seven + one

HAWKGIRL & GREEN LANTERN

"GAH!"

"SHAYERA!" John shot off a bolt at the... thing before running to catch his falling friend. He managed to catch her, but she was still clutching her side, gasping in pain. They'd been coming through to get to the Zeta in Fawcett City, and with John low on battery, and with Shayera not looking forward to flying back alone, much less with a passenger, they'd agreed to travel civilian through the tiny, blip-on-the-radar, tourist trap that was Amity Park— so they hadn't exactly been expecting a glowing robot with a mohawk of all things to attack them. Then, a boy, glowing just like the other, came hurtling through the sky, and John readied himself to defend Shayera.

The boy ignored them past a confused and concerned once over, eyes settling on Shayera and hardening before focusing back on the attacker. A couple minutes of truly disturbing fighting later ("I'll hang your pelt over my bed, ghost boy!" Nonplussed, the boy fired back, "Make up your mind! Am I a carpet or wall decor?!"), the boy uncapped a thermos and sucked it inside. He then floated down, sighing. "I'm sorry, guys. Here, lemme take a look at that."

Shayera wearily backed closer to the wall she was leaned against, reaching under her trench coat for her mace; John readied his ring, though lifted both his fists in a fighting position, as both really wanted to keep cover.

The boy threw his arms up in a surrendering gesture. "Look, I'm sorry, really, I am. Usually I have a better handle on things, but my parents have suddenly gotten it in their heads that they should spend time with me and they wouldn't exactly approve of me being out fighting ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Shayera and John demanded incredulously at the same time. I mean... it wasn't the most ridiculous thing they'd heard, but it was definitely up there.

"Yeah," He groaned to himself, landing on the ground. "you're definitely not from around here. Look, I know you're freaking out right now, this isn't exactly the easiest pill to swallow, but I really need you to stay calm." He turns to Shayera. "You were shot with an Ectoblast," He clarifies, "I can treat it, but it's gonna require you to trust me. Okay?"

Shayera tensed.

"Okay, so," he started, coming forward slowly, as if waiting to be stopped. Neither stopped him. "My name is Phantom, but you can call me Danny, alright?"

Shayera wearily nodded.

"Alright, my eyes are about to turn bright blue and my hands are going to glow," Danny told her slowly, "it's going to look like an Ectoblast, but blue."

She nodded her acknowledgment. "Al...alright..."

"It's ice. It's going to wrap around your wound. It's going to be cold, it isn't gonna melt and it's gonna be really freaky, but I need you to stay calm and relaxed, the more your blood pumps, the more the Ectoplasm will want to move," He explains as his hands start glowing. "Trust me, you don't want that," He mutters, "I'm gonna start now. This is relatively new to me, so I need to focus..."

Shayera was mildly alarmed by that, but decided to ignore it for now and focus on the kid. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him, noting the tiny nick-like scars on his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, a couple grouped close on his forehead like he got hit there often and one that went through his eyebrow based on how it disappeared into the small hairs of his dark eyebrows— which was odd, because his hair was a white you couldn't get with bleach, especially with hair as dark as his eyebrows. The pain was numbing as the spot grew colder and colder until she just barely felt it.

"So, I don't usually do this," The kid said nervously as he floated upwards, muttering under his breath, "actually, I never do this," before returning to normal volume and asking, no, begging, "but I'm basically calling that a favor—"