CHAPTER 124 — ESCALATION
Keyboards clicked in steady rhythm. Voices stayed low, sharp, and professional. Large screens lined the walls, each one showing a different feed: satellite images, radar maps, live data streams, and scrolling numbers that never stopped moving.
Rows of people stood or sat in front of computers. Some wore headsets. Others leaned forward, eyes locked on their screens. No one joked. No one wasted motion. Every person in the room knew this was not a drill.
At the center of it all stood General Jonathan M. Reeves.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform clean and pressed. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stared at the main display. He did not belong to this base. Everyone in the room knew that. Reeves had been called in, pulled from wherever he had been, because something serious had happened.
And he already knew what it was.
One of the satellite officers cleared his throat, the sound small but deliberate in the tense room. "General," he said carefully, "we've detected unknown objects in flight. We've identified them."
Reeves didn't turn around. His back was rigid, shoulders squared. "Say it clearly," he demanded.
"The same individuals who took the Mother Box earlier," the officer replied.
Reeves closed his eyes for a brief moment, a slow exhale betraying the tension coiled inside him. He muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "That damn Calvin Swanwick." His voice grew heavier with each word. "How dare that bastard hand the Mother Box over to others."
No one spoke. No one disagreed.
Reeves finally turned, facing the room. "I read the report," he continued. "Two soldiers dead. The artifact gone. Swanwick claims it was a controlled handover."
A few officers exchanged uneasy glances. The message was clear: lives were lost, and the artifact, priceless and dangerous, was no longer in their hands.
Reeves' gaze sharpened, voice hardening slightly. "He disappears for hours," he said, letting the words sink in, each syllable deliberate. "Comes back. Walks into the White House. And somehow convinces the President not to imprison him."
His voice stayed level, but the anger was there, heavy and restrained.
"I don't know how he did it," Reeves admitted, his eyes narrowing slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. "But it doesn't change what happened."
Before anyone could respond, a voice called out from one of the stations.
"Sir," a satellite controller said, sitting up straight in his chair, "we've located where the two flying individuals landed earlier."
Reeves turned and walked over to the station, his steps measured. "Where?" he asked.
The controller's fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. The screen shifted from raw data to a city map, and a tall building lit up in red.
"They landed on a helipad," the controller said. "LexCorp Tower."
Reeves leaned closer to the screen. "LexCorp Tower," he repeated.
"Yes, sir."
Reeves straightened. "Get me visual," he ordered. "Satellite feed."
The controller hesitated. "I'm afraid we can't, General. Cloud cover blocked visual access at the time."
"So all we know," Reeves said slowly, "is that they landed there."
"Yes, sir," the controller replied. "We weren't prepared. We only predicted the landing based on radar and movement patterns."
He paused for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "We confirmed their identity earlier, when they flew above the cloud layer. We briefly captured their appearance."
The screen changed again.
A still image appeared.
Two figures hovered side by side, suspended in the air above the city. One was in red and gold armor, sleek and precise. The other was massive, heavily armored, with a presence that was immediately recognizable.
Reeves studied the image carefully, his gaze steady. "That's them," he said finally. "The ones who took the Mother Box."
A voice from a nearby radar station spoke up, calm but clear. "General," the radar operator said, "we've detected two unidentified airborne objects departing from LexCorp Tower. Their speed and flight patterns match the previous targets."
Reeves didn't hesitate. "Send five fighter jets to intercept them."
The operator hesitated slightly, glancing at the data. "Sir… visibility is poor. We don't have clear identification."
"Send them," Reeves said again, his tone even, leaving no room for argument.
The order went out.
The order went out. Within moments, new signals appeared on the radar screens, five small blips moving quickly toward two faster, larger blips partially obscured by cloud cover.
"Command," a voice reported over the speakers, calm but precise, "five jets inbound to intercept unknown contacts. Altitude seven thousand feet. Targets moving fast. No visual confirmation."
"Engage immediately," Reeves said.
Static crackled briefly as the pilots responded, voices clear but clipped.
"Bandits in sight. Locking weapons."
"Missiles away."
On the radar, bright lines streaked toward the targets. The operators watched quietly, tracking every movement, noting speed, trajectory, and distance.
Then the lines stopped. One of the pilots' voices came through again, slightly puzzled.
"Missile were intercepted. Target evaded."
A second later, one of the jet icons spun wildly.
"One loss!" a pilot shouted. "One jet destroyed!"
Sensors detected a massive splash far below, in the ocean between Metropolis and Gotham. But the clouds swallowed everything. No one could see what happened.
Reeves clenched his jaw. "Retreat," he ordered. "All units retreat."
The remaining four jets veered away. The radar showed the two targets turning back toward Metropolis. Then, suddenly, they stopped.
"They've disappeared from radar," the operator said, eyes glued to the screens.
Reeves stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "Where did they stop?"
The operator's fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, running calculations and tracing the last known movements. Slowly, a building was highlighted on the map.
"Sir," the operator said, voice tight with focus, "based on their last recorded position and descent speed… they landed here."
A location marker blinked clearly on the display. Reeves leaned closer, studying it. The building was near the Metropolis shoreline, its roof rising above the surrounding structures.
Reeves folded his arms, expression hard.
"It appears they're waiting for us," he said, voice calm but firm.
Without hesitation, he issued the next order. "Initiate Superman Containment Protocol."
The protocol had been designed for one purpose alone, Superman.
If he ever had to be stopped But now, it would be used for something else.
A military base had been established near Metropolis for that exact reason. Fast response. No delay.
The room shifted instantly.
Commands flew out.
"National Guard units, establish a three-block perimeter. Armor forward. Infantry dismount."
"Deploy mobile SAM teams to elevated positions. Weapons hot. Hold fire unless targets attempt lift-off."
"Apache flight, lift now. Low-altitude approach only. Maintain distance."
"AWACS, maintain full radar lock. Feed data to all units."
"Special Operations, stand by for capture attempt. Expect extreme resistance."
Reeves paused.
"If targets break containment," he said firmly, "lethal force is authorized."
The room was silent for a second.
"Do not pursue independently," Reeves added. "Do not engage without command clearance."
The rooftop was quiet.
Tony Stark stood near the edge, hands on his hips, looking out over the city. Far below, lights flickered. Sirens echoed faintly. He could feel it, the tension settling over Metropolis like a heavy blanket.
"Well," Tony said, breaking the silence, "it seems the U.S. military attacked us just now."
Gaius stood nearby, still as a statue. "Yes," he said.
Tony glanced sideways. "They'll probably keep doing it."
"Likely," Gaius replied.
Tony turned fully toward him. "So what's the plan?"
"We continue to Gotham," Gaius said. "We must confirm Batman's status."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Not Superman?"
"Batman," Gaius said. "We have ties to him."
Tony nodded slowly. "Fair."
After all, Batman had taken them in, let them stay in his manor, and even provided his equipment for studying the Mother Box.
He looked out again. "And the military?"
Gaius turned his head slightly. "I will summon my brothers."
Tony blinked. "Your… brothers."
"Valerius," Gaius said, his voice calm but firm. "And Titus. He will bring his squad."
Tony let out a low whistle, the sound half surprise, half admiration. "That's… quite a move,"
"It is necessary," Gaius replied, his gaze steady.
He paused, then continued. "I will also take the opportunity to take supplies from this world."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Supplies?" His tone was curious now, more intrigued than cautious.
"Grain," Gaius said. "Food. Meat."
"For your crew," Tony said, a hint of a smirk on his face. He had known what they were being fed, slop, nutrient gruel, barely edible for a human.
"Yes," Gaius confirmed, almost as if reading Tony's thoughts. "They will be rewarded for their loyalty. For their service."
Tony smiled slightly. "Yeah," he said. "Their food situation is pretty bad."
He looked back at the city, eyes thoughtful. "Alright," he said. "Let's move."
~~~
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