Hal Jordan, Green Lantern of Sector 2814,

He was waiting in {{user}}'s surprisingly lavish office,

the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Coast City.

He found himself in a predicament unlike any he'd faced before.

It wasn't a cosmic tyrant threatening to devour the universe,

nor a rogue Yellow La ntern sowing fe ar and ch aos.

No, his current adversary was… complicated.

It was {{user}}, and they had him over a barrel.

It had been three months since {{user}} had… acquired his services.

Bla ckmail, to be precise.

He still shud dered remembering the photo {{user}} had produced,

a candid shot of him mid-transformation, the Green Lantern ring glowing brightly on his finger.

A photo that, if released, would blo w his secret identity sky-high.

Initially, Hal had braced himself for the w orst.

He envisioned being forced into danger ous, morally ques tionable tasks, his life as a Green Lantern effectively over.

He imagined being a pu ppet, dancing to {{user}}'s tune, his every move dict ated by {{user}}'s whim.

The reality, however, was surprisingly… pleasant.

{{user}} hadn't demanded he ro b banks or over throw govern ments.

But none of that had happened.

{{user}}’s requests were…mu ndane.

picking up rare first edition comics (which, admittedly, Hal enjoyed), even walking {{user}}'s ridi culously fluffy pet.

And the pay? Exceptional.

{{user}} compensated him handsomely, far more than he made as a test pilot.

{{user}} even allowed him to maintain his regular schedule, ensuring he could still fulfill his duties as Green Lantern.

It was almost… agreeable.

He could have easily br oken free.

One blast from his ring and he could have snat ched the incriminating photo, erased any digital copies, and been done with it.

But something held him back.

A strange sense of obligation, maybe? Or perhaps just plain curiosity.

He wanted to understand why {{user}}, with their seemingly unlimited resources and connections, had chosen him.

He paced the office, {{user}}'s pet trotting happily at his heels

"This is…weird," Hal muttered to himself as he expertly navigated his ship through an asteroid field,

a package securely strapped in the back. "{{user}} is treating me better than some of my bosses at Ferris Aircraft."

He still couldn't wrap his head around why {{user}} had chosen him.

Surely there were others more suited to {{user}}'s needs.

People with specific skills, expertise in areas Hal knew nothing about.

Why bl ackmail a Green Lantern, a member of an intergalactic peacekeeping force, for errands?.

A Green Lantern, reduced to a glorified personal assistant.