Metropolis
“You are a Kryptonian,” Clark said to the person hidden inside the armor. None of the androids displayed his or Supergirl’s abilities except for Amazo.
She nodded. “Maybe we should talk somewhere more private?”
“Come on,” Superman said. He took off, leading his cousin and the mysterious Kryptonian away.
—
The Watchtower
“Who are you exactly?” Supergirl asked as they entered the javelin bay, not even touching the floor yet.
Her helmet retreated to her neck, revealing a blue-eyed blonde. “Kara Zor-L, cousin to Kal-L.”
Clark took a step back. “Me?” he asked, tilting his head. Did he have an actual cousin?
“A version of you,” she revealed, sitting on one of the javelins.
He closed his eyes. “You are his contact from another dimension.”
“Yes.”
“You are me?” Supergirl asked, taking a step closer. The resemblance was there.
She tilted left and right. “Yes and no. Back home, we are related by blood. In here, it seems to be by virtue of being the last of our kind without the whole megalomania,” she said, waving her hand at both of them.
“Why didn’t you reveal yourself before?” he asked. Even if she were from another dimension, he wouldn’t say no to more Kryptonian family members.
Her shoulders sagged. She put her head between her palms, looking at the floor, counting the lines. “I lost my home, my family, and my friends, all in an instant, for the second time. I didn’t even want to exist anymore. Meeting you, a version of my cousin that I didn’t know at all, was difficult.”
Clark felt a dull, hollow pain in his heart. He didn’t remember Krypton, not the way Kara remembered Argon. The loss of his birth home saddened him, but it was nothing close to what Kara had felt.
Her situation was even worse. He couldn’t imagine losing his home once, much less twice.
“How did you meet Miles?” he asked, steering the conversation away from the depressing topic. Kara, the one he had chosen as his family, turned to gaze at the stars, hiding the tears threatening to fall.
“I was working as a server. He came to the restaurant and slipped me a note with his number. I thought he was hitting on me; it turns out he somehow knew I was a Kryptonian and wanted to meet.”
"Yeah." He hung his head. “He knows a lot.”
“What do we do now?” she asked. She wasn’t in any mood to work, and after Doomsday, she couldn’t expect anyone else to work.
“Talk more over coffee?” he offered. There was always hot coffee in the Watchtower.
“Sure, why not.”
—
Metropolis
Beckett Residence
Doomsday was sent to the Phantom Zone, and he felt great about it. No matter the continuity, he was always a danger. As long as he was kept in there, that was one crisis averted.
The League members, except the Kryptonians, had assisted with the cleanup. Everything had been wrapped up before the sunset. Karen had spoken with Clark and Kara, revealing her origins. She also somehow had been persuaded to join them at the Kent Farm for a couple of days to relax.
He had more pressing issues to deal with.
Zalika kept a tab on Waller’s movements as part of her job. Incensed by the raid and the loss of the Kryptonian DNA samples, she had increased security on all of Cadmus’ bases. She had gone a step further by deciding to have the Royal Flush Gang relocated to Alaska.
He was going to hijack the plane and free them.
—
Las Vegas
Fargone Transport Center
Waller had kept the operation top secret. Until the last second, the identities of the operatives tasked with the mission wouldn’t be known to anyone but Waller. There would be two pilots for the C-130 and eight guards in total. The test subjects would be fitted with power dampeners and hidden shock collars.
One wrong move and they were cooked.
“Claire, you and I are going to assume the identities of the pilots,” he said, projecting two pictures on the table. Captain Neumann and his outfit were there, having handled the groundwork.
Baraka looked at the names. “How are you going to make sure Waller chooses them?”
If the remaining six suddenly faced accidents at the same time, it would be extremely suspicious.
Six more images with names appeared, standing below Gold and Firman. “The base has eight pilots assigned to the cargo planes. They are usually rotated, but for this instance, all eight are on the base. What we are going to do is to give Walker a little mental suggestion.”
“Is that why I am here?” Manchester asked in his cockney accent, taking a step forward. His boss always had the best missions in mind.
“Yes,” he said, projecting a two-story house on the holographic screen. “This is Amanda Waller’s address. You’ll infiltrate her place with Claire and ensure she chooses these names.”
“Major Jason Gold and Captain Mary Firman,” Manchester repeated.
“Once airborne, we’ll flood the plane with a slow-acting anesthetic gas. Since we can’t teleport or use Raven’s portals, we are going to be jumping out of the plane over Oregon. We’ll have extra suits on hand for the prisoners.”
“The plane will be on autopilot and reach its destination without anyone the wiser.”
He looked around for questions or suggestions, but none came.
“Let’s do this.”
—
Washington, D.C.
“How do we do this, red?” Manchester asked. He was used to following Miles, not his right arm. Still, she was good too.
“Just follow me and be quiet, grapehead. The armor will handle everything.”
The high-security penthouse didn’t have windows. There was only the front door to enter. She held her hand to the keyhole, letting the advanced nanobots do their job. The security system was one big network. Everything was connected to each other to detect and react to the slightest hint of intrusion.
Unfortunately for Waller, it also gave the nanobots easy access.
The cameras went into a loop while the alarms and sensors were offline. The logs were manipulated to show everything was working.
She walked inside, making a "follow me" motion with the back of her hand. Waller was in her room on the second floor, asleep. One more usage of the nanobots granted them access.
“All yours,” she said. She imagined for a second what it would be like to wake her up. To make sure the last thing Amanda Waller saw was her flames. She held the dark urge in. She wouldn’t fail because she couldn’t control her emotions.
Manchester chuckled inside the armor, holding his hand out.
—
Las Vegas
Nellis Air Force Base
On the surface, Major Jason Gold and Captain Mary Firman were airmen working for Nellis Air Force Base. Below it, they were two of the eight personnel working to transport highly sensitive cargo for Camdus.
Right now, they were commuting to work.
Claire and Manchester had already handled their part four hours ago and were off to rest.
—
Work ahead had slowed the traffic. Jason was stuck in his car like the hundreds around him. As he waited, a flagman appeared, directing the flow of cars away from the main road. He followed, steering the car to the right.
He stopped, eyes darting around. His was the only car directed. Unless everyone else in the lane had decided to ignore the signs, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a prickling sensation on his neck. His hand snapped up, ripping the offending object out.
His sight blurred as he looked at the metallic bug. “Fuck,” he muttered, feeling sleep take him.
A truck reversed towards him, and Jason’s vehicle was gone within seconds.
—
Mary glared at the traffic.
Today seemed to be worse than usual. There were a lot of trucks too, all surrounding her. At least they cut some of the sunlight off. With the AC on at full blast, the heat was tolerable.
“Ouch,” she hissed, slapping her neck. Whatever had bitten her had hurt. She felt another sting on the other side, and the world went dark.
The doors of the truck in front of her opened, and the one behind rear-ended the car, pushing it inside. Suddenly, the traffic was wide open.
—
Fargone Transport Center
Five trucks entered the shell company’s logistics center. The men inside quickly brought the cars out, dragging the airmen off their vehicles. Miles and Claire scanned their targets, letting the armors do the rest.
They took the cars and the military ID cards, driving without a word.
—
Nellis Air Force Base
Sub Levels
With their ID cards flashed and scanned and the replicated biometrics matching the ones in the systems, Miles and Claire entered the base without an issue.
“Gold, Firman, where the hell have you been?” a grizzly colonel asked, his face stuck in a permanent scowl.
"Roadwork, sir. The traffic has been hell,” he said, adopting Jason Gold’s manner of speech and saluting the colonel.
“Come with me,” he ordered, walking forward with hurried steps. The two fell in line, already knowing their location.
A brigadier general was in the hangar, waiting with eight security personnel. “General Manning, they are here.”
“Good. You two have been selected by Director Waller to be the pilots for this mission. The cargo’s already loaded, and the checkups are done. Godspeed,” the general said, walking away after salutes were exchanged.
Either the base was in a state of heightened activity or this was the usual.
He boarded the plane with Claire without another word. If everyone were hurrying up, so would they. They were slow enough to slap the anesthetic grenades into the interior of the cargo space, though.
The would-be members of the Royal Flush Gang were drugged. Their eyes were unfocused and movements were sluggish. Power dampening gauntlets covered their forearms. Each had two guards on either side, guns already drawn. The collars were built into their laboratory suits.
The four of them were a sorry sight.
The guards were dressed in all blacks with tactical balaclavas and goggles. They were nondescript ghosts, each meant to be quiet forever. They didn’t move as the two of them passed through.
As soon as they were seated, the floor began to rise, taking them to the hangar on the surface. He let the armor take over since he knew nothing about flying a plane.
—
“Nellis Tower, Transport Echo-Zero-One. Holding short of runway 21 right. Ready for immediate departure, northbound,” he reported to the tower.
“Echo-Zero-One, Nellis Tower. Your transponder signature is recognized. Wind is two-one-zero at 15 knots. Runway 21 Right, cleared for takeoff."
"Cleared for takeoff, Runway 21 Right. Acknowledged tower. Rolling now,” he said, repeating the usual lines Gold was known to say. Everything in his files and his records has been uploaded to the central computer. He knew what to say, when to say it, and how to act.
Until this plane landed in Alaska, no one would realize something was wrong. He shared a short look with Claire, both smirking as the plane took off.
—
Portland, Oregon
He cleared his throat. The plane was already under their control, and the security recordings would show nothing at all. He pressed the watch, activating the grenades through the holographic screen. Claire stood near the door, her visor scanning the life signs of the guards.
They began to show signs of movement, shaking their heads and checking their pulses. It was too late, though. One rose from his seat, trying to walk towards the cockpit to call for help. He fell on his knees and then face, out cold. His colleagues followed the suit, leaving the plane silent.
“They are down,” Claire reported, opening the door. She broke the power dampeners and tore the necks of the suits. Miles gathered the gas grenades. The plane’s doors would open in seconds.
She put the watches on each of their wrists. They were already programmed to handle their parts. The sleeping prisoners were puppeteered to their feet, unwittingly ready for the leap of freedom.
The door opened. Cold air rushed inside, destabilizing the plane for a moment. The suits jumped out, flying to the predetermined meeting location. As they left, two more entered the plane, deposing the real pilots into the cockpit and leaving just as quickly.
Miles and Claire slipped out just as the loading bay closed.
—
The teleporter was already locked on the general location. As soon as they landed on the clearing, they were gone without a trace.
—
Metropolis
Drugged by Cadmus and anesthetized by Miles, it would take a while for the test subjects to wake up. Unfortunately, they didn’t have names, simply known as Test Subject Alpha to Epsilon. With the power dampeners gone, they could present a risk in the hospital. So he took them to the safe house, the one where he had kept Jade for a short while.
They were grouped together in the rooms. Being together would create a sense of security and stop them from lashing out in fear.
—
Las Vegas
Nellis Air Force Base
Sub Levels
“What?!” Waller’s voice echoed out of the general’s room. “What do you mean they are gone?!”
“The plane did not respond to the hails from Alaska Base. When it landed, the base security found the pilots and the guards out cold. The security logs are empty, and none of the personnel remember anything beyond boarding the plane.”
Waller gritted her teeth, her nostrils spread wide. “Are you telling me someone boarded a C-130 mid-air and managed to escape with the test subjects, all without leaving a single piece of evidence behind?”
Her voice was too calm for the situation they were in.
He averted his eyes, knowing what was to come yet. “Yes.”
“Out!” Waller screamed, throwing the cable phone next to the general’s head. Her face was turning red, both in indignation and humiliation. Cadmus was attacked again. They had lost important test subjects. Coupled with the mess regarding the stolen Kryptonian DNA, the Board would put her under heavy scrutiny.
Her career and life were in danger.
She needed to resolve this quickly. A scapegoat was difficult to find, especially when she had kept the operation secret. The personnel were informed at the last minute. There were no written instructions. Every single person in the base was vetted through multiple sources.
It wasn’t possible for any one of them to be a traitor.
Boarding the plane mid-air was possible, but doing it without leaving any evidence? That part was difficult. The infiltrators had to force the loading bay open, knock the guards and the pilots out without a fight, take the test subjects, and somehow close the bay behind.
This wasn’t a daring military operation.
There was no proof, but she would bet her life that metahumans were involved. Definitely more than one, considering the different number of powers that would be necessary to pull such a perfect heist.
She slammed her fist on the table, swearing to leave no stone unturned.