[DEO Headquarters, Technical Lab — July 2017, 3:17 PM]
Winn's screens displayed a nightmare in digital form.
"This is everything Jeremiah accessed." His voice was hollow, drained of its usual enthusiasm. "The complete alien registry. Not just names—addresses, family connections, places of employment. Known associates. Daily routines, in some cases, based on surveillance data we collected for their protection."
The scale of it hit Mon-El like a physical blow. Thousands of entries, each representing a life. A family. A target.
"How many?" J'onn asked.
"In National City alone? Eight thousand four hundred and seventeen registered aliens. Nationwide, the number is closer to fifty thousand." Winn pulled up a map, dots appearing across the country. "If Cadmus has all of this—and they do, Jeremiah's download was complete—they have everything they need for systematic targeting."
"Extermination," Mon-El said quietly. "This isn't intelligence gathering. It's preparation for a pogrom."
"That's a strong word."
"It's an accurate word." He thought about the Medusa virus, about the lead-enhanced version Cadmus had deployed at the alien bar. "They've already shown they're willing to commit mass murder. Now they have a list of every alien who trusted the government enough to register."
Kara stood at the edge of the room, her arms crossed, her expression caught between horror and determination. "Can we warn them? Send out alerts?"
"We can try." Winn pulled up communication protocols. "But mass alerts take time to distribute, and we don't know Cadmus's timeline. They could be moving right now, while we're still—"
"They won't move immediately." Mon-El's mind raced through possibilities. "Cadmus is methodical. They'll want to maximize impact—coordinate strikes across multiple locations, make it impossible for us to respond everywhere at once."
"You sound certain."
"I've seen their work." He thought about the show—the escalating plots, the carefully orchestrated attacks. "They think strategically. Which means we have a window, but it's not infinite."
J'onn's phone buzzed. He checked it, his expression darkening. "There's another complication. L-Corp's transmatter portal—Lena's team reports it's nearly operational. Despite our sabotage efforts."
"Rhea found workarounds." Mon-El felt the threads connecting. "J'onn, what if Cadmus and the Daxamites are working together?"
The room went silent.
"Think about it," he continued. "Rhea wants to colonize Earth. Cadmus wants to eliminate aliens. Both groups see the current order as an obstacle. If they've formed an alliance—Cadmus clears the way by eliminating potential alien resistance, and Rhea provides the military force to complete the takeover."
"That's speculation," J'onn said slowly.
"It's pattern recognition. Two threats, emerging simultaneously, both targeting alien populations. Either it's coincidence, or—"
"Or it's coordination." Kara's voice was hard. "Rhea was meeting with Lena for weeks. Building the portal. What if she was also meeting with Cadmus? Using Jeremiah as a connection point?"
"Jeremiah was Cadmus's asset," Winn confirmed, pulling up communication logs. "He could have facilitated contact. Passed information between the organizations."
"One enemy is bad enough," J'onn said. "Two working together..."
"Changes everything." Mon-El looked at the map of alien locations, the scope of the threat crystallizing in his mind. "We need to move faster. Warn who we can. Find Cadmus's operational base before they launch."
The door slid open.
Alex entered.
She looked like she hadn't slept—dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back in a functional ponytail, uniform immaculate in the way that suggested she was holding herself together through discipline alone. Her gaze swept the room, settled on the displays, carefully avoided Mon-El entirely.
"I heard," she said flatly. "What do we need to do?"
J'onn studied her for a moment. "Alex, you don't have to—"
"My father is compromised. My father is helping terrorists target innocent people. My father—" Her voice cracked, but she forced through it. "I can hate what's happening and still do my job. What. Do. We. Need."
The question hung in the air.
Mon-El moved to the coffee station in the corner, poured a cup, brought it back to where Alex stood. He didn't say anything. Didn't try to apologize again, or explain, or bridge the gap between them. Just held out the coffee and waited.
Alex stared at the cup for three heartbeats.
Then she took it.
She didn't thank him. She didn't look at him. But she took it.
It was something.
---
The next three hours were a blur of activity.
Winn drafted emergency alerts, targeting the most vulnerable alien populations first—refugees with limited resources, families with children, anyone whose location data suggested they'd be easy targets. J'onn coordinated with federal agencies, calling in favors and demanding cooperation. Kara flew patrol patterns over the city, watching for any sign of Cadmus movement.
Alex threw herself into tactical planning, mapping potential strike locations, calculating response times, building contingency protocols. She was brilliant at it—focused, efficient, relentless. She was also clearly channeling her grief into action, burning through pain by refusing to stop moving.
Mon-El worked alongside her without comment. When she needed data, he provided it. When she needed analysis, he offered it. When she needed someone to blame for the coffee getting cold, he accepted that too.
Mission first. Personal later.
By evening, they had something approaching a plan.
"Emergency alerts have reached about sixty percent of registered aliens in the metro area," Winn reported. "Another twenty percent are pending confirmation. The remaining twenty are... unresponsive. Could be out of range, could be deliberately ignoring us, could be—"
"Could be already compromised," J'onn finished.
"We need ground teams," Kara said. "Physically going to locations, confirming safety or evacuating if necessary."
"We're spread too thin." Alex's voice was clipped. "Even with all available agents, we can't cover eight thousand addresses."
"Then we prioritize." Mon-El pulled up the registry map. "Concentrate on high-density areas. Apartment complexes with multiple alien families. Community centers. Anywhere a single team can reach dozens of targets at once."
"And the isolated ones?"
"We do what we can. Save who we can."
It wasn't enough. They all knew it wasn't enough.
But it was something.
"I'll take warehouse district," Kara volunteered. "High alien population, close quarters."
"I've got the waterfront," Alex said. "Industrial areas, plenty of places to hide."
"Downtown commercial zones for me," Winn added. "Most of those are workplaces—I can reach people during business hours."
J'onn assigned remaining teams across the city. Within minutes, the command center was half empty, agents deploying to protect a population that didn't know how much danger it was in.
Mon-El grabbed his gear. "I'll take the docks. Industrial shipping—isolated, hard to reach, but significant alien workforce."
"Be careful," Kara said.
"Always."
They parted with a brief touch—hands meeting, squeezing, releasing. No time for proper goodbyes. No guarantee they'd see each other again.
Some days were like that.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0