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Ch 41 Dead Men Can't Govern
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 12:52:32 +0000 UTCJune 17, 2016 — 36 hours after The Fall of the Light
The emergency session convened in Geneva's most secure facility, a bunker designed to withstand nuclear assault. Representatives from the UN Security Council, NATO leadership, and G7 ministers sat in uncomfortable silence as classified footage played on the central display.
Ra's al Ghul's broken body beside a destroyed Lazarus Pit. Lex Luthor in restraints, his empire crumbling in real-time. Queen Bee's psychically-controlled slaves weeping as they remembered their stolen lives. The Reach fleet reduced to scattered atoms above Earth's atmosphere.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Amanda Waller's voice cut through the silence like a blade. She stood at the room's center, a woman who'd built her career on being underestimated. "Good guys. Bad guys. Whatever they are, they are all just one thing to me: assets."
The British Foreign Secretary shifted uncomfortably. "Director Waller, the Light was a criminal organization. Surely their elimination is—"
"A power vacuum," Waller interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "Nature abhors a vacuum, and power abhors it even more. Raj Singh—codename Nexus—isn't just another metahuman. Our analysis shows power capabilities on a planetary scale."
She activated the holographic display, showing probability matrices that made seasoned intelligence officers pale. "The Light's influence kept dozens of smaller threats in check through fear and coordination. With them gone, every wannabe dictator, cosmic horror, and interdimensional conqueror is going to see Earth as an open target."
"What are you proposing?" The German Chancellor's voice was carefully neutral.
Waller's smile was cold as winter steel. "Operation Sovereign Override. Immediate termination of the Nexus threat under Article 51 of the UN Charter—anticipatory self-defense."
The French representative leaned forward. "You're talking about assassinating someone who liberated millions."
"I'm talking about preventing the next Light," Waller snapped. "Nexus's broadcast reached every screen on Earth. He violated international sovereignty, exposed classified operations, and demonstrated power that makes League members look like street performers. The fact that he used that power 'responsibly' doesn't change what he's capable of."
She pulled up classified footage from the Observatory attack. "Our probability algorithms show a 78% chance that within six months, Nexus will decide existing governments are 'inefficient' and begin implementing his own vision of global order. History is littered with well-intentioned tyrants."
The vote was closer than it should have been. But fear won, as Waller knew it would.
"Motion passes," the Secretary-General announced, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision. "Task Force X is authorized for immediate deployment."
Waller's smile widened fractionally. She'd been preparing for this moment since the first reports of Singh's abilities reached her desk. She was a manipulative and devious leverager, priding herself in being able to frequently get people to act against their self-interests.
ARGUS Black Site Omega, Location Classified
The briefing room felt like a tomb—appropriate, given what Waller was planning to send her assets into. Task Force X sat around the steel table, explosive collars gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. Each member had been selected for specific capabilities that theoretically countered Singh's known abilities.
Floyd Lawton—Deadshot—examined his custom rifle with professional detachment. "So, we're hunting a guy who took down the Light single-handed. Great. My daughter's gonna love visiting daddy's grave."
"Shut it, Lawton," Waller's voice cracked like a whip. "You're here because you're the best marksman alive. Nexus has shown vulnerability to surprise attacks—your specialty."
Harley Quinn spun in her chair like a child, pigtails flying. "Ooh, ooh! Are we gonna play with the rainbow boy? I heard he's got all sorts of fun powers! Can I keep one if I break it off?"
Dr. Harleen Quinzel's psychological profile indicated severe dissociative episodes and manic tendencies—perfect for chaos scenarios where rational actors would hesitate. "Your job is distraction, Quinn. Keep him off-balance while the others work."
Nanaue—King Shark—rumbled something that might have been agreement or hunger. The metahuman's shark physiology made him ideal for aquatic insertion and brute-force engagement.
"Shark hungry," he managed in broken English. "New meat?"
"Only if you're very good," Waller replied without missing a beat.
Christopher Smith—Peacemaker—sat rigid in his chair, the chrome helmet reflecting harsh fluorescent light. His tactical gear bristled with non-lethal and lethal options, each weapon carefully selected for maximum effectiveness. "My mission parameters are clear. Eliminate threat to global peace through any means necessary."
"Your equipment's been upgraded with experimental tech designed to disrupt energy-based attacks," Waller confirmed. "Your psychological profile shows unwavering commitment to mission completion."
Barbara Ann Minerva—Cheetah—flexed claws that could slice through steel. Her feline features were twisted with predatory anticipation. "A hunt worthy of the goddess. But tell me, Waller—what makes you think mortal weapons will work on a boy who unmade gods?"
Waller's expression didn't change. "Because gods die, Minerva. They just need the right kind of killing."
Rudy Jones—Parasite—looked up from studying his own hands, purple energy crackling between his fingers. "The power absorption should work. Kid's got energy to spare, and I've got room to store it."
"Your metabolic rate's been artificially accelerated," Waller confirmed. "You'll be able to drain him faster than he can adapt—theoretically."
George "Digger" Harkness—Captain Boomerang—snorted in derision. "Theoretically. That's a comfort, innit? Look, Waller, I've seen the footage. This kid turned the Light into paste. Maybe we should—"
The explosive collar around his neck chirped a warning. Boomerang's words died in his throat as he remembered exactly how expendable he was.
"Any other concerns?" Waller's tone made it clear that concerns were unwelcome.
The room fell silent except for the hum of air recyclers and the soft clicking of Deadshot's rifle components.
"Good. Transport leaves in thirty minutes. Remember—this isn't a capture mission. Nexus dies tonight, and the world gets to sleep safely in their beds."
As the Squad filed out to gear up, Waller allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Each member was perfectly suited to their role, and more importantly, each was perfectly expendable. If they succeeded, the threat would be eliminated. If they failed, the blame would fall on criminal extremists acting outside government authority.
Win-win scenarios were Waller's specialty.
Happy Harbor Observatory, Rhode Island 3:17 AM EST
Raj had been watching the Atlantic for over an hour, his Probability Sight showing him cascading timelines of the approaching threat. The futures were remarkably consistent—eight heat signatures approaching from three vectors, each carrying weapons designed to exploit his known weaknesses.
"They're really doing this," he said quietly, rainbow fractals dancing around his fingers.
Kiran floated beside him, her golden aura pulsing with controlled worry. "The government? After everything we exposed about the Light?"
"Fear makes people stupid," Roy observed from his position at the tactical console. His mechanical arm interfaced directly with the Observatory's upgraded sensor array, tracking the approaching aircraft. "And Waller's built a career on exploiting that stupidity."
Match stood silent in the shadows, but his pale eyes glowed faintly with suppressed energy. The clone's experiences with government "oversight" had taught him exactly how expendable they considered enhanced individuals.
[Analyzing incoming threat vectors,] Jeevika's voice carried unusual concern. [Waller chose her team specifically to counter your known abilities. This isn't a capture mission, Raj.]
"I know." Raj's expression was serene, but power coiled around him like liquid starlight. "She's betting that eight specialists can do what an ancient immortal, a corporate genius, and a Lord of Chaos couldn't."
His Eidolon slots began cycling, selecting powers with the calm precision of someone who'd already seen how this ended:
Physics Anchor (Passive) - "Physics works the way I say they do." Probability Storm Field (800m radius) - Converting hostile intent into comedic mishaps. Quantum Uncertainty Shield - All attacks exist in superposition until observed as failures.
"You're smiling," Kiran observed.
"I was promised elite killers," Raj replied, his grin widening as probability showed him the approaching disaster. "They brought a therapy session with explosives."
Happy Harbor Observatory Perimeter 3:22 AM EST
The insertion went perfectly—right up until it didn't.
Deadshot had positioned himself 800 meters out, his custom rifle loaded with armor-piercing rounds designed to punch through Superman-class durability. His first shot was perfect—wind compensation calculated, target acquisition locked, finger pressure smooth and steady.
The bullet struck an invisible barrier and ricocheted directly back along its trajectory, punching a hole through his scope and embedding itself in the tree behind him with a note attached: "Return to sender - postage due."
"What the hell—" Deadshot's confused curse was interrupted by his rifle spontaneously disassembling itself, each component politely arranging itself in alphabetical order on the ground beside him.
King Shark's approach had been more direct. The massive metahuman had emerged from the harbor like a living torpedo, jaws wide enough to bite a car in half. His target: what appeared to be Raj standing casually on the observatory's dock.
The "Raj" turned out to be a holographic projection concealing a brick wall painted to look like tunnel entrance—complete with "ACME Tunnel Co." stenciled on the side.
King Shark's legendary bite force met immovable object. The sound of breaking teeth echoed across the water as Nanaue howled in pain and confusion, his head now sporting a perfectly shark-shaped indent in the wall.
"Shark... confused," he mumbled through a mouth full of brick dust and regret.
Kiran's response was to manifest a giant golden sign reading "MIND THE GAP" and gently pat the dazed metahuman's fin.
Harley Quinn's entrance was characteristically dramatic—a smoke bomb that should have created a blinding, disorienting cloud perfect for her chaotic fighting style. She pulled the pin with a flourish and hurled it with practiced precision.
The smoke formed into letters spelling "NICE TRY" before condensing into a small rain cloud that began following Harley around, soaking her pigtails and making disappointed thunder sounds.
"Hey!" Harley protested, swatting at the cloud. "That's not how smoke works!"
"Weather doesn't read the manual," Raj replied from his position on the Observatory's roof, somehow holding an umbrella despite never having moved.
Parasite's assault was more subtle—drain first, ask questions later. His power absorption had toppled gods and left Superman unconscious. He phase-shifted through the Observatory's walls and grabbed Raj from behind, purple energy crackling as he began to feed.
The feedback started immediately.
Raj's power wasn't just energy—it was potential embodied. Every possibility, every quantum state, every conceptual framework he could access, all existed simultaneously in controlled superposition. Parasite's absorption power tried to drain infinite probability.
The result was catastrophic cognitive dissonance. Parasite's consciousness became unstuck from linear causality, experiencing every possible outcome of every possible action simultaneously. He began speaking in quantum poetry, his words existing in superposition until someone observed them into meaning.
"I simultaneously do and do not comprehend the fundamental nature of my predicament," he announced before phasing through several dimensions and emerging as a abstract mathematical concept that hurt to think about.
"The error was in the assumption," his voice echoed from somewhere that wasn't quite spacetime.
Cheetah's approach was everything her feline nature suggested—stealth, patience, and surgical striking. She'd positioned herself downwind, moved through cover with inhuman grace, and waited for the perfect moment to strike. Her claws could shred tank armor; her speed could match the Flash on a good day.
Roy's tranquilizer dart hit her between the shoulder blades before she'd moved three steps.
The dart was labeled "Scheduled Nap Time" in neat handwriting, because Roy's sense of humor had evolved beyond mere cruelty into educational comedy.
"Did you just—" Cheetah's outraged question was cut off as she collapsed into a twitching pile of spotted fur, somehow managing to look dignified even while unconscious.
"Custom formulation," Roy explained to nobody in particular. "Jeevika's idea. Apparently, enhanced feline metabolism makes scheduling mandatory."
Captain Boomerang's attack was perhaps the most straightforward—his signature weapon, thrown with perfect accuracy and enhanced by ARGUS technology to punch through metahuman defenses. The boomerang screamed through the air like a guided missile, its edge sharp enough to cut concepts.
Raj caught it with a probability lasso made of crystallized karma.
The weapon became trapped in a causal loop—every time Boomerang threw it with hostile intent, it returned carrying a small note explaining why violence wasn't the answer, complete with helpful conflict resolution resources and a smiley face sticker.
"Bloody hell," Boomerang muttered after the seventh return trip, reading a pamphlet titled "Anger Management for Australians: A Survival Guide."
By the twelfth loop, he was actually taking notes.
Peacemaker emerged from the harbor in full tactical gear, every piece of equipment designed for maximum lethality. His helmet's HUD displayed threat assessments while his arsenal of "peace-making" weapons hummed with barely contained violence.
"Nexus!" his voice boomed through external speakers. "Your existence threatens global stability! I will achieve peace through your elimination!"
Raj's response was to manifest a giant dove of peace—specifically, a forty-foot-tall holographic dove that began following Peacemaker around, cooing reproachfully every time he raised a weapon.
"Peace cannot be achieved through violence, Christopher," the dove said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Peacemaker's own conscience. "Your father was wrong about many things."
"That's not—I don't—" Peacemaker's weapons kept malfunctioning as the dove's presence somehow activated their safety protocols. His flamethrower produced daisies. His grenades dispensed inspirational quotes. His assault rifle fired tiny foam peace signs.
"Your mission parameters are flawed," the dove continued gently. "True peace comes from understanding, not elimination."
ARGUS Command Center, Location Classified
Amanda Waller watched her carefully planned operation collapse into therapeutic intervention through satellite feeds and bodycam footage. Each screen showed another member of Task Force X being systematically educated by a teenager with what appeared to be weaponized empathy.
"Ma'am," her aide's voice was carefully neutral. "Perhaps we should consider extraction—"
The aide's words were cut off as every screen in the facility suddenly displayed the same image: Raj Singh standing in the Observatory's communications array, rainbow light coiling around him like a living aurora.
But this wasn't just being broadcast to ARGUS. This was every device on Earth.
"Hello, Director Waller," Raj's voice carried across every frequency simultaneously, an impossible feat that made quantum physicists worldwide question their career choices. "I know you're watching. We need to talk."
Waller's blood went cold as she realized what was happening. "Cut the feed! Now!"
"Can't, ma'am," her technician replied, fingers flying over controls that refused to respond. "Something's overridden our entire network. We're locked out of our systems."
[Good evening, Amanda,] Jeevika's voice filled the command center with silicon amusement. [Did you really think your little therapy group would work where the Light failed?]
The screens shifted, showing archived footage that should have been buried under layers of classification. Project Silence—the execution of rogue metahumans, including three teenagers whose only crime was refusing recruitment. Operation Babel—the psychic reprogramming of senators to ensure favorable votes on ARGUS funding. The Orphan Protocol—staged "accidents" that killed metahuman families to make their children easier to recruit.
"This is classified—" Waller began.
"Not anymore," Raj's voice interrupted. "Director Waller, you've spent years telling the world that you're the necessary evil. The hard choice. The person willing to do what others won't for the greater good."
More footage appeared: Cadmus Requiem, where ARGUS harvested DNA from captured heroes to build private armies. Vault Zero, the metahuman torture facility disguised as a medical research institute. Task Force Y—the failed experiment that turned psychiatric patients into psychic bombs.
"Let's see how the world feels about your definition of 'greater good.'"
Simultaneous Worldwide Broadcast
Team Nexus - Happy Harbor Observatory
Roy finished setting up a comfortable chair for Captain Boomerang, the Australian mercenary now peacefully reading conflict resolution literature and looking genuinely interested in the material. "Seventeen pamphlets. Think that's a record for educational intervention."
"Twelve years of government oversight taught me exactly how they think," Roy continued, gesturing at the various pacified Task Force X members scattered around the Observatory grounds. "Send expendable assets, maintain plausible deniability, blame the victims when it goes wrong."
Kiran's golden aura pulsed with controlled determination as she watched the global broadcasts. "She turned psychiatric patients into weapons. Children into orphans. The same thing the Light did, just with different paperwork."
Match spoke quietly from where he was offering water to an unconscious Cheetah. "It's exactly the same. The only difference is the flag they wrap around their crimes."
Justice League Watchtower
Superman's face had gone pale as the classified footage played across the Watchtower's main screen. "She had our DNA. They were building clone armies."
Wonder Woman's hand had unconsciously moved to her sword. "And they call this protection? This justice?"
Batman's fingers flew across his computer, accessing financial networks through backdoors he'd installed years ago. ARGUS funding began disappearing from federal budgets, their black site locations were anonymously forwarded to investigative journalists, and their classified research was uploaded to every major university's public database.
"Some institutions," Batman said quietly, "need to end before they can be rebuilt properly."
Green Lantern Hal Jordan stared at the displays showing Waller's operations being exposed. "The Orphan Protocol... they killed families to make recruitment easier. How is that different from what the Light did?"
Aquaman's expression was grim as he watched footage of ARGUS's underwater black sites being revealed. "They've been torturing metahumans in the Mariana Trench for years. Atlantis never knew because their psychic shielding blocked our telepaths."
"Look at this," Green Arrow said, pulling up financial records. "ARGUS has been funding dictatorships worldwide, destabilizing governments that wouldn't cooperate with their operations. They're not protecting democracy—they're undermining it."
Mount Justice - Young Justice Team
The Team had gathered in the Cave's main computer area, watching the global broadcast with a mixture of horror and disgust as ARGUS's true operations were exposed.
"Jesus Christ," Artemis whispered, her face pale as footage of the Orphan Protocol played on screen. "They killed entire families just to make kids easier to recruit. That's... that's what happened to Roy, isn't it?"
Robin—Tim Drake—was typing furiously at his computer, his jaw clenched tight. "Vault Zero. They've been torturing metahuman kids for years. Look at this—electroshock therapy on a twelve-year-old pyrokinetic because she wouldn't join their junior league."
"I'm gonna be sick," Superboy said, his hands clenching into fists as he watched footage of Cadmus Requiem.
Miss Martian's eyes were streaming tears as she absorbed the psychic echoes from the exposed facilities. "The psychiatric patients... they turned them into living bombs. I can feel their confusion, their terror when they realized what was happening to them. They didn't even understand why they were dying."
"Operation Babel," Wonder Girl read from her screen, her voice shaking with rage. "They mind-controlled senators. Rewired their brains to vote for ARGUS funding. That's not oversight—that's a coup."
Impulse had stopped vibrating entirely, his usual manic energy replaced by cold fury. "Dude, they've been doing this for decades. There are kids who grew up in their facilities who don't even remember their real names. They just... erased them."
Blue Beetle's scarab was chattering anxiously in his head as he analyzed the data streams. "Jaime, the Reach were pikers compared to this. At least they were honest about wanting to conquer us. ARGUS pretended to be protecting people while doing the same things."
"Project Silence," Aqualad said quietly, reading from classified files. “Seventeen metahuman teenagers executed because they refused recruitment. The youngest was fourteen. They told their families they'd died in accidents."
Artemis slammed her fist on the console. "And Waller had the balls to call us dangerous? To send assassins after Raj? She's been running her version of the Light this whole time!"
"Worse than the Light," Superboy corrected grimly. "The Light never pretended to be the good guys."
ARGUS Command Center
The command center had erupted into chaos as global condemnation poured in through every communication channel. Waller watched her life's work crumble in real-time—funding frozen, operations exposed, subordinates looking at her like she'd grown a second head.
She reached for the emergency kill switch that would detonate Task Force X's collars. Better to eliminate the evidence than let them be captured and interrogated.
Her hand stopped inches from the button as her computer screen displayed a single message: "The age of consequences includes you too, Amanda."
[I wouldn't,] Jeevika's voice carried digital disappointment. [The collars have been... repurposed. Try to detonate them now, and they'll just play therapeutic meditation music.]
Happy Harbor Observatory 4:15 AM EST
Task Force X had been arranged in a comfortable circle on the Observatory's front lawn, each member participating in what appeared to be an impromptu group therapy session. Deadshot was discussing his relationship with his daughter. King Shark was working through abandonment issues. Harley Quinn was actually listening to someone else for once.
Peacemaker sat in the center, his helmet removed, tears streaming down his face as he spoke about his father's abuse and how it had shaped his understanding of peace through violence.
"I thought," he said quietly, "that if I could eliminate enough threats, maybe the world would be safe enough for real peace. But that's not how peace works, is it?"
"No, Christopher," Raj said gently, sitting beside the broken man. "Peace isn't the absence of conflict. It's the presence of justice. And justice isn't about elimination—it's about restoration."
Their uniforms now displayed a new message, written in letters that glowed with gentle golden light: "Healing is possible. Help is available. You are not alone."
Raj stood before the global broadcast array one final time, his voice carrying across every frequency on Earth.
"I could have killed them," he said simply. "Director Waller sent eight people to murder me in my sleep, armed with weapons designed to exploit what she thought were my weaknesses. I could have ended each of them in seconds."
He gestured to the group therapy session behind him. "I didn't. Because, unlike Director Waller, I understand that being powerful means helping people become better, not eliminating them when they're broken."
The broadcast shifted to show ARGUS detention facilities being raided by local law enforcement, Waller's subordinates surrendering without resistance as evidence of their crimes was laid bare.
"This was the intervention," Raj continued. "The world has healers now. Real ones. We won't hide behind classification levels or plausible deniability. We won't sacrifice the innocent for the greater good. And we won't let anyone—government, corporation, or cosmic entity—profit from human suffering."
The screen went dark for a moment before displaying a simple message: "The age of healing has begun."
ARGUS Command Center
Amanda Waller watched her life's work crumble, but this was only the beginning of her education. As the global broadcast continued, she felt something she'd never experienced before—helplessness.
Her computer screens began displaying files she'd buried under layers of classification. But these weren't just operational records. These were the personal stories of everyone she'd destroyed in the name of the greater good.
Project Silence—the execution of rogue metahumans. The screens showed their faces, their names, their families who never learned what happened to them. Each file opened with a video message from their loved ones, recorded by Raj's team over the past few hours.
"Amanda Waller," a grieving mother's voice filled the command center, "you killed my son because he wouldn't join your army. His name was Marcus Chen. He was sixteen years old. He wanted to be a teacher."
The screens multiplied. Hundreds of faces, hundreds of names, hundreds of lives cut short because they wouldn't become her weapons.
"Sarah Mitchell, age fifteen. Wanted to be a veterinarian."
"David Park, age seventeen. He was going to study music therapy."
"Elena Rodriguez, age sixteen. She was going to help her community rebuild after hurricane damage."
Each name was accompanied by footage of their memorial services, their families' grief, the futures that died with them.
But Raj wasn't finished.
Waller's neural implants—the classified cybernetic enhancements she'd never admitted to having—suddenly activated. For the first time in her career, Amanda Waller experienced what it felt like to be one of her assets.
She felt the explosive collar around her neck, though none was visible. She felt the constant fear of expendability, the knowledge that her life meant nothing beyond its utility. She experienced the psychological conditioning she'd inflicted on hundreds of operatives.
"This is what you did to them," Raj's voice filled her mind with absolute clarity. "This is what it feels like to be property instead of a person."
The sensation lasted exactly as long as the average operational lifespan of a Task Force X member: four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds.
When it ended, Amanda Waller was catatonic, finally understanding the true weight of what she'd spent her career doing to others.
Simultaneous Worldwide Broadcast
Raj appeared on every screen on Earth, but this time he wasn't alone. Behind him stood holographic projections of every person ARGUS had disappeared, tortured, or murdered in the name of national security.
"Director Waller spent her career believing that some people were expendable," Raj's voice carried across every frequency with divine authority. "She was wrong. Every life has value. Every person deserves justice. Every action has consequences."
The broadcast shifted to show ARGUS black sites around the world being raided by local authorities, evidence of torture and murder being uncovered in real-time.
"This wasn't an intervention," Raj continued, his voice carrying the weight of immutable law. "This was a reckoning. The age of accountability has begun, and it includes everyone—especially those who thought they were above it."
UN Headquarters, Geneva
Amanda Waller was led into the detention facility, but she wasn't the same woman who had ordered the assassination of a seventeen-year-old hero. The psychological weight of her victims' experiences had fundamentally changed her.
She shuffled rather than walked, her eyes hollow with the knowledge of what she'd become. For the first time in her career, Amanda Waller looked fragile.
"The defendant will stand for sentencing," the judge announced.
Waller didn't respond. She was still processing the educational experience Raj had given her—understanding, for the first time, what it meant to be on the receiving end of absolute power.
The sentence was life imprisonment without parole, but everyone in the courtroom knew that the real punishment had already been delivered. Waller would spend the rest of her life carrying the weight of every life she'd destroyed, feeling their fear, knowing their dreams, understanding exactly what she'd taken from the world.
The Observatory, Dawn
Raj stood on the Observatory's observation deck, watching the sunrise paint the Atlantic in shades of gold and crimson. His Eidolon slots had cycled back to their default configuration, the reality-bending powers no longer necessary.
"Think they learned their lesson?" Roy asked, joining him with a cup of coffee that smelled suspiciously like motor oil.
"Some of them," Raj replied. "The smart ones will realize that cooperation works better than elimination. The others will keep trying until they understand that broken people can be healed."
"And when they don't want healing?"
Raj's smile was peaceful, but his eyes held depths that suggested immutable principles held in perfect balance. "Then they'll discover that consequences are educational whether you want them to be or not."
Kiran and Match joined them on the deck, the four young people who had chosen to become Earth's guardians watching the dawn break over a world that was finally beginning to understand what true justice looked like.
The Light had ruled through fear and manipulation. The government had ruled through secrecy and expendable assets.
Nexus would guide through the simple principle that actions had consequences, and those consequences would be proportional, inevitable, and absolutely educational.
The age of compromise was over. The age of accountability had begun.
And somewhere in a maximum-security cell, Amanda Waller sat in the dark and wondered how a seventeen-year-old had managed to do what decades of heroes and villains couldn't: make the world's most powerful intelligence agency completely obsolete.
The answer was simple, though she'd never understand it: he'd treated people like people instead of assets.
Revolutionary concept.
[End of Chapter 40]
