Part 2 - Chapter 1: Demon of Gotham
(((Author's Note:
Thanks for sticking with me.
Quick heads-up, this story is structured like a TV series, not a comic. That means Ben doesn't just see danger and slam the Omnitrix without thinking. He hesitates. He weighs the risks, like, should he reveal himself or not ???
If you're thinking, "That doesn't sound like Ben," you're absolutely right.
Because this isn't the Ben you're used to. This is a reimagining of a character who starts as an anti-hero and has to claw his way toward becoming a true hero.
It's a longer, messier journey. But I think it's worth it.
Let's begin.)))
The Pentagon's waiting room was a study in institutional intimidation disguised as professional courtesy.
The space was larger than most people's apartments, but somehow felt smaller—walls painted in muted beige that suggested bureaucratic neutrality, floors polished to a mirror shine that reflected the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead. Leather chairs lined the perimeter, expensive but deliberately uncomfortable, designed to remind visitors that their time was borrowed, not owned.
A massive American flag dominated one wall, flanked by portraits of stern-faced officials whose names most people wouldn't recognize but whose decisions shaped the world. The air smelled faintly of floor polish and recycled air, sterile and impersonal.
A receptionist sat behind a mahogany desk that looked older than the building itself, typing with metronomic precision, pointedly ignoring anyone who entered. A digital display above her head showed the current time in various global capitals, a subtle reminder that power operated on a schedule no individual could alter.
Amanda Waller stood near the window, folders clutched in one hand, staring out at the Pentagon's inner courtyard without really seeing it.
Was she nervous?
No.
Waller didn't do nervous. Nervous was for people who doubted their plans, who second-guessed their decisions, who cared what others thought.
But she was aware.
Aware that the board she was about to face—the committee of generals, admirals, and civilian oversight officials who controlled budgets and authorized operations—would doubt her. They always did. Too radical, they'd say. Too dangerous. Too much potential for blowback.
They'd want safe options. Conventional solutions. The kind of plans that looked good in briefings and fell apart in the field.
Waller had learned long ago that "no" was just the opening position in a negotiation.
And tonight, she wasn't leaving without a "yes."
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor, sharp clicks against polished tile growing louder, faster.
Waller turned.
A young woman burst through the doorway—mid-twenties, wearing a crisp pantsuit that was slightly rumpled, hair pulled into a bun that was starting to come loose, face flushed with exertion and barely contained excitement.
Jessica Torres. Waller's assistant. Smart, capable, still young enough to believe the system worked if you just tried hard enough.
"Ma'am!" Jessica's voice cracked slightly, professionalism warring with urgency.
Waller's expression didn't change. "What is it?"
Jessica skidded to a stop, clutching a tablet like a lifeline, trying to compose herself. "Ma'am, I—we finally—" She took a breath, forced herself to slow down. "We got it."
Waller's eyes sharpened. "After five years?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The room's temperature seemed to drop despite the heating system's steady hum.
Waller extended one hand. "Show me."
Jessica fumbled with the tablet, fingers trembling slightly, and passed it over. The screen lit up, displaying grainy video footage timestamped 02:47 AM, location tagged as Gotham City.
The footage was clearly captured from a dashboard camera—shaky, the angle bouncing as the vehicle moved at high speed. Streetlights strobed past. Buildings blurred into smears of brick and neon.
And in the center of the frame, illuminated by headlights and searchlights, was a creature.
It ran on all fours with terrifying speed, muscles rippling beneath orange fur that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The body was canine in structure but different in proportion—too big, too powerful, like it was built for violence. No eyes were visible. No face. Just a mass of fur and muscle and predatory intent moving with purpose that defied natural explanation.
Wildmutt.
Though Waller didn't know the name.
Behind the creature, six police cruisers gave chase, sirens wailing, lights flashing, officers shouting commands that went unheard over the roar of engines.
The creature leaped—clearing a patrol car in a single bound, landing on the other side without breaking stride—and the footage cut to static.
Waller watched it twice. Then a third time.
"Metahuman?" she asked, voice flat.
Jessica hesitated. "We... can't confirm. Behavior suggests animal intelligence, but the speed, the strength—those aren't consistent with any known species."
"Mutation?"
"Possibly. Or..." Jessica trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the next word.
"Or what, Torres?"
"Or alien, ma'am. We don't have enough data to rule it out."
Waller's jaw tightened fractionally. The world had gotten significantly more complicated since Superman announced himself. Metahumans were one thing—enhanced humans, still fundamentally human, subject to human limitations even if those limits were pushed to extremes.
But aliens?
Aliens introduced variables Waller couldn't control. Technologies she couldn't predict. Motivations that didn't align with terrestrial logic.
And this thing—whatever it was—had been operating in Gotham for two years, evading capture, leaving witnesses who sounded insane when they described what they'd seen.
"The energy signature," Waller said. "Were you able to capture it this time?"
Jessica's face brightened. "Yes, ma'am. That's what I came to tell you."
She swiped through the tablet's interface, pulling up a chart that looked like an electrocardiogram having a seizure. Lines spiked and plummeted in jagged patterns, numbers scrolling past in the sidebar.
But one spike stood out.
At the exact moment the creature appeared on camera, the energy readings exploded—off the chart, into ranges that shouldn't be possible for biological organisms.
"What am I looking at?" Waller asked, though she already suspected the answer.
"Unknown energy signatures," Jessica said. "Not nuclear, not radiation, not electromagnetic. Something we've never catalogued before. It spiked when the creature appeared and dropped to baseline levels approximately ten minutes later."
Waller stare in thought , five years ago, two objects entered Earth's atmosphere. One crashed in Metropolis, thou it was recovered, but it contents were missing, unknown. The other crashed in Antarctica—recovered as well , with contents frozen but intact.
And for the last two years, Gotham had reported sightings of creatures that appeared and disappeared without pattern, without explanation.
Different creatures. Different descriptions. But always the same energy signature.
'is it multiple entities ?, another invasion ?.'
Waller handed the tablet back to Jessica. "I want this creature brought to me. Along with the others."
Jessica's eyes widened. "Ma'am, we don't have the others—"
"Then find them." Waller's tone didn't rise, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable. "Contact Flag. Tell him to assemble his team."
Jessica swallowed. "The Null Division?"
"Yes."
"Ma'am, they're still in recovery from the Lagos operation—"
"I don't care if they're missing limbs, Torres. Get them operational, and bring them to me."
Jessica nodded, knuckles white around the tablet. and hurried from the room, footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Waller turned back to the window, staring out at the courtyard, mind already running simulations.
'Metahumans. Aliens. Gods walking among mortals.'
'The world's changing faster than we can adapt. But we WILL adapt.'
She glanced down at the folders in her hand— The board would resist. They always did.
But Amanda Waller had spent her career turning "no" into "yes."
And tonight would be no different.
She straightened her jacket, checked her reflection in the window, and walked toward the boardroom doors.
Time to go to work.