Under the combined psychic force of April and J'onn, the glove buckles into a crumpled ball of metal, and a massive burst of energy surges out of it and into the other side, leaving it empty.

Owen growls in a voice not his own. "Melenkurion abatha, duroc minas mill khabaal!"

The words mean nothing to Jack, but he grabs Owen's shirt collar and shakes him a bit. "Fight it!"