Cecil Stedman
Cecil watched the wall fail. The reinforced light barrier flickered once before collapsing into harmless green particles. The test chamber fell silent. Across the observation deck, several technicians exchanged increasingly irritated looks.
Donald glanced down at his tablet. “Construct integrity lasted 6.2 seconds.”
“That’s worse than the last one,” one scientist muttered.
“It was six seconds ago.”
Cecil rubbed at his temple. Down below, Ozzy stared at the empty space where the wall had been. His voice came out of the speakers affixed to the walls.
“…Okay, in my defence, this is getting really boring.”
One of the researchers looked offended as she pressed down on the intercom. “Creating defensive barriers is hardly boring.”
“It is when you’ve asked me to make the same wall forty-seven times.”
“Forty-three,” Donald corrected. “But it is becoming redundant.”
“See? Even he stopped caring.”
Several people failed to suppress smiles, but Cecil didn’t. It had been three hours of testing filled with contradictory data. The kid could fly. He could survive in space and create weapons, barriers, tools, vehicles, and things that violated several engineering principles.
And somehow they still had no idea what his actual limits were.
“Again,” Cecil ordered.
A collective groan rose from both Ozzy and half the room.
“Cecil.”
“Again.”
The teenager sighed dramatically. Green light flared. Another wall appeared, identical to every previous attempt. The testing cannon fired and instantly shattered the wall. Fragments of hard-light dissolved into emerald dust.
“6.1 seconds,” Donald reported.
“Okay, now I’m starting to take that personally.”
Cecil ignored him. “Next test.”
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. A dramatic speech. Some disappointed sighs from you. Maybe a lecture about reaching deep inside myself and finding the power of friendship.”
“Friendship isn’t measurable.”
Ozzy pointed up at the viewing booth. “See? That’s exactly the kind of thing a supervillain says. Man, maybe I’ve been hoodwinked by you, and you’re secretly plotting world domination, Cecil.”
Donald coughed suspiciously. Technically, the GDA didn’t have to plot anything. Several technicians looked away. Alas, Cecil remained unmoved.
“Next test.”
The tanned, brown-haired teenager down below muttered something that sounded suspiciously like government-funded bullying. But unfortunately for him, the tests continued. Strength, range, reaction speed, and energy output. Every result contradicted the previous one. It was maddening. One construct survived an anti-tank round, only for the next to fail under significantly less force. Cecil watched a focused beam of energy punch through six feet of reinforced concrete. Then, the next, apparently identical, blast barely scorched the target.
By sunset, they had enough data to conclude exactly nothing. Nothing was consistent, and that bothered Cecil a lot.
“Again,” Cecil said.
“Cecil, man. We’ve been at this for hours.”
“Correct.”
“Do you enjoy this, you sadist?”
His lips twitched. “No.”
“Then why are we doing it?”
“Because eventually you’ll stop complaining and accidentally reveal something useful.”
“That’s a horrible scientific methodology.”
“Yet here we are.”
Eventually, one of the technicians spoke up.
“What if we’re approaching this incorrectly?”
Cecil looked over. The woman hesitated.
“...Sir, with respect, we’re treating the ring like equipment.”
“It is equipment.”
“It’s psychoreactive equipment.” She continued carefully. “The subject has already informed us his output depends on willpower.”
Ozzy immediately pointed upward. “Yes! Thank you.”
Nobody acknowledged him.
“Yet every test we’ve conducted has been designed to remove emotional variables.”
Donald frowned. “…Elaborate.”
“We’ve isolated him. There’s no objective beyond repetitive task completion. What are the emotional stakes here? We keep asking how strong Green Lantern is. Maybe that’s the wrong question.”
“What question should we be asking?” Cecil asked.
“What circumstances allow him to perform consistently?”
Donald looked down at his tablet. “…Interesting.”
Cecil noticed that tone immediately.
“Talk.”
Donald tapped several commands. Footage appeared on the main screen:
The Moon.
The Flaxans.
Doc Seismic.
He sped through them, freezing on the civilian rescues. Rows of telemetry accompanied each recording. Then Donald nodded once.
“She’s right. There is a pattern.” Donald enlarged several graphs. “Today, his power output, construct complexity, and durability has varied wildly.”
Cecil sighed. “Yes.”
“But we’ve already seen that he performs better in moments of emotional engagement.”
He pointed to the fight on the moon.
“Be it having fun.
The fight with the Flaxans.
“Or be it anger.”
“What’s your point, Donald?”
“I think, sir, that assessing his capabilities as we usually do is useless. He responds better and far more consistently in the field. Yes, his constructs leave much to be desired in the way of efficiency, but they work.”
“…In my defence, creativity is like the second most important principle ever.”
Cecil slowly looked down toward Ozzy. The teenager shifted awkwardly.
“There’s this dude, Jon Stewart. He’s a lantern from Earth. He used to be an engineer, so all his constructs are ridiculously detailed and solid. There’s this other dude, Kyle Rayner, who’s as much of a nerd as I am.”
“Your point?” Cecil asked.
“...If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?”
Donald tapped the screen. “To his credit, he stops showing off in emergencies and defaults to simpler solutions.”
“I don’t show off!”
“You created a dragon.”
One of the technicians muted Ozzy’s continuing protests.
“As I was saying, sir: we all know his abilities appear tied to willpower, but his effectiveness is tied to purpose. No amount of drilling here today will bring satisfactory results.”
…If the kid performed best when there was something tangible to accomplish, then that bode nicely. For the first time all day, Cecil smiled.
“Cancel the remaining tests.”
Several researchers immediately protested.
“We’ve learned enough.”
Cecil looked down at the teenager. He wasn’t particularly disciplined, but when there was a job to do? The kid locked in. And there just so happened to be a job waiting.
“Get me tomorrow’s Mars briefing.”
“Understood.”
His phone gave a sharp buzz in his pocket. “And prepare me a teleport. Invincible’s almost home from his date.”
A moment later the world dissolved around him. Cecil found himself standing inside a suburban house he’d visited many times before.
“I’m not just your wife, Nolan! That’s why I deal with work stuff. I like dealing with work stuff!”
“Yeah! And I love that about you—”
“Oh, please, don’t give me that shit.”
Cecil held back his snort while his eyes adjusted to the Grayson household’s darkness.
He braced a hand against the wall, treading past the row of shoes before the front door to the only room with any source of light. Keeping close to the dark edges where the glare from Debbie’s laptop couldn’t reach, he crept around behind the arguing couple. Then there was a hand crushing his windpipe. Cecil was blind for a second the lights flicked on, but the hand around his throat continued to deny him precious oxygen.
Debbie gasped. “NO-NOLAN! STOP IT!”
His feet couldn’t find purchase on anything except the indomitable wall in front of him. Cecil stared into those cold, alien blue eyes. Where was the man he’d come to call a friend? Debbie called his name once more and Nolan finally let him go.
“J-Jeez. I-I meant to teleport to your front door, but this thing isn’t exactly Swiss in its precision.”
“I almost killed you, Cecil.”
Was that guilt he was detecting?
“Yeah, I noticed. Didn’t expect you on me so fast.”
Nolan’s nostrils flared. “Well, I’m a little jumpy. Maybe you can understand that.”
“Why are you here, Cecil?” Debbie asked. The garden door behind her slid open and in stepped her super-powered son right on time.
“Hey… uh, what’s happening?”
“NASA’s about to launch their first manned mission to Mars.”
Mark’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah! I saw that. It’s cool!”
“I need your father to shadow the mission. Make sure nothing goes wrong. Only, he won’t do it.”
“This again?” Nolan rolled his eyes. “I’m busy training my son, Cecil, and with the Guardians gone, I’m needed here on Earth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“It’s because of the Guardians that I want you on this mission. The planet needs a win right now.”
He scoffed. “You think people are going to care about Mars if there’s an attack on Earth, and I’m not there to save them?”
“Well, it’s not the end of the world. I’m sure I can get Green Lantern to go instead. He’s my employee, after all, but I thought I’d give it one last go.”
“Green Lantern’s going?!” Mark leaned forward. “I wanna go, too! I’ve already been to the moon, right?”
Nolan snorted. “Yeah, that was the moon, Mark. It hardly counts as space. Besides, Cecil wasn’t asking you, he was asking me.”
“...Well, if the kid wants to go, he’d be doing humanity a favour.”
“Debbie, help me out here.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t like Mark missing school, but if there was ever a reason… well, this is it.”
“C’mon! How much school am I really gonna miss? I can zip up to Mars and be back tomorrow.”
Debbie laughed.
“The fact that you don’t know how far away Mars is, is exactly why you shouldn’t be missing school,” Nolan said, chuckling. “It’d take you two days for a round trip.”
“Besides, the mission’s going to take two weeks,” Cecil said.
The family continued to hash out the matter, but it was two-against-one. Nolan’s loss was inevitable. After the victory, Debbie announced her claim over the shower and headed upstairs.
Nolan frowned. “Green Lantern?”
Cecil almost smiled.
“New hero,” he said.
“Mm.”
Mark perked up. “You’d like him.”
That got Nolan’s attention.
“He’s funny.”
Cecil resisted the urge to sigh. Of course that was Mark’s first selling point.
“He fought me on the Moon.”
Nolan raised an eyebrow. “You fought a stranger on the Moon?”
“Look, it made sense at the time. He’s got this green ring thing. Creates constructs. Shoots energy. Makes him stronger and lets him fly and survive in space.”
Nolan’s expression remained neutral, which was exactly why Cecil paid attention.
“Useful powers,” Nolan observed. “And an item, eh? Reminds me of Green Ghost. Any relation?”
“None, save for the name.” Cecil held his gaze. “More importantly, he’s the kind of person who runs toward problems.”
A small silence followed as they locked eyes. Nolan nodded once.
“Rare.”
“Yes.”
Mark looked between them. “…Why does it feel like you’re both talking about a dog?”
Neither answered.
“Cool.” Mark pointed toward the stairs. “...Listen, I’m gonna turn in early. Mars mission and all.”
He vanished upstairs, and in the absence of his wife and son, the world’s strongest man regarded him quietly.
“Do you trust him?”
Cecil considered the question with a shrug. “As much as I trust anyone.”
Which was to say, not much at all.
“But I trust him to look out for your kid.”
Nolan’s eyebrow rose. “Like he’ll need it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Cecil tapped his earbud. “Take me home.”
His vision flashed cobalt blue. When the light faded, he was in the safe house across the street from the Graysons. Several screens monitoring the house were the only light source. The worker across from him turned.
“...Sir? I thought Omni-Man was meant to shadow the Mars mission, not Invincible.”
“This is the next best thing. At least we’ll get to see the kid’s capabilities. His heart seems to be in the right place. Continue your watch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Back at the GDA base and in the privacy of his own office, Cecil finally allowed himself to frown. This… wasn’t ideal. His plan was to get Nolan to agree so they could investigate him for the murders. Darkblood was an irritating son of a bitch, but he was rarely wrong. Besides, Nolan hadn’t convinced anyone with his World Betterment Committee bullshit.
But for the sake of the planet, he really hoped they were wrong.