For a moment, it seemed like the attack might have an effect. But A.M.A.Z.O simply opened its mouth and unleashed a gust of freezing breath, extinguishing the flames as if they were nothing more than candlelight. Flash, undeterred, rushed directly at the android, delivering hundreds of punches in less than a second to its face. The rapid barrage caused the android to stumble slightly, but its chest soon displayed Flash's lightning crest.
Batman's eyes widened in realization. "Cyborg, run a scan! That thing is copying our abilities—figure out how we can shut it down before it adapts to all of us!"
Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged a quick glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Together, they charged toward A.M.A.Z.O, their combined might aiming to overwhelm the android. Green Arrow, stationed at a distance, fired more arrows, trying to distract the machine as much as possible.
"We need a plan!" Wonder Woman shouted as she blocked a blow from A.M.A.Z.O with her bracelets. "This thing is just getting stronger!"
"I'm working on it," Batman replied, his voice calm but tense. He and Cyborg were furiously analyzing the android's code, trying to find a weakness. But time was running out. A.M.A.Z.O was switching between the powers of a Kryptonian and a speedster, and if they didn't find a solution soon, there might not be anything left to save.
…
[Tom Hendricks POV]
Since the debacle with the Sparrows and the intense confrontation with their leader, Jamie, which ultimately led to our run-in with the Justice League, things have been unusually calm. Almost too calm. Business, in my role as Ghost, has been thriving—no setbacks, no leaks, no one poking around where they shouldn't. It's been smooth sailing, and while that should bring me peace, I can't help but anticipate the next storm.
To solidify my cover, I've made a few smart investments in legitimate industries, carefully crafting the narrative around my wealth. On the surface, I'm just another wealthy investor, putting my money into top-tier firms and overseas ventures.
Leo, connected me with some high-rollers in the real estate market. I bought up a few properties at a steal and flipped them, selling at double or even triple their original value. The perfect front—clean, profitable, and above suspicion.
Still, I know Jamie is out there, lurking. He knows my secret—that I'm Ace—and sooner or later, he'll come for me. The idea of that showdown stirs something in me.
I won't lie; there's a certain excitement in the thought of facing him again. Our last encounter left unfinished business, and I intend to settle it. It'll be fun—at least, for me—before I finally get rid of him for good. Once I've dealt with him, I'll make sure he's locked up far from here, in a place called White Prison in Venezuela where no one escapes. If he ever tells anyone in there about my identity as Ace, he would just be seen as another psycho.
As I mulled over these thoughts, the TV in my office flickered to life with breaking news. My gaze sharpened as I saw footage of the Justice League's award ceremony, rudely interrupted by what appeared to be a terrorist attack.
Civilians scattered in panic as the chaos unfolded. Then, the camera panned to the action—a battle between the League and a strange, hulking figure with orange skin. The guy didn't look human, and even more surprising, he was holding his own against Earth's mightiest heroes. Interesting.
The footage barely played for a few minutes when my phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced at the screen—Slade. I answered the call, the familiar gruffness in Slade's voice greeting me.
"Ghost," Slade started, his tone direct. "We've got a problem."
Of course, there was a problem. There always was.
"Go on," I replied, my eyes still on the screen as the battle between the League and the orange-skinned foe continued to rage.
"The shipments have been delayed again. The client's getting restless, and his dealers are starting to panic. They can't run business without the product, and that means your weekly cut is drying up."
A spark of irritation flickered in me. This was supposed to be handled.
"What's causing the delay?" I asked, leaning back in my chair, already anticipating the answer.
"The Feds," Slade said bluntly. "They've been hitting the shipments hard before the suppliers are able to deliver to our collaborators. It smells like there's a rat on the inside feeding them intel."
I clenched my jaw. A rat. Just what I didn't need. Someone was playing both sides, feeding the authorities information that was compromising my supplier's operations. I wasn't about to let that slide.
"I sent Jason to handle it, and I'm doing some digging of my own. We'll find the leak and patch it up," Slade continued, his voice hard with the promise of violence. "Just thought you'd want to know before things get out of hand."
I nodded to myself. Slade and Jason were the right men for the job, no doubt about that. If anyone could clean up this mess, it was them. Still, this whole situation reeked of betrayal, and I didn't like having loose ends.
"Keep me updated," I instructed. "And Slade… If you find the rat on their side, make sure they understand the cost of betrayal. Permanently, do not let their life get spared, even by their boss himself."
A brief pause, then Slade's cold, affirming grunt came through the phone before the line went dead.
I tossed the phone onto the desk and leaned forward, eyes drifting back to the news. The Justice League was still locked in battle with that android, or whatever it was.
For now, I'd let Slade and Jason handle the issue with the supplies, there are other things in need of my attention.
Whoever was feeding information to the Feds had made a fatal mistake. Ghost doesn't forgive. And once I've dealt with this rat, Jamie's time will come soon enough. After all, in my world, there's always someone waiting to be taught a lesson.
….
[Jason Todd's POV]
As soon as we touched down at the airport, a man who looked to be in his mid forties waved us down from a sleek, black sedan parked by the curb. He had a slight build, dark hair slicked back, and his olive complexion was set off by the unnervingly bright smile plastered across his face. He waved like we were old friends, which made the whole thing feel off, especially after hours of silence from Slade.
"Is that him?" I asked, glancing sideways at Slade, who hadn't uttered a single word since we got on the plane. The man was a brick wall of stoicism when he wanted to be.
Without even looking my way, Slade grunted, his voice as dry as the desert outside, "From the way he's grinning at us, I'd say that's our guy. If not, we've got a real creep on our hands."
I narrowed my eyes at the stranger. "It's already creepy as hell."
We walked up to the sedan. The man stepped forward, still wearing that unsettling grin, and greeted us with a thick accent. "Welcome to Morocco, my American friends!" He extended his hand to shake, his enthusiasm way too eager for my liking.
I just stared at his outstretched hand without saying a word, letting the awkward silence build. Slade, being his usual pragmatic self, didn't waste time with theatrics and shook the guy's hand firmly, his one good eye scanning the area for potential threats. He never dropped his guard—not for a second.
"You must be Mr. Wilson," the man continued, clearly unfazed by my cold shoulder. "I am Miguel. The boss sent me to collect you from the airport, said it might be your first time here in our beautiful country."
Miguel moved swiftly, opening the passenger side door for Slade and then the back door for me, like some kind of personal chauffeur.
I paused, giving him a once-over. His eager, almost sycophantic attitude was rubbing me the wrong way. Slade gave a quick, silent sweep of the area again, making sure there wasn't anyone else lurking nearby waiting to jump us. I could see the gears turning in his head as he assessed Miguel, calculating whether he was just a harmless middleman or someone who might need to be "dealt with" later.
As Miguel stood there holding the door, still smiling like an idiot, my instincts kicked in. The way this guy was acting had my suspicions on high alert. I wasn't about to let us walk blindly into whatever trap might be waiting down the road.
"What makes you so sure we're the people your boss wants you to pick up?" I asked, my voice low and dripping with distrust.
Miguel didn't miss a beat. "The boss told me to look for a man with white hair and an eyepatch traveling with a younger guy. Not exactly a common sight, is it?" he said, his smile stretching wider. "I figured it had to be you two. You don't see too many people sporting eye patches these days, do you?"
I rolled my eyes. Clearly, Tom had sent ahead a description before we landed. Still, something about this guy rubbed me the wrong way, and I wasn't about to drop my guard just because he seemed harmless.
=======
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Slade shot me a look that said, stop wasting time, and I sighed. "Alright, old man, let's get moving. I'm starving, and I don't have all day to babysit."
He shook his head at my usual smart-mouth attitude but didn't comment. That was typical for Slade—he wasn't here for the banter, just the job. Without another word, we both slid into the sedan, Miguel hurrying to get behind the wheel.
As the car pulled away from the airport and merged into the chaotic streets of Morocco, I glanced out the window, taking in the sights. The air was thick with the smell of spices and petrol fumes, and the streets bustled with vendors, tourists, and locals all jostling for space. Morocco was a place that thrived on the chaotic beauty of disorder, but even amidst all the noise and life, I couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was about to take a dark turn.
I leaned back in my seat, tapping my fingers on my thigh as I glanced over at Slade. The silence between us was as heavy as ever. His one eye was locked on the road ahead, focused, calculating, always thinking a few steps ahead. He didn't need to speak to let me know he was already piecing together the next move. That's how Slade operated—always ahead of the game, always in control.
Miguel's voice broke the silence as he cheerfully announced, "We'll be at your Motel soon. You'll most likely meet with the boss tomorrow."
I didn't reply. I wasn't interested in small talk. If this was just a routine job, I would have been bored out of my mind, but something about this felt bigger. The Feds were getting involved, someone inside was snitching, and if there's one thing I hate, it's rats.
"Hope this job's as fun as I think it'll be," I muttered under my breath. If I was lucky, we'd run into a few foreign gangsters who thought they were tough. Nothing cleared up the monotony of travel like cracking a few skulls.
Slade remained silent, his eyes never leaving the road, but I knew he was thinking the same thing. This was about to get messy, and that's exactly how we liked it.
….
"This is even better than I thought." Lex Luthor's maniacal grin stretched wide as he watched the chaotic battle unfold on the large screen before him. The flickering image showed A.M.A.Z.O, his latest creation, taking on the entire Justice League and holding his own.
His eyes gleamed with pride, fingers steepled in front of him as he leaned forward in his high-backed leather chair. Every strike, every defensive maneuver by the android seemed to feed into Lex's deep-seated desire for victory.
Beside him stood his loyal assistant, Mercy Graves, her expression a mixture of skepticism and mild surprise. She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she shifted her weight slightly.
"He's holding his own for now," she commented, her voice cool and laced with sarcasm. "But you know as well as I do, it's only a matter of time before they figure out how to take him down. And once again, the League will ruin your plans like they always do." She cast a glance his way, her words biting with years of watching Lex's brilliant schemes crumble in the face of superhero resistance.
Lex's grin faltered for a moment, but his confidence was unshaken. "This time is different, Mercy. This time I've gotten my hands on something that can adapt to them—something that can mimic the metahuman DNA of the League and use their own strengths against them." He gestured at the screen with a sharp flick of his hand. "A.M.A.Z.O is unlike anything they've faced before."
Mercy let out a soft sigh, her arms tightening around her body as she leaned back. "We'll see," she muttered under her breath, clearly unconvinced. Lex had been certain before, and yet, time and time again, the Justice League found a way to dismantle every grand scheme he put into motion. She had grown used to the cycle of buildup and disappointment, so much so that she no longer allowed herself to hope for anything different.
On the screen, A.M.A.Z.O effortlessly tossed Green Arrow across the street, sending him crashing into a parked car. Lex's smile returned as the android displayed its incredible power. The League was struggling—he could see that much. They hadn't yet figured out how to counter his creation's ability to copy their abilities, and that gave Lex the upper hand, at least for now.
Lex's fingers hovered over a button on his control panel. He watched as the League regrouped, preparing for another assault. It was time to move to the next phase of his plan. He pressed the button and spoke into the microphone with cold precision. "A.M.A.Z.O, your primary target is Superman. Kill him." His voice was calm, almost chilling, as if ordering the death of the world's greatest hero was nothing more than a routine command.
As the order was transmitted, A.M.A.Z.O's eyes flashed red, and the android's focus shifted instantly. It hurled Wonder Woman aside, sending her crashing into Batman just as he was charging forward. The two tumbled to the ground in a heap, momentarily disoriented.
Superman, now the android's target, steeled himself for the inevitable clash. He shot into the air, fists clenched, ready to meet A.M.A.Z.O head-on. As they closed the distance between each other at superspeed, the android's chest morphed, mirroring the iconic Kryptonian "S" symbol. Superman's fist connected with A.M.A.Z.O's face, but the android didn't flinch. It countered with a devastating punch of its own, followed immediately by a powerful blast of heat vision that sent Superman spiraling backward through the air.
The Flash zipped around A.M.A.Z.O in a blur of motion, generating a whirlwind of electricity. And once again hurled a bolt of lightning toward the android, but A.M.A.Z.O caught the bolt effortlessly, its speed matching that of the Scarlet Speedster.
Without hesitation, it redirected the lightning at Cyborg, who had been desperately trying to hack into its systems from a distance. The bolt struck Cyborg squarely, short-circuiting his systems and sending him crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.
"Cyborg!" Flash yelled, panic creeping into his voice as he watched his teammate go down. His distraction was all A.M.A.Z.O needed. The android moved with blinding speed, landing a series of brutal punches on Flash, each strike faster than the last.
But just as A.M.A.Z.O prepared to deliver a finishing blow, Superman and Wonder Woman appeared, grabbing hold of its arms in a coordinated effort to restrain the unstoppable machine. The android began to vibrate, attempting to phase through their grasp, but Flash recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around its neck in a chokehold and vibrating his molecules in sync to counteract A.M.A.Z.O's phasing.
"Now, Manhunter!" Batman barked through the comms.
From below, Martian Manhunter who just arrived at the scene, phased through the ground and into the android's body, his form melding with its internal structure. A.M.A.Z.O's eyes flickered, and sparks began to shoot from its joints as its systems struggled to cope with the Martian's invasion. Red lights blinked erratically from its eyes, and its limbs convulsed violently as it tried to shake off its attackers.
With a final sputter of sparks, the android collapsed to the ground, its once formidable frame now lifeless. The Justice League stood over the defeated machine, the battle finally over.
"Phew," Flash sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was too close for comfort." He zipped over to Cyborg's side, worry etched on his face.
"How is he?" Wonder Woman asked, her eyes full of concern as she looked to Batman, who was already running a diagnostic on their fallen teammate.
"He'll be fine," Batman replied, his voice gruff but steady. Superman picked up Cyborg's unconscious body, while Wonder Woman hoisted A.M.A.Z.O's remains for further investigation.
As the League regrouped and took stock of their victory, the scene in Lex Luthor's control room was starkly different. Lex watched in horror as the live footage fizzled out, the signal lost. His fist slammed down onto the console. "No!!!" he roared, his face twisting in frustration.
Mercy, unimpressed, casually turned away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she headed for the door. "It always ends the same, Lex. You'll have another chance to be disappointed." She didn't wait for his response, leaving him to fume alone.
Lex clenched his fists, his mind already racing to formulate his next plan. He wasn't done yet—not by a long shot.
The Justice League thinks they've won, but they've only just begun their own undoing."
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