The video lasted barely over a minute, but the storm it unleashed defied imagination. The current Federal Government resembled a cuckolded husband putting on a brave face—forced to swallow his broken teeth along with the blood.
He'd resigned himself to wearing the green hat of shame. But just as he'd been running around insisting his wife never cheated and their marriage remained strong, the lover went and released footage showcasing her full repertoire of bedroom skills. Now the whole world was feasting on the scandal.
Most people couldn't care less about the economic implications or high-level power struggles—not yet, anyway. From the very first frame, the video stole everyone's breath. Gold. An entire mountain of it, each ingot larger than a grown man's fist, piled carelessly like river stones, their surfaces glinting with that unmistakable golden sheen under harsh sunlight.
A middle-aged male voice narrated with sardonic amusement as the camera circled the treasure.
"Just went out for a stroll today," he drawled, "never expected to trip over a gold mountain."
Viewers' faces twitched involuntarily.
The camera kept panning as he continued, "Looked around, walked a few circles—reckon there's about 240 tons here."
Audience members blinked. Since when could someone eyeball that?
"Heard the New York Fed got robbed?" the narrator mused.
The audience held their breath.
"And the Statue of Liberty blew up? Jesus, I took a nap and woke up in the Twilight Zone."
A chilling realization dawned. Could these events be connected?
"Ah well, not my circus," the voice continued breezily. "Just a lucky bastard who found some shiny rocks... Pretty sure this stash has nothing to do with the Fed. I mean, who could move 200+ tons of gold overnight without—"
"Without what?" viewers screamed at their screens. "WHERE DID THEY MOVE IT?"
"Whoops, almost slipped."
The narrator chuckled.
"Can't tell you that."
Audience: ╭(∩)╮╭(∩)╮
"Besides," he continued, "NYPD, City Hall, the Governor, Pentagon, White House—even the President himself swore all the robbers died and the Fed's vaults are untouched. So clearly..."
The camera zoomed in on the glittering hoard.
"...this must be wild gold!"
Audience: convex(⌒メ)convex
"Lady Luck's smiling on me," the narrator crooned. "Enough here to build a solid gold house. Shame I'll need a century to haul it all myself. Ideas?"
"DROP THE LOCATION WE'LL HELP," the internet roared.
"Maybe I'll just sell it?" he pondered aloud. "Though dumping this much at once might crash global gold prices. Wouldn't that be awkward?"
The smarter viewers were already in motion—some had acted last night, while the hesitant now cursed their sluggishness.
"Listing 200 tons for sale," the voice announced. "Website's up. Comment if interested. No deliveries, no free shipping. First come, first served."
Screens worldwide reflected the newly posted URL.
"Found all this on private land, by the way," he added cheerfully. "Kinda nervous now. Hope Uncle Sam will protect my property rights. Since the Fed wasn't robbed, legally speaking..."
The camera panned to a handwritten sign stuck in the gold pile: 'Finders Keepers.'
Audience: ...
The final words of the narration landed like a hammer blow.
"Private territory and property are inviolable. Don't you think so, Ms. Amanda Waller?"
The video cut to black, sending shockwaves from NYPD precincts to the West Wing. Across the nation, officials scrambled into damage control mode.
Curses flew through government offices as bureaucrats realized they'd been outmaneuvered. Every one of them recognized that smug narration—and hated it. Meanwhile, ordinary citizens watching their screens collectively gasped. The federal lies about Shanye Ranch had just been exposed in spectacular fashion.
Hong Fei stood before the glittering mountain of relocated gold, chuckling.
"Tony's voice paired with that footage? Some bureaucrats are probably having strokes right now."
"Sir, gold prices are already fluctuating wildly."
"How?"
"Spiking upward."
"No suppression attempts?"
"Minimal resistance."
Hong Fei smirked.
"Expected. Vultures never miss a chance to profit."
"Should I take action, sir?"
"I've got an idea—run the numbers for me."
"Of course."
"The price can't rise forever. After we sell, it'll drop."
Hong Fei's eyes gleamed.
"Then we make it climb again from the bottom. Possible?"
Arthur hesitated.
"Do you have leverage?"
"Remember Killer Croc's vault inventory? Those unauthorized withdrawals?"
A pause.
"...Yes. That could work."
"Exactly. Ride the wave up, down, then up again—that's my ticket to real wealth."
"Sir, you're already financially independent."
"Don't kid yourself! I'm not swimming in gold coins like Scrooge McDuck yet."
Arthur fell silent as Hong Fei waved him off.
"Make it happen."
"Understood."
Energy crackled around Hong Fei's outstretched hand as plates of crimson and gold armor materialized from nothing—a massive exoskeleton taking shape in seconds.
Back near the tree line, Killer Croc's jaw dropped.
"Is that... the Hulk armor?"
He and Deadshot watched from their vantage point, arms crossed until the spectacle broke their composure.
Deadshot adjusted his goggles.
"Pay attention, reptile. That's the Veronica system—Tony Stark's Hulkbuster. The armor's just the tip; there's orbital support and modular components too."
Killer Croc blinked.
"That's what you focus on? How's a movie prop standing in front of us?"
Deadshot chewed his lip.
"You saw him fly in. Lift hundreds of tons telekinetically. At this point..."
"Then who the hell did we sign up with?"
Croc rasped, tongue flicking over parched scales.
"Beats me. Wouldn't shock me if Stark's inside that suit now."
"That's beyond weird... Wait, where's Boomerang? He still on assignment?"
Deadshot's face darkened as he recalled their teammate's antics.
"Yeah... assignment. Let's say he's... indefinitely delayed."
Killer Croc made a gurgling sound in his throat, and his cloudy eyes rolled in understanding. Ahead, Hong Fei's activation of the Veronica skill card completed—not just summoning the armor, but instantly deploying its entire orbital support system without so much as a countdown. Arthur's voice crackled: "Satellite connected."
"Veronica and the Hulkbuster Armor are yours to handle. Contact the buyers directly—sell a few tons first. Use the profits to set up a large server array for yourself, and establish some legal assets for Officer Hong. I want to purchase property."
"No problem, sir!"
"How's Amanda Waller reacting?"
"She's furious—smashed half her office. The angry calls from her superiors haven't stopped either."
"Let her stew for a few days. Maybe she'll stop looking like someone kicked her puppy. What about Captain Boomerang?"
"He's hiding in your Queens patrol zone. Tried removing his contact lenses after watching your video, but I intervened."
"How?"
"Electrocution."
"That's harsh."
"You trained me well, sir."
Hong Fei clicked his tongue.
"Never mind that. Any progress on the targets I asked you to track?"
"Diana works at the Louvre—lives quietly, almost boringly. No signs of activity in years. Arthur stays coastal, aware he's different. Saves drowning swimmers occasionally, makes no effort to hide. General Swan Wick shows anomalies, but nothing matching your 'Martian Manhunter' description yet."
Hong Fei nodded, then his expression shifted, lips curling.
"Notice anything... unusual about Arthur?"
"Sir?"
"I mean, does he ever get... intimate with marine life?"
"I don't follow."
"Tch. Just keep watching him. Try to catch something incriminating."
"Understood."
With a wave, the gold mountain vanished, leaving only a few tons behind. Hong Fei gestured to Deadshot and Killer Croc. They approached swiftly.
"Head to Gotham tonight. Bring Roman Sionis to New York within three days. Your glasses will receive the dossier. Remember—this is an audition. Your futures depend on performance."
Roman Sionis, fallen Gotham aristocrat, rebuilt his empire in the underworld—the False Face Society. They dominate Gotham's shadows and currently hold New York's largest gang territory. His alter ego? Black Mask, one of Gotham's most feared crime lords.
Roman's Black Mask bears a black skull motif, carved from his parents' coffin ebony. The act proves his perfect blend of paranoia and brutality—only a true monster would desecrate family graves. He's vile, the kind Hong Fei despises.
But that gang of his? Now that's something Hong Fei likes very much.