TL/N: If someone is willing to buy the annual membership, I am willing to give them a 40% discount, as I am in need of a little money. (Only for a limited time)
He had never planned to hide the truth about his shadow clones. In fact, he didn't even think it was worth hiding.
Whether it was the Marvel world he came from, or this DC world, clones weren't exactly some godlike ability.
Plenty of powered beings had similar tricks. Nothing to be shocked about.
By showing this card now, what he really wanted was to send a warning to whoever was watching from the shadows: don't think you can control everything.
His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and for an instant, they met Rick's gaze.
Raymond only smiled faintly, saying nothing.
Rick, hands tight on the wheel, felt a chill in his gut. That glance alone made him wonder if… maybe he'd already made a mistake.
On the outskirts of Gotham, in a hidden underground facility, a group of shadowy figures sat around a round table.
They listened intently to the distorted feed coming from their surveillance bugs.
"'Won once'? Greenland Mall? What the hell are they talking about, Amanda?" a man asked from the dark.
The "Amanda" he spoke to was the same Amanda Waller who had once controlled the Enchantress, and who had proposed forming the Suicide Squad.
But this base did not belong to Task Force X. And the people in this room—none of them were Waller's men.
"I'd like to know that too," Amanda answered coldly. At the same time, she issued an order to someone unseen:
"Pull up the latest intel on Greenland Mall. Project it on screen."
No one answered aloud. But less than ten seconds later, light filled the dim chamber. The source of this content ɪs 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦·𝘯𝘦𝘵
At the front of the room, a projection came to life.
It showed news reports about Greenland Mall: reports of terrorists, police moving in, the situation unclear.
"That's not enough. I want eyes inside." Amanda's voice was firm.
The projection shifted.
On the left, four small feeds appeared—four different CCTV angles inside the mall. On the right, shaky phone footage from civilians who had filmed the chaos.
Footage , the police themselves would have struggled to get so quickly. Yet here it was, instantly.
The attack had happened less than ten minutes ago.
As the masked thugs in Joker masks appeared on screen, several people at the table clenched their fists. Some sneered, others wore grim expressions.
They clearly recognized these attackers—and some of them had been burned by them before.
But none of these veterans lost their composure. They stayed silent, watching.
Then the feed suddenly switched to one particular phone video.
And the voices matched perfectly with what they saw on screen.
"The family of Gotham's number one killer—do they really count as ordinary people?"
The masked leader's voice came through the feed.
One man at the table finally lost control, slamming his fist against the round table.
"You're sure?" another asked coldly.
"Of course! That damn voice—I wouldn't mistake it even after ten years!"
"Quiet. Keep watching," Amanda cut in with a frown.
Realizing he'd overreacted, the man clamped down on his anger and said nothing more.
On screen, Deadshot's sub-personality appeared.
To everyone's shock, after only a few exchanged words, Deadshot raised his gun and blew the masked leader's brains out.
For those who had suffered at Joker's hands, the sight was almost unbelievable.
Hadn't Harley just spoken to Joker on the phone? That meant he was alive and well.
So the one who died wasn't Joker. Just a puppet.
Sure enough, a flash of yellow light swept through, dropping all the masked men in one instant.
Then came the reveal: the mask pulled away, the "leader" unmasked as a stand-in. Deadshot's sub-personality confirmed it wasn't Joker.
All eyes turned toward the man who had sworn it was the real Joker.
His face darkened, but he said nothing.
He'd misidentified him—what else could he say?
The rest of the feed was uneventful. That sleazy-looking Asian man in the striped suit killed the thugs, then vanished.
Deadshot's sub-personality promised his ex-wife he would take care of the Joker and swore he wasn't fighting alone.
"That's enough." Amanda's voice broke in.
The projection cut out.
"This Joker is getting out of hand. Gotham cannot allow someone this arrogant to exist. I propose we gather all our forces and kill him immediately!" The man who had spoken first clenched his fists.
"And then what? Leave Batman free to come after us?" another sneered. "I know he cost you, but in the end you only lost a few billion. Is that really worth this tantrum?"
"Only a few billion?!" the man roared. "You want to repay me then?"
"If you were competent, you wouldn't have lost it in the first place. But sure—if you beg me and call me 'father' , I'll send you the money tonight."
An older man slammed his hand down, his voice commanding. "We are not street thugs. Don't disgrace yourselves with this childish bickering."
The two men backed down, one because it gave them an excuse to stop, the other because they didn't dare disrespect him.
Only when silence fell again did the elder continue.
"What I want to know is this: Amanda, can you actually control Deadshot?"
"And that Asian man, who is he? Another recruit for your special squad?"
"No. I found out about his abilities the same time you did." Amanda's tone was grave. "And as for that Asian man—I've never seen him before."
Join .com/AHumanMadeMOFO to read ahead!