Ninth Special Service Division, Aircraft Carrier.
Professor Miyazaki sat in his sterile, white-walled laboratory, the hum of various machines droning in the background. He was deep in the heart of the aircraft carrier, the nerve center of Secret Service Nine, where every critical decision was made. His hands moved fluidly as he handled call after call, compiling field reports and attempting to piece together the chaotic situation. The tension was thick, palpable, and rising with every passing minute.
The "Ultimate Power" project—Miyazaki's brainchild—was supposed to be the next evolution in how Secret Service Nine operated. But things had not gone as planned. In fact, the operation had hit numerous snags before it could even truly begin.
Ivan Petrov had been the first target, the first agent they needed to control. His capture had seemed smooth initially—too smooth in retrospect. Shortly after detaining him, he disappeared from right under their noses, vanishing from the heavily secured aircraft carrier as though he'd dissolved into thin air. The entire crew was left dumbfounded.
It didn't take a genius to figure out who might have been behind his escape. There weren't many individuals in the world who could pull off such a feat—certainly none within their ranks. Well, at least according to Dr. Richard, no one should have been able to break into their facilities undetected. But there were always those few who treated even their most secure areas like personal playgrounds, slipping in and out with an arrogance that infuriated the powers that be. So far, no one had been able to stop this silent trespasser.
From Ivan's past missions, Miyazaki knew that the agent held a deep fascination—and, perhaps, an unhealthy respect—for masked vigilantes, those who wore disguises and operated outside the law. But no one had expected this respect to materialize into something so reckless as a direct abduction right off the mothership.
And then there was Fana. She had gone missing as well, her apartment abandoned, the place eerily quiet when the recovery team arrived. They had found signs that she had left in a hurry—window open, curtains billowing—but no real clues about where she had gone. The team was still combing through evidence, but her trail had gone cold. They had nothing concrete yet, but time was running out.
That left only Larry Wade. Of the three agents they needed to capture, he had been the only one successfully detained. And even that had been a close call. Wade had always been the most unpredictable, capable of the most destruction thanks to the terrifying power of his phantom. But his own self-imposed mental shackles had been his undoing—an internal cage that kept him from releasing his abilities unless he adhered to strict, self-imposed rules. Those psychological barriers had been Larry's greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.
Professor Miyazaki, sitting in the heart of the madness, sighed heavily as he dialed another number. He called the lead investigator in charge of the team currently searching Fana's last known location.
"It's me," Miyazaki's voice was low, laced with fatigue but still carrying its usual authority. "The situation has changed. Call the team back."
There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice of the lead investigator crackled through, confused. "But sir, we've found some clues here. The analysis team is hard at work. If we press on, we could find her tonight."
"No need," Miyazaki said flatly, cutting him off. "Tell them to pack it up. The mission's been cancelled. Let her go. The organization held an emergency meeting—there are new plans."
A slight pause. "Understood, sir," the lead investigator replied hesitantly before beginning the process of withdrawing the team.
Miyazaki rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on him. He was a man used to control, used to handling delicate situations with precision. But right now, he felt like the whole operation was slipping through his fingers.
He dialed another number, this time connecting with the team tasked with capturing Duan, the sonar agent. They were on the move, just beginning their operation.
"It's me. The mission is cancelled," Miyazaki said curtly.
"Cancelled?" the leader echoed, clearly surprised. "But sir, we've just started—"
"Yes, but the situation has changed," Miyazaki said in a calm, unbothered tone. "Agent Duan is no longer considered a threat. The mission is over."
"Understood, sir," the team leader said, though his voice carried a trace of confusion.
Miyazaki hung up and tossed the phone onto the cluttered table in front of him. He leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders loosening ever so slightly. But only for a moment.
As expected, the phone rang again almost immediately. This time, it was Commander Ross.
Miyazaki's face betrayed no emotion as he answered. "Yes, sir... Yes, I gave the order. The situation required an adjustment... Yes, I'm still on the mothership... Understood. I'll be right there."
After hanging up, Miyazaki slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and stood up, straightening his jacket. With a sigh, he began the walk to Commander Ross's office, his footsteps echoing ominously in the dimly lit corridor. He passed through several security checkpoints, each one confirming his identity with retinal scans and biometric checks. The soft blue glow of the laser scans barely registered on his tired eyes.
Finally, he reached the door to the captain's office. He keyed in his access code, and the familiar blue lasers scanned his retina. The door slid open with a soft whoosh.
"Welcome, Professor Miyazaki," the voice of the automated system chimed.
Miyazaki stepped inside the spacious, spartan office. Commander Ross sat behind a massive steel desk, his back to the door as he gazed out the large window overlooking the expanse of the sea below. When he finally turned around, his expression was cold, hard, and uncompromising.
"Explain yourself," Ross said, his voice sharp and unforgiving.
Miyazaki shrugged, an easy smile playing on his lips. "I reassessed the situation, Commander. We overreacted. I know these agents. I've spent years studying them, understanding them. Their abilities, their mental states. I wouldn't have signed off on their stability if I wasn't sure."
Ross's eyes were like ice, his face a mask of calm fury. "With all due respect, Professor," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a knife, "your judgment is no longer reliable. Ivan Petrov has a long history of insubordination and extreme actions. He's been under scrutiny for years. The only reason I didn't personally intervene was because you vouched for him."
Ross stood up, his full height towering over the seated professor. "But we all saw what happened. He lost control. He shot one of our best agents—killed him. There's no doubt, no ambiguity. The evidence is undeniable."
Miyazaki's smile faded slightly. "With all due respect, Commander, there are too many inconsistencies in that so-called evidence. Things that don't add up."
A tense silence filled the room.
"You just need to follow orders, Professor," Ross growled.
Miyazaki's gaze didn't falter. "I'm not a soldier, Commander. I'm a scientist. My responsibility is to the truth, not to protocol. And the truth is, there's something off about this whole situation. We're not seeing everything. We're being played."
Ross narrowed his eyes. For a moment, neither man moved. Then, slowly, Ross spoke again.
"That's too bad, Professor. I actually admired you. You're talented. Intelligent. You've been an asset to this organization. But now, you've become a liability."
Ross's hand moved under his desk, emerging with a sleek, black pistol. Without hesitation, he pointed the barrel directly at Miyazaki's chest.
"And unfortunately, we can't afford liabilities," Ross said coldly.
The room seemed to freeze as Ross pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space, the muzzle flash illuminating the grim expression on Ross's face. The bullet flew faster than sound, tearing through the air and slamming into Miyazaki's chest.
But Miyazaki didn't fall.
The bullet deformed on impact, crumpling against his chest as if it had hit solid steel. His body swayed ever so slightly from the force, but he remained standing, unscathed.
The twisted bullet fell to the floor with a metallic clink.
Commander Ross's eyes widened in disbelief. His hand still gripped the smoking pistol, but his mind was struggling to process what had just happened.
"You..." Ross growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not Miyazaki. You're..."
As he spoke, Miyazaki's image flickered. The professor's familiar face shimmered and wavered, the holographic projection glitching out of existence. Light blue waves rippled across his form, and the figure standing before Ross began to change.
First came the sharp, pointed black ears. Then the dark, menacing mask, followed by the imposing gray-black armor, adorned with the unmistakable bat symbol. Finally, the heavy black cloak unfurled, sweeping across the floor like a shadow.
The figure that stood before Ross now was no professor.
"I'm..." a voice rasped from beneath the mask.
"...Batman."
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[TL Note - I was starting to get bored of this fic but now... FCK YEAH!!!!!!]