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SM/DC Chapter 165 : Beyond Reach
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 20:07:18 +0000 UTCBATCAVE -
The Batcave pulsed with artificial light, the glow of computer screens casting long shadows across the cavernous interior. Rain tapped faintly on the stone above, muffled by layers of bedrock, while the soft hum of machinery whispered in the background. Batman stood before his console, gloved fingers moving in efficient precision across the keys, cycling through streams of encrypted data, satellite footage, and biometric scans.
Superman stood nearby, arms folded, cape draped over his shoulder. His expression was calm, but the crease between his brows betrayed his unease.
Batman spoke without looking up.
“One thing I’m sure about is that Hal was right. Sinestro didn’t come to Earth just to fight. He came to recruit.”
Superman frowned, glancing toward the massive monitor. “You’re saying he came here for Arthur. Just like Hal predicted not so long ago.”
“I’m not just saying it,” Batman replied, fingers pausing over a scan of Arkham Asylum’s ruined wing. “I’m certain of it.”
Clark narrowed his eyes. “And what makes you think Arthur went with them willingly?”
Batman’s gaze flicked toward the screen again, enlarging a series of heat signatures frozen in time over a map of Gotham. “His power level alone… he could’ve slaughtered multiple lanterns from Sinestro Corps if he wanted. The dead lantern was the second-in-command, and he died inside Arkham. From the scene alone, Arthur had to be the one who killed him.”
Superman took a slow step forward. “You’re sure?”
Batman nodded once. “Too much blood. All of it belong to the alien. Not a drop of Arthur’s. No DNA trace, no burn signature, not even a fragmented bootprint. Everyone leaves something behind, even you. Arthur left nothing. It’s like he wasn’t there at all.” He paused. “Kara refused to Cooperate, but he was there. And I know for a fact he took the ring, that missing finger alone is enough. You could say that’s the only clue he left behind.”
Superman exhaled, the weight of what he was hearing beginning to settle. “So what are we going to do now?” He tilted his head. “You think he’s going to join the Sinestro Corps?”
Batman’s silence stretched for a moment, then he shook his head slowly.
“No. Not necessarily. I think Arthur’s planning something… bigger than that.”
Superman arched a brow, arms still crossed. “That’s a heavy assumption. Even for you.”
“He doesn’t play by normal rules, I’ve learned that already.” Batman said, walking slowly toward the holographic projection of the power spectrum. “He doesn’t care about allegiances, not the way we do. Arthur’s path is carved in shadows. I think he lets people underestimate him so they’ll never see what he’s truly aiming for until it’s too late.”
Superman glanced at the glowing ring icons spinning slowly above the projector the Green Lantern symbol, the Yellow, Red, Indigo... all pulsing with faint light.
“I’m still not convinced,” Clark said. “Let’s wait for Hal. He might bring back information. Maybe even Arthur. If you’re wrong.”
Batman turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing behind the cowl.
Superman grinned. “Come on, Bruce. You can still be wrong sometimes… I think?”
Batman didn’t smile but his lack of a reply was a reply.
He just turned back to his monitor, shadows dancing across his cape. but in the air, something unspoken hung heavy between them because deep down, they both knew…
Arthur Blackwynd was already far beyond their reach.
****
QWARD -
The swirling green vortex of the wormhole collapsed behind them, leaving only the faint ripple of dimensional residue as Hal Jordan and his team arrived in the dead skies above Qward the Anti-Matter Universe’s twisted mirror of Oa.
They hovered in silence for a moment, surrounded by a thick blackness that clung to the atmosphere. Even from orbit, the planet looked wrong—silent, still, wrong. There were no patrols in the skies. No signature of fear-based constructs. No golden glint from the infamous Yellow Central Battery.
Just... emptiness.
Kilowog floated forward, eyes narrowing. “Well this is creepin’ me the hell out. I figured we’d be greeted by a wall of hate and laser teeth.”
“I agree,” said Tomar-Re, his voice sharp but reserved. “The Guardians gave us this directive without explanation. A sudden infiltration mission? It’s… unorthodox.”
Salaak’s tendrils twitched slightly, scanning data across his forearm. “Unorthodox is generous. I’d call it a violation of protocol. Qward is Sinestro’s stronghold. Sending only four of us with no strategic layout is—”
“Enough, I was planning to come here alone anyways.” Hal finally said.
He hadn’t spoken the entire way until now.
His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on the dead, quiet world below.
“This planet used to glow with fear,” he said. “Now it’s as cold as space.”
They descended.
Boots touched charred black stone.
They split up as planned stealth first, eyes open, rings low-powered to avoid detection. Yet with every step they took through the twisted spires and jagged ruins of Qward, it became clear that something catastrophic had taken place. Shadows loomed where once yellow constructs had patrolled. The wind howled not with anger, but with the void.
And then they regrouped called by Hal himself.
He stood at the edge of what used to be one of Sinestro’s command towers. The smell of burnt ozone clung to the air. What remained of the structure had collapsed inward, broken bones of architecture clawing toward the sky.
And scattered across the ground were the bodies.
Yellow Lanterns.
too many of them.
Twisted, mangled, slain. Every one of them still wore their rings.
Salaak stopped in his tracks. “This… this can’t be.”
Kilowog took a step forward, his face grim. “No way they went down without a fight. Look at this, Hal... These rings… they’re dead. It's not even a charge issue, the rings are truly dead.”
Tomar-Re knelt beside one of the bodies, his avian face drawn in deep concern. “There’s no trace of their usual energy emissions. I scanned for the Central Power Battery. Nothing. It’s gone.”
“Gone?” Salaak said. “That’s impossible. The Yellow Battery is the anchor of the entire Sinestro Corps.”
“Not anymore apparently,” Hal said, still staring at the carnage.
Kilowog looked around, eyes scanning the empty skies.
“Who or What the hell did this?”
No one answered.
Tomar-Re stood up slowly. “I did, however, pick up something strange. Not a battery... but a surge. A new energy signature. Unfamiliar. Deep.”
“A Strange energy?” Hal asked.
Tomar nodded. “It is clearly powerful. Not connected to the emotional spectrum as we understand it. And it’s pulsing.”
Hal’s voice was low now, more to himself than the others. “We need to find Sinestro.”
Kilowog raised a brow. “You’re lookin’ for a fight?”
“No,” Hal said, turning back to the crater of death. “I’m trying to find out if he’s alive.”
Salaak’s ring buzzed faintly, still scanning. “What would you do if he is?”
Hal didn’t answer right away.
But the look in his eyes was more than enough.
“Let’s go,” he said, powering up his ring.
“Towards the source of this ‘energy’”
****
GOTHAM CITY –
In a narrow alleyway, dripping rain from rooftops above.
The world reasserted itself in silence.
No cosmic winds.
No antimatter radiation.
No violet or yellow glows bleeding across fractured sky.
Just the dim amber light of a flickering streetlamp casting its weak gaze over the damp concrete. A half-rotted dumpster to one side, steam rising from a sewer grate. A cat darted across the mouth of the alley, vanishing into shadow.
Then, with a ripple in the air, Arthur stepped through.
His boots met the ground without sound.
The tear in space sealed behind him like it had never existed, leaving nothing but stillness in its wake.
He stood there a moment, shoulders rising and falling. The subtle hum of power still clung to him, he lifted his hand slowly and removed the black-violet ring from his finger.
The transformation reversed instantly.
Gone was the shadow-wrought uniform, the violet's aura. Dissolved into nothingness. He was... Casual Arthur again.
Just Arthur.
The ring pulsed faintly in his palm once, like a living heartbeat. He closed his fingers around it and tucked it away.
Rain kissed his shoulders. Thunder rumbled distantly.
He looked down the alley and took a step, then another, emerging slowly into the buzz of the city. Horns honking, people shouting. Gotham was still Gotham. Chaotic, brutal, alive.
Arthur sighed.
“I think I hate space,” he muttered to himself, brushing a bit of grime off his shoulder. “Solid ground is better, even as chaotic as it is right now.”
He stepped into the current of pedestrians faces brushing past him without care or concern, no one recognizing him, no one even noticing. Just another man in a black coat beneath a flickering streetlight.
But in his silence, something churned.
His expression was blank. Too blank. Even for someone like him.
As he walked down the wet sidewalk, his mind drifted.
‘Why do I feel this way...?’
His eyes flicked to a pair of street performers juggling fire near a café.
‘Or rather... lack of feeling?’
The laughter, the lights, the scent of rain and warm bread from a nearby bakery it all felt distant. Like a dream he couldn't step into.
A girl bumped into him. “Sorry,” she said casually, walking off without another word.
Arthur didn’t respond. He barely noticed her.
His hand drifted to his coat pocket where the ring lay hidden, warm against his skin.
He took a slow breath and whispered, “I need a vacation.”
His steps slowed.
A glint of eerie light shimmered in his eyes blue this time.
