The morning sun blazed down from a cloudless sky. Every screen, every page, every news outlet buzzed with the same story: the Federal Reserve Bank of New York had been robbed. Social commentary exploded like wildfire, turning the event into the hottest topic across the globe.
This wasn't some run-of-the-mill heist. The stolen amount, staggering as it might be, was almost beside the point. What mattered was the symbolism behind the act—the conversations it sparked, the ripple effects it sent through the world. The Federal Reserve Bank, a name unfamiliar to most, suddenly became the center of attention. Official reports flooded in almost immediately.
Within hours, statements poured in from every corner of authority: the NYPD, the city government, the state government, military representatives, the White House spokesperson, and even the President himself. The messages, stripped of their bureaucratic fluff, boiled down to three key points:
First, this was a coordinated terrorist attack aimed at destabilizing the global economic order. The authorities vowed to hunt down every perpetrator and deliver swift justice, urging the public to come forward with any information.
Second, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, the largest and most secure of its kind, had not lost a single asset. Its defenses had held firm.
Third, all four terrorists who breached the bank had been neutralized during the operation. Investigators had already uncovered leads about the organization behind them and promised severe sanctions and retaliatory strikes to uphold democracy and freedom.
When Hong Fei woke up and saw the reports, he nearly choked on his coffee. Had he died last night without realizing it? He couldn't fathom why they'd lie so boldly and extensively. Were they not afraid of his retaliation? Or had lying become second nature to them, like a dog returning to its vomit?
Superman Clark Kent shared Hong Fei's skepticism. In Metropolis, Clark sat on his couch, his girlfriend Lois nestled in his arms. He removed his glasses, his brow furrowed with confusion. Lois, engrossed in the TV, didn't notice his unease. After a moment, she asked, "Are the robbers all dead?"
Clark snapped out of his thoughts. He gently stroked her hair and frowned.
"I didn't see any robbers last night."
"Huh? The police acted that fast?"
"Maybe. But I did see some... special personnel. Government agents."
"Special?"
"Yeah. They're not ordinary people."
As a reporter, Lois should've been fascinated by this revelation. But right now, her focus was on the man beside her. Superman had already satisfied most of her curiosity about the extraordinary. She leaned against his chest, her hand resting on his pectoral muscle, absently rubbing as she spoke.
"It's not that surprising. The government's always been secretive. Even before you appeared, they must've known about unusual lives. Of course, they'd never let us report on it. Freedom of the press isn't absolute."
Clark's eyes stayed fixed on the screen, but his mind replayed last night's events. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "They're lying."
"Huh?"
"Many vaults in the underground vault were opened, and one of them is completely empty."
Lois bolted upright, her eyes wide with shock.
"Really? Emptied? Do you know how much gold was stolen?"
Clark thought for a moment.
"One vault is definitely empty. But I can't tell if it was always empty or if the robbers cleaned it out."
Lois frowned deeply, her reporter instincts kicking into overdrive.
She bit her lower lip and pondered for a long time, then shook her head in confusion: "I also don't know how much gold is stored in the underground vault of New York, but the robbers should not have been able to take away a whole warehouse of gold. They never appeared again after entering the bank last night, and the Police said they had already killed the other party."
Clark shook his head straight: "When I arrived last night, no Police successfully entered the bank."
"Weren't there official special teams?"
"They stayed on the top floor and did not take action, and one of them was shot..."
Superman thought of the nano-bombs he had seen in the necks of those five guys last night, and his brows tightened again: "I don't know the specifics, but they did stay on the top floor."
Lois blinked quickly, clearly undergoing a brainstorming session in her mind. Clark continued: "Also, I have a feeling that the abnormality in Metropolis last night might have something to do with those robbers."
Lois was shocked again: "You mean the fake alarm event that lasted for a long time last night? It is the biggest local news in Metropolis."
Clark nodded.
"Why did they do this... wait, they wanted to keep you in Metropolis and didn't want you to go to New York?"
"I think that's the case."
Lois said blankly: "But you just arrived in Metropolis not long ago, how could they be sure that you were in Metropolis? And, how did they manage those fake alarms?"
Clark's brows were tightly furrowed. He could do it; as long as he connected his own mind to signals invisible to the naked eye of ordinary people, he could easily manipulate the content transmission within them.
But if the robbers could do it, then the truth might be very terrifying. No, even now, the fact that the robbers could reach this level was already terrifying enough. Clark felt that the other party might even know his true identity. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but glance at Lois.
Facing Clark's gaze, Lois did not notice the hidden worry in the depths of his eyes, but said somewhat excitedly: "So the official reports are all fake, no one was killed, and there is a high possibility that the vault was indeed stolen! My God! This is the biggest news, and it is the truth of the facts! But how did the robbers leave? Does the Federal Reserve Bank of New York have other passage exits?"
"No, I have checked; there are no other entrances or exits, and the underground has not suffered any damage."
"Then how did they leave? And that was under the condition that they very likely carried a large amount of gold?"
"I don't know, Lois, I haven't figured it out yet."
The two discussed for a long time.
Lois's peripheral vision caught sight of the President making a public speech on television again, and seemingly having thought of something, she quickly deflated.
"Sigh, Clark, our discussion is meaningless. Because the government will not allow us to announce the truth to the public; that would be a huge blow to the government, and it might even cause economic turmoil around the World. The consequences are too serious, and even the newspaper office would not dare to report such a truth, not to mention that we have no way to prove it."
Clark, who had worked at the newspaper office for a period of time, also nodded, but he clearly had other thoughts.
"Lois, with the abilities of the robbers, they shouldn't have acted just for gold. So, assuming the robbers see these overwhelming reports, is it possible for them to launch a counterattack against these reports?"
Hearing this, Lois was stunned. After a while, she said with suspicion and uncertainty: "If your assumption becomes reality, then the government will be in big trouble."
Clark nodded, "Maybe I can wait for them and then find them based on the clues."
Lois nodded, turned to lie in Clark's arms, and whispered: "Then you also need to be careful."
"I will."
---
New York. Hong Fei could confirm Clark's suspicions weren't unfounded—if anything, they were completely justified. This wasn't just about money. He'd never pass up an opportunity to humiliate the U.S. government.
"Sir, the video's ready."
"Good. Contact Amanda Waller first. She might be morally bankrupt, but at least she's not a complete idiot."
"Understood."
Arthur handled the secure connection. Meanwhile in Washington, Amanda Waller had just landed and assembled Task Force X at her agency's headquarters.
Her fury was volcanic. The team had accomplished exactly nothing last night. Worse, the moment they'd entered the bank district, all signals had been jammed—she'd lost both communication and control over her squad.
No orders. No status updates. Not even the ability to detonate their implanted nano-bombs. Outwardly, she'd remained calm during the Louisiana operation, but inside? Pure panic. This was their first major field mission, and such a catastrophic failure was unacceptable.
Her rage served dual purposes. Half was genuine frustration, half was performance—testing whether the team had discovered the nano-bombs' malfunction. Their sullen silence and resentful micro-expressions suggested they hadn't. Amanda allowed herself an internal sigh of relief.
After ten minutes of blistering reprimands, she snapped coldly: "Explain last night's failure."
Bloodsport ignored her.
Her voice dropped dangerously.
"DuBois."
"Yeah?"
"Why did you fail?"
He snorted.
"I'd like to know that myself. How does five against two end in our defeat? Maybe you should reconsider your recruitment standards."
He ticked off fingers.
"One guy literally offered his arms to be chopped off. Another had his neck snapped three times in front of us. And this one—" he jerked a thumb at Javelin "—couldn't even reload his weapon after one shot."
Amanda's eye twitched.
"DuBois! I asked you a question!"
Bloodsport shrugged.
"I answered. We got outplayed."
"That's not an explanation!"
"Why not?"
"Need I remind you? You're called the Suicide Squad."
"So when we're getting our asses kicked, we should just off ourselves? Is that the strategy?"
"You know damn well that's not what I meant."
Amanda's voice turned glacial.
"Are you testing me, DuBois?"
At her signal, an aide opened a case containing the nano-bomb detonators.
Javelin suddenly perked up.
"Wait... I get it now."
His eyes widened.
"There was another team operating last night, wasn't there?"
Every head turned toward him.
"What? Did I miss something?"
Javelin stepped forward, eyebrows raised.
"Amanda, I respect you. But you didn't extend us the same courtesy."
"Step. Back."
"I will. After you explain why we weren't briefed about a second squad."
His voice grew louder.
"TDK lost an actual arm! And Weasel—fine, that disgusting bastard deserved to die. Twenty-plus kids? Jesus."
"Final warning. Step back."
"Gladly. Just tell me why—"
BANG.
The gunshot rang out crisp and clear.
The Javelin commander's incessant chatter cut off abruptly as his head exploded like an overripe melon. Chunks of gore splattered across the floor. His headless corpse collapsed with a wet thud before a soldier dragged it away. Amanda Waller wiped blood from her face with a handkerchief, her expression unreadable. Bloodsport and the others stood frozen, their faces tight with tension, pupils dilated.
Waller turned to the control device for TDK's nano-bomb. Her fingers hovered over the trigger for two deliberate seconds before she faced the remaining squad.
"Now there's just one team left."
The silence between them stretched until she added, "I want a full report on last night's incident. Don't make me wait until midnight."
She strode away without waiting for a response, leaving the five operatives standing in stunned silence. Back in her office, Waller peeled off her bloodied coat. She'd barely settled into her chair when her computer screen flickered to life—an unsolicited video call with no warning, no firewall alerts.
The feed showed only darkness. A synthesized voice crackled through the speakers.
"Amanda Waller. You're looking... dark today."
Waller's spine straightened, her jaw tightening.
"Oh, wait—you are Black. My mistake. I meant you seem... unwell."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, checking systems. No breaches. No traces.
"Who is this?" she demanded. "Your team met me last night."
Recognition flashed in Waller's eyes, her brows knitting together.
"That was you?"
"Indeed. They made quite an impression. I thought we might... negotiate."
Waller's laugh was sharp as a blade.
"The U.S. government doesn't negotiate with terrorists."
The response came instantly: "Understood. Goodbye."
The screen went dark—no trace of the call, no digital fingerprints. Just empty desktop wallpaper.
Waller sat motionless, staring at the blank monitor. Sixty seconds later, a golden video projection lit up Times Square, stopping pedestrians mid-step. Within three minutes, it had gone global.
Government agencies erupted into chaos. Amanda Waller's phone began ringing—and didn't stop.