So, Bruce arrived.
When the Batplane broke through cruise control at Mach 2.5 and entered low-altitude airspace over the western edge of Kansas.
The noise has long since subsided.
All that was left was a scene of utter devastation.
Beneath the fuselage, Wayne Industries' specially designed thermal imaging system is lowering an infrared lens to begin remote scanning.
The earth below.
The water is still churning, and wisps of white smoke rise into the sky.
Inside the cabin, the laser rangefinder arrived at an extremely alarming conclusion—
A pit with a diameter of over thirty meters and a depth of five meters was carved out of the silt in the center of the lake.
Several acres of shrubland along the riverbank were uprooted by the terrifying impact, and the broken wood smoldered and burned, raising thick black smoke that lingered for a long time.
The infrared temperature reading remained stubbornly above 80 degrees Celsius.
Aside from the alarming numbers, the real-life scenarios are obviously more direct and terrifying.
Tens of thousands of fish floated to the surface, their white bellies turned white, and a dense, fishy stench of undercooked fish rose into the air.
"This... is definitely not a typical meteorite impact; the impact area is far too singular..."
Bruce's voice could be faintly heard through the voice changer on his uniform.
His voice was hoarse and somber, carrying a chilling sense of vigilance.
"Conventional meteorite impacts can leave behind radioactive isotopes."
But here, only pure kinetic energy penetrates, and... cuts through by unknown, transcendent energy.
Beneath the mask, Bruce stared intently at the data on the screen, his long, slender fingers rapidly tapping on the keyboard.
The residual images captured by the airborne camera at high altitude were decomposed and superimposed one by one.
Amidst the noise and disturbance, Bruce slammed his hand on the keyboard, and in the instant the bright light faded, several blurry outlines emerged:
Group 1.
The humanoid silhouette hovering in mid-air exploded in the faint, pale blue light, skimming close to the ground.
Group 2.
A trace of an unknown liquid, resembling blood, remained at the bottom of the impact crater.
Under infrared Spectrum imaging, an organic molecular chain that has never been included in any known biological database was revealed.
Physical flight, ignoring high heat and extreme dynamic shock.
Unregistered non-human biological tissue responses.
The most critical issue is that no wreckage has been found at the scene.
Like a ghost, it silently carried all the disaster and sank into this wheat field where there were hardly any streetlights.
Bruce frowned and turned the joystick.
The Batplane traced a sharp arc in the thin atmosphere, its nose barely lowered.
Then, they turned their attention back to the rolling heart of Kansas.
Bruce pressed the encrypted communication button on the side of his ear.
" Alf."
The channel was connected immediately.
Alfred's voice came through the phone, his speech slightly faster than usual:
"Young master, just half a minute ago, North American Aerospace Defense Command detected a Supersonic shock wave over Kansas."
The Pentagon is still verifying whether it was a meteor... Were you on site?
"Yes, a wild lake on the western edge."
Bruce's gaze was fixed on the fading trace on the screen.
"The lakebed has been breached, and the water is still steaming... The temperature hasn't dropped yet."
Upon hearing Bruce's words, there was a noticeable pause on the other end of the communication line.
"... Could it be that the military's test aircraft crashed?"
No, a plane crash wouldn't produce such a scene...
There were no machine remains or any signs of life left at the scene.
"By the way, there was no sulfur at the site."
Bruce stared at the unclassifiable purple liquid at the bottom of the pit, his voice becoming tense.
"Based on my guess... this is completely different in nature from that incident back then."
This was clearly an explosion of an extraordinary magnitude... or perhaps, a battle.
"War? In Kansas?"
Alfred's tone became unusually doubtful.
"Sir, you should know... there's nothing there except farmland and windmills."
Given the extravagant nature of those supernatural beings in Hell, they wouldn't choose that place.
That's precisely why it's troublesome...
Based on Constantine's description, the commotion at the scene didn't seem to be caused by the devil.
"On the contrary... it's more like something from the starry sky above."
As he spoke, Bruce immediately brought up the avionics macro command interface and said into the communicator:
" Alf, grant us access to our on-orbit radar and satellites, centered on the impact point coordinates I just sent."
Please help me conduct a comprehensive survey of all agricultural land, residential buildings, and grain warehouses within a radius of 100 kilometers.
"Young master, may I ask... what are you looking for?"
"Find a possible barn."
Bruce's gaze fell on the screen, his eyes narrowing coldly in the shadow of his glasses:
"Screen all abnormal electromagnetic disturbances and reports of damage to farmers in the past two hours."
And... any unregistered overstayers.
"Understood. We have deployed three satellites, which will overlap and cover the entire Kansas in two minutes."
As he spoke, Alfred thoughtfully added in a low voice.
"Be careful, young master..."
Communication cut off.
Under Bruce's control, the fighter jet's radar slowly began to operate.
Soon, the green grid lines spread out inch by inch, covering the entire Kansas town that had been sleeping in the darkness.
The area, including barns, windmills, and endless wheat fields, was completely encompassed by a sophisticated surveillance network.
Sinestro's first sensation upon waking was excruciating pain.
It extends from the base of the cervical spine all the way to the base of the skull.
It was as if someone took a red-hot iron rod, inserted it straight into his spine, and then churned it wildly.
He instinctively reached out to touch it, but found that his wrist seemed to be tightly bound by something.
It was a rough piece of hemp rope, tied in a tight knot.
He tried to struggle, but the knot remained firmly in place.
Then he raised his head.
Following the dim light, he squinted his right eye, which was not yet fully accustomed to the light, and met John's eyes, which were full of mockery.
John was sitting on the wooden stairs leading to the first floor, holding a steaming white mug in his hand.
He changed into a clean outfit, a dark gray long T-shirt, and his blond hair was still a little damp, as if he had just taken a shower.
The dim yellow light bulb in the basement was still swaying above his head, casting a long shadow.
It hit Sinestro squarely.
At this moment, Sinestro seemed to sense something, and his right eye narrowed slightly again.
The Sling Ring on John's hand was glowing.
A pale blue halo swirled around, quiet and restrained, creating a very faint ripple on the surface.
Sinestro stared at the ring for a long time.
He looked down and found his middle finger was empty.
His expression froze, and he stared at it with some confusion.
John saw his Green Ring, enveloped in a pale blue halo, lying quietly in his left palm.
"Um... cough cough."
Sinestro attempted to reactivate it with the little willpower he had regained.
The ring trembled slightly, but was then firmly pressed down by the domineering blue light.
Don't bother, you red bedbug.
John took a sip of the hot milk in his glass.
"Your ring doesn't seem to listen to you very well..."
"Impossible."
Sinestro's voice was hoarse, and his eyes darkened.
His breastplate was mostly shattered, and there was hardly any intact protective material left on the front of his uniform.
It revealed dark red skin and a gruesome gash beneath.
" The Lantern Ring only recognizes will... My will cannot be blocked."
"Oh? Then try again..."
Sinestro ignored the sarcasm in John's words.
Instead, he focused all his attention and poured all his willpower into the ring.
This time, a glimmer of green light flashed slightly on the ring face, but it was immediately suppressed again by the pale blue light.
Not only that...
He gritted his teeth, large veins bulging from his forehead to his neck.
But no matter how hard he tried, his Green Ring remained firmly in John's hand, as if it were welded there.
John just sat on the stairs watching him, even gently placing the ring on the wooden board.
Then he stretched lazily.
It's useless.
Sinestro finally gave up.
He collapsed back onto the pile of sacks in a disheveled state, his chest heaving violently.
The excruciating pain in the back of his neck kept tugging at his nerves, making his breathing heavy and labored, like a bellows.
He then closed his eyes, drawing the overflowing will back into his body, and his breathing became steady.
He knew very well that since the other party hadn't killed him on the spot, they must want something from him.
The only thing he still has that's somewhat useful right now is the information in his head.
What do you want to ask me?
John then put down his cup, walked over to Sinestro, and crouched down to maintain a downward angle.
Two questions.