Calculator sat still, his mind a flurry of probabilities. Slowly, he nodded to himself, rising from his chair with a sharp scrape against the floor.
"Given this new data, continuing forward would be… unwise."
Black Mask let out a guttural growl, slamming his fist on the table. The laptop screen flickered from the impact. "You don't get to change your mind when we're this close to being rich."
Calculator didn't even blink. "Watch me. My calculations indicate a 79.6% chance of Justice League involvement. Waller's assets don't begin and end with Task Force X. If she and the League cross paths here, our survival odds drop by 87.3%."
Magpie spun a razor-edged silver coin between her fingers, her grin turning glacial. "Numbers boy's got cold feet. Shame. I was looking forward to making a few… adjustments."
Clock King drummed his fingers against his wristwatch, his expression unreadable. "Typical. The moment things get interesting, the human calculator bails. Tell me—did your models factor in just how pathetic this looks?"
Calculator snapped his keypad shut, the gesture final. "I factor in survival. Something your ego seems allergic to." He turned, trench coat flaring as he headed for the door.
Black Mask shot to his feet, blocking his path. "You walk out that door, you're dead to Gotham. No deals. No protection. Nothing."
For a long moment, the room crackled with tension.
Then, Calculator sidestepped him without so much as a glance. "Statistically preferable to a 12% chance of making it through next week."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Magpie exhaled, tucking away her coin. "Guess we're splitting his cut."
Clock King leaned back, smirking thinly. "Three's a crowd, but hey—fewer shares mean bigger paydays. Assuming we don't end up in a Lazarus Pit."
Black Mask scowled at the blueprint, jaw tight. "We don't need him. We hit the vault tomorrow—before Waller or the authorities even realize it's missing."
Magpie traced a finger over the chronoton core schematic. "Oh, this'll be fun. Time to make Bruce Wayne's fortune… disappear."
Clock King adjusted his cufflinks, tone dry. "Famous last words."
Outside, Gotham loomed, indifferent. Somewhere in the dark, a clock ticked.
Gotham City – S.T.A.R. Labs Perimeter
Midnight. Thunder snarled over the city, rain slicing down in sheets as three figures ghosted through the storm. The lab's perimeter fence hummed with current, floodlights cutting jagged shadows across the pavement.
Black Mask crouched behind a delivery van, visor glinting in the dark. "Clockwork. Now."
Clock King smirked, tapping his wristwatch. The floodlights flickered—once, twice—then died. "Security grid's on a 43-second loop. Motion sensors rerouted to last week's feed. You're welcome."
Magpie unsheathed a polished silver blade, its edge hissing as it carved through the electrified fence. "Sweetheart, if you wanted a light show, you could've just asked."
They slipped inside, silent as the rain. The vault loomed ahead, its titanium door stamped with bold warnings:
CAUTION – CHRONOTONIC RADIATION. AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY.
Black Mask pressed a gloved hand to the biometric scanner. A stolen S.T.A.R. Labs ID chip glowed green. "Keep the chatter down. We've got six minutes before lockdown."
Clock King scoffed. "Six minutes, twelve seconds. But who's counting?"
The vault door hissed open, revealing a sterile chamber drenched in cold blue light. Suspended at the center, pulsing in its containment field, was the chronoton core—a shard of iridescent energy, distorting reality at its edges like static. Schematics flickered on nearby terminals, mapping out its unstable harmonics.
Magpie took a step forward, eyes gleaming. "Pretty little thing. Let's see how it handles being stolen—"
A sharp click froze them.
Lasers dropped from the ceiling, crisscrossing the chamber in a lethal grid. Sirens blared.
Black Mask snarled, ducking beneath a slicing red beam. "Clock King! You said the grid was off!"
Clock King swore, fingers flying across a terminal. "It was! They've got a secondary system—quantum-triggered! This wasn't in the schematics!"
Magpie twisted between the beams, her blade deflecting one in a shower of sparks. "Guess someone upgraded!"
Black Mask slammed his fist on the core's containment console. "Forget stealth. Grab the core, torch the schematics—we're blowing the vault on the way out."
Clock King hesitated, eyes darting to the core's flickering field. "Blowing it risks a backlash! That thing's barely contained—"
"Do it."
Terminals flashed as schematics downloaded. The containment field trembled, its hum rising to a scream.
Somewhere in the lab, a voice crackled over the intercom.
"Security breach in Sector 7. All personnel, evacuate. Justice League alert initiated."
Magpie went still. "...Did that say Justice League?"
Black Mask ripped the core from its field, reality distorting around his grip. "Move. Now."
They vanished into the storm as the vault door slammed shut behind them.
Washington D.C. – Amanda Waller's Office
The screens in Amanda Waller's bunker-like command center pulsed with live feeds from Gotham: security footage of the breached S.T.A.R. Labs vault, energy distortion levels spiking off the charts. Waller stood rigid behind her desk, her reflection shattered across the glass of a containment tube beside her. Inside, floating in viscous fluid, twitched a grotesque hybrid—half Superman's DNA, half something else.
She stabbed a button on her intercom, her voice flat. "Flag. Assemble the Squad. Now."
A hologram of Rick Flag flickered to life. "They're not mission-ready. King Shark's still recovering from the last op—"
"Now, Flag. Or I detonate every implant in your spine."
The hologram vanished.
Waller turned back to the screens, watching Gotham unravel.
Somewhere, a clock was still ticking.
The screens pulsed with urgency. Live feeds of the breached S.T.A.R. Labs vault, visual distortions peaking, and—on a quarantined monitor—Sentinel No. 1's location, motionless in the Watchtower's containment field, her communication systems fried. The finishing blow had come from a pink-haired swordsman.
Trunks.
Waller's knuckles whitened around her desk, but when she spoke, her voice softened, almost maternal.
She turned to the second monitor, where Sentinel No. 2 stood rigid in his battlesuit, his visor lifted just enough to reveal eyes that flinched imperceptibly when hers met his. His sister's capture wasn't just a loss—it was a catastrophic exposure.
"Status, son." The endearment dripped with syrup. A weapon, well-practiced.
Sentinel No. 2's jaw tightened. "No. 1 remains under the Destroyer's custody. My last extraction attempt was… interrupted." Static hissed through the feed—an echo of Trunks knocking the wind out of him. "She's surrounded by the entire Justice League and now deities. Getting her back is… statistically impossible."
Waller's gaze flicked to the containment tube beside her. The hybrid clone inside convulsed violently, skin cracking with crimson light. Their last viable prototype.
She coaxed her voice even softer. "You sound frustrated. That's understandable. Family always comes first."
Sentinel No. 2 went still. The word family hung in the air like a noose.
A technician's panicked voice broke through. "Containment breach in Subject X-23!"
"Purge it," Waller said, not breaking eye contact.
Liquid nitrogen flooded the tube. The clone screamed—then shattered into ash.
Waller leaned in, her reflection splintering across his visor like cracks in glass. "Deploy to Gotham, darling. The chronoton core's detonation could erase everything—the vault, the DNA logs, all those… messy little secrets." Her voice softened, a spider offering silk. "But if it does blow… take the schematics. Leave no trace. Not even ash."
His throat bobbed. The briefest flicker of something raw. "Understood." His visor flickered with new threat assessments. "And if the God of Destruction intercepts?"
Waller's fingers drifted to a holoframe on her desk—a staged photo. Her, standing between the Sentinels, hands on their shoulders like a proud parent. Their faces blank.
"You delay him and anyone else. Or you die. Those are the only options now."
His vision sharpening ever so slightly, defiance surfacing. "You promised my sister and me we'd survive this. You said we were… special."
"Oh, you are." She smiled faintly. "That's why I made sure you could endure."
Her finger tapped the desk—a coded pulse.
Sentinel No. 2 stiffened, his body seizing with an involuntary tremor. It started deep, an itch under his skin, then a full-body shudder. What is this? It was like his own nerves were betraying him.
Waller tilted her head, faux concern in her eyes. "You feel that, don't you? That little… itch? That's how I know you'll always come home."
For a moment, he felt small—the boy she'd carved from stolen DNA and lies. "Heroes die tragically. Villains die… messily." Amanda left him with those final words.
Then his visor snapped shut. "Deploying."
The monitor cut to black.
Waller exhaled, her fingers tracing the edge of the holoframe.
"Good kids," she murmured to the ashes in the tube. "Always so eager to please."
Gotham City – Airspace
The Task Force X jet screamed through the storm, turbulence rattling Harley Quinn's mallet as she leaned over the pilot's chair.
"Ooo, time bombs? Lasers? This's like Joker's funhouse but with worse interior design!"
Rick Flag ignored her, eyes locked on his tablet. The core's radiation spike was a jagged red line. "We've got six minutes before that thing explodes. Waller wants it intact."
King Shark sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. "Smells… timey."
A ripple of static. Sentinel No. 2 phased through the jet's hull, landing soundlessly. Weapons snapped toward him.
"Warm welcome. Charming." His visor flickered, projecting a hologram of Gohan, silver hair blazing with a firelike aura. "Priority update: Retrieve the chronoton core. If extraction fails, overload the facility's fusion reactor. The EMP pulse will fry every byte of data within three miles."
Deadshot lowered his gun. "You wanna fight that? Son, we're mercs, not martyrs."
Sentinel No. 2 retracted his visor. "Your funeral's not in the budget. Just grab the core schematics or the core itself. Waller needs either to rebuild it."
Harley twirled a grenade pin between her teeth. "Rebuild the glowy time bomb? What's next, a coupon for free Armageddon?"
King Shark raised a claw. "Does… does the EMP fry phones? I just downloaded Lego Batman 2."
Rick Flag pinched the bridge of his nose. "Focus. Sentinel—what's your play?"
Harley twirled a detonator. "Aww, do we get hazard pay for apocalyptic blackouts?"
Sentinel No. 2 phased halfway through the jet's hull, his voice flattening. "If you die, do it loudly. Director's protocols require… plausible deniability. Heroes die tragically. Villains die… messily."
Harley saluted. "Explody martyrdom it is! Dibs on the big red button!"
Sentinel No. 2 phased through the hull completely, his voice crackling over comms. "Pro tip? Don't die before I need you to."
The jet banked sharply as static lit the sky. King Shark sniffed again. "…Still smells timey."