91 The Rules of the Game #91

"So, it's not just Ras al Ghul and Grodd throwing a party, but even Sinestro and his minions crashing in," I mused, squinting at the shimmering yellow force field trapping me. "Talk about gate-crashers..."

The barrier crackled with energy, pulsating with an ominous glow that seemed to mock my attempts to break free. It wasn't just any force field—it was infused with a strange power, one that seemed intent on severing my connection to space.

With an exasperated sigh, I reached out to give the barrier a taste of my spatial power. But surprise, surprise—it didn't budge. Instead, I felt a subtle pushback, like the universe itself saying, "Nuh-uh, not today."

Since when did Sinestro and his gang start playing with the laws of space? Last I checked, they were more about flashy constructs and evil monologues than messing with the fundamental fabric of reality. This had to be the work of someone with serious ring-tinkering skills.

And then it clicked. Sinestro's sudden bravado, his whole "I'll crush Hal Jordan" spiel—it wasn't just hot air. Somebody had juiced up his ring, probably promised to soup it up even more once he took care of me.

Typical. Always someone trying to one-up the cosmic party crasher. But hey, what's a little challenge without a few surprises thrown in?

As I mulled over the possible culprits behind this whole rigamarole, my mind raced through a list of cosmic troublemakers. The Guardians of the freakin' Universe? Nah, I hadn't done anything to earn their ire, and they're more into the whole green energy thing anyway. 

Plus, if they wanted to take me down a peg, they'd send their shiny Green Lantern squad, not beef up Sinestro.

Then there were the Controllers, those other control-freak aliens obsessed with the emotional spectrum. But nah, they're too busy playing with their own little lantern clubs to bother with me.

Could it be the New Gods and their drama-filled antics over on Apokolips? Unlikely. They're too busy trying to out-god each other to care about some dude stirring up trouble on Earth.

I honestly couldn't even begin to guess who the hell wanted me dead so badly. 'Calm down and think what you did recently to earn such special treatment...' I mused, ignoring the threats and mockery directed at me by Sinistro's goons. 

But then it hit me like a yellow light construct to the face: this wasn't about what I'd done—it was about what I hadn't done yet, or maybe about something that I have. That sneaky son of a Mother Box, always one step ahead, looking down on people from his throne, pretending to know it all. 

It was like a cosmic game of cat and mouse, and I was the mouse trying to outsmart the whole dang universe. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense—this whole shindig wasn't just about taking me out, it was about making me reveal my hand, one pesky wave after another. Like some cheap JRPG where the bad guys keep leveling up.

Whoever was pulling the strings knew me better than I knew myself. They weren't just messing with my shadow, light, and space powers—they were playing me like a fiddle, tapping into the stuff I kept hidden even from everyone. 

And they had a serious grudge, either over something I had now or something I was gonna have in the future. Or maybe it was something I'd do in the future? Time travel makes my head hurt.

Only two cosmic big shots fit the bill, and neither was the type you wanna mess with on a bad day. There's the Presence, you know, the big G-O-D of the DC universe, who could zap me out of existence with a thought. 

And then there's the other guy, extremely as powerful and almost all-knowing, but far from the Presence's level. Let's just say, neither of them would invite you over for a friendly game of poker.

Well, maybe the Presence would, but definitely not the other guy. Now that I knew who I was dealing with, taking care of him was as easy as luring him out. Otherwise, I'd never have the chance to settle the score; being able to travel through space and time made him rather difficult to find, after alll. 

With a plan forming in my mind, I glanced around at Sinistro and his lackeys, who were puffing out their chests like they'd already won the cosmic lottery. 

Talk about overconfidence. I couldn't help but chuckle at their arrogance. "You idiots are in for a surprise," I muttered, my hand diving into the shadows and retrieving a syringe filled with a clear, weightless liquid.

Without a second thought, I plunged the needle into my neck, and just like that, I became as transparent as a ghost, my body weightless as air. With a smirk aimed at Sinistro, I sauntered right through the energy barrier his minions had thrown up, leaving them gaping in shock.

Now, you're probably wondering what the heck that liquid was. In simple terms, it's like a high-tech version of an invisibility potion, making me intangible and impervious to harm for a short while. It's the kind of thing you buy from the cosmic equivalent of a convenience store, handy for getting out of tight spots.

Sure, I could've just bought the power to turn invisible, but where's the fun in that? I like to keep things interesting, keep myself on my toes. Besides, being too powerful is just plain boring. Gotta leave some room for a challenge, right?

This whole second chance at life felt like one big game to me. But who wants to play a game that's too easy? So I set my own rules, made things interesting. But enough about that. Sinistro and his gang quickly recovered from their shock and started conjuring up energy constructs with their rings, gearing up for an attack.

I raised a hand, palm forward. "Alright, kiddos, playtime's over," I said, and just like that, their energy constructs vanished into thin air, along with their fancy lantern getups.

"What... what just happened?" one of Sinistro's lackeys, a purple gecko-looking alien, stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief.

I grinned, holding out my hand to reveal their power rings hovering above my palm. "If I can teleport myself and others, why not your rings?" I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "You know what they say: know yourself and your enemy, and you'll never lose a fight. Or something like that," I added, waggling my fingers at them like they were a bunch of clueless rookies.

"I'd suggest brushing up on 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu for you dimwits, but..." I paused, cracking the space around the power rings in my hand, watching them vanish into thin air. "Well, I never bothered with it myself, and it's not like you'll have the chance now," I added with a smirk, golden needles of light swirling around me.

With a swiftness almost rivaling the speed of light, the needles zipped toward Sinistro and his lackeys, puncturing their foreheads and leaving them sprawled on the ground, their faces frozen in terror. Did they regret their choices? Were they scared witless? Honestly, I couldn't care less.

"Anyone else?" I called out, scanning the ravaged base around me, bodies scattered like confetti, some playing dead, others truly lifeless.

Silence answered, broken only by the crunch of footsteps on snow. I turned, a grin spreading across my face at the sight of a familiar figure emerging from the main building of the base, eyes blazing with fury.

I turned toward the source of the footsteps and couldn't suppress the grin that crept onto my face. There he was, Ras Al Ghul, stepping out from the main building of the base, his eyes ablaze with unmistakable hatred. 

Clad in ancient green robes, complete with a cape boasting one of those ostentatious collars that screamed 'villain,' he sported a black and white goatee that seemed to complement his sinister aura perfectly. Once a feared immortal and mastermind capable of toppling entire cities, he was now nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game.

His once formidable organization, the League of Assassins, now lay in ruins, its members scattered or six feet under. And Ras himself? Well, his days were surely numbered. But even in the face of impending doom, he stared back at me with defiance, his gaze unwavering, devoid of any hint of fear or remorse.

As I took in his defiant stance, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: had he willingly participated in this charade, or was he coerced into it? I never really considered it before, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered.