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SM/DC Chapter 155 : The Bait
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 22:56:52 +0000 UTCArthur and Kara looked up bracing up for impact at the same time and then.
CRACK.
The sky split open above them with a violent shockwave of golden energy like a thunderclap that shattered the clouds. A moment later, two streaks of yellow light plummeted like twin meteors, carving into the ruin that is the asylum with a boom that sent debris and ash flying in all directions.
Arthur didn’t flinch.
Kara shielded her eyes but stood her ground, hovering just above the ruined floor.
The dust cleared revealing two figures hovering just above the crater. Both clad in the unmistakable yellow and black of the Sinestro Corps, glowing with raw power.
Amon Sur.
Sleek, humanoid, his red skin and contemptuous smirk practically dripping arrogance. The son of Abin Sur, ring glowing bright at his side.
Romat-Ru.
The Butcher of Sector 2815. A snarling, horned alien, bloodlust in his eyes and a construct already forming into a jagged executioner’s blade above his clawed hand.
Then they saw it.
The body.
Arkillo. Dead.
Romat-Ru’s expression contorted with pure rage. His voice was a growl that shattered tiles beneath him. “You filthy Earthborn worms!… that was our general.”
Amon Sur’s face twitched, not with shock but with realization. His eyes locked onto Arthur.
And then he smiled. A slow, chilling grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Well,” he said, voice cool and mocking. “Looks like we found him.”
Arthur exhaled. Calm. Centered.
Kara floated slightly ahead, between Arthur and the incoming threat. “I take it back,” she said, eyes flashing red, “I hate this place even more now.”
Arthur’s gaze remained on Amon Sur.
‘So Sinestro didn’t underestimate me…’
He narrowed his eyes slightly just enough that his twinblade shivered in his grip.
‘He sent Arkillo and now… he sends these two. A coordinated test. Not that reckless rather it was measured, but in the end it's still a horrible mistake. ‘
Still, Arthur smiled. Just faintly.
“Two more,” he muttered. “And here I was worried I’d get bored.”
Kara glanced back at him with half a smirk. “You have a serious problem, you know that? You keep inviting trouble.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow and cracked a joke. “I can’t help it, I'm that charming.”
Romat-Ru’s ring glowed violently. “You’ll be coming with us, even if I have to drag you half dead.”
Kara cracked her neck. “You can try.”
Then Amon Sur raised a hand, and the air distorted constructs forming, curved and sharpened like blades of wrath.
“Earthling” he said with authority, “by the will of the Sinestro Corps you are to come with us, alive. Resist, and we break you.”
Arthur raised his twinblade, the steel of it catching the distant lightning. Shadows danced around his feet.
“I’m afraid,” he said calmly, “that I prefer the alternative.”
The wind around them shifted.
Kara’s feet rose slightly off the ground, her eyes flaring bright with heat. “Hope you packed a second pair of rings.”
Arthur exhaled again. “Kara… try not to break this half of Arkham, it’s already a mess.”
Amon Sur’s smirk sharpened.
Romat-Ru roared.
And then
They charged.
Arthur and Kara took flight away from the building.
Yellow constructs tore through the clouds like missiles. Arthur’s black silhouette shot between them, twinblade in one hand, fingers crackling with Ruler’s Authority. Kara followed just behind him, cape flaring like a comet’s trail, her fists meeting golden hammers and claws shaped from fear-made-light.
Amon Sur and Romat-Ru gave chase like two rabid hounds unleashed into the sky. They moved with precision, ring constructs flickering with primal fear blades, chains, monstrous jaws all aimed at the two who had just slain their comrade.
Kara slammed into a swirling buzzsaw of yellow light, shattering it with both arms crossed, flipping through the air before releasing a burst of heat vision that singed Romat-Ru’s shoulder.
Arthur twisted beneath her, twinblade carving a construct spear in half, his movements a blur. His thoughts, however, were cold and methodical.
‘I could kill them both. Now. Clean. Before they can even find out, but I know more will come, I have an idea a reckless one, but it will do the universe a great favor.’
He watched the yellow rings, the energy they radiated, how they responded to anger, fear, and rage. More would come. He knew it now. A ripple. A test.
He needed time alone to do his plan.
And Kara, Kara didn’t belong in the eye of what was coming.
He clenched his jaw and made the call.
“KARA!” he barked, parrying a blast of yellow flame with a summoned wall of shadows. “I need you to go. Join the others. Aid the League against Sinestro and the rest of his Corps.”
Kara twisted mid-air, backhanding a construct alien like wolf that lunged at her neck. She didn’t even glance at him as she replied, “What? No. I want to—”
“Go.” Arthur’s voice was sharp now, and unwavering. “Don’t worry about me. Outnumbered means little against me, you already know my powers. it doesn’t mean outmatched. Not when it’s me.”
Kara hovered for a breath. Her lips parted, something behind her eyes flickering with concern, hesitation, even guilt.
Then she growled under her breath. “Fine.”
With a final explosive burst of speed, she flew upwards, punching through the clouds like a meteor, breaking from the skirmish.
Amon Sur’s eyes followed her.
Big mistake.
Arthur appeared above him a blur of black and blue light both hands gripping the twinblade as he came down like judgment incarnate.
BOOM.
The impact sent Amon spiraling toward the ground, crashing through layers of Gotham's night air, smashing into a water tower in a spray of steel and smoke.
Romat-Ru turned, snarling.
But Arthur didn’t even look at him yet. His gaze was still fixed on the crater below.
“I said...” Arthur dropped, shadows swirling at his feet, eyes glowing like violet suns. “I’m your opponent.”
Romat’s ring flared again, constructs forming. Amon roared back into the air, blood trailing from his lip.
And Arthur Blackwynd smiled, just slightly.
****
High above the ruined towers of Arkham Asylum, Arthur Blackwynd hovered, blood dripping from a shallow cut along his jaw. His eyes narrowed on the yellow glow surrounding his enemies,calculating, never panicked.
‘They’re not allowed to kill me,' Arthur thought, 'so I’ll make it look like they almost do. If I want my plan to go smoothly.’
He exhaled slowly, shifting the Kamish Twinblade in his hand, his body already coiling with motion.
‘Time to sell the act.’
Romat-Ru shot forward first, teeth bared and fists glowing. Arthur moved, not too fast just fast enough. He twisted slightly, letting Romat’s clawed construct slice a gash along his side. It burned like hell.
Arthur didn’t flinch.
He retaliated with a snap of his blade, not deep just enough to tear through Romat’s bicep, forcing the alien to grunt and recoil.
Amon came next, roaring with a halberd-shaped construct swinging for Arthur’s neck. Arthur ducked, but not low enough. The weapon struck his shoulder, hard, sending a ripple of pain down his right arm. His body spun, slamming against the side of a broken tower.
“Good,” he told himself, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. ‘Make it believable.’
Arthur pushed off the wall and surged forward. A blur of shadow and steel.
He drove the blunt end of his twinblade’s hilt into Amon’s gut, then twisted his body mid-air, kicking Romat across the jaw. The yellow lantern snarled, and a construct spear shot out, Arthur didn’t dodge.
It hit him, right below the ribs. The metal tore through flesh and muscle, cracking past bone.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. He stumbled in the air.
Then dropped.
Like a stone.
He crashed to the ground near the courtyard of Arkham, rolling once, twice until he landed face-up on the cracked cement. Blood pooled around him, thick and blackish red. His breaths came in slow, rattling waves.
But his lips
Still curved in a smirk.
‘I better heal by the time I get... there,’ he whispered to himself, the words tasting of iron and pain.
Amon and Romat descended, their golden aura casting long shadows over the broken body of the man who killed Arkillo.
Romat clutched his side, still seething. “The bastard is finally down.”
Amon hovered above Arthur’s body, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the bloodied figure. Arthur's smile was faint, mocking.
“What’s with the smile?” Amon growled.
Arthur blinked up at him, weak but unafraid. “You guys are... weak.”
Romat’s ring sparked, his anger flaring. “Say that again and I’ll...”
“Wait,” Amon snapped, his yellow-ringed hand raised. His eyes narrowed. Something gnawed at him. A feeling. A question that wouldn’t let go. ‘How did he kill Arkillo?’
He turned to Romat. “Check his vitals. Now.”
Romat grumbled, raising his hand as yellow light scanned Arthur’s motionless body. A faint pulse. Barely any blood pressure. Muscles slack and failing.
“Anymore and he’ll die,” Romat said finally. “He’s not faking. He’s hanging by a thread, It was the Kryptonian Girl was it not? that killed Arkillo. There is no way he could have alone.”
Amon glanced down again. Still unsure.
“Very well,” he muttered. “We take him now. Report back to Sinestro.”
“Good, Anymore and I’ll puke if I spend another minute on this filthy rock.” Romat nodded, stepping forward to lift the limp form of Arthur Blackwynd using his ring.
But even now, Arthur’s inner voice remained sharp beneath the pain.
‘One step closer,’ he thought.
