Killer Croc lumbered back to the mountain ranch, his massive frame casting a shadow across the gold-filled warehouse he now guarded. Two hundred forty tons of glittering bullion packed the space from floor to ceiling.
Meanwhile, Deadshot materialized inside the hollow crown of the Statue of Liberty, his teleportation complete. His mission briefing flashed in his mind: plant and detonate enough explosives to reduce the iconic monument to rubble. The Witch would extract him once every charge was armed.
Deadshot's breath hitched as he read the orders, his pupils contracting to pinpricks. He turned mechanically toward the stacked crates—each containing two-meter cubes of plastic explosives. His rifle slipped from numb fingers as he stared at the deadly payload. Whether frozen by fear or hesitation, he remained utterly still. Across town, Hong Fei and the Witch watched his feed from their hotel suite.
The Witch tapped a fingernail against her teeth.
"I could detonate those charges remotely," she offered, turning from the projection. Hong Fei didn't glance up from the holographic display.
"That defeats the purpose. He needs to do it himself."
This was both initiation rite and stress test—a way to bind Deadshot through action while gauging his breaking point. The Witch shrugged, her interest evaporating.
"When are you returning my heart?" she demanded, voice sharp as broken glass. Hong Fei kept his eyes on the feed.
"Patience. Soon enough."
He'd wait until certain of overpowering her—or perhaps follow Waller's example and seize control of the heart himself. As for the Witch's brother, still trapped in doll form? That conversation could wait. His restored power would make him dangerously unpredictable.
The Witch's lips twisted at his non-answer.
"Waller will suspect me after today," she hissed. Hong Fei's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Deny everything. I'll provide a scapegoat."
His mind conjured the perfect candidate—Constantine. No need to even reveal the magician's true face; a convincing illusion would suffice. This way, Waller might grow more dependent on the Witch's talents. After all, only magic could counter magic.
Deadshot's operation would mark the final phase of Hong Fei's current plan. He gestured toward the frozen feed.
"Come watch the fireworks with me."
The Witch studied his profile, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"You harbor such malice toward this world."
Hong Fei chuckled.
"The world's innocent. My quarrel's with specific people and their monuments."
He tapped the projection where Lady Liberty's torch flickered.
"My New York never had this statue. Consider this an invitation—one grand fireworks display for the entire city."
Inside the monument, Deadshot finally stirred. Red targeting markers bloomed across his augmented vision, highlighting precise placement points for the explosives. The realization struck him like a bullet: their mysterious employer could've completed this task alone. This was always about testing his compliance.
Deadshot felt the mysterious boss's arrangement was very targeted at the human heart, but he had no choice. Hong Fei's casual threat about exploding contact lenses rang in his ears—no bluff, he was certain. For his daughter's sake if not his own, he'd play along. A statue was just metal and stone. If it had to burn, let it burn.
The concept of freedom had become meaningless to him after so many years in prison. If anything, as he planted the plastic explosives, a strange thrill coursed through him. The exploding Statue of Liberty would become the most spectacular version of itself in history—and he would be the one to make it happen.
Only one thought nagged at him: he hoped his daughter didn't particularly like the monument.
The explosives were set, the timers activated. Deadshot scanned his surroundings nervously. Then, like ink bleeding through paper, the Witch's dark mist materialized from the air, coiled around him, and—in the space of a breath—yanked him from Liberty Island to the mountain ranch's warehouse, where he landed unceremoniously atop a pile of gold.
Five seconds later, the charges detonated.
Thankfully, the island had been evacuated. No tourists, no casualties. Just the sudden disintegration of green copper, a geyser of flame punching the sky, and a thunderclap that shook New York to its bones. For one impossible moment, the entire city trembled.
Even from his hotel room, Hong Fei heard the explosion. He watched the statue vanish—but felt none of the satisfaction he'd expected. Maybe because he'd already witnessed something far more dazzling. For the rest of New York, though, this would be a day etched into history.
The Witch observed the spectacle for a few disinterested seconds before turning away.
"I'm leaving."
"Bye."
"Don't forget your promise."
"I won't."
She vanished. Hong Fei flicked on the TV.
The screen showed a now-empty Liberty Island. A news anchor's hysterical voice blared through the speakers: "—The Statue of Liberty has disappeared! My God! She was actually blown up! Heaven knows how much explosive the criminals used! I guarantee this will shock the world—but let's not forget, in Manhattan, a robbery at the Federal Reserve Bank is underway, with dozens dead, including the bank manager and some... some kind of creature! Are these events connected? Stay tuned!"
Hong Fei peeled off his armor, revealing the suit beneath. He took a breath, steadied himself, and dialed Cora.
Her voice exploded through the receiver before he could speak: "Hong! Get to the robbery scene now! Where the hell have you been?!"
"Watching the news at the hotel. Why are you at the bank? That's not our jurisdiction. I only called after seeing the statue get blown up."
"What?!"
Cora's shriek nearly ruptured his eardrum.
"You said the Statue of Liberty was blown up? Did I hear that right? Was that explosion just now—?"
"Yes, you heard right. The TV's showing it live—Liberty Island's empty."
A beat of silence. Then, through gritted teeth: "Damn it! I'm going to find those bastards and put a bullet between their eyes!"
Hong Fei sighed. "You're overthinking it. What's the situation at the bank?"
Cora's frustration crackled through the line.
"No progress. SWAT's still holding back. Wait—some guy in a weird costume is moving in. He was holding a Javelin just now; he seems not afraid of death... Hiss—he's approaching the main gate. No hostiles yet. Javelin's drawn. SWAT's moving in. Hong, I've got to go—need to find a way inside. Damn Neil, pretending he can't hear me!"
The line went dead.
Hong Fei sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the TV screen as the live broadcast switched back to the scene outside the bank. A squad of SWAT officers moved cautiously forward, their weapons raised. When they realized they weren't under attack, they quickened their pace toward the bank's entrance. Inside, the hostages trapped in the grenade net broke into tears at the sight of their rescuers. Hong Fei leaned back, waiting calmly for the outcome.
After a moment's thought, he donned his iron armor again. Better to be prepared in case breaking the seal later caused any unexpected commotion. Arthur's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Sir, Superman is here." Hong Fei's eyes snapped open. They had left the vault earlier, and Arthur had abandoned his plan to continue setting off false alarms across Metropolis.
Superman must have seen the news from New York and rushed over. For someone with his speed, this wasn't particularly fast. On the TV screen, a red blur descended rapidly from the sky. The crowd erupted into cheers as he landed. Superman approached the bank entrance, his brow furrowing at the sight of the grenade net. He pressed his palms together, detonating the grenades one by one.
The explosions' flames and shockwaves were contained entirely within his hands. When he released his grip, charred metal fragments scattered across the ground. He repeated the process, swiftly cutting through the net and freeing the hostages. Moments later, he disappeared into the bank and emerged less than a minute later.
He shook his head at the group of police officers, ignoring their disappointed expressions, and shot back into the sky, vanishing from sight. Hong Fei watched it all unfold, blinking slowly. He wasn't envious of Superman's abilities. If he could fully recover, he'd be more than a match for the Man of Steel.
After all, Superman hadn't spent much time basking in the sun's rays, and he'd wasted plenty of time sleeping. Defeating him was Hong Fei's ultimate goal. A Kryptonian bloodline combined with photonic energy control—taking off in one decisive move wasn't just a pipe dream. Of course, he'd need to find a way to neutralize Kryptonite as a weakness first. Otherwise, he'd be inviting disaster.
Hong Fei closed his eyes and waited in silence. Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang had been sent by the Witch to a building across from the Federal Reserve Bank. His task?
"An unknown issue has occurred with teleportation. While ensuring your own safety, proceed to Queens, at a certain street, number **, to rendezvous with the others."
"F**k!"
Captain Boomerang cursed loudly, gripping his boomerang tightly. He crept to the window and peered down at the police officers who had nearly surrounded the area. His expression shifted rapidly. He'd been abandoned by Hong Fei.
The mention of "Queens" in the task instructions confirmed it. He was being set up as one of the culprits for the robbery Hong Fei had orchestrated—a pawn, a stepping stone. Things like this could happen once or twice, but not a third time.
The first time, at the mountain ranch, he'd tried to convince Deadshot and Killer Croc to leave with him, effectively pitting them against Hong Fei. Hong Fei had let it slide, showing understanding rather than anger.
The second time, in New York, he'd stirred up tension before the operation, hoping to pressure Deadshot and Killer Croc into abandoning the mission and joining him in defiance. Hong Fei had turned a blind eye, giving him a second chance.
But now, as the police closed in, Captain Boomerang knew there wouldn't be a third.
The third time happened inside the bank during the operation. He disregarded Hong Fei's "Three Don'ts" rules completely, pretending not to see the glaring red task panel flashing before his eyes. Only when Bloodsport's five members stormed the building—and Hong Fei broadcast the security footage—did he realize something was wrong. Even then, he failed to grasp how badly he'd screwed up.
After staring blankly for a few seconds, he broke protocol again by cracking the safe. At best, it showed reckless negligence. At worst? Sheer defiance, a complete lack of respect for the rules. Someone like this would only bring disaster—no way Hong Fei could ever trust him again.
His final value is to become the second merit on Officer Hong's path to promotion, the first major case. A stepping stone, nothing more.