Red

For weeks he'd maintained a stoic front. At this point, Robert was all out of tears. A heavy, deadened feeling had replaced the grief, as well as something else which had been growing, steadily entwining more and more of its black tendrils around his heart everyday - anger.

Anger at Alistair Krei's greed and refusal to listen to all the warnings about it still being too early to launch a demonstration of Silent Sparrow. Anger at himself, as the idea of his daughter being involved with such a significant scientific breakthrough and seeing her own pride and delight at being a pilot had left him effectively blinded as well.

If one more person came up to him to tell him that they were sorry for his loss, then they were going to get punched in the face (if that person was a guy anyways. He didn't know what he would do if it was a woman). He would drink to try and numb the pain, but it only seemed to feed his wrath towards Krei instead.

Over the years he'd mellowed out as he had grown older, though unlike the popular stereotype of the Irish he'd never been a bad-tempered or violent man by any means. Whenever he did become angry about something, it was usually more of a focused, icy anger as opposed to uncontrollable red-hot fury.

But not today. Today he had stormed and raged throughout his big empty house, had wrecked some pictures and furniture and put a good-sized hole in the kitchen wall with his fist.

His only child was gone. He didn't even have a body to bury.

Only now realizing that his right hand was sore, it vaguely occurred to him that he should probably get something for it. So upstairs he went, only to end up standing in the doorway of Abigail's old bedroom. His eyes roved around the clean, tidy space, taking in the full-sized bed with its slate blue and white comforter, the stuffed purple hippo sitting there smiling blankly at him, the pictures of various musicians, nature scenes, and animals hanging on the wall. Even after she had moved out, he still kept her room like this out of nostalgia. He was so glad he'd never gone through with his half-hearted but playful threat to turn it into another office.

A flash of light, as crimson as freshly-spilled blood, suddenly illuminated the room and mercifully interrupted the agonizing memories. There it was, hovering soundlessly in front of him. A red, glowing ring.

For a moment Robert just stared at it through bleary, reddened eyes, uncomprehending, confused. How was it floating? Where had it come from?

And then… something - no, someone was speaking to him. In his mind. Whatever it was, it was ancient. Powerful.

"Robert Callaghan. You have great rage in your heart. You belong to the Red Lantern Corps."

And in that instant, it all became clear. He would have his vengeance on Abigail's murderer, and this Red Lantern ring would help him.

Without any hesitation he reached a well-worn hand out towards the ring.