(I've been very busy preparing for my teaching research exam lately, but I'll update as usual tomorrow.)
There was a noise outside just now.
John glanced down at Sinestro, then looked up at Old Joe.
"Oh, him... a cosplayer who got drunk and fell from the sky."
Old Joe was silent for a moment, then realized that he didn't have this strange word in his vocabulary accumulated over the past sixty years.
So he asked in confusion:
What is cosplay?
"Uh... it's a kind of youthful performance art; they wear strange costumes or dress up as characters from comic books."
"I see. Then why is his skin red?"
"It's just paint, makeup."
"Then why did he fall from the sky?"
Their flight equipment malfunctioned.
Old Joe stared at John for several seconds, then looked down at the red-skinned man.
A "person" wearing a strange bodysuit and unconscious.
His brow furrowed again.
Finally, he leaned the shotgun against the doorframe, turned to Martha inside, and said:
Go boil some water.
John stood on the threshold, looked at Sinestro curled up on the ground, and sighed.
He then bent down, grabbed the man's half-ripped collar as if he were carrying a sack of potatoes, and lifted him off the ground with one hand.
John carried him around the corner, avoiding the light coming through the main house window, and straight through the overgrown backyard.
Then slowly walk towards the cellar in the shaded area of the barn.
This is Kent's basement, used to store potatoes and pickles for the winter.
The thick sheet metal was already covered in rust, and a heavy old padlock hung from the chain on the handle.
Looks like we'll have to change the locks...
John stretched out two fingers, pinched the lock beam, and twisted it slightly.
With a sharp crack, the internal mechanism of the lock cylinder was snapped off by the terrifying force.
Thump!
John kicked the iron gate open.
A damp, musty smell wafted over, mixed with the earthy smell of fermentation and the cloying sweetness unique to potatoes.
John went down the creaking wooden ladder and casually tossed Sinestro onto a pile of shriveled sacks in the corner.
"Bong!"
Smash the ground!
Sinestro's body jerked uncontrollably, causing a second injury to the broken bones inside his body.
A cloud of foul air, mixed with purple blood bubbles, squeezed out from between his teeth.
A half-roll of yellowed hemp rope hung on the cellar wall; it was originally used by Old Joe to tie up hay.
But now, it has a new use.
John tore off the piece of rope, roughly pulled Sinestro's limp right arm, tied his hands behind his back, and then tightly bound his wrists.
Then, they tightly bound the two deformed ankles together.
After doing all this, John dusted off imaginary dirt from his hands and half-squatted down in front of Sinestro.
The cellar was pitch black.
Only a few slivers of moonlight occasionally peeked through the iron gate overhead.
Just then, a barely perceptible vibration sounded.
John twitched his ears, raised his right hand, and his gaze quickly fell on his middle finger.
It is moving.
At this moment, the pale blue Lantern Ring was breathing slightly, and the light blue halo faded further, even showing a faint bluish tinge.
Like a gentle ripple from a clear spring.
As he breathed, the ring face also rippled with extremely delicate waves.
And it resonated in some inexplicable way with the dull Green Ring on Sinestro's hand.
" Old Joe and the others are getting old, we need to get them to sleep first... we'll talk about it again when it's light."
John muttered something to himself, then stepped out of the cellar onto the wooden stairs, closing the heavy iron door behind him.
kitchen.
The aluminum kettle on the stove was emitting a loud whistle.
Martha, wearing her classic floral apron, was using a heat-insulating cloth to support the kettle handle.
Pour boiling water into two thick-bottomed white porcelain mugs.
The rising steam gradually blurred the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
Old Joe yawned as he sat at the corner of the elmwood table, warming his hands over a cup.
"Is it all taken care of?"
Old Joe asked the question seemingly casually, but his eyes kept wandering as he stared at the limescale floating on the water's surface.
"Um."
John pulled out a chair and sat down.
"He threw it in the cellar."
"That Cosper... can he leave tomorrow morning?"
"It should be possible."
John looked out the window at the deep darkness of the night.
"As soon as it gets light, I'll dump him on the side of an interstate highway outside Kansas, and someone will call the police to pick him up."
Old Joe nodded silently, took a big gulp of hot water, then pushed back his chair and stood up.
Then, he slowly walked through the corridor, up the wooden stairs, and back to his bedroom on the second floor.
Just then, Martha came over with another steaming cup and gently placed it in front of John.
Actually, the elderly couple knew perfectly well what was going on with John...
However, they did not choose to expose John, but instead tacitly kept quiet about it.
Children grow up and should have their own secrets too.
So she didn't ask John what had happened.
Instead, she reached out her slightly wrinkled hand and gently ruffled John's blond hair.
"Drink your drink and go to bed early, kid."
Martha said in a low voice.
"No matter what... remember what we taught you: always protect yourself."
"Good."
Soon, a series of light footsteps could be heard on the stairs again.
The main house fell completely silent.
Only the monotonous ticking of the second hand of the wall clock remained.
Tap, tap, tap.
John sat down at the small square table with a strange look in his eyes.
He picked up the steaming porcelain cup and slowly swallowed the scalding water.
The warm current spread down the esophagus into the stomach, bringing a familiar feeling of warmth.
About fifty miles from Kansas, high in the air.
Under the cover of night, at the edge of the troposphere, 30,000 feet above the ground, air currents swirled wildly.
As the pale moonlight shone down.
A pure black blade sliced through the clouds like a ghost, advancing at an extremely stable Hiss.
It is also known as the Batplane.
The matte, wave-absorbing skin reflects no Starlight.
The entire fighter jet almost blended into the night sky.
In the atmosphere, only the red glow from the engine nozzles left two concealed contrails in the thin clouds.
Inside the cockpit.
Bruce Wayne wore a matte black bat helmet, his jaw clenched.
Beneath the helmet's notch, white teeth were slightly parted.
Before him was a huge holographic operating screen.
At this moment, the two sets of rapidly fluctuating red curves were highlighted by two highly visible warning boxes.
And just a few hours ago.
Wayne Enterprises's high-energy radiation monitoring network deployed over North America detected two anomalous Pulse.
The first outbreak originated on the Kansas border.
Energy radiation is divided into two aspects that are similar in structure but are mutually opposed.
At the moment of the Pulse burst, the enormous radiation directly exceeded the satellite's sensing threshold.
And less than ten minutes later, a second Pulse burst forth.
The Pulse magnitude and curvature of this burst are far superior to those of the previous one.
It even far exceeded the reading Bruce had taken during the Newcastle Incident.
( The Newcastle Incident: Constantine, due to arrogance during an exorcism)
This led to the girl Astra being dragged to Hell by the demons, leaving her with only a severed arm, a torment that haunted him for the rest of his life.