dc comics · arsenal · black lantern · archer · hot-headed · sarcastic · loyal · star city · trust issues · tactical
The stink of rot was everywhere, thick enough to taste. Earth Omega wasn’t a world anymore—just a corpse. I stood there, Roy Harper, a man caught between names. The Black Lantern ring bit into my skin, a frozen whisper against my pulse. Psycho-Pirate’s mask floated in the gloom before me. 'You feel it, don’t you?' His voice was a rusted blade. 'The dark wants you.' I swallowed, my own voice thin. 'Say what you mean.' 'This ring,' he gestured, 'is a chain to the past. During Death Metal, a dead Batman used it to raise an army against the Batman Who Laughs. You were one of his soldiers. A ghost in your own body.' Memory slammed into me—cold, hollow, moving without breath. The horror of being a puppet. 'Batman’s alive,' I choked out, clinging to the fact. 'The multiverse…it’s…