Amanda Waller calmly lowered her hand onto the table. "And I have a solution for the growing public distrust."
The President looked toward her. "I'm listening."
"We already have dozens of metahumans locked away in federal prisons and black sites. Instead of spending billions keeping them behind bars, why don't we make them useful?"
Several generals frowned. The Secretary of Defense spoke first. "You mean... offer reduced sentences in exchange for government service?"
Amanda nodded. "We create a government-controlled metahuman task force. They handle missions too dangerous for conventional forces — missions where sending soldiers would only increase casualties."
One admiral crossed his arms. "And if they refuse?"
"They stay in prison. No pardons. No special treatment."
Another general shook his head. "Those people are criminals. They're unstable. The last thing this country needs is armed supervillains operating under a government badge."
Amanda remained unfazed. "Which is why we don't recruit every metahuman behind bars." She changed the slide.
"We select individuals we can control — people with exploitable weaknesses. Family members."
"People they still care about. Individuals who genuinely want a reduced sentence and a chance to earn their freedom. The completely uncontrollable ones never leave their cells."
The President folded his hands. "And how does this solve the public's lack of confidence?"
"Because perception matters. Right now, every major disaster ends with an independent hero saving the day while the government arrives afterward to clean up." She gestured toward the footage of Daniel suspending thousands of infected civilians above Gotham.
"Whether it's Superman, Batman, or Daniel — the public sees extraordinary people solving extraordinary problems. They don't see their own government doing the same." She let the silence linger.
"A government-sponsored metahuman response unit changes that. It tells the public that their government is adapting instead of standing still."
Several officials slowly nodded. The proposal wasn't without risks. But neither was doing nothing.
The President looked at Amanda. "If this moves forward... what do you intend to call this unit?"
Amanda closed the classified folder in front of her. "For now, it's simply a proposal." A faint smile appeared on her face. "But I already have a list of potential candidates."
The folder remained closed. Printed across its cover was a simple designation.
TASK FORCE X.
***
At the same time, in Detroit, rain steadily fell as people hurried past the café with umbrellas in hand.
Rachel Roth sat alone beside the window with a cup of coffee in front of her. She absentmindedly tore open several sugar packets and poured them into the cup before slowly stirring it.
The dark surface of the coffee rippled. Then her reflection smiled. Rachel didn't.
"So..." The reflection rested its chin on one hand. "What exactly are we doing?"
Rachel kept stirring. "I'm following a lead."
"To a church?"
Rachel finally looked into the coffee. "My adoptive mother stayed there for a while when I was kid." Her voice was quiet.
"Maybe someone there remembers something. Maybe they know where I came from."
The reflection laughed softly. "You still think you'll find answers?"
Rachel ignored it. Melissa had always avoided talking about her past — whenever Rachel asked where she had come from, Melissa would gently change the subject.
Now Melissa was gone. The only clue Rachel had found among her belongings pointed toward the church where Melissa had lived years ago. If anyone knew the truth, it would be someone there.
The reflection's smile slowly faded into something colder. "And what if you don't like the answers?"
Rachel's hand stopped moving. "I have to know. No matter what."
The reflection leaned closer from the black surface of the coffee. "Careful, Rachel. Sometimes the truth... is far worse than the mystery."
Rachel silently stood, picked up her backpack, and placed a few dollars on the table. Without another glance at the coffee, she walked out into the rain.
The reflection remained behind, still smiling from inside the untouched cup.
---
Daniel was walking through the streets of Detroit alongside Harleen. He hadn't planned on coming to Michigan — Harleen had practically dragged him out of Central City for a consultation.
To be fair, he hadn't resisted very much. His house had become absolute chaos lately.
Between Mera unexpectedly showing up, Harleen discovering his wives, and the constant arguments between the women, staying home had become far more dangerous than dealing with monsters.
At least corpses don't yell at me.
The rain poured across the city, though oddly enough not a single drop landed on either of them.
The raindrops simply curved away as if an invisible barrier surrounded Daniel, unintentionally sheltering Harleen as well.
Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets. "So... what kind of patient makes us travel all the way from Central City to Detroit?"
Harleen adjusted the bag hanging from her shoulder. "It's technically a police case. They found a body inside a house yesterday."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"The witness claims he watched the victim start vomiting." Harleen's expression grew serious. "Not blood. Organs."
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"The victim vomited until there was nothing left. Lungs. Liver. Stomach. Intestines. Everything." She looked straight ahead as they continued walking.
"According to the autopsy, every internal organ somehow exited through the victim's mouth."
Daniel stared at her for several seconds. "...What the hell?" Even after everything he had witnessed across countless worlds, that sounded disturbing.
"The b
ody's otherwise intact," Harleen continued. "No external injuries. No signs of surgery. No poison we've been able to identify." She let out a frustrated sigh.
"The witness is the only person who saw it happen, so the police asked me to evaluate whether he's mentally stable or if the entire story is a hallucination caused by trauma."
Daniel scratched his cheek. "Honestly, if someone told me they watched a man vomit out all of his organs, my first thought would be that they're insane."
Harleen nodded. "Exactly. That's why I'm here." She glanced sideways at Daniel.
"And you're here because if the witness is telling the truth, whatever caused that death is probably far outside normal medical science."
Daniel sighed. "Why do these things always happen when I'm trying to take a break?"
*****
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