The three months Marcus spent perfecting his autonomous weapon systems hadn't been wasted time for anyone else either. While he'd been holed up in Wayne Manor's training room, building lotus constructs and blade arrays, the Justice League had been busy reshaping the world.
And they'd done a damn good job of it.
Marcus stood in the Watchtower—the League's official headquarters, built in low Earth orbit where they could monitor the entire planet—and watched through the observation window as Earth rotated slowly beneath them. From here, the planet looked peaceful, beautiful even. No visible signs of the chaos and danger that lurked in its shadows.
But Marcus had access to the League's crime statistics, and the numbers told a different story. A better story.
Global crime rates had dropped seventeen percent since the League's formation. Seventeen percent in three months. That was almost unheard of, the kind of statistical shift that usually took years or decades to achieve through conventional law enforcement.
But the Justice League wasn't conventional. They were everywhere, responding to threats across the globe with a coordination that would make most military organizations jealous. Bank robbery in Tokyo? The Flash could be there in minutes. Terrorist attack in London? Superman could arrive before the news helicopters. Metahuman rampage in São Paulo? Green Arrow, Black Canary, and Zatanna could handle it as a team.
And it wasn't just the original members anymore. The League had grown.
Ryan Choi—the Atom—had joined after his mentor Ray Palmer had gone missing during a research expedition into subatomic dimensions. The young physicist brought brilliant scientific insight and the ability to shrink to microscopic sizes, making him invaluable for both research and infiltration missions.
J'onn J'onzz—the Martian Manhunter—had finally come out of hiding after decades of observing humanity from the shadows. The last son of Mars brought telepathy, shapeshifting, and centuries of wisdom to the team. Plus, he could phase through solid matter and fly, which never hurt.
Dinah Lance—Black Canary—had been recruited by Oliver, bringing her devastating sonic scream and world-class martial arts to the League's roster. She and Oliver made a formidable team, their chemistry both in and out of combat obvious to anyone paying attention.
Zatanna Zatara had joined after helping Constantine deal with a demonic incursion in New Orleans. The stage magician turned actual sorceress added legitimate magical firepower to complement the League's more science-based powers.
Even John Constantine himself had been added to the roster, though he insisted his membership was "temporary and reluctant, and only because someone needs to keep you lot from accidentally summoning something that'll eat the planet."
The roster kept expanding as word spread—heroes who'd been working alone or in small regional teams were consolidating under the Justice League banner. Not everyone joined as full members, but they coordinated, shared intelligence, supported each other's missions.
It was exactly what Marcus had hoped would happen when he'd first created the Incinerator Rings. A network of heroes, united by common purpose and shared power, protecting Earth from threats both supernatural and mundane.
Through the Watchtower's observation deck, Marcus could see Victor and Ray Choi working in one of the research labs, their heads bent over what looked like Mother Box components spread across multiple workstations. Barry zipped past the window outside—apparently doing a perimeter check at supersonic speeds—while Arthur stood in the hydroponics bay, using his connection to marine life to help the Martian Manhunter cultivate some extremely rare Martian plant species.
The Mother Box had been the key to much of their rapid advancement. The one Marcus had stripped of intelligence during the Steppenwolf fight contained a treasure trove of Apokoliptian technology, and the heroes had been reverse-engineering it with impressive efficiency.
Bruce had been the most obsessive about it, naturally. The Mother Box had given him formulas for exotic materials—compounds and alloys that didn't exist naturally on Earth but could be synthesized with the right equipment and understanding of quantum mechanics.
Marcus had watched over Bruce's shoulder a few weeks ago as the man worked through the synthesis process for something he was calling "sound-absorbent steel." It was clearly inspired by the vibranium in the combat suit Marcus had given him years ago, but Bruce had adapted the concept using materials he could actually produce.
The result wasn't quite as effective as true vibranium—nothing was—but it was damn impressive for reverse-engineered alien tech filtered through human ingenuity. The new Bat-suit incorporated it into every piece of armor plating, making Bruce nearly silent when he moved and giving him dramatically improved impact resistance.
And that wasn't even Bruce's only project. Marcus knew the man had been collecting exotic metals for years.
Bruce was building something with all of it, some ultimate defensive material that combined the best properties of everything he'd gathered. Knowing Bruce, he wouldn't stop until he'd created something that could theoretically stand up to Superman's punches.
Good luck with that, but hey, ambition was part of what made Bruce effective.
Barry's upgrades had been more immediately visible. That lightning bolt symbol on his chest wasn't just decoration anymore—it was an energy accumulation device reverse-engineered from Mother Box schematics. The Speed Force lightning that normally just sparked off Barry's body as he ran now got channeled, focused, stored in that device.
Marcus had seen him test it during a training session. Barry could run at normal super-speed for as long as his stamina held, building up charge in the accumulator, and then release it all at once in a devastating lightning strike that hit like a meteor impact. The crater he'd left in the training ground's reinforced floor was ten feet wide and smoldering.
"I call it the Thunder Punch," Barry had said with his trademark enthusiasm. "Because it punches with thunder! Or lightning. Both? Physics is weird."
Oliver's improvements were more subtle but no less significant. His quiver had been upgraded with spatial compression technology—the same kind that made the Mother Box bigger on the inside than outside. Now he could carry literally thousands of arrows in a container the size of a regular quiver.
"I did the math," Oliver had explained while showing off the new gear. "At my maximum sustained fire rate—accounting for reload time and not using any speed-enhancement tech—I could shoot continuously for three days straight before running out of arrows."
"When would you possibly need to shoot for three days straight?" Victor had asked.
"I don't know, but when that situation comes up, I'll be ready," Oliver had replied with absolute seriousness.
The new bow was impressive too. Mother Box technology had let Oliver create a draw mechanism that required almost no physical strength to pull back—the energy was stored and amplified through quantum manipulation—but released arrows at velocities approaching mach 3. His arrows hit harder and faster than ever before, and his already legendary accuracy had become downright supernatural with the targeting assist the bow provided.
Every member of the League had found something in the Mother Box to enhance their capabilities. Aquaman had technology to improve his hydrokinetic abilities, letting him control larger volumes of water with greater precision. Cyborg had integrated new protocols that made him even more adaptable in combat. The Martian Manhunter had found research on telepathic amplification that pushed his already formidable mental abilities to new heights.
Even Constantine, magic-focused as he was, had discovered that Apokoliptian science had its own approach to what they called "meta-energy manipulation"—which was basically just magic by another name. He'd been incorporating some of their concepts into his spellwork, creating hybrid incantations that combined mystical tradition with quantum certainty.
The Mother Box that Marcus had given them, deliberately stripped of its native intelligence and potential to report back to Apokolips, had become the foundation for a new era of superhero capability. In three months, they'd made advances that would have taken years through conventional research and development.
And crime was dropping as a result. Villains who'd once operated with relative impunity now found themselves facing heroes who were faster, stronger, better equipped, and much more coordinated than before.
It was good work. Important work.
Which made it easier for Marcus to do what he'd come here to do.
He found Alfred in the Watchtower's residential section, supervising the installation of what looked suspiciously like a full English tea service in one of the common areas.
"Alfred," Marcus called out. "Can we talk?"
The elderly butler turned, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. He'd known Marcus long enough to recognize when something significant was coming.
"Of course, Master Marcus. Give me just a moment to ensure these gentlemen don't destroy the Earl Grey I specifically requisitioned from London."
Once the installation crew had been properly instructed—with the kind of precise, polite commands that somehow felt more authoritative than any shouted order—Alfred joined Marcus in one of the observation lounges. The room offered a spectacular view of Earth below, the planet's surface painted in swirls of blue ocean and white clouds.
"You're leaving," Alfred said without preamble. Not a question.
Marcus smiled slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
"You've been preparing for the past week. Finalizing your weapons systems, reviewing the League's operational protocols, having extended conversations with each member about their responsibilities and capabilities. You're doing what you always do before a long absence—making sure everything will continue functioning properly without you."
"You know me too well, Alfred."
"I had excellent practice with Master Bruce." Alfred settled into one of the observation chairs, his posture perfect despite the relaxed setting. "Though Bruce tends to give more warnings before his disappearing acts. Usually in the form of cryptic statements and brooding silences."
"I learned from the best," Marcus said, taking a seat across from him. Through the window behind Alfred, Marcus could see the terminator line crossing Africa, the division between day and night creeping across the continent as Earth continued its rotation.
"Where are you going?" Alfred asked. "Or should I not inquire?"
"I'm going to hunt the Lantern Corps." Marcus let that statement hang in the air for a moment, watching Alfred process it. "The emotional spectrum entities—fear, will, hope, rage, love, compassion, greed, death, life. They're scattered across the universe, and each one represents a fundamental force of existence. If I can find them, absorb their power..."
"Your armor will evolve," Alfred finished. "You mentioned something similar when you took the Anti-Life Equation."
"Exactly. The equation helped, enhanced my existing capabilities significantly, but it wasn't enough for true ascension. The Lantern Corps entities though—those are pure, concentrated emotional energy given form. They're exactly what I need."
Alfred was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. "These entities sound dangerous."
"They are. Extremely. The fear entity alone—Parallax—has possessed multiple Green Lanterns over the years, turned them into world-destroying threats. The rage entity, the Red Lantern, basically makes its hosts into barely controllable engines of destruction. Even the hope entity can be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands."
"And you intend to absorb all of them."
"That's the plan."
"I see." Alfred's expression was hard to read. "When will you return?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Marcus had no idea how long this would take. The Lantern Corps were spread across the universe, their entities hidden or protected in various ways. Finding them all could take months, maybe years depending on how well they'd been concealed.
"I don't know," Marcus admitted. "Could be six months. Could be longer. But I'm leaving something for emergencies."
He produced a black suitcase from a void portal, setting it on the table between them. The case was heavy—Alfred would struggle to lift it despite the strength the Incinerator Ring's heavenly power had granted him over the years—but unassuming in appearance.
"Inside this case are twelve devices," Marcus explained. "Each one is keyed to a specific threat level. If something happens that the Justice League genuinely can't handle—and I mean truly can't, not just 'it's difficult'—they can activate the appropriate device."
"What do the devices do?"
"Mostly? They summon specific Warframes to fight autonomously on the League's behalf. Think of them as emergency reinforcements. But the twelfth device, the black one at the center, does something different."
Marcus opened the case, revealing the contents. Eleven crystalline devices arranged in a circle around a central black cube that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"The black cube will contact me directly, regardless of where I am in the universe. It'll create a beacon that I can track, and I'll drop everything to return." Marcus met Alfred's eyes seriously. "That one is for genuine world-ending scenarios only. The kind where Earth itself might be destroyed if I don't intervene."
"How will we know when we've reached that threshold?" Alfred asked practically.
"If you have to ask, it's probably not time yet," Marcus said with a slight smile. "But realistically? If Darkseid himself shows up looking for his missing equation, that qualifies. If some cosmic entity decides to eat the planet, that qualifies. If somehow all of you are down and there's no other option, that qualifies."
Alfred nodded slowly, processing the weight of that responsibility. "Master Bruce and the others... they won't want to use this. They'll see it as admitting failure."
"I know. That's why I'm giving it to you, not Bruce. You'll know when it's actually necessary versus when Bruce is just being stubborn about handling things himself." Marcus closed the case, pushing it across to Alfred. "This is insurance, Alfred. Protection for the worst-case scenario. I don't expect them to need it, but I'd rather have it available than not."
"You have that little faith in our capabilities?" Alfred asked, but there was no accusation in his tone. Just curiosity.
"On the contrary—I have tremendous faith in all of you. But I also know the universe is vast and full of terrible things. The Justice League is strong, maybe the strongest force on Earth right now, but there are beings out there that could crush this planet on a whim if they decided it was worth the effort." Marcus leaned back in his chair. "I'd rather you have an emergency exit that you never use than need one and not have it."
"Sound reasoning." Alfred placed one hand on the case, his touch almost reverent. "I'll keep this safe. And I'll only authorize its use when absolutely necessary."
"That's all I ask."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching Earth slowly turn beneath them. Marcus could see storm systems over the Pacific, the glittering lights of cities on the night side, the vast emptiness of the oceans reflecting starlight.
"Bruce still hasn't proposed to Selina, has he?" Marcus asked eventually, breaking the silence.
Alfred's expression turned pained. "No. Though I've dropped hints so obvious that a concussed sloth could interpret them. Master Bruce remains stubbornly oblivious to what everyone else can see plainly."
"Want me to say something before I leave?"
"Would it help?"
Marcus considered that. "Probably not immediately. But it might plant a seed, get him thinking about it. Bruce is brilliant at solving mysteries and detecting patterns—maybe if I frame it as a puzzle he needs to solve, his brain will work on it in the background."
"At this point, I'm willing to try anything short of literally locking them in a room together until they work it out." Alfred sighed. "Though that option remains on the table if your approach fails."
Marcus laughed. "Fair enough. I'll have a word with both of them before I go. Can't promise it'll work, but at least I can nudge them in the right direction."
"I appreciate the effort, Master Marcus. Truly." Alfred stood, picking up the black case with visible effort. "I should return this to Wayne Manor's vault. The Watchtower is secure, but something this important deserves the strongest protections available."
"Agreed. And Alfred?" Marcus stood as well. "Thank you. For everything. For taking care of Bruce, for supporting the League, for being the steady presence that keeps all of this grounded in humanity rather than letting it become purely about powers and threats."
Alfred's expression softened slightly. "We each do what we can, Master Marcus. You save worlds. I make tea and occasionally remind heroes that they're still human beneath the costumes. Both are necessary, I think."
"More than you know."
They shook hands, and Alfred departed with the black case held carefully. Marcus watched him go, feeling the weight of approaching departure settling over him like a familiar cloak.
He'd make his rounds, say his goodbyes—or at least his "see you laters"—and then...
Then he'd hunt.
Marcus spent the next two days tying up loose ends and having conversations that needed to happen before he left.
He cornered Bruce in the Batcave and had a pointed discussion about work-life balance, the importance of legacy, and whether Bruce had considered what happens to his mission when he's gone.
"You're building something bigger than yourself," Marcus had said. "But legacies need continuity. They need someone to carry them forward. Think about it."
Bruce had responded with his usual stoic analysis and deflection, but Marcus could see the gears turning. Good enough.
He'd caught Selina doing perimeter checks—she'd become one of the League's stealth specialists, scouting and reconnaissance being her forte—and had a similar conversation from a different angle.
"You've spent your whole life taking what you want," Marcus had told her. "Maybe it's time to take what you need. Just a thought."
Selina had given him that calculating cat smile, the one that said she knew exactly what he was suggesting and was choosing to be enigmatic about it. Also good enough.
With everyone else, the conversations were simpler. Encouragement to Barry to keep being the team's heart. A reminder to Clark that being powerful didn't mean he had to carry everything alone. Advice to Arthur about balancing his surface responsibilities with his underwater kingdom. Support for Victor as he continued defining who he was beyond his mechanical components.
Each conversation was tailored, personal, meaningful. Marcus wanted to leave knowing he'd done everything possible to set them up for success in his absence.
And then, on the third day after his talk with Alfred, something unexpected fell from the sky.
Marcus was walking out of Wayne Manor—he'd returned to Earth's surface for one last visit, one last walk through the gardens and halls that held so many memories—when a streak of yellow light caught his attention.
It came down fast, a meteor of golden energy that blazed across the afternoon sky. Most people wouldn't have noticed it, would have dismissed it as a plane or satellite catching the sun at the right angle. But Marcus felt the energy signature immediately.
Fear.
Pure, concentrated fear given physical form and purpose. An emotional spectrum signature unlike anything currently present on Earth.
The yellow light crashed into the garden about fifty yards from Marcus's position, cratering the perfectly manicured lawn and sending up a plume of dirt and grass. Alfred was going to be annoyed about that.
Marcus approached the impact site calmly, already knowing what he'd find.
A Yellow Lantern power battery.
The device was about the size of a football, crafted from what looked like brass or gold but with that distinctive yellow glow emanating from its core. A ring rested on top of it, the band marked with the symbol of the Yellow Lantern Corps—a triangle with curved sides, like a stylized warning sign.
This was the power source for fear-based lanterns, the tool they used to recharge their rings and channel the emotional spectrum's yellow light. And it had just fallen into Marcus's lap like a gift from the universe itself.
"Well," Marcus said, reaching down to pick up the battery. The moment his fingers touched it, he felt the fear energy trying to seep into him, trying to find purchase in his psyche and exploit whatever anxieties or terrors lurked in his subconscious. "That's convenient timing. Almost suspicious, really."
The battery's influence rolled off him like water off oiled leather. The void's emptiness left nothing for fear to grab onto, no insecurities to exploit, no dark corners where terror could take root. He was, in a very real sense, immune to the Yellow Lantern's primary weapon.
Marcus lifted the battery, studying it with the enhanced perception his Warframe abilities granted. The craftsmanship was exquisite—whoever had made this understood the emotional spectrum on a fundamental level. The way it channeled and concentrated fear, the efficiency of its energy conversion, the stability of its quantum structure...
This was a tool made by someone who'd mastered their craft.
"A Yellow Lantern battery appearing on Earth right when I'm about to hunt Lantern entities," Marcus mused aloud. "That's either the universe's most amazing coincidence, or someone sent this deliberately. Question is, who and why?"
He had theories. The Guardians of the Universe might have sent it as a test. Sinestro himself could be trying to recruit a powerful candidate for his Fear Corps. Hell, the battery might be a deliberate lure from Parallax itself, the fear entity testing potential hosts.
Regardless of the reason, Marcus wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Sorry, Alfred," Marcus called toward the manor, knowing the butler would be watching through security cameras. "About the lawn. Emergency came up. I'm leaving now."
Without waiting for a response—Alfred would understand, he always did—Marcus activated his void-step ability. Reality rippled around him as he phased partially out of the physical dimension, and then he launched skyward.
The Yellow Lantern battery came with him, clutched in one hand as Marcus accelerated toward escape velocity. He could have used a Warframe for this, activated one of his armor forms that had built-in flight capabilities, but that felt unnecessarily complicated.
Besides, he wanted to experiment with the battery's capabilities directly, without any filters or intermediaries.
Earth fell away beneath him as Marcus punched through the atmosphere, the blue sky darkening to black as he entered the void of space. The sun blazed to his left, Earth hung like a jewel below, and the vast emptiness of the cosmos stretched out in every direction.
Perfect. No collateral damage possible out here.
Marcus stopped about halfway between Earth and the Moon, positioning himself in empty space where there was nothing for lightyears in any direction. Then he turned his full attention to the Yellow Lantern battery.
"Let's see what you can do," he said, and activated the device.
Yellow light exploded outward, flooding the space around Marcus with fear energy so concentrated it became almost visible—a yellowish-brown miasma that would have sent any normal person into gibbering panic. The battery thrummed with power in his hands, energy cycling through its internal structures in patterns that resembled both quantum mechanics and complex emotional algorithms.
The ring on top of the battery lifted off, floating toward Marcus's hand. It was offering itself to him, seeking a host who could channel its power.
Marcus let it slip onto his finger.
Immediately, he felt the connection establish. The ring interfaced with his consciousness, scanning his psyche for fears to exploit and enhance. It wanted to know what terrified him, what made his pulse quicken and his hands shake. It wanted to weaponize those fears, turn them into fuel for the yellow light.
It found nothing.
The Black Marcus carried inside himself was too empty for traditional fear. He understood danger, recognized threats, operated with appropriate caution when warranted. But primal, paralyzing fear? That emotion had been burned out of him through countless battles across multiple dimensions.
The ring, confused by its inability to find the usual emotional fuel, fell back on its secondary protocol—it would channel and manifest fear externally rather than drawing it from the wielder's psyche.
Fascinating, Marcus thought as he felt the ring's power flow through him. It's adapting to me rather than trying to force me to adapt to it.
He raised his hand, and yellow light responded instantly. The energy shaped itself according to his will, flowing out from the ring in streams of golden-brown power.
Marcus decided to test the battery's maximum output, to see exactly what the yellow light was capable of when channeled through someone with his level of control and power.
"Construct," he commanded, and poured energy into the manifestation.
What emerged wasn't some simple weapon or shield. The yellow light coalesced into a massive sphere, easily the size of a small moon, its surface roiling with fear energy. It looked like a dying sun, all sickly yellows and pustulant browns, radiating an aura that would have terrified any sentient being that approached it.
Inside that sphere, Marcus could feel the fear condensing, becoming more concentrated, taking on properties that approached physical matter. The emotional spectrum was unique in that regard—emotions, when focused through the Lantern Corps technology, became real in ways that defied conventional physics.
"Interesting," Marcus murmured, studying the fear-sun he'd created. "The construct has gravitational presence. It's actually attracting nearby debris."
Indeed, several asteroids that had been drifting through local space were beginning to drift toward the fear construct, pulled by its pseudo-mass. Not strong enough to be immediately dangerous, but definitely measurable.
"So the yellow light can create not just illusions or energy manifestations, but actual physical effects," Marcus continued analyzing. "The fear becomes real enough to interact with reality on a fundamental level. That has applications."
He dismissed the fear-sun construct and focused on something more practical—combat applications.
The yellow light flowed around him, responding to his intentions faster than conscious thought. It shaped itself into an enhanced version of one of his Warframe configurations, creating an overlay of fear energy that amplified and modified his existing abilities.
"Galatine Prime," Marcus said, naming the Warframe sword that was among his most powerful melee weapons. "Holy Galatine, Fear Yellow Light Version."
The massive blade materialized in his hands, but this wasn't his normal Galatine Prime. This was the weapon filtered through the lens of fear, its usual holy radiance replaced with that sickly yellow-brown glow. The blade was just as sharp, just as devastating, but now it carried an additional effect—anything struck by this weapon would feel terror overwhelming their consciousness, making them easier to defeat psychologically even as the physical damage destroyed them.
"Much stronger than the base version," Marcus noted, swinging the fear-enhanced blade experimentally. The weapon cut through space itself, leaving temporary tears in reality that bled yellow light. "Not quite as powerful as the true Galatine Prime, but definitely a solid upgrade over the standard version. Could be useful in situations where I need more firepower but don't want to go full-power."
He transformed the blade into a landing craft—one of Galatine Prime's alternate forms—and flew lazy circles around Earth's orbital space. The craft handled beautifully, its fear-based construction responding to his piloting with almost precognitive accuracy.
"The yellow light adapts," Marcus concluded after several more tests. "It takes whatever form I need, channels itself according to my will, amplifies my existing capabilities. And unlike most Lantern Corps members, I'm not limited by willpower or emotional state. The void gives me perfect control."
He could work with this.
Marcus dismissed the landing craft and focused on the battery itself, studying its internal structure with enhanced perception. Every Lantern Corps had a central power battery, a massive reservoir of emotional energy that fed all the individual batteries like this one. They also had something else—a Lantern Entity, a living embodiment of the emotion that powered their Corps.
For the Yellow Lanterns, that entity was Parallax, the fear entity. A massive insectoid creature composed entirely of concentrated fear, ancient and powerful beyond normal comprehension. It had possessed multiple Green Lanterns throughout history, twisted them into monsters that ravaged entire sectors of space.
And Marcus was going to hunt it down and absorb it.
"The question is how to find it," Marcus said aloud, his voice carrying through the vacuum thanks to the void's reality-bending properties. "The entities don't exactly advertise their locations. They hide, or they bond with hosts, or they lurk in deep space where no one can find them."
He considered the problem methodically. The Lantern entities were drawn to their corresponding emotional energy—they fed on it, sought out sources of concentrated emotion to sustain themselves. That's why they bonded with Lantern Corps members; the rings created concentrated streams of the relevant emotion that entities found irresistible.
So if Marcus wanted to attract Parallax...
"I need to create the biggest fear beacon in the universe," Marcus concluded with a grin. "Flood the local space with so much fear energy that Parallax can't resist investigating."
It was a bold plan. Maybe a stupid plan. Definitely a dangerous plan. But Marcus didn't get this far by playing things safe.
He pulled on the Yellow Lantern battery's power, channeling far more energy than any normal ring-bearer could handle. The battery responded eagerly, its reserves seemingly bottomless as Marcus drew deeper and deeper into its core.
But that wasn't enough. The battery's energy, while significant, was still just one source. Marcus needed more.
He opened himself to the void, let its emptiness flow through him and into the yellow light, and did something that probably shouldn't have been possible—he used the void's transformative properties to amplify the fear energy.
The yellow light began to pulse in his hands, growing brighter, more intense, more powerful. The void normally purified and neutralized emotions, but Marcus was doing something different. He was using the void as a lens, focusing the fear energy and magnifying it exponentially.
The result was spectacular.
Yellow light exploded outward from Marcus's position, a wave of fear energy so intense it was visible even to normal eyes. It spread through the vacuum like a shock wave, expanding in all directions at speeds approaching light itself.
Marcus poured more energy into it, not caring about efficiency or conservation. He wanted maximum output, maximum range, maximum intensity. He wanted every fear-sensitive entity in the local galactic cluster to feel this.
The fear wave continued expanding, washing over asteroids and space debris, causing quantum fluctuations in the background radiation, leaving a trail of yellow light in its wake that would take hours to fade.
Inside Earth's Watchtower, alarms began blaring as sensors detected the massive energy spike. Heroes rushed to the observation deck, staring in shock at the golden-brown light show that had suddenly erupted in near-Earth space.
"What the hell is that?" Barry asked, his speedster senses overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the phenomenon.
"It's Marcus," Bruce said, his cowl's sensors analyzing the energy signature. "He's doing something with emotional spectrum energy. Fear, specifically."
"Why?" Clark asked, concerned but not alarmed. If Marcus was involved, there was probably a good reason.
"I have no idea," Bruce admitted. "But given that he told Alfred he was leaving to hunt Lantern entities, I'd guess this is related to that mission."
In deep space, trillions of miles from Earth, something ancient and terrible felt the fear wave wash over it. Parallax, the fear entity, the living embodiment of terror itself, raised its massive insectoid head and tasted the energy.
This wasn't natural fear. This wasn't the scattered, diffuse terror that normally permeated the universe. This was concentrated, powerful, intoxicating. More fear energy than Parallax had felt in centuries, all flowing from a single point in space.
And that energy was still growing.
Parallax spread its wings—if they could be called wings, those vast membranes of living fear that stretched across light-years—and turned toward the source. Whatever was generating this much fear energy was either the most powerful Lantern in existence or something entirely new.
Either way, Parallax wanted it.
The fear entity began to move, flowing through space as both matter and energy, following the golden beacon back to its source. Other entities would feel this too, would investigate the disturbance, but Parallax was closest. Parallax would arrive first.
And when it did...
Marcus felt something shift in the universe's underlying structure, a ripple in the emotional spectrum that indicated his plan was working. Something big was coming, drawn by the fear beacon like a moth to flame.