Chapter 4: Demon of Gotham (Part 4)
The atmosphere inside the Pentagon briefing room had shifted.
Ten pairs of eyes remained locked on the screen, the footage of the Null Division's Lagos operation still frozen in the final frame—Parasite unconscious, Flag's team standing over the target like hunters posing with a kill.
Waller let the silence stretch for exactly three seconds. Long enough for the implications to sink in. Not long enough for anyone to formulate a counterargument.
"Thanks to the recovered alien technology and the Null Division," she began, voice measured and professional, "we are now capable of neutralizing metahuman threats that previously required Justice League intervention. And we can do so without the collateral damage that seems to follow their operations. No leveled city blocks. No—"
"What the hell do you think you're doing !! ?"
The voice cracked through the room like a gunshot.
General Eiling was on his feet, chair scraping backward, face flushed with barely restrained fury. His medals caught the monitor light, glinting as his chest heaved.
"You've been sitting on this technology for five years," he snarled, jabbing a finger toward the screen, "and you only come forward now? With a fully operational black-ops team that answers to you and nobody else?"
Waller didn't flinch. Her expression remained neutral, hands still clasped behind her back.
"General, A.R.G.U.S. was far better suited to study and weaponize alien technology than the military." Her tone was calm, almost sympathetic, which only seemed to enrage Eiling further. "The Department of Defense has protocols. Oversight. Congressional committees. We needed to move faster than bureaucracy allows."
"Bureaucracy?" Eiling's voice rose another octave. "You bypassed the entire chain of command! You built a private army using tech that should've been turned over to—"
"General."
Director Bones's voice cut through the tirade—quiet, dry, but carrying enough authority to make Eiling pause.
Bones hadn't moved from his seat. Hadn't raised his voice. He simply looked at Eiling with those strange, too-reflective eyes and spoke.
"Sit down."
Eiling's jaw worked, teeth grinding, but after a long moment he dropped back into his chair.
Bones turned his gaze to Waller. "Director Waller is doing exactly what we would have done if the technology had landed in our hands. The only difference is that she acted first." A pause. "And successfully, it seems."
Secretary Swanwick adjusted his tie—an unconscious habit, the kind of nervous gesture he'd never fully suppressed despite decades in politics—and cleared his throat.
"Director Waller." His tone was careful, diplomatic. "You've already deployed this technology. Built your team. Conducted operations. So why are we here?" He leaned forward slightly. "What do you need from this board? Because if this is just a show-and-tell, I have actual senators waiting for me."
Waller's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her eyes.
'Here we go. The real ask.'
"On the contrary, Secretary Swanwick," she said, "I need your approval."
Bones tilted his head fractionally. "For what?"
Waller clicked the remote.
The screen changed.
[Footage Scene:]
Grainy security camera footage, timestamped two years ago. Gotham City, Lower East Side. A massive red creature—easily twelve feet tall, four arms, dense muscle—lifts a sedan over its head with casual strength. Two figures in ski masks scramble out of the vehicle and sprint into an alley. The creature tosses the car aside, crumpling it against a brick wall, then bounds away.
Waller let the footage play for five seconds before speaking.
"Two years ago, we began receiving reports from Gotham City. Sightings of strange creatures appearing throughout the city—different species, different capabilities, but all exhibiting characteristics inconsistent with known metahumans or terrestrial wildlife."
She clicked the remote.
[Footage Scene:]
Night-vision footage. A moth-like creature with blue wings hovers in an alley, frost spreading from its mouth in visible waves. It turns toward the camera—glowing green spotted with black eyes catching the light—then its body shimmers and vanishes, fading from sight as if it had never existed.
"Initially, we dismissed these reports as misidentified Batman sightings. Urban legends. Gotham has a long history of... unusual vigilante activity."
Click.
[Footage Scene:]
Dashboard camera. A plant-like humanoid stands in the middle of the street, green plant like body , face black , with a fire like crown pattern on its held. Three armed men fire handguns at it. The bullets pass through its body, leaving holes that close immediately, vines knitting back together. The creature looks down at itself, almost confused, as if surprised by its own durability.
"But the sightings continued. Escalated. And patterns emerged."
Click.
[Footage Scene:]
The police chase from earlier—Wildmutt bounding through Gotham's streets, orange fur, eyeless, moving with predatory speed. Six cruisers in pursuit, sirens wailing, officers shouting commands that go unheard.
Waller let that footage loop once before pausing it.
"We now have evidence of at least four distinct entities operating in Gotham. Possibly more."
She let that sink in.
Secretary Swanwick frowned. "Director, these creatures—they don't look related. Different biology. Different abilities. How do you know this is an invasion and not just... random metahuman activity?"
Waller's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
'Perfect setup. Thank you, Secretary.'
"Nothing in common," she agreed, "except for this."
She clicked the remote.
The screen split into four panels, each showing a close-up of one of the creatures. And on each creature, in roughly the same location—chest, shoulder, torso—was a symbol.
A black disk. A green hourglass design etched into its surface.
The room went very still.
"Every sighting," Waller said quietly, "features this marking. Same design. Same proportions. Always on the body."
She clicked again.
[Image on screen:]
Four energy signature readouts, displayed side-by-side. Each graph showed identical spike patterns—sharp, intense bursts of unknown energy that appeared suddenly and dissipated within minutes.
"And this," Waller continued. "Energy signatures captured during each encounter. Different creatures. Different times. Different locations."
She paused.
"Identical readings."
The silence was absolute.
General Eiling leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "What... what does that mean?"
Waller turned to face the table fully, hands still behind her back.
"It means," she said, "that we are not dealing with multiple invaders. We are dealing with a coordinated invasion. These creatures are connected. Possibly controlled by a single source. And that source—" she gestured to the hourglass symbol, "—is marking them."
Director Bones spoke, voice flat. "You're saying this is a scouting force."
"I'm saying this is the beginning."
The weight of that statement settled over the room.
Swanwick removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Christ."
Waller didn't give them time to spiral into panic. She gestured to Jessica, who moved efficiently around the table, distributing new folders.
These were thicker than the first set. Heavier.
Stamped across the cover in bold red letters:
OPERATION PROMETHEUS .
CLASSIFIED - EYES ONLY.
The officials opened their folders in near-unison.
Waller began speaking before they'd finished the first page.
"In Greek mythology, Prometheus was a Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humanity. For this crime, he was punished—chained to a rock, tortured for eternity."
She clicked the remote. The screen now showed a stylized image: a figure in chains, holding a torch.
"But humanity kept the fire. And with it, we built civilization."
She turned back to the table.
"Gentlemen, we are facing an enemy with technology we don't understand. Biology we can't replicate. Power that dwarfs our conventional capabilities."
Her voice hardened.
"So we're going to steal their fire."
Secretary Swanwick looked up from the folder, face pale. "Director Waller... are you seriously requesting authorization to revive the Iceman?"
"Yes."
The room erupted.
"Absolutely not—"
"—you can't be serious—"
"—no idea if it's hostile—"
"Enough!"
Director Bones's voice cut through the chaos again. He stared at Waller, expression unreadable.
"Director, this is reckless even by your standards. We have no intelligence on this entity. We don't know if it's a soldier, a scientist, a civilian. We don't know its motivations, its allegiances, its capabilities beyond what we've observed in stasis."
"Which is precisely why we need to wake it," Waller countered. "Everything we've learned from the nanomachines, from the ship's technology—that's a fraction of what's possible." She gestured to the screen showing the Null Division. "Look at what we accomplished with scraps. Imagine what we could do with direct access* to the source."
General Eiling's voice was cold. "And how, exactly, do you plan to get this thing to cooperate? What makes you think it won't kill you the moment it wakes up?"
Waller met his eyes without blinking.
"There are always ways to encourage cooperation, General."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Eiling's expression darkened. "You're talking about torture."
"I'm talking about leverage. Incentives. Negotiations backed by credible threat." Waller's tone didn't shift. "We have tools. We have options. And we have the will to use them if necessary."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Secretary Swanwick closed the folder slowly, as if it weighed a hundred pounds. He stared at Waller for a long moment, jaw working.
Then he sighed.
Long. Tired. The sound of a man who'd made too many compromise and knew he was about to make another.
"Alright." His voice was quiet. "Make it happen."
General Eiling's head snapped toward him. "Secretary—"
Swanwick raised a hand. "Director Waller, you are cleared to proceed with Operation Prometheus. You will have full access to the recovered technology, authorization to revive the Iceman under controlled conditions, and discretionary budget allocation for containment and research."
He leaned forward, eyes hard.
"But when—not if, when—this blows up in your face, Director, you take the fall. Alone. No Congressional hearings blaming the board. No leaked memos pointing fingers. This is your operation. Your responsibility. Your head on the chopping block."
Waller didn't hesitate.
"Understood, Secretary."
She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
"Thank you for your confidence."
Swanwick didn't smile back. "Dismissed."
---
As the officials filed out, muttering to each other in low, tense voices, Waller remained standing at the head of the table.
Waller stood alone in the briefing room, surrounded by dark screens and the hum of machinery.
She'd gotten everything she wanted.
Authorization. Resources. Free rein.
And soon, she'd have the alien.
And whatever was hiding in Gotham.
"Fire from the gods," she murmured to the empty room.
Then she turned and walked out, heels clicking against polished floors.
Time to go to work.