When the video had just started playing, Dr. Richard sank deeper into his chair, his face clouded with frustration. The scene unfolding on the screen was nothing short of a nightmare for him.
"I'm in charge of the equipment department, not a magician with a four-dimensional pocket," he muttered to himself. "Why does everyone keep staring at me when we're dealing with something that looks like it belongs in the 22nd century?"
The equipment team had long since given up any real hope of fully understanding Batman's technology. His gadgets from the first encounter had stumped them for months. They had toiled and analyzed, pushed back deadlines, and worked through countless nights trying to reverse-engineer just one of his devices. And then, just when they were finally on the cusp of a breakthrough—just when they were about to pop open the champagne to celebrate a small victory—the Dark Knight dropped a bomb on them: an entirely new set of gear that was lightyears ahead of anything they'd seen.
When Dr. Richard saw Batman blur into an intangible haze on the video, he knew his team's fate was sealed. Any hope they had of catching up was now gone, scattered in the wind like so many futile attempts before.
It wasn't that they weren't working hard—quite the opposite. His team had poured their hearts into their work, but the truth was, Batman's tech was simply too advanced.
Forget the virtual phasing ability for a moment; even the baseline performance of the suit was mind-boggling. They had experimented with exoskeletons, sure. Both powered and unpowered versions. But nothing remotely close to the sleek, high-performance technology Batman wore.
The unpowered exoskeletons were cost-effective, lightweight, and relatively easy to manufacture. But their structural integrity was a joke, and their defensive capabilities were next to nothing. They could reduce fatigue and provide some boost in physical activity, but they weren't going to save anyone in a life-or-death situation.
The powered exoskeletons were a different beast entirely: bulky, cumbersome, and exorbitantly expensive. They provided much more in terms of strength and protection but were impractical. Short battery life, high maintenance, and a vulnerability to electronic disruptions made them less viable in real-world combat situations.
Yet here was Batman, wearing a suit that seemed to combine the best of both worlds—lightweight, flexible, and massively powerful. The exoskeleton somehow boosted his strength and agility without sacrificing speed or endurance. And that phasing ability? The stuff of science fiction.
Dr. Richard rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of the moment. His equipment team had been left in the dust. The technological gap was so vast that it felt like Batman was showing off for the sole purpose of crushing their spirits. There was no way they could reverse-engineer something so far ahead of them. Structurally, energetically—none of it made any sense.
Of course, they were no strangers to being left awestruck by Batman's tech. It had almost become routine to see him outperform anything they could conceive. But this? This was different. This latest development wasn't just shocking—it was demoralizing.
And to make matters worse, things had gone wrong at every level. Even those who spent their days in the bowels of the floating graveyard, working tirelessly to ensure the facility's integrity, had started to feel the creeping sense of failure.
First, there was the confrontation between Hercules, the Minister of Operations, and Ivan. It had been brewing for a while, and when it finally erupted, the tension in the room was palpable.
Hercules stormed over to Ivan, fury etched on his face. "You captured an insider, and instead of relying on your own team, you brought in those masked lunatics? What's the meaning of this? You don't trust the organization anymore? You don't trust your own people?"
Ivan had stood his ground, unfazed by Hercules' outburst. His voice was calm, his tone unyielding. "That's right. My teammates either have one foot out the door or they're completely useless in a real fight. So yeah, I called in the masked lunatics. You think I'm going to sit around and wait for our team to save me?"
Hercules had gone pale with rage. His fists clenched, and he barked out an accusation: "Mental instability. You've got a screw loose, Ivan. You're compromising the mission by not trusting your team!"
But everyone in the room could see the cracks in Hercules' argument. Deep down, they all knew Ivan wasn't wrong. And for a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed their minds. Maybe he had a point.
The Melanie Chase incident had been a disaster from start to finish. She had infiltrated the organization so thoroughly that no one had suspected her of being a shapeshifter until it was too late. The fact that she had managed to operate undetected for so long was terrifying. Her abilities allowed her to replicate not just the appearance but the very DNA and fingerprints of anyone she chose, making her practically undetectable through conventional methods.
It was the ultimate betrayal. It was as if the director of MI5 had turned out to be a foreign spy for his entire career, only discovered after retirement. The damage was incalculable.
Even worse, Melanie had passed every psych evaluation without issue. She had been part of the organization for ages, and yet no one had ever caught on. That failure haunted the leadership.
"Look," Hercules muttered darkly, "this goes beyond 'the Dead' as a rogue organization. They have backers, technical support—logistical support. This isn't going to end any time soon."
"That may be true," replied the Minister of Finance, his voice grave, "but that doesn't change the fact that we're losing control. People are starting to question The Ninth Special Service Division's effectiveness. There's growing criticism, and it's hard to argue against."
He paused, looking down at his hands as if searching for the right words.
"The worst part is… they're not entirely wrong. We've been relying on Batman and his vigilante crew to clean up our messes. We don't even know who they are or how they operate, and yet we've come to depend on them."
The room fell into a heavy silence. No one wanted to admit it, but the truth was staring them in the face. The Ninth had handled the early stages of the infection crisis well, but since the emergence of the Phantom threat, their performance had been sorely lacking.
"And don't forget about Evidence A-086," the Minister of Finance added. "We still don't know where it is or what it does. Our only lead has gone cold."
"Actually," Professor Miyazaki interjected, his voice calm but commanding, "there's been some progress on that front."
All eyes turned to him, and the room collectively held its breath. Miyazaki rarely spoke unless he had something critical to share.
"You're all aware that certain sources of infection emit trace levels of radiation. In some cases, we can track those radiation signatures to pinpoint the location of the source."
He adjusted his glasses, eyes scanning the room before continuing.
"A-086 was one of those sources, and I've been monitoring it ever since it disappeared from the mothership. Until now, the radiation levels had been too weak to detect. But a few hours ago, that changed."
"Changed how?" someone asked, voice tight with anticipation.
"The radiation spiked. A-086 has entered an active state. We tracked the signal and managed to pinpoint its location."
Miyazaki tapped a button on the control panel, and a map appeared on the large screen. The room fell silent as the image came into focus.
"It's the site where Link led his team to survey the underground facility," someone whispered, eyes wide with realization.
"Correct," Miyazaki confirmed. "That underground structure. The one where Link went rogue, killed his entire team, and vanished. The entrance was destroyed in the explosion, causing the internal structure to collapse. Since then, the site has been deemed too unstable to explore."
"But you think there's something more down there?" Hercules asked, eyes narrowing.
"Yes," Miyazaki replied. "They spoke of a 'key.' If there's a key, there must be a lock. And I believe that lock is inside the ruins."
"And you think it might already be opened?" Hercules pressed.
"It's possible," Miyazaki admitted. "We need to get inside and find out."
Hercules straightened up, his jaw set. "Then we need to mobilize a team immediately. If there's something in there, we need to secure it."
"Even if we do," the Minister of Finance interjected, "we're still dealing with a systemic issue. Our agents are ill-equipped, our technology is outdated, and we're losing ground fast. It's not just about recovering A-086."
Commander Ross spoke up, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension. "Enough. We've already acknowledged that the current system is insufficient to deal with the Phantom threat. That's why Professor Miyazaki has been working on a contingency plan."
The room turned toward Miyazaki again, but the professor remained silent, his eyes focused on the screen, deep in thought.
Commander Ross exhaled, turning his attention back to Hercules. "Gather a team. We move in tomorrow. We need to get ahead of this before it spirals out of control."
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