Chapter 351 - My SI Stash #51 - It's An Unliving by Gromweld (YoungJustice)

-I do not care what anyone else thinks Black Lantern ring is the baddest and coolest of them all, also this fic do be giving out that Doom vibe which I f.u.c.k.i.n.g love~

Synopsis: You can tolerate a lot of bad assignments when your boss is drop-dead gorgeous.

Rated: ???

Words: 29K

Posted on: forums.spacebattles.com/threads/its-an-unliving-young-justice-si.865009/ (Gromweld)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

Sector 2814, Sol System

Happy Harbor, RI, USA, Earth

18th July, 2010

1:02 PM EDT

The trouble with superpowers that operate best on hard, unfeeling logic is that you get very good at rationalizing poor decisions.

Sitting cross-legged on the power station's rooftop, I idly spin the ice-cold ring on my right hand's middle finger. I've not even had it a full week, and already I'm about to throw myself into a plan that the me-of-last-week would have considered the height of insanity. Granted, Death does change a person's perspective.

Not that she can help herself. But I guess that's where I'm supposed to come in. Eventually. But that's never happening if I just sit here and watch a bunch of plainclothes-dressed teenagers getting wailed on by a robot in a fancy power-suit, rationalizing that no, this all plays out well so I don't need to get involved... just yet-

>

The voice of an eldritch, omnicidal machine-god echoing in my head is comforting in its familiarity - still amusing enough of an inside joke that it smothers any resentment at myself or it. Far better than the creepy text-to-speech monotone the Ring had to start with.

*WHOOSH* *CRUNCH* *CRASH!*

In a blast of compressed and twisting air, a dark-haired teenaged boy in a black t-shirt and jeans - apparel which somehow hasn't been torn to shreds from the force of his movements or being thrown through reinforced concrete and industrial metal framework - rockets out through the power plant's grey wall and into a nearby aged sedan… only for him to immediately jump up and leap back into the fray.

And just why are there still so many cars here? I've counted sixty-eight cars and trucks, but there's only forty-three workers corralled over on the far edge of the power station's parking lot-

>

Oh. Long-term parking for the nearby national park for those that don't want to pay the park's fees. Thanks, Ring.

Judging by the wails of dismay I'm picking up from the gawking crowd of power station workers, it's only dawned on them now that they should have just gotten in their cars and left instead of stand around uselessly.

… and I'm distracting myself again. Sigh.

Time to get this-

>

…

Mmrhm. Right. Still not completely used to the mental gymnastics required for this particular flavor of madness. Spent over a full day sitting out in the asteroid belt piecing some of this out, three days floating in space above Earth scanning everyone and everything, and then nearly two days of low-key practicing in various nighttime back-alleys, but knowing how to do something is a far cry from it being an ingrained thinking pattern. Even if much of what comes next is going to be the Ring moving me like a puppet and acting along what I've programmed into it.

Ring?

>

Very well.

Righteous anger won't help me here, as much as this plan was definitely formed from a kernel of spite. I don't really want to get involved here, either, since I know this would be a critical moment for "The Team," showcasing just how much they have to actually work as one to succeed.

Undeath shaves off much of the fear that I should definitely be feeling now, and while a little bit of it is generally a good way to avoid suicidal levels of overconfidence… I've at least gleaned that devising initial action and contingency plans beforehand drastically helps prevent my lingering (and justifiable) wariness from diminishing the Ring's power to act.

Plans are why I shouldn't need to hope it'll all work out alright. Cold, pragmatic calculations take into account the wellness of others when I originally fashion them, in both the short term and the abstract, but I can't afford to let sentimentality get in the way when boots hit the ground. An odd paradox, yes: to effect compassion, I must eschew it.

It was a bit disturbing to realize that undeath has only marginally impacted my capacity for… carnal feelings. I blame Death. She was clearly not wearing a bra under that tank-top, and she knew exactly what she was doing, leaning over me like that to wake me up in my bed. Regardless, I'm alone and adrift in a crap-sack universe that is effectively run on narrative weight just as much as causality; not finding a lot to love right now.

But, truthfully, those emotions aren't why I started making plans.

It's because it's far too easy to fall into the trap of will. To be… determined to see my actions through, pushing through my distaste for what must be done with a power that most would (rightfully) consider evil. No, to wield this Ring effectively it can't be about my strength.

I spent days floating in low-Earth-orbit gathering data for this. Apart from a few noticeable (and expected) blank spots in magic-heavy areas, there was no digital or analog database on this planet that could stand against a fully-unleashed Power Ring. Predictive models have been built for all the heroic actors on tonight's stage, and the robotic supervillain (and his master remotely observing the scene through his eyes) hasn't even recognized that he's been suborned. This level of preparation and force for what is effectively a "training wheels" fight for a bunch of teenaged superheroes is complete and utter overkill.

No. What happens next… is inevitable.

Standing up from my position on the rooftop, an unnatural kind of anti-light bubbles out from the onyx ring on my purposefully-decayed left hand; staring directly at the growing pool there's a strange kind of lensing effect around its edges that gives the energy a whitish outline, but the energy itself is the kind of black only seen in black holes. The energy flows up and over my body, but as my part in this requires my form to be easily legible, the personal barrier…dims?... lightens enough that I can still be seen clearly through it even in the night sky.

>

With its actions pre-programmed, the ring isn't held back by my speed of thought; dozens of microscopic strands of blackness streak out of the ring at the speed of light, out over the roof's edge, and down into the ongoing super-brawl. The first step is shutting down the camera feeds that are still live inside and around the power plant - those interested in what's about to go down will find out eventually, this is comics-land after all - which is accomplished a bare fraction of a second before the second stage of the plan engages.

From the point of view of Robin, Aquaboy, Superboy, Kid Flash, and Miss Martian, one moment they're in a pitched battle with the oversized-power-armor foe "Mister Twister"... and in less than a heartbeat everyone on the battlefield is entirely wrapped up (save for their faces) in Black Light constructs shaped like clawing, grasping, and constricting claws, hands, and tentacles, each modeled after the various appendages of races in this universe. The restraining constructs aren't hurting them, not directly, but even with its gentlest touch the Black Light of Death drains the energy of any living cells on contact; it's about as damaging as a light, open-palmed smack, but a "chill" effect akin to a cold breeze lingers until the body's regenerated the dead cells.

Yes, this means I can now Lich Slap people.

With everyone bound, a micro-second later my constructs then move to step three: controlling the battlespace. After all, if I have easy access to offensive FTL transportation, why fight anywhere that isn't prepared exactly how I want?

My environmental shield extends to everyone through my constructs, and-

>

A lurch, a moment of disorientation as the world around us all compresses and then snaps back in barely a second of travel.

Sector 2814, Sol System

Sea of Tranquility, Luna

18th July, 2010

1702 UTC

When the effect ends, I am standing behind a tastefully-cut stone lectern which is facing an open-air, college-style auditorium - all five of the "teen" superheroes deposited into some of the comfortable metal chairs arranged behind the first row of ascending desks. Behind me is a large slab of pure basalt cut into the style of a massive college chalkboard. Beside me is "Mister Twister," still bound in disturbing black light constructs, but I've powered down the android within the power suit... as well as disabled the bombs inside him that Dr. Morrow will soon try to remotely trigger when he realizes he's lost connection to his puppet.

Above us, floating half-visible amongst a dizzying starscape is the humbling view of Planet Earth.

I still keep my environmental shields on the five heroes via thin black light filaments - extending from my Ring, up my arms, down my legs, and looping along the ground - because they both need to be able to hear me in this near-empty vacuum and none of them would last very long unshielded on the Moon's surface. I'd rather them not be dead just yet. I've got a lesson plan to go through.

And now for the hardest part of all this: emoting while still trying to keep a… dispassionate mindset so as not to disrupt the Ring's macros.

I ignore the startled, pained, and terrified yelps from the heroes as their brains catch up to the rapid-fire series of events that just occurred. Glancing down, I absently brush a fleck of nothing off my dark, tailored suit's b.r.e.a.s.t, then straighten my tie and re-secure it with a silver clip adorned with the same emblem that adorns my ring - a downward-pointing triangle with five vertical lines emerging from its 'top'. Looking back up at my "students" as they all pause to stare upwards in awe-struck and terrified confusion about where they now are, I smile as much as I can without a lower jaw and my eyes blazing with black light energies.

"Good evening, Titans," I greet with as much joviality I can muster, raising my right hand to motion them back to the chairs they've lept up from in their panic. I also pointedly ignore the sensation of my loose, ragged tongue flapping in time with the facsimile of speech my Ring is vocalizing through my exposed trachea. It's all part of the plan.

"Please, return to your seats. We have much to review."

Chapter 2

Sector 2814, Sol System

Sea of Tranquility, Luna

18th July, 2010

1703 UTC

"AAAH!" / "...What was-?!" / "HOLY SHIT IS THAT-!?"

The screaming and confusion are expected, even accounted for in my script, despite my calm declaration. To be fair, even with the Clarketech super-magic-computer of my Power Ring, I don't have their exact reactions planned out word-for-word and their every action predicted; my own spotty memory of clips from the Young Justice cartoon, combined with all available video, audio, and written recordings scr.a.p.ed from Earth - most helpfully, the Batcomputer - has allowed me to build percentage models both for how each will react on their own and as a… well, they're barely "the Team" right now, so more as a "group." Taking all that into account, I worked with the Ring's AI to build a script and set of macros for what to say and do to achieve the ends I want.

Then I scrapped that first script the Ring's simple AI gave me because it was only three words:

>

I'm not sure what I had expected, but somehow I was still disappointed.

That had led to several hours of tinkering with the Ring's AI to give it a more useful personality - a decision which has drastically increased my ability to wield the Black Light of Death far beyond my own levels of technical, mental, and emotional skills… but has commensurately decreased the Ring's tolerances for me exhibiting anything that would constitute a normal emotional range. My preliminary, covert testing in back-alleys in various cities around the world breaking up violent crimes has largely proved the efficacy of this decision for small-time matters, so this will be the first big-time test on whether the trade-off is worth it.

And now that I've got a solid set of overlapping scripts, plans, and contingencies for this entire… act...

"AH! ZOMBIE!"

Kid Flash is the only one to point at me dramatically while shouting, the rest dropping back into their combat stances after the momentary freak-out caused by their sudden ensnarement and then abduction to a classroom on the surface of the Moon. Well, except for Miss Martian - she's still backing up against the stone desk behind her, wild-eyed and terrified by what just happened.

As I suspected, the sudden cut-off of Earth's ambient "background noise" of human minds must be triggering her memories of the loneliness of deep space that she only recently just suffered through.

"Please," I offer drolly, holding my hands up in surrender behind my podium. "I am technically a lich, not a zombie; I still have all my mental faculties. And-"

The muscle-bound Superboy launches himself at me, the low-gravity of Luna combined with his superstrength turning him into a blur for mortal eyes. He crosses the twenty feet between us in a heartbeat, fist aiming for what's left of my face-

>

-only for him to suddenly be deposited back in his chair, in a seated position, with all his momentum bled off. Everyone here is still covered by my Ring's environmental shields, after all, and that means offensive FTL repositioning is only a thought away. And I've got contingency macros in the Ring now, so I don't even need to think it.

It takes all of two seconds for the mal-adjusted bruiser to realize what just happened… before he tries it again-

"Rargh!"

>

-to the same results. It takes a few more seconds this time for him to consider another attempt-

"Superboy!"

-but a barked rebuke from Aqualad causes the hybrid Kryptonian clone to pause half-way in his rise from his seat. He growls in frustration while casting an enraged glare at the teen battlemage for a tense moment before finally slumping back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, fuming and giving me a death glare in turn.

Aqualad had the highest chance of stopping him in my predictions, given his natural leadership tendencies and the way things would fall out in the original timeline, but it's still nice to see my plans working out.

"-... that was just rude," I huff, causing my ragged, dangling tongue to waggle despite any actual breath coming up from the exposed hole where my throat begins. I turn my gaze to give Superboy an unimpressed glance. "Expected. But still: rude."

I've kept the Ring's visual effects to a minimum for these FTL hops, and the glow of the environmental shields are tuned down the to lowest they can go (if only to reduce the discomfort caused by black light exposure to an easily-dismissable chill). Since none of them have enough experience with the Green Lanterns of Earth to key into what's going on, this whole opening charade is making it appear as if I'm casually warping reality to render their toughest fighter effectively impotent.

"Necromancer," Aqualad hisses, his military discipline keeping the sneer off his face. I can see the fear roiling beneath his dark, tattooed skin as he feels not only the lowered gravity but the lack of ambient magic and water this far from Earth, but he manages to keep his arms raised in a defensive posture as he glances at his teammates and then back to me. "Explain yourself! What-... Where have you taken-...?"

He pauses, looks again to the rest of his teammates, then swallows roughly and steadies himself. "Who are you, and what do you want with us?"

I calmly nod at the tattooed teen, then turn and gesture with an open palm to the smallest of the five - stopping the small, boy's panicked glances around the lunar auditorium and causing him to turn and face me directly.

"Excellent questions, Aqualad. Robin, if you could be so kind as to share your running analysis with the class?"

As expected, even though I've deliberately shaped and dressed this area in the trappings of a college classroom - 'realistic' wear and tear covers much of the furniture, functional power outlets in the desks, there's old gum stuck on and under various fixtures, etc. - the question finally makes the admittedly-bizarre situation… click for them.

I'm not surprised most of them initially missed the 3-ring binder labeled with their respective logos sitting on the first-row desk in front of each of them, though; they're still coming down from the fight's adrenaline high, and it's been a long night.

To his credit, the Boy Wonder only needs to blink once before his gaze sharpens on me in consideration.

"...Sure."

…

There is no sound up here on the surface of Luna, so the lack of any follow-up is jarring in its silence.

The remaining upper half of my facial muscles twitch in an approximation of a smirk, but to get my 'amus.e.m.e.nt' across, I direct the expression to reach my glowing-black eyes.

Everyone else besides Aqualad just looks lost, though that's mostly because Aqualad is still schooling (hah!) his expression. Kid Flash glances between his friend and me. "...Huh? Rob? What's going on?"

"Well-caught," I chuckle, nodding to the barely-five-foot teen superhero. "Would you please explain what you've deduced?"

Robin stops hiding his grin and shrugs a non-committal response, only for Kid Flash catch on and groan in aggrieved understanding.

"Grammar jokes? Really?"

"Cheer up, KF," Robin snorts, still in a loose, defensive posture but falling back into his usual combat-banter routine, "you're pretty good at gallows humor, too."

"Yes, no need to be such a stiff, Kid Flash," I add cheekily, despite missing most of my cheeks.

The speedster-teen relaxes in his combat stance to give his shorter friend a flat look, then turn to me with an even more disappointed frown. "Dude... that was bad, and you should feel bad."

"Um, excuse me?"

Everyone turns to the left-most hero in the group, only to see Miss Martian already appropriately seated at the desk. Additionally, she's now opened her binder to the college-ruled blank paper inside, her right hand is gripping the mechanical pen that was also held within, and her left hand is partially raised to ask a question.

"What are you doing?!" / "Really, Miss M?!"

The green teen shrinks away slightly in embarrassment when Robin and Kid Flash make unhappy noises at her compliance with the scenario I've engineered. Still, she hastily points across the curved front-row desk to the hero on the opposite side of the group.

"But Superboy's sitting down!"

The black-haired teen is indeed still sitting where I placed him, but his mood clearly hasn't improved judging by his continued glare and crossed arms. And he hasn't even touched his binder.

I ignore the amusing byplay and gesture with my left hand for the 'young' shapeshifter to speak.

"Yes, Miss Martian? You have a question?"

"O-oh!" she starts, the back-and-forth making her forget she still had her hand raised. "Ah… Professor…?"

"Black Lantern 2814," I supply to her leading question, raising my right hand to show off the eponymous ring on my right hand then nodding for her to continue. "I'll also accept: 'Black Clarissi' or 'Professor Black' as well if that's too much of a mouthful."

That gets another round of surprised expressions from the group - more facts clicking into place for some of them as they share glances, yet raising even more questions.

"Wait, you mean like the Green Lanterns?"

My eyes flicker to Kid Flash in response to his outburst, but I quickly look back to Miss Martian and gesture for her to continue with her question. The 'young' girl opens and closes her mouth as she obviously re-thinks her initial question in light of this new development, turns her head to look at the now-pouting Kid Flash, then looks back to me.

"Um… are you-... does that mean you're a hero like the Green Lanterns? Is that why you helped us with Mister Twister?"

With a dramatic huff, Kid Flash straightens his chair from when he lept out of it before and sits down with a muted thump - the sound only faux-carrying in the vacuum atmosphere because of our shared environmental shielding. Then, clearly unhappy with this whole situation, Kid Flash over-dramatically raises his right arm. Beside him, Robin doesn't bother hiding his smirk while Aqualad looks decidedly sour about also being ignored for speaking out of turn.

Good, they can learn.

Returning my attention to Miss Martian, I waggle my outstretched left hand and tip my head slightly to the left while adopting a pensive expression.

"Good questions, Miss Martian - you hit upon the two central reasons why I've gathered you all here tonight," I acknowledge, causing her to brighten visibly at receiving praise from a presumed authority-figure and instructor. "To your first question, there is a short and long answer. The short answer is: Yes, but not quite like the Green Lanterns."

For everyone but Aqualad, that causes a slight easing of the tension still lingering from the group. For his part, however, the dark-skinned Atlantean grunts and maintains his defensive posture.

"Necromancy is a vile perversion of life, and Atlantis has long since learned never to trust its practitioners. Its very use is a capital offense. Forgive me if I find your assertions hard to believe."

In his seat, Kid Flash perks up and turns to scoff incredulously at his teammate even while keeping his hand raised.

"Man, what are you talking about? He's just some kinda edgy new type of space-cop like the GLs, not some hocus-pocus faker that's way too into dead people."

...So much for learning.

"The long answer," I continue, interjecting with a placating gesture to the two of them before Aqualad's stress causes him to snap at his friend's willful ignorance, "involves a brief lesson about some of the fundamental life-giving forces of the universe."

For the third, and definitely not final time this night, the five heroes stare at me in blank surprise.

"Please, take your seats," I motion again at the group with my left hand. At the same time, with my Ring-hand, I gesture at the blackboard and generate a copy of the ROYGBIV emotional spectrum - each simple color band labeled with its associated sigil. For now, though, I leave out the White and Black Lights. "And you'll also want to take notes, as this will be on the test."

...Fourth time tonight.

"Oooh!" Miss Martian gasps after a few moments of incredulous silence, causing the other heroes to turn to where she's happily showing off the pen that came with her binder. "See the colors around the middle? If you twist the clip to that color, it changes the color of the ink!"

There's another beat of silence, apart from Miss Martian making happy noises as she begins drawing a copy of what I've put up on the blackboard.

After a moment of realization, Kid Flash's hand drops lifelessly to the desk; through his see-through goggles, he gives me a betrayed, half-lidded stare.

"Man... so much for you being one of the cool ones."

Chapter 3

Sector 2814, Sol System

Sea of Tranquility, Luna

18th July, 2010

1710 UTC

"The 'Emotional Spectrum' is the most commonly-used term for bands of energy wavelengths that resonate with - and are in turn amplified by - advanced life-forms throughout the universe," I explain, stepping away from the podium to start pacing in front of the diagrams I've projected onto the slate blackboard.

"It should be noted that there are other 'colors' beyond these primary seven wavelengths, but these are the seven that have resonated the most over the billions of years that sentient life has evolved and thrived in this universe; it is possible to tap into and produce these other wavelengths, but to put it simply… you have to know exactly what you're looking for and what you're trying to do, and it still won't manifest as great an effect as utilizing any of the primary seven. Furthermore, these seven wavelengths have grown so prevalent through the universe that they've coalesced into sentient Embodiments: elementals or 'gods'," I air-quote, "of that particular wavelength."

With a glance, I see that - yes - everyone except Superboy is actually taking notes, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and thoroughness. At my clear tone of irreverence for the term 'gods', Aqualad's eyes narrow while Kid Flash grins and quickly raises his left arm.

"Hey, Prof-"

I cut him off with a raised hand and a cold glance, pausing only momentarily to make sure he's stopped talking before returning to my slow pacing and lecturing.

"The effect of these wavelengths permeating sentient life as it evolves in complexity has resulted in a near-universally-similar reaction to each frequency band:"

Stopping my pacing so that I'm facing towards the heroes and just to the left of the diagram, I gesture with my right hand and make each color band and sigil light up more brilliantly as I address it.

"Red: Rage, frustration, hate. Orange: Avarice, ambition, envy. Yellow: Fear, caution, cowardice. Green: Will, determination, stubbornness. Blue: Hope, faith, naivete. Indigo: Compassion, empathy, guilt. Violet: Love, intimacy, obsession."

I pause again, both allowing for everyone to write all that down and to note that even Superboy's expression has morphed into one of cautious interest. Judging by his quick, tentative glance to the others, he only briefly considers writing this down himself before dismissing it - some form of the classic 'I'll just read their notes later' thought likely passing through his head.

"Attuning to and wielding the Emotional Spectrum does not actually require a Power Ring, but as Power Rings have become so ubiquitous because of their ease-of-use, efficacy, and power, they're the de-facto method," I resume, updating the board's diagrams with images of the leaders of each Lantern Corp - except for Blue, because it appears this universe is still early enough in the timeline that the Sinestro Corp haven't waged war on Oa yet and gotten Ganthet and Sayd kicked out of the Guardians. If they ever will? Questions for later. "You may have heard of Carrol Ferris, when she was temporarily 'mind-controlled' and known as the villain Star Sapphire? She derived her name and powers from the artifact that drove most of the rational thought from her mind: the Star Sapphire, a crystal that resonates with the Violet Light of Love."

Robin appears to be the only one that gets the reference, but when he makes a 'huh' sound, the others turn to him questioningly. He shrugs at the attention.

"Batman said if I was going to fight crime outside of Gotham, I had to know all the supervillains the League's faced over the years. I'm still working through the list, but I remember seeing her in it."

I raise an eyebrow, then gesture to my left and make a mostly-solid, full-color hologram of Star Sapphire in her 'full' costume. This universe trends to the more conservative and sensible costume versions for heroes and villains, I've found, but she's still effectively wearing lingerie, not armor.

"You're a young boy. I'd be surprised if you didn't remember her."

There's a beat of confusion from Robin as he glances at me, then back at the hologram, scowling in thought… and there it is. Welcome to puberty, Mr. Grayson.

"That's- No! I didn't mean it like that-!"

"Hey! Hey, Teach!" Kid Flash, on the other hand, has finally recovered from having his teenaged mind blown and is now eagerly waving his hand in the air while grinning like a loon. "Is that, like, the dress code for all Violet Lanterns?"

I regard the biggest pervert of the team coldly, then gesture again and replace the hologram with a version of Superman… in Star Sapphire's costume.

"Yes. It is."

"Bw-... Arrgh! What the hell, man!?"

I note that while the boys of the group are reeling in varying levels of disgust, the second-biggest pervert of the team is covering her mouth with both hands while blushing furiously… and casting quick glances at Superboy.

Alright. That's enough levity for now.

I dismiss the hologram and turn back to the board, highlighting the Green band of color and the arrayed Guardians of the Universe. I pause long enough to give the teens a moment to compose themselves, then face the group again.

"To speak about Lanterns and the various Lights, it's easiest to begin in the middle: The Green Light of Will and its wielders, the Green Lanterns."

I stop, give a cold eye to Kid Flash to get him to actually pick up his pen again and start taking notes, then resume.

"While you may have heard about some of the powers of Green Lanterns, the Green Light is the most 'balanced' of the wavelengths; wielding the Green Light is the easiest of all colors, and its middle position within the spectra means it has the lowest impact on the user's sanity. That ease comes with a downside, as it is, in turn, the most difficult of the Lights to wield in truly esoteric and complicated manners - with the Green Light you have to know exactly what you're doing for your constructs to be effective, which means healing and overly-complicated hard-light constructs are extremely difficult with the Green Light of Will. It is important to note, however, that 'lowest' impact on one's sanity does not mean 'zero'; continued use and exposure to the Green Light of Will gradually makes the subject more and more stubborn and single-minded, as evidenced by the cavalcade of disasters the Guardians of the Universe have precipitated and then swept under the proverbial rug."

Naturally, there's some confusion in my audience at my dissing of the Green Lanterns and their leadership, so I motion for Aqualad to speak as he's the first one to start raising his hand in skepticism.

"You speak ill of the Green Lanterns and the Guardians of the Universe, but are they not renowned as the ultimate peace-keepers of spacefaring civilizations?"

I spread my hands wide in front of me, nodding in partial acceptance of his point.

"I do not doubt that the Green Lantern Corp is - taken as a whole - a stabilizing and beneficial force for the universe at large. But any governing force that deliberately eschews diversity will find itself enforcing edicts that reflect that narrow world-view. The Green Lanterns' leadership believes they rule with logic and fairness, but Will is an emotion; getting a Green Lantern or a Guardian to change their mind when they're wrong is nearly impossible, to the point that they've allowed entire civilizations to be slaughtered in the past rather than admit error."

At their shocked expressions, I raise my hand to switch my highlighting to the Red band of color and its intimidating leader.

"Case in point: the Red Lantern Corps. Led by Atrocitus, a survivor of the Green Lantern Corps'' purge of the entirety of Space Sector 666. Much like how the Violet Light subsumed Ms. Ferris' mind with 'love', the Red Light of Rage drives most people into a feral, bestial rage upon even brief exposure; the Red Lantern Corps has a method for helping their members retain their sanity, but even with that treatment their members are prone to aggression and violence. The Red Light of Rage is generally very difficult to use for all but the simplest and most direct endeavors, but not only are its hard-light constructs some of the strongest, but a Red Lanterns' blood also turns caustic upon equipping their Power Ring, which they can then vomit or spit offensively - the acidic liquid capable of chewing through even powerful hard-light constructs with ease."

"Ew," Kid Flash winces, voicing the general sentiment of the group - that tidbit overriding their shock at the revelation that the Guardians slaughtered an entire Space Sector. An excellent continued show of maturity. "How does that even work? Wouldn't that hurt them, too?"

I nod. "Their Rings keep their hearts pumping and their bodies safe from their now-toxic fluids, but yes, Red Lanterns die if you separate them from their Power Ring."

Despite the grim looks on the group at this revelation, I pause again not for dramatic effect but because Miss Martian is raising her hand with an expression more of confusion.

That's… not quite in any of my scripts. Hm. I was expecting deviances, but not this early in the act. I'm… tempted to push on, but… no, I need to keep up the appearance of being approachable for the purposes of genuine education.

Alright. I'll humor her- oh, she's starting to bring down her hand? Now I'm really curious.

"Yes, Miss Martian?"

She blinks at my attention, showing once again that her 'classroom' experience is really only from watching an old American high-school sitcom.

"O-oh! Well, I-... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, since - 'Hello, Megan!' - of course he's getting there…" she more mutters to herself than speaks to me, striking her own forehead with her right palm in a self-deprecating move copied from that sitcom. Still, she musters up her courage and looks back up to actually ask her question. "But... what about your color? Is it Black Light? Is there also a White Light?"

… Shit. And now she's got everyone else interested. So much for getting through the rest of the colors tonight. Eh... there's going to be plenty of time before they need-

>

...

Man, am I glad I programmed that Anti-Murphy Macro in. Right: crisis avoided, back to teaching.

Ring? Let's skip ahead and use some of the lines from Script H-7 to make it match up.

>

My body shifts slightly to account for jumping to a point much later in my script for this part of the lesson.

"Yes. I was getting there," I reply slowly, but then wave my hand and dismiss everything but the Light bands and their sigils. Miss Martian looks ashamed for a moment, but I hold up a hand to assuage her guilt. "You are mostly correct, however: there are two other 'colors', but I haven't listed them yet because they aren't unique bands of energy - rather, they represent the combination and absence of all the other energy wavelengths."

I gesture to the top of the ROYGBIV band of colors and create a white circle, inside which is a silver sigil: a downward-pointing triangle with a curved, horizon-like band above it, and seven lines stretching up from the triangle and crossing the horizon.

"The White Light of Life: the origin of the entire Emotional Spectrum, as it was the shattering of the White Light at the universe's beginning that created the various discrete wavelength bands."

Gesturing down, below the color band, I generate a pitch-black circle outlined in silver, with the Black Light sigil done in silver inside. Then I raise my right hand again to show off the Ring adorning its middle finger.

"The Black Light of Death: the absence of all Emotional energies. It is the Void of life that existed Before, and it is the Void to which all will return someday."

The silence that follows is more than a little tense, with Aqualad and Superboy subtly trying to figure out if they should prepare for a fight, while Kid Flash's paling expression gives away how clearly he realizes they're utterly doomed if I actually am evil.

I ignore them and gesture to Miss Martian - she's once again more confused than anything, judging by her raised hand and nervous expression.

"Yes, Miss Martian?"

"U-um. Professor… Black? That sounds…�� she tentatively starts, fiddling anxiously with her pen while glancing at the rest of her team, before looking back to me and smiling weakly. "Not… very... heroic?"

"Mmm, yes," I agree with a nod, my ragged, loose tongue waggling with the action. "Sadly, you are quite correct: should you - or anyone in the Justice League for that matter - encounter another Black Lantern, they will likely kill you and raise your body as a soulless revenant dedicated to destroying all life in the universe."

I huff and shake my head in feigned disappointment, ignoring the further-paling and terrified expressions on the five teen heroes.

"At least, that's if I don't manage to sort out the inter-office politicking going on within my Corps right now," I sigh, waving my hand absently as I start to pace again. "Nekron has managed a minor coup and taken majority control of the Black Light through the creation of a Central Power Battery, but I've got permission from Death to demote him and thus revoke his authority in the mortal plane. With access to the Battery, I should consequently be able to reprogram all the other Black Lantern Rings in existence to not be so…"

I pause in my step, dramatically considering my next word with difficulty.

"Evil?"

I nod at Superboy, who - judging by his blank expression - seems just as surprised as his teammates that he was the one to voice the thought.

"I was going to say 'misguided' or 'short-sighted', as Nekron is doing all this to gain more power… but if everything dies, then he loses his purpose after all the various afterlives sort out the deceased souls under his purview... and will thus himself cease to be," I sigh, shaking my head again. "But yes, 'Evil' is an apt description as well."

Another awkward silence descends on our group as the teens share nervous and confused glances with each other-

"If I may make a recommendation?" I muse aloud, pointing at the redheaded green 'teen'. "You have a telepath in your team, and thus can link up in a ranged, mental web to talk, strategize, and coordinate amongst yourselves without giving anything away to outsiders."

They would have figured this out on their own soon enough, but what's the point of future knowledge if you don't abuse the hell out of it to look clever?

Miss Martian looks embarrassed at having to be reminded about her own natural abilities, but then there's a flash of mixed emotions from the others as she sets up a shared telepathic connection. Superboy looks downright constipated at the attempt to get him into a shared mind-meeting, but after a moment of visibly pouting and the others shooting meaningful glances at him, he appears to relent.

Left to my own devices for the moment, I turn and walk back to my podium while 'cleaning' the chalkboard with an absent flick of my Ring hand. Stepping back up to the lectern, I flick my hand a second time at the board and put up the next part of the lesson plan in big, bold, white lettering:

BETTER SUPERHEROING 101:

USING COMMON SENSE TO WIN BATTLES AND NOT DIE

...

"Okay, yeah, he's totally screwing with us."

After a split-second, the yellow-themed speedster realizes what just happened.

"Yes, Kid Flash, you said that part out loud," I frown as the others stare at him in shock and horror.

"Oh… uh-" he gulps, paling even further.

I hold the glare for another beat, then grin and shrug while my eyes blaze with Black Light energies.

"Sadly, I'm dead serious."

...

Judging by their matching, unimpressed glares, I don't need to be in their mind link to know how painful that pun was. At the same time, however, the fear wafting off their forms has already started to shrink in intensity.

Worth it.