[This bonus Chap is because I didn't upload yesterday]
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The capture mission had finally concluded, and the joint operation team achieved a hard-won victory. This operation, led by the CIA with crucial assistance from the Ninth Special Service Division, ended with the successful apprehension of Ross, known as the most significant traitor in the division's history. Remarkably, the mission concluded without a single shot being fired. Though the reports painted a triumphant picture, those who participated in the mission would likely describe it with more complexity.
In essence, Ross was arrested by the team. However, by the time their convoy of armored vehicles arrived at the base, ready for a full-scale assault, they found the stronghold already in chaos. The operation team had barely left their staging area when the entire terrorist outpost had been upended, as if a storm had torn through it.
When they finally reached the scene, they found only one person still conscious amidst the wreckage: Ross, their intended target. He had lost one arm during a skirmish with Wolverine, while his remaining arm—still functional—was shackled to the entrance of an underground bunker. Blood soaked his clothes, but he remained defiant.
The scale of the underground facility stunned the team. According to their engineers, the bunker was built to withstand nuclear strikes, with layers of shielding and security measures designed to hide it from detection. It was constructed with the precision and resources usually reserved for the hideaways of the world's wealthiest elites. If not for their lucky break, the team might have missed its existence altogether.
However, whoever attacked the stronghold before them hadn't missed a thing. The iron door, thick and reinforced, bore a deep scar that resembled a burn mark, as if melted by intense heat. The sight was both surreal and terrifying.
From the traces left behind, the experts speculated that an energy weapon caused the damage—something powerful enough to sear through reinforced steel. But the energy weapons on Earth are still theoretical, confined to the realm of research labs and concepts. There is no such weapon available for practical use, let alone something capable of such destruction. The question of what could produce such power left the experts scratching their heads, pondering the implications.
The rest of the stronghold's occupants had perished. In truth, Ross's capture felt more like a formality—someone had already taken out the opposition and left the target behind for them to collect. The CIA team had arrived in full force, yet they were reduced to a role that felt more like that of observers, or at best, the final clean-up crew.
Siegel, the leader of the operation, couldn't shake the feeling that their timing had been impeccable, but irrelevant. After pinpointing the target's location, the team had mobilized swiftly, scouting the area and organizing an attack in record time. But their thorough planning and precise execution felt almost unnecessary. An unknown ally with overwhelming combat prowess had already taken care of most of the work, leaving the CIA team to simply process Ross's arrest.
It was a routine all too familiar to the veterans of the Ninth Special Service Division. Dealing with unexpected superhuman interference was practically part of the job description by now. As the operation wrapped up, they couldn't help but see the irony—now it was the CIA experiencing what the division had dealt with for months. The tech specialists, especially Richard from the equipment department, found it particularly amusing to see the pharmaceutical division's stunned reaction to the unscientific power of the mysterious attacker's armor. It was like watching themselves in a mirror from months ago, bringing a mix of empathy and schadenfreude.
With the operation's dust settling, Ross was transported to a secure interrogation room at the pharmaceutical facility. Siegel, still grappling with the peculiar circumstances of the mission, took on the task of questioning Ross personally. He entered the room, finding Ross seated calmly, one arm bandaged and the other restrained in a heavy-duty shackle.
Without the power of the Tis Shield, and significantly weakened from his encounter with Wolverine, Ross seemed diminished—no longer the formidable figure they had feared. The shackles on his wrist were designed to suppress any residual abilities, and a squad of armed agents stood ready just outside the door. The room itself was reinforced, with every precaution taken to prevent any possible escape.
Yet, Ross gave no indication that he intended to resist. He sat with a placid expression, answering questions as if engaged in a casual discussion over coffee rather than facing interrogation in a high-security facility. His demeanor remained calm, as if unaware of the dire situation he was in.
Despite their suspicions, all tests showed that Ross was not mentally or physically infected by any external influence. This wasn't entirely unexpected, given that "special persons" like him often had a degree of resistance to such things. However, it confirmed something unsettling—that all of Ross's actions were driven by his own beliefs and decisions.
"So, what you're telling me is," Siegel glanced down at the transcript of the interview notes, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, "everything you did was because you lost faith in humanity as a whole?"
"That's the gist of it," Ross replied evenly, his voice betraying no emotion.
"And you believe that these... beings you're trying to awaken could actually improve humanity?" Siegel pressed further, trying to gauge if there was any hesitation in Ross's expression.
Ross remained steadfast, his gaze fixed and unyielding. "Yes, I've studied this thoroughly before coming to this conclusion. These beings will transform us, pushing us beyond our limitations—physically, mentally, spiritually. Humans are inherently flawed. We think we're strong, but in reality, we are fragile. Our minds and bodies break easily when tested. We cling to ideals and beliefs, thinking they will carry us through, only to find them shattered when things get tough. These beings can make us whole, fill the voids in our spirit, and give us the strength to remain resolute in the face of any challenge.
Human beings are inherently incomplete, crippled by evolutionary flaws that prevent us from surpassing our own limitations. We are, by design, failures—destined to rely on something greater to become perfect."
"You know, most people would describe that as 'infection,' not 'improvement,'" Siegel shot back, tapping his pen against the table for emphasis.
"Call it what you like," Ross said, his voice as cold as the room they sat in. "The name is irrelevant. What matters is that humanity would finally become what it should be."
"Alright, I get it. So your grand plan is to... guide human evolution. But have you even considered the possibility that these beings you're trying to awaken might not be as benevolent as you think? Right now, the Pole Stars are under our control, more or less. But if they wake up, what if they have different ideas about who should be in charge?" Siegel leaned in closer, trying to provoke a reaction.
"Of course, I've considered that," Ross replied with a slight nod, as if discussing a simple matter of logistics. "But as I said, we are flawed. We lack the ability to evolve independently. So if we want their help, we must be prepared to pay the price. Nothing worth having comes without sacrifice."
Siegel's mind buzzed with questions as he flipped through the classified records, which contained details of Ross's past that had been buried in secrecy. Most of these files had only been released to him under emergency authorization due to the situation.
"I assume your beliefs have something to do with what happened to you in that terrorist camp?" Siegel ventured, eyeing Ross intently.
Ross showed no surprise at the question. He simply nodded, his expression unchanging. "A person's past defines them. We are all shaped by our experiences, whether we like it or not."
"Right. Well, it looks like I'm not the best person to continue this conversation," Siegel said, standing up from his chair and walking to the door.
He turned the handle and opened the door.
Standing in the doorway was a figure that took Ross by surprise—a man with a weathered face, supported by a mechanical limb that made his movements clumsy. Despite his visible injuries, there was a strength in his expression, a quiet resolve.
For the first time since entering the interrogation room, Ross's expression shifted. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the figure.
The man, Steve, offered a lopsided smile. "Long time no see, Ross."
Siegel stepped out, leaving Steve and Ross alone in the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving only the sound of the heavy lock clicking into place.
Steve took the seat opposite Ross. For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, the weight of shared memories and unspoken words hanging in the air between them.
"So... how's life treating you?" Steve finally broke the silence, his tone casual.
Ross looked down at his bound hands, the heavy shackles clinking as he moved. "As you can see, things aren't great. It's hard to get much done these days, but I'm managing."
His gaze drifted to Steve's mechanical leg. Steve noticed but made no effort to hide it. He tapped the prosthetic joint, smiling wryly.
"You remember when you asked me what I wanted to do most after we got out of that camp?" Steve said, his voice quieter now. "I told you I couldn't wait to go home and hold my little girl. I missed her birth, never got to hold her. Then, I finally made it back, but I still couldn't pick her up—this leg can barely keep me standing."
He tapped the metal limb again, showing a small, rueful smile. "But as an old vet who made it out alive, I can't complain too much. They upgrade this thing every year, and they swear it's the best they've got. But it's still just a chunk of metal."
Ross looked down, the silence between them heavy with unspoken guilt. They both remembered the incident in the terrorist camp. They had fought side by side, plotted their escape together, and when their plan fell apart, Ross had made a choice—to run while Steve stayed behind.
"I wouldn't have come to see you if some young guy hadn't convinced me that you were planning to awaken some ancient gods and destroy the world. But if he hadn't told me you'd gone mad, I'd have stayed away," Steve said bluntly, his smile vanishing.
Ross managed a faint smile of his own. "I never expected you to forgive me for leaving you behind."
But Steve interrupted, shaking his head. "You didn't betray me, Ross. I stayed behind on purpose. When we were exposed, I knew only one of us would make it out. Someone had to stay back and draw their attention, and I made that decision. It wasn't about you choosing to leave. It was about me choosing to give you a chance to get out. And you did come back, with reinforcements, and saved my life. So if anyone owes anyone, we're even."
Ross's jaw tightened, but he couldn't find the words to respond.
"You see, you don't owe me anything," Steve continued, his voice turning harder, "but I'm disappointed in you for giving up so easily. You're blaming humans for being weak, telling yourself that it's just in our nature to fail, to give up. But deep down, you know that's not true."
He paused, staring directly at Ross. "You used to be the best of us. Sure, humans have flaws, we fall, we fail, but we get up again. We accept our limitations, and we move forward despite them. That's what makes us human. We don't need to become something else to find strength."
Ross looked away, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. For a long moment, he said nothing.
"You're still the optimist, aren't you?" he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Steve's smile returned, a sad but genuine expression. "Life knocks you down, but you learn to smile through the pain."
Ross let out a bitter laugh and slumped back in his chair, the chains clanking as he relaxed. "Alright. I get why they brought you here. I know what they want to know. So let's cut to the chase."
Everyone listening outside the interrogation room held their breath, waiting for his next words.
"The underground ruins were built by ancient cultists who devoted themselves to certain primordial entities," Ross began. "It served as their sanctuary, and later, their tomb—a place that has kept them sealed away for countless years.
To break the seal, you need a specific key—Exhibit A-086. Open the seal, and those ancient beings will be freed. The project's codename is 'Plaiti,' the same one you probably found referenced in my private files."
"Beings?" Siegel's voice crackled through the intercom, picking up on the plural.
"Yes. There were originally five entities sealed beneath that ruin," Ross said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Batman took care of one. Now, you have four left to deal with."