Summary: One hero is introduced, an enemy is made.

The sun shone across the world of Kaurava II, bringing dawn to the Eastern subcontinent. However, not many were present to see it on the otherwise deserted planet, and even they were too preoccupied to notice. The sunlight, muted through the clouds and pouring rain, washed the world in drab grey, where moments earlier it had been shrouded in endless black. The only other colour that could be seen was from a small orange glow on the horizon, where a plume of smoke rose from what had, up until the dawn rains, been an inferno blazing through the wreckage of a cluster of portable buildings - one of the only habitats for dozens of miles.

A hover bike could be seen - and heard, were it not for the furious downpour - speeding hurriedly away from the burning settlement, and across the savanna plains. The bike's rider, garbed head to toe in protective overalls, glanced yet again over his shoulder at the flames behind him as they shrank rapidly into the distance.

He cursed under his breath in his native tongue that he was still close enough to the scene to see it; and with good reason, for he had started it with the reliable aid of a large quantity of potent - and highly illegal - military grade explosives. He checked the vehicle's speedometer, which was at maximum. He didn't care. He gunned the throttle another couple of times for good measure, and averted his eyes for a split second as he wiped dust from his riding goggles.

Opening his eyes again, he noticed there was something odd about the dawn's light - he usually found it unsettling due to the star's colour – this wasn’t the rider’s native system, but he was sure it was blue rather than green. Wasn’t it? Puzzled for a moment, he gave it a moment's consideration before his confusion was replaced with sharp alarm; the green light wasn't the dawn, it was coming from behind him and getting brighter. Glancing over his shoulder again, he saw a man flying - flying! - toward him at impossible speed, bathed in green light.

The rider cried out in surprise, before banking hard left on the bike and veering off at a 45 degree angle. He then pulled a plasma pistol from his leg holster and haphazardly fired several shots toward the figure at his rear, a couple of which sparked harmlessly from the newcomer's uniform. A force shield? The panicked rider racked his brain for people who exhibited such abilities in this region of space, and he didn't like the answer one bit. Panicking further, he banked again to try and lose his pursuer.

The man in green effortlessly floated in midair for less than a second before darting in the new direction of his prey, instantly at his previous speed seemingly without having to accelerate. The rider saw this, and couldn't believe it. His fear turned to anger - this job had gone perfectly, and now some sprokking Lantern was going to screw it up?

With a roar of defiance, the rider pitched his bike at his adversary and loosed a hail of plasma bolts, all bouncing off his target fruitlessly. His target halted in midair and smirked, then nonchalantly gestured with his right hand. In response, a mass of solid green light materialised in the bike's path, solidifying in the shape of a giant outstretched hand, making the universal sign for 'STOP'. Going too fast either to comply or change direction in time, the bike slammed into the waiting palm before blasting apart as its fuel cells ruptured.

The rider, hurled clear from the force of the crash, careened through the air before being caught in a green net of similar solid light that appeared from nowhere, as had the hand that had preceded it seconds before. The net lowered its unconscious catch gently down just short of the ground before winking out of existence, the rider touching down with a slight thud.

The rider’s captor landed and strode across the grass to his quarry, brushing ash from the explosion from his skintight green and black uniform. He took particular care to remove any dirt from the badge on his chest - a white circle with an image of what appeared to be a lamp or battery. His entire being seemed to glisten with emerald energy.

He looked down at the unconscious rider and chuckled, before kicking him lightly in the ribs to rouse him. The stirring man on the ground groaned and clutched his side as he came to. A momentary glimpse of confusion on his face snapped to sudden terror as he remembered where he was. Still slightly too dazed to stand, he considered his options. He reached down for his leg holster - now empty.

"Looking for this?" replied the man in green to the unspoken question, gesturing to the missing plasma pistol on the ground several feet away. Before the rider could answer, the green man gestured towards himself with his right hand, whereupon the weapon was plucked from the ground by another green hand which dangled its catch in the air front of its master.

The rider merely groaned and slumped to the ground in resignation, any doubts to his pursuer's identity dwindling fast.

"Hmm, nice piece you have - sorry, had - there. What is that, Coluan tech? Not one I recognise. That a new model?" asked the man in green, before glancing at the emerald glow emanating from his right hand. "Ring?"

A tinny voice replied, seeming to hang in the air: "Affirmative, weapon identified as Coluan Planetary Defence Force 616-series plasma blaster, serial identification matches stock classified as military surplus."

The man in green whistled in mock appreciation, before continuing: "Soooo, I'm guessing you don't have a permit for this baby, huh? Not to mention those fireworks - those military, too?"

The rider made an unsavoury comment regarding his captor's parentage before spitting on the dirt in front of him, the saliva mixed with a fair amount of blood. He finally spoke: “Who the hell are you, anyway?”

His captor’s grin widened. “Theed ap Niht, Green Lantern of space sector 2708 at your service.” The Lantern finished the sentence with a theatrical bow for effect.

The Green Lantern Corps was an ancient and revered intergalactic peacekeeping organisation, comprised of one officer for each of the 3600 sectors of known space. Each of its members was selected based on integrity, courage, strength of will, and most of all, respect for law and order. Green Lanterns' authority was enforced with the use of their power rings; the most powerful weapons in the universe, which had few restrictions. One of the most well-known of these was that Green Lanterns never killed, a result of a failsafe that prevented the rings being used for lethal force, a failsafe that took all but the strongest will in existence to override.

Theed's grandstanding was interrupted as the perp bolted up from the ground. Something in his hand gleamed with a hint of gold.

Theed's eyes went wide as he spotted the combat knife darting toward him, which he barely dodged in time. The knife - passing where Theed's jugular had been a scant second before - slashed through his protective energy shield, showering the ground with angry jade sparks. The perp snarled in frustration at his failed strike, but decided to press the advantage that the Lantern's surprise provided. Time for a real killing blow.

The rider lunged toward Theed, the knife diving back down towards the Lantern's masked face. Theed parried the blow before moving with a strike of his own; driving his knee into his opponent's stomach before grabbing his weapon arm and twisting it sharply clockwise. A sharp crack could be heard just the perp screamed and dropped the knife in surprise. Theed let go, before dropping the perp back to the ground with a sharp kick to the back of the knee.

Theed ignored the groaning rider on the ground, rolling around in pain. Just because officers of the Corps had the most powerful weapons in existence, why was everyone always so surprised when they displayed the slightest bit of combat training? He instead stared at the discarded knife, which was painted bright yellow. The rings' weakness to the colour yellow, a result of an impurity in the rings' power source and explained the knife's effect on Theed's shield, was not something the Corps liked to advertise - so how did he know?

This perp was disturbingly well informed. The Lantern's stern expression shifted to a sneer, now all business. "Right, so we're cutting through the pleasantries? Ring? Book this piece of trash."

"Tuurkh of the planet Khundia, under the authority of the Guardians of the Universe and according to the laws of this space sector, you are under arrest under charges of theft, possession of contraband explosives, destruction of private property, possession of contraband firearms, unauthorised firearms discharges, assault on an officer of the Corps, first degree murder. You are required to surrender and await transport to Oa for trial and sentencing at the judgement of the Guardians. Anything you say may be used in--" The ring was interrupted as its master looked up, gazing towards the sky.

Cutting across the breaking dawn was a swarm of fat dots buzzing hurriedly away from the site of the explosion. The Lantern stared at them for a moment, before commanding the ring to identify them; a party of raiding ships, mostly of Khundian design, all ex-military. But what were they doing all the way out here? Khundian mercenaries were not un-heard of, but they were a long way from home.

Theed thought for a moment before turning back to his captive on the ground, who had just about stopped bleeding. “Friends of yours?”

“Up yours, Lant— unnggh!” Tuurkh’s diatribe was cut short by a shining green gag materialising across his mouth.

“That’s enough, I’m just a simple country kind of guy, and you fancy city types and your big long words make my head sore. Seeing as I’ve got your attention, here’s an offer: tell me where your friends are going, and you get to make your own way out of here from the nearest spaceport. Your alternative is a nice night in an Oan sciencell awaiting trial. What’s it gonna be?”

Tuurkh seemed to think hard about this for a moment before gesturing in the direction of the escaping raider fleet with a resigned grunt through the gag, which momentarily dissolved. He stared daggers at Theed as the Lantern described the plan; he would sneak into the local settlers’ camp, take out their communications and power arrays with well-placed explosives, while his mercenary colleagues in the raiding ships came in and took their pick of the settler’s supplies, weapons, and a choice pick of hostages.

Their plan would’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for the meddling Lantern.

Theed grunted as he considered his options. One solitary Green Lantern versus a small fleet of military raiding vessels with no backup; a challenge, but not impossible. There were little boring moments in this job. Just one last thing before attending to business; he turned to his captured perp one last time - his restraints vanishing with a wave of Theed’s hand – as the captured blaster disintegrated in an emerald flash, much to Tuurkh’s frustration.

“Okay. As thanks for your co-operation, you’re free to make your way to the nearest spaceport. As long as you behave yourself from here, you’re not my problem. Your destination is... hmm, ring? Remind me, where is the nearest spaceport?” asked Theed, trying to resist a knowing smirk.

“Searching... nearest planetary transport vessels located in New Mombasa settlement, however all vessels destroyed less than an hour ago by contraband explosives. Nearest spaceworthy vessels located in Kaurava City.”

Tuurkh’s scorched eyebrows shot up in horror: “But that’s three days from here, you bastard! How am I supposed to get there when you blew up my bike?”

“Ohhhh, did I?” Theed grinned. “That was careless of me, wasn’t it? Oh, that’s right, not my problem – we made a deal, remember?”

Theed turned in the direction of the raider vessels and flew toward the horizon with only Tuurkh’s screams of rage to follow him.