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Hal’s boots click on the tile with each of his carefully measured steps, a slow, casual stride up to the receptionist’s desk. He’s wearing his father’s jacket tonight, carefully washed and patched from all of the bullet holes it’s sustained in his career.
The pistol holstered at his side is unloaded- completely so, the magazine removed, the bullet in the chamber carefully pried out with tweezers before he came. The guards don’t need to know that, but he’s here to talk to Clark, and Clark will notice if he comes armed.
No one just walks into the Tower of Justice, the greatest stronghold of Superman’s power, uninvited. Especially not globally wanted resistance leaders. And here he is, walking straight into the viper pit, unarmed except for his wits and his will.
Hal doesn’t care. He’s already said his goodbyes to everyone who he cares about and who can keep a secret, and who won’t try to save him from his own stupidity.
This is the end, one way or another.
One quick movement, and the gun is in his hand and pointed at the wide-eyed receptionist. They can’t be older than sixteen.
“Elevator key. Now.” Hal taps his gun. “Or I shoot.”
The receptionist stares at him, wide-eyed, gaping. The expression on their face is more shock than fear. “…What are you going to do?”
“I’m here to talk to Superman.” Hal says, quietly. “Alone.”
That’s enough for the receptionist- apparently even those living and working in the heart of the Regime’s power still distrust its leaders.
“Your funeral.” they say, fishing through their desk and tossing the keys in Hal’s direction. “Don’t mention me, will you?”
Hal nods, holsters his pistol and pockets the keys. “Thank you. And no, I won’t. This is between him and me.”
That was easier than he expected, all things considered. Now, all he has to do is hope Clark doesn’t instantly kill him upon finding an intruder in his most private sanctuary, and hopefully keep him talking longer than that.
Hal walks over to the elevator and quickly checks himself for bugs. He finds a tiny audio transmitter clipped into the pocket of his jacket, and smiles despite himself.
Jo means well, but she doesn’t know Clark as well as he does, and Clark will be looking for any wireless signals.
“I’m sorry, but this is between him and me.” he says, then crushes the bug to bits with a quick stamp of his heel.
He steps in the elevator, turns the keys in the lock, and hits the button for the top floor- Clark’s personal apartment, soundproofed as well as anything built from human tech could be.
Ten seconds later, he’s there, and the doors are clicking open, to a short, empty hallway, ending in a tightly sealed airlock.
Hal takes a deep breath, walks up, and hits the doorbell, scraping off a thin layer of dust in the process. He keeps his hands carefully loose at his sides, and away from the pistol’s grip.
The door slides open a moment later, Clark’s wary glare glimmering with hints of crimson heat vision.
Hal raises a hand and waves, a cheery smile on his face. “Hi, Clark. I’m here to talk.”
Clark blinks, and the crimson dims a few shades. “…You’re just here to talk?” he says, sounding like he doesn’t believe his own words. “Really? Now? With a gun?”
Hal shrugs. “I needed to get in here somehow. It’s unloaded. You can check- not a single bullet on me, or in it.”
The crimson dissipates from Clark’s eyes, replaced by a faint shimmer of green from his X-ray vision. Hal wishes his ring could tell him exactly how deep Clark is scanning him, but it’s currently dead and silent on his finger, little more than a reminder of what he’s sacrificed in the name of justice.
“…You really did come unarmed.” Clark realizes out loud, something between hope and regret in his tone. “No wireless signals, either.”
“I did. I couldn’t hope to fight you anyway, not with just a pistol, and this is something that stays between me and you.” Hal huffs. “Mind if I come in?”
“…No.” Clark glances behind him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had guests over…”
Hal cracks a smile. “Whatever you have is guranteed to be better than sitting on milk crates in an abandoned, unpowered building.”
Clark winces, then steps inside and gestures for Hal to follow him. “Right this way.”
Hal steps inside, glancing around the room. Clark’s taste in interior decorating clearly hasn’t changed much in the years since the War in Heaven.
He’s still got the same tacky flower-print wallpaper, the same old armchairs, the same old-fashioned clock on the wall, the same collection of family portraits on the mantel- even if the fireplace is fake and the windows are digital panels, it’s painfully familiar and homey.
“I’d make you tea, but I don’t have any left.” Clark apologizes. “I have some soy milk and flavored water, if you want.”
Hal blinks. “What, the shortages hit even you? I thought you’d keep the best for yourself.”
Clark winces. “Hal, do you really think so little of me?”
Hal huffs. “After what you, and the rest of the League have done to the people of Earth? Yes, I do.”
In the silence that follows, Hal takes a seat in an armchair by one of the false windows, next to a carved wooden end table- the same one that used to be in Clark’s bedroom in the old Hall of Justice, stains, chips and all.
Clark sits down in the chair opposite Hal, then folds his arms in his lap. “Why did you come here, if you hate me so much?”
“I’m tired of fighting with no end in sight.” Hal says simply. “This has gone on too long, and I thought I’d come and talk to you.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when Hal Jordan of all people gave up.” Clark raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a Green Lantern?”
Hal laughs weakly. “Not anymore. Ring’s basically just a hunk of sentimental metal now. No charge left.”
“…What happened to it?” Clark asks.
Hal flinches. “I…”
“Where is Barry, by the way? I would have thought they’d come here with you.” Clark continues, and oh, he doesn’t even realize how much he’s twisting the knife.
Tears start to well up, despite Hal’s best attempts to fight them back.
“…I did what I had to do.” he whispers. “And I… I’ll regret it forever.”
Clark stares. “…Barry’s…. they’re… they took… it worked on a speedster?” he says haltingly.
Hal takes a deep breath. “…Worse. It didn’t.”
“Then… why did you…” Clark exhales sharply, not daring to speak the final, damning words- why did you kill them, if they weren’t a Parademon?
“Because my power battery alone wasn’t enough for the effect I wanted.” Hal says simply. “And because I don’t have nearly the amount of math skills required to calculate what’s necessary to blow up a star in a way that doesn’t destabilize it too much or vaporize the entire inner system, but still takes out an entire fleet.”
Clark rears back, expression shocked. “You- you triggered the Flare?!”
“Yes, I did.” Hal cracks a wry smile. “Really, the two of us aren’t that different. We both did what we had to do.”
“Then why didn’t you join me?” Clark asks, expression pleading. “If you agree with me?”
“Because I don’t agree with you.” Hal takes a deep breath, and rests one hand on his hip. “The difference between me and you, is that I stopped at what I had to do, and moved to fix it as best as I could. And you kept going, shamelessly digging yourself deeper.”
“Hal…” Clark’s face falls. “Everything I did was necessary to keep humanity alive.”
“…Maybe that’s true. It still doesn’t fix the harm you’ve done, the harm you’ve unapologetically committed in the name of justice and stability.”
“Hal, you’ve got to give me a chance-”
Hal takes a deep breath, and settles his hand on the grip of his pistol. “You’ve had dozens of them already.”
Here goes nothing. Charge at 66% percent, his ring chirps.
Clark flinches and looks away.
Hal doesn’t waste a second before he draws, aims and fires, a barely visible flash of green-tinted light blazing to life around him.
After all, Green Lantern doesn’t need real bullets, when he can make bullets.
Charge at 57% and falling, his ring reports.
9% charge that he’s virtually guranteed to never get back, gone. Hal’s not sure if it’s worth it.
Clark looks at him, utterly betrayed, one hand idly clutching the bullet hole in his chest, swaying on his feet. “…Hal…”
Charge at 55% and falling.
“This ends here.” Hal says, keeping his gaze steady. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”
Charge at 52% and falling.
“…How did you… where did you get… a… kryptonite bullet?” Clark gasps. He’s definitely got a punctured lung. Hal can’t bring himself to feel too sorry for him.
Charge at 49% and falling.
“The same place I get all of my other green glowy things.” Hal says. “I may have lied a bit. I can’t charge my ring, but I’ve still got enough juice left to finish this.”
Charge at 47% and falling.
Clark coughs weakly, blood dripping from his lips, then collapses onto his knees.
Charge at 45% and falling.
He gasps something unintelligible, staring up at Hal, expression pleading, then collapses on the ground, completely still.
Charge at 44% and falling. his ring announces, then a moment later, Target is braindead.
Hal lets the bullet dissipate, and sighs. “Tell Jo mission impossible is complete, and it’s time for mission double impossible.”
Message sent. his ring chirps. Entering power-saving mode.
His ring falls dark once more, 22% charge lighter, and Hal feels a weight lift from his chest with it.
He holsters his gun, and steps towards the elevator. With all luck, the guards are still distracted.