Coast City, 2012
The sky was Hal Jordan's cathedral, a vast expanse of twilight and possibility. The F-22 screamed across the horizon, contrails cutting the air like green-hot scars. Hal grinned as the jet climbed almost vertically, blood pounding in his ears.
The g-force pressed him into his seat, but the fear that had haunted him since his father's death—the spiraling crash that had stolen Martin Jordan from him—was no longer a chain. It was a spark.
"This one's for you, Dad," Hal whispered into the rush of wind, stick trembling in his hands. Memories of the crash, of fire and smoke, threatened to intrude, but he shoved them aside. Every loop, every dive, every barrel roll was a conversation with the ghost of the man who had taught him courage before teaching him fear. "See me now? I'm not afraid."
Tonight, Hal leaned into the g-force, pushing his F-22 into a near-vertical climb over the Pacific Coast. The orange sun kissed the horizon, clouds streaked like molten metal across the sky. He grinned, fingers tight on the stick. This was life. This was him.
As Hal's jet streaked back toward the airstrip, the last of the sun's orange bled into the waves of Coast City. He was driving back home, another calm, uneventful night awaiting him.
Then, without warning, a flash of green fire tore across the sky, brighter than any meteor, hotter than the engines of his own jets. Hal squinted, heart hammering. Something wasn't right. A ship—not any kind he recognized—plunged from the heavens, slicing the clouds apart, and crashed just beyond the shoreline.
Instinct and curiosity won over caution. Hal turned his Mustang and sped toward the crash site, tires screaming against the asphalt. The wreckage was surreal—metal twisted impossibly, glowing faintly with a strange green luminescence. Smoke hissed, curling into the night like phantom fingers.
The beach was torn; sand was vitrified where the massive object had slammed into the Earth. Smoke curled from a fissure in the sand. The object was a craft, alien and impossibly designed, glowing faintly with a green pulse that seemed almost alive.
And then Hal saw him: a figure, humanoid but unlike anything from Earth, kneeling amidst the debris. Purple skin, emerald armor with intricate glyphs etched into it, and a cracked, flickering ring that seemed to hum with willpower. Abin Sur's violet eyes opened, meeting Hal's in recognition, pain flickering through them.
His armor glimmered emerald, eyes hidden behind a visor that radiated quiet authority. Hal slowed, unsure whether to run or help.
"Stay back," the alien rasped, voice hoarse yet commanding. "I… do not have much time."
Hal approached cautiously, curiosity burning brighter than fear. "Who… who are you?"
"You… are not afraid," the alien rasped, voice strained against the tide and wind.
Hal froze. "What the hell?"
"I am… Abin Sur. Green Lantern… of Sector 2814… My duty… must not end," he coughed, blood dark on his lips.
Hal blinked, unsure if the exhaustion and terror of the scene were playing tricks on him. "Green Lantern… Corps?"
Then the ring leapt from Abin Sur's finger, spinning through the air toward Hal. The light it emitted bathed him in green brilliance, circling him like a predator assessing its prey.
"The ring… chooses. You have… will. You are worthy," Abin Sur said, voice barely audible.
Before Hal could react, the glowing emerald ring snapped onto his finger. The surge of energy was immediate. Pain, power, and awe collided in his chest.
His muscles glowed, and a green aura encased him, forming armor that shimmered and pulsed with every heartbeat. Every nerve ignited. He staggered backward, nearly falling into the sand.
"What the—what is happening?!" Hal yelled, his voice swallowed by the sound of waves and wind.
"The ring… will guide you," Abin Sur whispered, the life leaving him with every word. "Protect… my legacy…"
Abin Sur's chest slackened, and silence fell—except for the waves, the wind, and the whisper of the green energy.
Before Hal could respond, the distant rumble of helicopters broke the trance. Government forces were closing in, searchlights piercing the darkness, weapons drawn. Panic surged.
"Hands up! Step away from the body!"
Hal's instinct screamed run, but his fingers tightened around the glowing ring. He raised a hand, flailing, and a shimmering green bubble enveloped him. Bullets hit it harmlessly, clattering against the force field. His heart pounded. He had no idea what he was doing.
Then another light appeared. Cerulean, soft but strong, wrapping him in warmth. Hal felt the green armor dissolve into blue light for a heartbeat, lifting him out of danger, over the beach, and over the cliffs.
"What the hell?!" he yelled, flailing inside the strange cocoon.
From the shadows of the cliffs, a figure emerged, floating. A woman, tall and graceful, with silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight and eyes twinkling with calm authority. She smiled as if this was all completely normal.
"Relax, flyboy," she said. "You'll thank me later."
Before Hal could ask more, she extended a hand. The blue force field lifted him gently off the ground, floating him above the incoming soldiers. "Hold on. This will be… smoother than you think."
The people around shouted and kept firing , but it did no harm to the Blue construct. Adfter few moments, they were out of sight from the government agents.
"Okay… I need answers," Hal said, eyes wide, fingers still tingling from the ring. "What the hell just happened?"
"I'm Carol Claus," she said, voice warm yet commanding. "You stumbled into something bigger than any Air Force contract you've signed, Hal."
Hal's eyes went wide. "You say it like that explains everything, lady!"
Carol ignored the interruption, continuing: "The ring you're wearing is a Green Lantern ring. Intergalactic police. Each lantern represents willpower, the ability to overcome fear. That ring chose you. Abin Sur is gone. You… are the new Green Lantern of this sector."
Hal's brow furrowed. "Intergalactic cop? Lady, I can barely land an F-22 without having an aneurysm."
Carol chuckled softly. "The ring saw your determination. You'll manage."
"And the blue light you hold? Something tells me that's not because of aesthetics." Hal asked, pointing nervously.
Her eyes softened. "Blue represents Hope, Hal. We, the Blue Lantern Corps, channel hope. Where Green Lanterns wield will, we help the universe avoid despair. Different corps, different purposes, but the effect… powerful. Together, unstoppable. We also don't report to to your guardians. "
Hal blinked, trying to digest her calm explanation. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of alien ships, glowing rings, and this enigmatic woman who had just whisked him away. "Wait… you're not human?"
Carol smirked. "Human is a rather broad term according to our founder. For him, anyone could be human even if they don't look human. As long as they possess the qualities that make humans what they are, even aliens could be considered humans."
Hal's jaw dropped. "So you're like… the Smurfs to our Lanterns? Who do you work for?"
She shook her head. "We work for someone you might know from Earth's legends and stories."
Hal was stunned. "Who's that lady? And I don't believe in fairy tales."
Carol laughed. "But some of them are true. In fact, the story of Snow White was inspired by a man who is loved by nature. Anyways, you do believe in Santa, don't you, Hal?"
Hal scoffed. "I'm not a kid anymore. I stopped believing those things years ago. Santa could not bring my dad back, so not much of a miracle worker is he?"
She smirked. "Careful, or I'll put you on the naughty list."
Hal stumbled, trying to process her words. "…Hold on. Wait. You're saying—"
"Yes," she said, giving a small bow. "Other than being a Blue Lantern, I'm also known to humans as Mrs. Claus. Though Carol works fine when we're off sleigh duty."
Hal staggered back. "Wait a goddamn minute! Santa's real?!"
Carol laughed, soft but melodic. "Not a very respectful tone if you want presents this year."
Hal rubbed his face. "Oh my god. I just met Mrs. Claus. Who is… cosmic, and stunning… This is insane."
She tilted her head, amusement in her eyes. "Careful where your thoughts wander, pilot. I know when you've been naughty."
Hal flushed. "…Okay, okay, don't read my mind. Jeez."
Her smile softened. "Remember this, Hal. Your ring burns with will. Mine with hope. Alone, either can falter. But together? They light the way through darkness."
A sleigh descended from the clouds, spectral and gleaming, drawn by reindeer shadows that shimmered in the night. She stepped aboard.
"See you at Christmas, Lantern Boy, hohoho." she said, winking, and the sleigh lifted, disappearing into the sky.
Hal stood for nearly an hour, staring at the empty sky, jaw slack. "…What the actual fuck just happened?"
***
Months later, Oa.
Hal had been found by other Green Lanterns. Taken by them to Oa, standing now on the crystalline floor before the Guardians.
Training was brutal: Kilowog's drills bruised him, and Sinestro's words cut sharper than blades, but Hal grinned through every scrape and every failure.
His willpower, honed through years of Air Force rigor and personal tragedy, kept him alive, and laughing.
"You're reckless, Jordan," Sinestro sneered one evening, "but… you have spirit."
"Reckless? Buddy, I call it style," Hal quipped, wiping blood from his lip.
He became infamous in the Corps: bold, brash, infuriating—and unstoppable. But the lessons of Carol were never far. Hope, she had said. Alone, either will or hope could falter. Together, they were unstoppable.
Hal applied it in his first mission: a rogue Rannian cruiser threatening an uninhabited colony, constructs flickering and failing at first. He faltered, hesitated, then remembered her voice, soft but clear: "Your will burns, Hal. But hope guides it. You are never alone."
"Hope…" he whispered to himself one night, alone in the training chamber. The green energy hummed around him, reflecting his inner resolve. "That's what she meant. Hope… as a weapon, as a shield, as a reason to fight."
The constructs surged forward, precise and unerring. No lives lost. Victory was quiet, efficient, and complete.
Even after years in the Corps, fighting Red Lanterns, Sinestro's rebellion, and cosmic crises, Hal never forgot that first encounter.
He asked the Guardians about the Blue Lanterns, but they said little. Only that they had been created to serve one of the Endless as agents of hope across the universe.
They act as the final line of defense against threats that would consume the world. Their powers were unimaginable. Together, they were far stronger than the Green Lanterns.
That only made the memory of Carol Claus shimmer brighter in his mind.
Hal Jordan, Earth's Green Lantern, test pilot, daredevil, wielder of will—and now a believer in hope was ready. The universe was vast, the stars endless, and somewhere above, a sleigh traced the night sky, proof that even legends could be real.
*******
The Pirate King Wannabe Who Became King of the Seas, 2013
The storm outside the lighthouse raged as though the ocean itself was at war with the land. Waves crashed against jagged rocks, thunder split the sky, and the wind howled like a wounded beast.
Inside, a young man of twenty leaned against the wooden table, arms folded, eyes defiant. His dark blonde hair was wet from the rain, his sea-green eyes filled with fire. He looked every inch the rebellious son of the ocean, Arthur Curry.
Before him stood an old man with tired wisdom carved into his face—Vulko, loyal adviser of Atlantis. Beside him, a young woman with hair like wildfire and eyes like polished jade, stood rigid, her patience fraying with each passing second—Mera, warrior princess of Xebel.
Vulko's voice trembled with urgency. "Arthur… your mother was Queen Atlanna. You are her only son. Her heir. Your bloodline binds you to Atlantis. It is time you took your place, time you came home."
Arthur scoffed, waving them off. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard this bedtime stories before rom dad. Mother was a queen, I'm heir to some shiny throne, supposed to unite the sea and earth, blah blah blah. You want to know what I want? I want the seas, the horizon, the wind in my face. I want to be the Pirate King and find the One Piece!" he grinned like a child.
Mera pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Pirate… King?"
Arthur grinned, leaning back with boyish arrogance. "Damn right. My crew's waiting for me on the Black Manta. My first mate David's gonna kill me if I vanish mid-journey just to sit on some fancy coral chair."
Mera's emerald eyes flared with anger. "Whatever treasure you chase, it will never compare to the throne of Atlantis! You ignorant, stubborn, buffoon! All your strength with no intelligence! With a king like you, Atlantis would be doomed!"
Arthur winced, offended but not angry. "Whoa, whoa—easy there, gorgeous. Just because you're pretty redhead and my type, doesn't mean you get a free pass to insult me. My master taught me all about gender equality—mock my dreams, and I'll punch your face, royalt princess or not."
Mera's jaw clenched, but a faint blush betrayed her. But the last part made a vein pop on her head.
Vulko raised a weary hand. "Arthur, listen to me. Your mother entrusted me to guide you. You were trained well by your master, yes, but not for this foolishness. Your first mate, David Milton Hyde—he was a criminal before you found him! He's not fit to be brother-in-arms for a king."
Arthur smirked, pulling a cracked, old compass from his pocket, dangling it between them. Its needle spun wildly before pointing straight toward the horizon.
"And what about this?" His voice was tinged with reverence. "This belonged to Captain Jack Sparrow himself. A compass that points to what you want most. And It's not pointing to whatever place you are from.
Don't you dare insult my crew again. David is my brother in all but blood. I'll forget your previous help, and send you to an old home for handicapped old men!"
Vulko shook his head. "Whoever filled your head with these fantasies… he trained you well. You are strong, Arthur. Stronger than I imagined. Strong enough to be a great king."
Arthur's grin widened. "So you've known of my Haki powers, huh? Guess you already know I'm acknowledged by my master who can beat all your asses. Stop with these Atlantis stories. I've got treasure to find."
He turned to leave, waving casually—when Mera's voice rang out, trembling but desperate.
"Wait! You care about the surface world, don't you? About humans?"
Arthur froze.
Mera's voice rose, urgent. "Orm, your half-brother, seeks war. He plans to drown the surface world, every city, every nation. He'll wipe out humanity and every treasure with it! even your One Piece that you searched all your life for!"
Arthur's eyes darkened. For a moment, everything fell in silence. Then it came.
An invisible, forceful pressure rolled off him like a tidal wave. The air thickened, crackling with invisible power.
Red lightning lanced across the room as Vulko and Mera fell to their knees, gasping under the weight. This was the power gifted to him by his Master, who trained him as a boy.
Any One Piece fan would not mistake this. This was the power of Conqueror's haki. The proof of ones path to Kingship.
Arthur's voice was low, dangerous. "Nothing will stop me from becoming Pirate King. If Orm wants to flood the world, I'll stop him. I'll beat him until he sees reason. My master once said, 'If someone doesn't listen to reason, beat them up until they see reason.' I'll kick his ass."
If Edward was here he would have beat up Arthur like his childhood while yelling, "All the good things I taught you, yet you remembered only the joke!"
The pressure withdrew, leaving the room suffocatingly still. Vulko and Mera shared a look, equal parts fear and awe. He wasn't refined, wasn't wise, but his spirit was unbreakable.
For better or worse, Arthur Curry was Atlantis' only hope.
***
The submarine cut through the depths like a blade, sleek and menacing. Its name was painted across the hull in bold black letters: BLACK MANTA.
Inside, Arthur sat at the helm, while David Milton Hyde—his first mate, his brother—leaned against the console, arms folded, a grin plastered across his scarred face. They were about to reach Atlantis soon.
Fate had a way of being ironic. David, who was supposed to become Black Manta, a villain and Arthur's nemesis was his best friend and brother in this timeline.
They were both inspired by the stories of Jack Sparrow, and set out to find the Pirate King's treasure. They met on the seas, and after a fight, became friends who decided to sail together.
"So," David drawled, "tell me, Captain… we're not taking this long detour and fighting a civil war because of a certain redhead that charmed you, are we?"
Arthur stiffened. "What are you talking about? Are you drunk again?"
David smirked. "Come on, man. I saw the looks you two were giving each other. If we weren't marching straight into a civil war, you two would already be....." He gestured vaguely with his hands. "testing the durability of this sub's storage room."
Arthur flushed crimson. "Oh, shut the hell up. She's… she's sharp-tongued, yeah, but she's a good warrior. A respected ally. Sure, she's beautiful, interesting, maybe even my type. If it was another situation then maybe...." He trailed off as David's grin grew impossibly wide.
Arthur's expression fell. "…She's standing right behind me, isn't she?"
David nodded with his grin widening.
Arthur turned slowly, mechanically. Mera was in the doorway, her face as red as her hair, eyes wide. She and Arthur stared at each other for a few moments awkwardly. Without a word, she turned and fled down the corridor.
Arthur groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "You really suck, man."
David's laughter boomed across the control room. "Love you too, buddy."
None of them knew that this would be the last time they would laugh freely like that.
***
Atlantis was a jewel of the sea, a sprawling metropolis of coral towers and glowing domes, filled with the hum of bioluminescence and the roar of ancient waters. But it was not welcoming. Orm, Arthur's half-brother, had twisted its armies with rage, rallying them against the surface world.
War was inevitable.
Arthur stood at the gates with Vulko and Mera at his side, his crew flanking him aboard the Black Manta.
The civil war raged for three days. Coral streets ran red with blood. Soldiers clashed beneath the crushing pressure of the deep. And at the heart of it all, Arthur faced Orm.
The duel was brutal—Orm's trident against Arthur's fists and Haki. The ocean itself seemed to rage with them, waves trembling, currents twisting. Blow after blow, Arthur fought not for Atlantis, not even for the throne—but for his crew, for David, for the dream that had bound them.
And then tragedy struck.
Orm, in desperation, threw his trident through the Black Manta's hull. "If you want to save those damn surface-dwellers, let's see if you can save your precious friends first!" He yelled furiously.
The explosion tore the submarine apart, killing Arthur's friends and crew in a single instant. David who was trying to stabilize the ship flew and crashed into one of the coral beds. His body broken and battered. Blood flowing from his body.
Arthur's scream of pain shook the waters. The haki flowed out uncontrolled and furious. The nearby merfolk and the sea creatures all widened their eyes and passed out immediately. It covered all of Atlantis and more. The whole sea , even the planet was shaking , as if feeling the loss he felt.
Arthur punched Orm unconcious, and rushed to the location of crash. He caught his best friend as he lay collapsed there , blood blooming in the water like dark ink. His voice cracked as he shook him.
"No. No no no! You can't die! Dave, open your eyes, damn it! We were supposed to find the One Piece together! What about our dreams ! I can't do this without you!"
David coughed, choking on seawater and blood. Yet a faint smile curved his lips. "You fool… don't you see yet? We didn't....follow you for treasure. We followed you… because we believed in you."
Arthur's tears blurred his vision. "Don't say that. You're not leaving me like everyone else! Not you brother. Not now!"
David's grip tightened weakly on Arthur's hand. "It was… my honor… to be your friend... and call you...brother. To sail with you… to dream with you... was truly...a glorious...journey. You'll be… a great king....Arthur… Carry our dreams… with you…"
His hand fell limp. His eyes closed. The man who turned over a new leaf in this life, fell to the cruel irony of fate.
Arthur's howl tore through the ocean, raw and heart-wrenching.
Mera rushed forward, tears streaming, pulling Arthur into an embrace as he clutched his friend's body. Her voice trembled. "I....am so sorry Arthur. He believed in you. We all did. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."
Arthur's heart shattered in that moment. He had won the war, but lost everything that mattered.
***
Orm lay defeated in chains, Atlantis' armies shattered. The throne was Arthur's by right of blood, by victory, by will.
But when he sat upon the coral throne, it felt heavy. Empty.
The Pirate King's dream had died with his crew.
He looked out over the people of Atlantis, their eyes filled with both fear and hope. Mera stood beside him, her hand steady on his shoulder. And though his heart still ached, Arthur Curry swore he would not fail them.
He would be their king. He would protect them, as he could not protect his brother of the sea.
And though his story was carved in grief, it became legend.
The Pirate who had once sought treasure became the King who bore the weight of an ocean.
Arthur Curry. Aquaman.
The King of Atlantis.