who's been kidnapped and nearly disintegrated by an alien robot is entitled to go a little crazy. Speaking of which, is there any way we can stop that from happening again, or am I just destined to keep getting beamed into a new pod every time one of Brainiac's robots spots me?"

"Transmat signal analyzed and blocked," Jerkface replied.

I glanced at it. "No kidding. You can do that after getting teleported once?"

"This unit has been teleported to Brainiac assimilation chambers 28 times," Jerkface replied.

I blinked. "What? How is that possible?"

"This unit unaffected by previous wearers' dematerialization."

"Previous wear - are you freaking kidding me?!"

"Command not understood."

The horror of my realization blanked my mind for a second. These things weren't just pushy and high-handed, they had a lethal design flaw. Just as I'd feared I would be, the bulk of the people they'd drafted hadn't had any idea how to use them or what was going on. Taken completely by surprise, they got scooped up and wiped out by Brainiac's forces before they'd figured out what had just happened.

But the rings survived. Brainiac's pods couldn't disintegrate them... and they were programmed to find a new wielder if the current one died. So when their hapless owners got killed, they'd go find another sucker. Who, being just as unprepared as the last, would tend to get 86ed in similarly short order. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Forcing myself again to calm down, I said, "So what you're saying is that you've gotten twenty-seven people killed since you arrived on Earth."

"Command not understood."

"Oh, for - " I took a deep breath. "OK, never mind that for now, let's just look for a way out of here." I had another look around. Three other pods, empty ones, fortunately, though it occurred to me that they might not've been when I arrived... big power door at the other end.

Obvious exits are: North, I thought.

As I got to my feet I noticed that the logo on my chest - all superheroes have them, right? - was just a blank white circle, not the symbol I'd seen on the other Green Lanterns on TV.

"Hey, Jerkface, what's with my emblem here?"

"Badge display is restricted to fully trained and accredited members of the Green Lantern Corps," the ring replied.

"You're kidding me. I got drafted into a job that's gotten the 27 previous suckers killed, and I don't even get to wear the lousy company logo? The Guardians are the worst employers ever. I bet I don't even get paid."

"Medium-of-exchange recompense is restricted to fully trained - "

"Shut up. Just don't talk."

Silence.

"OK." I took another deep breath. "Steady. Don't panic. Everything is under - "

Jerkface suddenly made a beeping noise and then declared in a different voice, a woman's voice, "It worked!"

I didn't realize until that moment that it is in fact possible to recoil in momentary fright from your own hand, but it is.

"I'm online and you're awake and free. That's a good start," the voice went on. "Let's see about getting you out of there."

"When I told you not to talk, I didn't mean 'pick a different voice,'" I said.

"Pardon?" the woman's voice replied.

"I guess that's better than 'command not understood'," I grumbled.

"Oh, sorry," the voice said. "I'm not your power ring, I'm just using it to pick up my signal wave. The name's Oracle. I'm going to help get you out of there."

I stared in bemusement at the ring for a second, then said, "OK, sure, why not."

"I'm picking up multiple sentry-unit signals heading for that room. Brainiac knows you're awake. I'm afraid you won't get out of there without a fight."

I found myself smiling almost against my will as the aura around me brightened. "Given the day I'm having," I said, "believe me, I'm ready to break some stuff."

"That's the spirit," said Oracle cheerfully. "What do I call you? Are you planning to go by Green Lantern?"

I snorted. "Jerkface tells me I'm not even a real member of the club," I said. "I'm just, I dunno, Employee 2814."

"Well, brace yourself, Employee 2814, 'cause here they come."

My smile became a grin. "Bring 'em on," I said.

"Employee 2814" - a DC Universe Online mini-story by Benjamin D. Hutchins
special to the Eyrie Productions Discussion Forum
© 2012 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited