Joseph scanned the sky, searching for the source of the attack—only for another beam of energy to streak toward him.
He barely had time to brace himself.
Ever since the Psions had experimented on him, he had been able to store energy, like a living battery. But actually controlling that energy? That was another story. It always felt just beyond his reach, like grasping at smoke.
The beam struck.
Joseph clenched his jaw as searing pain tore through him, forcing his eyes shut against the blinding light. His suit—a self-repairing purple weave—struggled to keep up with the damage. But even as the heat blistered his skin, he pushed forward, absorbing whatever scraps of energy his body could take in.
When the beam finally ceased, Joseph forced his eyes open.
A figure stood atop a tall apartment building—a man clad in a dark yellow-green suit with no distinguishing insignia. A set of vertically aligned tubes ran across his midriff, their purpose unclear. A dark green helmet obscured most of his face, but what little skin was visible looked sickly gray and dehydrated.
Joseph shot toward him, closing the distance—only for a jagged bolt of lightning to slam into him.
Something was wrong.
His body, enhanced by Psion experiments, should have been able to absorb regular lightning with minimal damage. But this? He felt every agonizing volt.
Electricity crackled through his nerves, seizing his muscles. His vision blurred. His flight destabilized. Joseph tumbled through the air, barely managing to regain control before another energy beam struck him.
He spiraled, nearly crashing into a nearby building before stopping himself mid-air.
And then—he saw him.
Floating in the sky was a man with light blue skin, crimson eyes with black sclera, and jet-black hair twisted into devilish horns. A pointed black beard sharpened his face. His clothes were pure crimson, accented by a flowing black cape trimmed with gold.
Wotan.
A sorcerer who once fought the Justice League in their early days.
Joseph's stomach twisted. What the hell was he doing here? And why was he working with the other guy?
Before he could react, orange magical energy flared around him, forming a mystic cage.
Joseph slammed his fists against the barrier. No use. It held.
He turned to Wotan, rage burning behind his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
"You are Flux, yes?" Wotan said, his voice as smooth as it was menacing. "We have been commissioned to kill you. I was granted quite a powerful magical artifact to do so. Intergang and Leviathan send their regards."
Joseph's pulse spiked.
Before he could process it, Wotan moved the cage toward the apartment building. The other man adjusted his energy weapon, increasing its output. The cage cracked open just enough—
And the energy beam aimed at Joseph's upper body, tore into him.
"AAAHHHH!"
The blast shredded through him, searing his nerves, his muscles—his very being. The force of it slammed him against the back of the cage, his suit struggling and failing to repair itself.
Wotan watched impassively. "You are difficult to kill," he mused. "But I must be thorough before the Justice League arrives. Bear with me a little longer."
Then he raised his hands—and sent a bolt of magical lightning crashing into Joseph's body.
Pure agony.
It was worse than exiting the Speed State. Worse than anything he had ever felt. His nerves felt like they were being burned alive. His mind flickered in and out of consciousness, pain dragging him back every time.
Somewhere, in the void of his agony, he thought he saw his mother.
Why?
Why him?
Why couldn't fate just let him be?
Then, through the blinding pain, a thought took shape. A familiar vow.
'If you want to kill me... then come and try.'
Joseph clenched his jaw, ignoring the taste of blood as he bit down too hard. He forced his mind past the pain—past his breaking point.
Then he did something he had never done before.
He took.
He reached into the energy that was killing him, clawing at it with sheer willpower. He wasn't just passively storing it like before—he was absorbing it. Actively.
More.
The raw power poured into him, magic lightning and energy beam alike, sinking into his cells. His body, once capped by whatever limits the Psions had left him with, began to change.
More.
Wotan hesitated. His expression flickered with something almost like concern.
More.
Joseph's suit, the one that had been with him through the Arena, through the Gordanians—it continued disintegrating, only able to regenerate enough to keep his pants. His golden helmet turned to dust.
More.
The limits that once made him an unsatisfactory experiment of the Psions shattered.
His power doubled. Then tripled.
For a moment, the sheer force of it threatened to consume him, to erase his very identity. It was the same terrifying feeling he had when he first tried accessing the Speed Force on his own—when he had needed Nova to help access and control it.
But this time?
This time, he would not be denied.
This time, this power was his.
Joseph's eyes snapped open—blazing with yellow raw, untamed energy that surrounded his body.
He was worthy.