The penthouse was a stark contrast to any medbay—exposed concrete, city lights bleeding through glass, the hum of portable equipment hastily assembled by Storm-Walker and Curtis. Mia lay on a makeshift operating table, surrounded by IV lines, monitors, and the soft blue glow of diagnostic projections. Her breath hitched, a ragged sound in the suffocating quiet. The city lived, or Mia died.
Oliver looked at his sister—her face pale, the faint green tinge around her temples a ghostly reminder of the horrors she'd endured. His little sister, the fiery hero he'd trained, now a silent, fragile trigger. He remembered her laugh, the stubborn set of her jaw when she was determined, the way she lit up a room. How could he possibly choose?
His gaze flickered to Dinah, her face streaked with tears, a silent plea in her eyes. Roy's jaw was clenched, his knuckles white against his thighs. Curtis, usually a whirlwind of frantic energy, stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief and horror. They all knew the brutal logic, the impossible choice, but none could voice it.
"There has to be another way," Oliver rasped, his voice raw, barely a whisper, addressing Storm-Walker. "You said 0.03%? That's not zero. What would it take? More time? Different equipment?"
Storm-Walker's voice was low but unwavering. "My estimate is based on the current parameters. The implant is surgically inseparable from her neural network without catastrophic collapse. Any attempt at removal or deactivation would trigger the dimensional displacement." He raised his left arm, the digital timer on his hidden wrist display glowing ominously: 00:30:00. "This is the hard deadline. The network will activate at zero. Furthermore, Mia's implant is a dead man's switch—if her heart stops, or if it senses any attempt to remove her from this penthouse, the network triggers instantly. And finally, Prometheus retains manual override. He can detonate the entire system at any moment he chooses."
"So, it's a death switch for Star City," Dinah choked out, burying her face in her hands. "A triple fail-safe."
"Precisely," Storm-Walker confirmed, his tone devoid of emotion. "Prometheus engineered this for maximum psychological impact. He designed it so her death, by your hand, would be the only way to save Star City. He anticipated your reluctance, Green Arrow. He wanted to break you."
Oliver stared at the map, at the dozens of pulsating markers—each a death sentence for millions. Star City. His city. The people he swore to protect. Was one life, even Mia's, worth the destruction of everything? The utilitarian argument screamed in his head, a cold, logical monster.
He closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea. He saw the children from the earlier broadcast, heard their innocent questions. He remembered the cheers when Storm-Walker had first appeared, the fragile flicker of hope. He couldn't betray them. Not for this.
His eyes snapped open, a steel resolve hardening his features, even as his heart splintered. He walked over to the holographic display, his hand hovering over one of the pulsating displacement markers.
"There's no other choice," he said, his voice flat, devoid of the emotion that tore through him. "We have to disable the network."
Dinah let out a keening sob, collapsing fully to the floor. Roy slammed his fist against a nearby wall, a guttural roar tearing from his throat. Curtis sagged against a console, tears silently streaming down his face. They knew what "disabling the network" truly meant.
Storm-Walker watched, his expression unreadable. "Your decision, then," he stated, and for the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of something akin to respect, or perhaps pity, seemed to pass through his usually impassive demeanor. "There is one remote possibility for option one, but it's a gambit of extreme risk, requiring unforeseen variables."
Oliver's head snapped up, hope—desperate and foolish—flaring in his eyes. "What? What is it?"
"Theoretically," Storm-Walker began, his gaze distant, "if we could introduce an unpredictable energy signature, one unknown to Prometheus's counter-measures, directly into the implant, it might—might—cause a momentary overload without systemic collapse, allowing for a precise, instantaneous surgical extraction. But it would require a power source beyond conventional understanding, and direct, intimate contact with the implant at the precise moment."
"It's a one-in-a-million shot, Green Arrow. And frankly, I have no idea where we would even begin to find such a power source, let alone manipulate it with the necessary precision in the remaining time." He gestured to the timer again, 00:29:20, the numbers relentlessly mocking them.
Oliver looked from the ticking timer to Mia, then to his shattered team. A one-in-a-million shot. But it wasn't zero. And if there was any chance at all, he had to take it.
"We find it," Oliver said, his voice regaining a desperate edge of determination. "Whatever it takes." He turned to Curtis, who had retrieved a portable diagnostic tablet from Storm-Walker's medical supplies and was already furiously attempting to analyze the holographic data. "Curtis, cross-reference known meta-human abilities, alien tech, anything that could generate an unknown energy pulse that Prometheus wouldn't anticipate. Roy, Dinah, think. Anything, anyone, any rumor of something outside of what he could prepare for."
Curtis's hands shook as he manipulated the tablet, his eyes darting between the dimensional displacement schematics and the bio-readings from Mia's implant. "These aren't just bombs," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice tight with horror. "They're layered with countermeasures—Kryptonite mesh, Green Lantern energy fields, even DNA markers from Hal Jordan and Superman. This isn't just to stop us—it's to stop anyone. Even the League."
Dinah's voice was raw. "He's turning the city into a hostage—and a weapon."
Storm-Walker nodded. "Prometheus wants to prove that no one, not even the Justice League, can stop him. He's not just targeting Star City. He's sending a message to every hero on Earth."
Oliver's jaw tightened. "Then we send a message back. Curtis, get me the League."
Curtis's fingers flew over the controls of the stolen tablet. The highly advanced device, reverse-engineered from Storm-Walker's captured tech, hummed to life, rapidly establishing a secure frequency. Within seconds, the Justice League's faces flickered onto a small, makeshift holoscreen projected from the tablet onto the medical bay wall—Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, Aquaman, and others. Their expressions shifted from concern to alarm as Curtis, voice strained, quickly relayed the horrifying details of the dimensional displacement devices, their wide-reaching placement across major global cities, and Mia's role as the unwilling trigger.
Superman's jaw tightened. "A network of displacement devices, active in Metropolis, Central City, Coast City, even Atlantis... and layered with our own signatures. Kryptonite, Lantern energy, Martian dampeners, even traces of Speed Force feedback... He's made sure none of us can just sweep in and save the day."
Hal Jordan's voice was grim, his face shadowed. "He's using my DNA as a lockout. If I try to override the emitters, they'll detonate, sending my entire sector into whatever void he's created."
Batman's voice, though calm, cut through the tension with a surgeon's precision. "This is a global-level extinction event if the trigger initiates. Our priority shifts immediately." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the grim faces on the screen, then landing on Oliver's.
"First, Mia's implant. Green Arrow, we need a full, live diagnostic of Mia's condition and the implant's signature. Transfer all data your Wild Card has gathered to our encrypted channels now. Wayne Enterprises' R&D, S.T.A.R. Labs, even the Fortress of Solitude—every resource available to the League will be analyzing that data for a non-lethal solution to the implant. This is our primary objective: disarm the master trigger without sacrificing your sister."
He shifted his gaze to a corner of the holoscreen, where a clock now mirrored Storm-Walker's display, the numbers glowing starkly: 00:28:55. "We have less than 29 minutes before the primary timer reaches zero. This is the hard deadline for all operations."
"Second, the devices themselves. Each is shielded by a localized, meta-human signature-specific dampener, designed to detonate if overridden by a recognized League member's power. They're not just 'bombs'; they're spatial anchors that rip chunks of reality into a pocket dimension. Our analysis of Wild Card's schematics indicates a complex, cascading fail-safe. If Mia's implant goes critical, or the primary timer reaches zero, or Prometheus initiates a remote trigger, it primes all devices for instantaneous activation. Superman and Flash will coordinate ground teams for rapid deployment to identified device locations across all affected cities, marking them but not engaging. We need a way to bypass their failsafes without triggering them; our tech teams will work on this in parallel with Mia's implant."
"Third, Prometheus. He's a ghost. His network is designed to be untraceable. He's watching all of this. His goal isn't just destruction; it's psychological warfare, breaking the symbols of hope. Finding him will be extremely difficult, but not impossible." Batman paused, his eyes narrowing. "Arrow, your Wild Card's tech is... impressive. I'd like to study it. Later. But for now, your priority remains Mia and the primary trigger. If we can neutralize that, it gives us a critical window, a chance to find a systemic weakness in the displacement network before the timer runs out. But be under no illusion: the clock is ticking, and Prometheus is still playing his game."
The Flash's image vibrated with suppressed energy. "Less than 29 minutes to save the world? Right. Typical Tuesday."
The system's automated voice quietly updated on Curtis's tablet: "Vitals stable but critical. Implant remains dormant. All readings uploaded."
On the holoscreen, Batman's eyes flickered as he scanned the data. "Location confirmed. Not a hospital. Not the Arrow Cave. You're improvising well, but your resources are limited. Keep her stable, and do not attempt to move her."
Superman's concern was visible. "Is she in pain?"
Curtis shook his head. "Storm-Walker's got pain management covered—IV drips, advanced sedatives, anti-toxin. Mia's implant functions as a dead man's switch—move her, lose her, or let her die, and the network triggers. We're boxed in."
Wonder Woman's gaze softened as she looked at Mia's pale form. "She's more than a trigger. She's a hero, and she deserves every chance." Her voice resonated with genuine empathy. "What do you need from us?"
Storm-Walker, standing at the foot of the table, answered quietly, "We need time. We need the League's best minds on the encryption and meta-tech. My systems can coordinate with your tech teams. But if her vitals drop, or if the implant senses tampering, the cities are lost."
Hal Jordan, jaw set, added, "I'll run interference with the Corps. If you need a power source or a shield, call it in."
Batman's voice was all business. "We'll keep monitoring remotely. If there's even a flicker in her readings, we'll respond. But the decision on intervention stays with you, Arrow. This is your city. Your call."
The Justice League's holoscreen remained active, Diana's regal form beside Batman, Superman, and Hal Jordan. She stood tall, eyes sharp, her presence commanding even through a screen.
Diana's gaze swept the room, resting finally on Storm-Walker. "Green Arrow, your briefing was… thorough. But this Wild Card—he's new to me. I prefer to judge a warrior by their actions, not by reputation."
Wild Card stepped forward, posture relaxed, almost languid—yet every movement radiated a quiet, effortless control. The mask's eyes glinted with a hint of mischief.
"Princess Diana of Themyscira," he said, voice smooth, almost teasing. "It's an honor to finally meet you—not just as a legend, but as you are now. I've heard your stories since I was a child."
Diana's brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. "You speak as if you know me, Wild Card. Yet I have no memory of you. Are you here to help, or to test us?"
Wild Card's lips curled in a faint smile,calm and confident. "Why not both? Sometimes the best way to understand someone is to cross blades, not words. Besides, I've always wanted to see if the stories about you were true—or if the legend was just a shadow of the real thing."
Diana's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of intrigue. "You speak boldly. Few would challenge an Amazon so lightly."
He shrugged, unbothered, almost playful. "Lightly? Never. But I don't believe in hiding behind masks forever, Princess. When this is over—when the city is safe—I'd like a duel. Not as enemies, but as kin. To see if I'm worthy of the name I inherited."
A beat. Diana's expression shifted—surprise, then calculation. "Kin? You choose your riddles well, Wild Card. But Amazons do not shy from challenge, nor from truth. When the time comes, I will accept. And perhaps, your story."
Wild Card's eyes softened, just for a moment—a flash of something ancient and proud. "Until then, Princess. Let's save the city—together."
He stepped back, posture relaxed, as if the outcome of the world's greatest crisis was just another step in a game he'd already mastered. The League watched, sensing the undercurrent but not the truth. Only Dinah, behind Wild Card, caught the subtle tension—the recognition that something old and unspoken had just passed between the storm and the Amazon.
Batman's voice cut through the holoscreen, a new, urgent directive taking shape. "Alright, listen closely. Given the time constraints and the specific nature of Prometheus's countermeasures, the League cannot directly intervene with the bombs themselves without triggering them prematurely. Our resources are stretched thin globally coordinating evacuations and searching for systemic overrides. Star City is your fight, Arrow, and we'll support you remotely with intelligence and analysis."
He activated a new set of projections on the holoscreen, detailing specific roles for the Star City team. The timer on the screen ticked down, 00:27:30. "Here's the revised strategy for Star City, factoring in the triple-trigger threat:
Mr. Terrific (Curtis Holt): Your priority is Mia. Focus solely on the implant. Use all data from Wild Card's tech to find that 'unpredictable energy signature' and a non-lethal way to extract or disable the implant. You'll also be our eyes on Mia's vitals, alerting us to any shift. Simultaneously, utilize your T-spheres to begin actively locating and mapping the precise coordinates of every displacement device within Star City. Do not attempt to disarm them. Just locate and monitor.
Green Arrow (Oliver Queen) and Arsenal (Roy Harper): Your primary objective shifts to mass evacuation within Star City, specifically focusing on the zones directly threatened by the identified displacement devices. Utilize your knowledge of the city's infrastructure and underground networks. Maintain communication with global evacuation efforts led by Superman, but your hands-on priority is your city's populace.
Black Canary (Dinah Drake) and Wild Card (kairon): Your mission is to find and neutralize Prometheus. Dinah, your sonic scream is not a weakness Prometheus has consistently countered, and your combat prowess is essential. Wild Card, your unique knowledge of Prometheus and his tech, coupled with your… unpredictable abilities, makes you the key to this. He's waiting for you. Find him, stop him, and prevent any manual trigger. The fate of Star City rests on this three-pronged approach."
Wild Card, on the side, let out a low chuckle. "The world's greatest detective, they say? Huh, I guess they're right." The other League members on the holoscreen looked visibly tense at his irreverence. "It's a good way to deal with the situation and gather info on me, too. I admit, there's no other way." He paused, his gaze fixing on Batman through the screen. "So, I'll comply now, Bat, but tell me: you know I'm the only one who can truly deal with Prometheus. He knows I'll come,he's waiting for me; and only I can find him—and you as well. 'Lil Birdie' will just be in my way; she is better suited to help Green Arrow and Arsenal, improving the evacuation situation significantly with the time limit we have. So, tell me why. I won't move until you tell me. Make it quick; we don't have time."
Dinah's jaw tightened at Wild Card's dismissive "lil birdie" comment, a familiar sting of being underestimated flaring in her eyes. The insinuation that she'd be a "burden" and merely "in his way" cut deep, even from someone as enigmatic as Wild Card. Her initial anger flared, a retort forming on her lips, but she swallowed it, her gaze shifting to the ticking clock on the League's holoscreen: 00:27:00. There was no time for ego.
Batman's eyes, usually just dark slits, seemed to bore into Wild Card. His voice was a low growl, devoid of patience. "Because, Wild Card, this isn't a duel of singular combatants. It's a systemic takedown. Prometheus anticipates your arrival and your methods. He has countermeasures for what he knows. Dinah's sonic scream, her unpredictable mobility, and her psychological warfare capabilities are elements he has not consistently factored into his plans against you. She provides an unexpected variable, a disruptive force he can't easily account for. She also serves as a crucial backup, capable of continuing the mission and relaying vital intel if you are compromised. You are powerful, but a lone wolf in this scenario is a vulnerable one. This isn't about pride or a one-on-one confrontation. It's about securing every possible advantage in a scenario where failure means global catastrophe. Every second counts. Your unique understanding of Prometheus is why you're leading the hunt, but Dinah's capabilities provide the necessary redundancy and an unquantifiable edge. Now, move. We have 00:26:58."
A fierce, renewed determination solidified in Dinah's eyes. She wouldn't be a burden. She would be the variable, the wrench in Prometheus's perfect machine. She met Wild Card's gaze, a silent promise of defiance and competence passing between them. Then, with a sharp glint in her eye, she added, "Just try to keep up, Wild Card."
Wild Card nodded slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing at the edge of his masked lips. "I see. So, basically, my sidekick who will try not to get in my way and stop me if I got too wild. I can work with that." His words, casual yet layered, implied a deeper understanding of Batman's true meaning—a recognition that he was being given a leash, and an acknowledgement that Batman knew Wild Card was precisely the kind of wild card who might need one. The subtle implication of control, and Wild Card's acceptance of it, was understood by Batman alone.
Others on the holoscreen, however, shifted uncomfortably, some opening their mouths to protest Wild Card's cavalier attitude or what seemed like a dismissal of Dinah's capabilities.
Before anyone could voice a word, Batman's voice cut them off, sharp and final. "Go now. We don't have time."
Dinah knelt beside Mia, holding her hand. "We're here, Mia. You're not alone. Just hold on."
Curtis, voice hoarse, said, "If there's a way to trick the implant or fake her vitals, I'll find it. But until then, we keep her alive. That's all that matters."
Oliver's gaze swept over his team, his jaw set, lines of grim resolve etched on his face. "Roy, Dinah. Get ready. We evacuate every soul we can, then we hit Prometheus. Every second counts now."
Roy nodded, already checking his quiver and tightening his mask. "Got it, Ollie. No one gets left behind. Not if I can help it."
Wild Card turned from Mia, his gaze sweeping across the panoramic view of Star City, the distant lights of the metropolis a vast, intricate board below. "Time for checkmate," he murmured, the words barely a whisper, yet holding the weight of a game reaching its final, decisive move.
Outside, the city's sirens wailed, a mournful sound echoing against the high-rises. The penthouse—luxurious but now a battlefield—became the last line of defense for both a hero and a city on the edge.
The timer pulsed in the dark, 00:25:29, each second a heartbeat for a city on the edge.
End of chapter.