A.R.G.U.S. — Key Members' Point of View
The conference room deep beneath A.R.G.U.S. headquarters was sealed tighter than most military bunkers. No windows. No phones. No outside access. Just reinforced walls, holographic displays, and a long steel table surrounded by some of the most powerful people in the United States' covert defense structure.
Amanda Waller sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled, expression unreadable as always. To her right was Sam Lane, posture rigid, military discipline etched into every line of his face. Steve Trevor leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed, calm but alert. Lyla Michaels, eyes sharp behind her glasses, scrolled through projections of schematics and threat assessments with quiet efficiency.
The meeting was classified above Top Secret.
The topic: escalation.
"We are behind," Sam Lane said bluntly, tapping a file projected in front of him. "Intergang is better armed than some NATO units. Meta-trafficking is accelerating. We've recovered alien tech that could put our soldiers on equal footing—energy rifles, adaptive armor, battlefield AI."
Steve Trevor nodded. "We've seen what happens when we hesitate. The world doesn't wait for us to catch up."
Lyla adjusted the projection, displaying sleek weapon prototypes. "Reverse-engineered designs are already viable. Mass production is possible within eighteen months if funding is approved."
Amanda Waller listened without interruption.
Her mind was already ten steps ahead, calculating leverage, fallout, control. Power was meaningless unless it could be contained. She was about to speak when the soft chime of an incoming call echoed through the room.
Everyone froze.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
No calls were allowed during this meeting. Everyone in the building knew that.
Amanda's eyes flicked to the secure console. The caller ID read: Office of the Director — Priority Override.
Her jaw tightened.
"This better be worth interrupting me," she said coldly.
She tapped the console. The call connected—and instead of her secretary, a live video feed filled the main screen.
The image showed a suburban street.
A house.
Rick Flag Sr.'s house.
For half a second, no one spoke.
Then Sasha Bordeaux's voice came through the speakers, tight and controlled.
"Director Waller. We have confirmation. Rick Flag Sr. returned to his residence approximately thirty minutes ago."
Amanda leaned forward slightly. "Explain."
The video replayed.
A black car pulling into the driveway.
The driver's door opening.
Rick Flag Sr. stepping out.
Standing.
Walking.
Not limping. Not assisted.
Walking like a man who had never been broken in the first place.
The room went silent.
Sam Lane's eyes widened. Steve Trevor straightened. Lyla stopped scrolling entirely.
"That's not possible," Sam said slowly. "His medical file—"
"—said he would never walk again," Steve finished, disbelief creeping into his voice.
Amanda said nothing.
She watched Rick Flag Sr. cross his driveway, sling a bag over his shoulder, unlock the front door, and disappear inside.
Sasha's voice continued. "We verified visual confirmation from multiple angles. No prosthetics. No external support. Natural gait."
Amanda exhaled slowly through her nose. "Continue surveillance. Do not approach. Do not engage."
"Yes, ma'am."
The feed switched.
John Economos' face replaced the video, pale and sweating.
"I backtracked his movements through city surveillance," he said quickly. "Before he came home, Rick Flag Sr. was at the courthouse."
That got everyone's attention.
"He met privately with a judge—highly respected, clean record, federal clearance. About twenty minutes later, a document was uploaded to the government system. Non-disclosure agreement. Ironclad. Air-tight."
Amanda's eyes narrowed. "What's in it."
John swallowed. "That's the problem."
He pulled the document up.
Lines of legal text filled the screen as John summarized aloud.
"Rick Flag Sr. underwent a cyberware implantation replacing his damaged spine. The device is designated Sandevistan. Provider: Batman."
The room exploded.
"Batman?" Sam barked.
"That's impossible," Lyla said, stunned. "Cyberware at that level—"
Steve Trevor stood up. "You're telling me Batman replaced Rick Flag Sr.'s spine with experimental technology and didn't tell anyone?"
John continued, voice shaking slightly now. "It gets worse. Rick is the only recipient. No replication allowed. The device is permanently fused to his body. Removal while alive would be fatal and legally classified as a violation of the Fourth Amendment."
Amanda's grip tightened on the table.
"And there's a failsafe," John added. "Upon Rick Flag Sr.'s death, the Sandevistan shuts down permanently. Cannot be reactivated. Cannot be hacked. Not even Batman retains access."
Silence.
Pure, stunned silence.
Amanda finally spoke. "So we can't control it."
"No," John said quietly. "We can't even legally ask about it."
Sam Lane slammed his fist on the table. "That man was ours!"
"No," Steve Trevor said slowly. "He was ours. He isn't anymore."
Amanda's expression hardened. "Keep watching him. Record everything. No contact."
The meeting resumed—but the tone had changed.
Two hours later, just as discussions were wrapping up, another alert came in.
Sasha Bordeaux again.
Her face was tight, almost shaken.
"Director… you need to see this."
The video began.
A cemetery.
Rick Flag Sr. standing among headstones.
Then chaos.
Nine attackers.
Gunfire.
A metahuman wielding fire.
And then—
Time seemed to distort.
Rick Flag Sr. moved.
Not fast.
Impossible.
He crossed distance in blinks. Bullets hung in the air. Enemies fell before they even realized he was there. Seven men neutralized in seconds. Bone-breaking efficiency. Precision. Control.
Then the fire metahuman.
A brutal fight.
Rick Flag Sr. won.
The video continued.
A young woman—identified moments later as Luna, daughter of the Secretary of Defense.
A military convoy.
A helicopter.
And finally, audio.
Rick Flag Sr.'s voice, calm and unwavering:
"I won't rejoin A.R.G.U.S.
I don't trust it.
If you want my protection, I'll work as a private contractor.
My only responsibility is Luna's safety.
No politics. No black ops. No hidden agendas."
The Secretary of Defense's reply was immediate.
Agreement.
The feed cut.
No one spoke.
Amanda Waller leaned back slowly, her face unreadable—but her eyes burned with something dangerous.
Rick Flag Sr. was no longer an asset.
He was no longer controllable.
And for the first time in a long while…
That scared her.