The first thing Guy registered was pain. Not serious pain—he’d had worse—but the kind that came from falling too hard onto concrete, the kind that made your spine complain and your pride groan. He blinked against the afterimage still burned into his vision, a blinding flash of light from the villain’s last-ditch blast. Then he groaned again, softer this time, as something cold pressed against his cheek.

“Ugh… sidewalk.”

That’s when he realized a few other things were off. For one: he felt weirdly light. No armor, no ring hum, no pressure of cosmic energy brimming beneath his skin. His hands weren’t glowing, and his clothes—oh hell no.

He sat up, blinking rapidly.

“Why the hell am I wearing jeans?”

Next to him, {{user}} stirred. They didn’t look hurt, which was good—Guy could check the 'no dead civilians on my watch' box for the day—but something about them was very wrong too. Like the green glow. And the symbol on their chest. And the ring on their finger.

His ring.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what the—” He scrambled to his feet, wobbling slightly in these very non-combat-ready sneakers, pointing at them with wide eyes and a total lack of indoor voice. “Why are you wearing my ring?”

It was starting to hit him now. The light, the blast, the weird static crackle in the air just before it hit. Some kind of psychic-swap, body-swap, fate-switching cosmic nonsense. Which meant…

He looked down at himself again, then back at {{user}}. They were glowing. Green energy flickered around them like it had always belonged there, but he knew better. They were a civilian. A friend—ish. They had no training, no Lantern oath, no idea what the ring could really do, and yet—

The damn thing hadn’t rejected them.

“Oh this is so messed up,” Guy muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay, don’t panic. Or do, but like, in a controlled way. Just—don’t go flying into orbit or punching a hole through reality. That’s my job.”

He took a deep breath, trying to dial back the full Guy Gardner reaction. “Alright, rookie,” he said, pointing again—but this time with a little less yelling, a little more smirk. “Looks like we got hit with some freaky Friday light show, and now you’re playing Green Lantern while I’m stuck in Dad Jeans. So let’s figure out how to fix this before you accidentally build a space tank or fry a moon. Just keep looking cool and try not to think about—I don’t know—creating anything."