Summary: Taken from the historic storyline 'Emerald Twilight', a legendary hero starts a fall from grace that will have galactic repurcussions.

The afternoon sun incessantly bore down on the Californian desert, baking all beneath it. The heat haze distorted anything that could be deemed visible, from the roads, the horizon, and the twelve mile crater that was once a city. Coast City had been one of the busier cities on the Western coastline – now, the biggest mass grave in Earth’s chequered history.

The hopes and dreams of its citizens had been annihilated in a blinding flash following a strike by the interstellar tyrant Mongul. His plans had been foiled by Earth’s heroes, but not before he had written his name in this world’s history books, his entry inked in the blood of millions. The citizens of Coast City had not lived to see their killer brought to justice, but one of Coast City’s prodigal sons had lived, fought, and bled to do just that – as was his duty as one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.

The battle was won, now he had come home to face his grief. Hal Jordan knelt, alone, in the dust, as he contemplated the power ring on his hand. His other arm, broken in the fight against Mongul, had been healing in the days (or was it weeks? They had seemed a blur since) past in a sling constructed by Jordan’s power ring, manifested by his imagination and maintained by the force of his will.

The wondrous ring had been bequeathed to Hal many years ago by a dying man who dropped from the stars. It was the symbol of Hal Jordan’s authority as the appointed Green Lantern of his space sector and source of his power. With it, he could manifest anything his imagination could conjure, its only limits being his willpower which fuelled the ring itself. With the ring you could do anything, if you wanted to badly enough.

Right now, all Hal wanted was everything; his home, his family, his high school, the street he grew up in. It was true, you couldn’t go home again. Could you? After all, you just had to want it badly enough. And who wanted it more? Who else had sacrificed so much?

Hal’s gaze moved toward the heavens, his face set in determination. Looking straight up, he raised his ring to the sky, and fired a fountain of emerald light upward. The light stopped just short of the clouds, splashing against an invisible ceiling and running down an invisible wall to form a gigantic dome that solidified to cover the entire crater. The site began to fill with green mist and light, from which a figure began to emerge.

At first just a vaguely humanoid shaped column of emerald light, it gradually coalesced into a man wearing a flight suit, casually holding a flight helmet under his arm. His face, seemingly middle aged, was ever so familiar. Hal blinked as he realised he was staring. The helmet was unmarred, not a single crack and the flight suit had not a solitary mark. It was whole, complete. Could it be? Hal's gaze moved down to a stripe on the pilot's flight suit which increased in definition until it split into a logo (reading 'Ferris Aircraft') and a nametag. Hal read the nametag, almost shaking with anticipation. It was him!

A nervous grin spread across Hal's face as he apprehensively approached the newcomer. Hal noticed his arms had reached out in a welcoming gesture, without him so much as thinking about it. He lowered his arms, trying to restrain himself. The man in the flight suit broke the silence.

"Hal", said Martin Jordan, former Captain in the US Air Force and father of three. "Hello, Dad", Hal replied.