General Thaddeus Ross stormed into the White House and found the sitting president, Matthew Ellis.
Bang.
Ross slammed both hands down on the desk.
“Mr.
President!
We have to bring that monster under control!”
“…Are you speaking English?”
President Matthew scratched his ear, looking completely lost.
“Sorry, General.
I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Mr.
President!
Wayne Scott is too dangerous!
If he ever decides to turn on this country the consequences would be unimaginable!”
Ross’s eyes were wide.
“And at his age he’s far too unstable.
The second something influences him… I think I’ve made myself clear.”
“We need to put him under control!
Unless he accepts government oversight we cannot allow an extremely dangerous entity that threatens this nation to exist on our soil!”
“…”
President Matthew opened his mouth, then closed it again.
There were so many things wrong with that statement he didn’t even know where to start.
He had already had specialists run the numbers on “the Heat Vision Wayne fired from Earth into deep space that day.” Even the low-end estimates came in higher than a full supernova.
He still didn’t understand why the planet hadn’t evaporated, but he did know Galactus had been sitting on the far side of most of the Milky Way at the time.
If that beam had been aimed at the Devourer… Christ, the kid had nearly shish-kebabed the entire galaxy.
And now Ross wanted to “bring him under control”?
Was the general also expecting him to write his will in advance just in case they accidentally turned the guy into a full-blown villain?
Matthew’s face settled into a mix of helplessness and irritation.
“General Ross, I understand how you feel.
But we have a responsibility to this country.”
Do you think I’ve never read a comic book?
Don’t you dare manufacture a Lord Superman or Injustice Superman situation for me, or I will hold you personally accountable.
The word “responsibility” made Ross’s meaning clear: you don’t start shit unless you can actually handle the outcome and guarantee you won’t screw it up.
“Mr.
President, I’m a soldier.
I only know how to think like a soldier.”
Ross locked eyes with him.
“We don’t have to force a direct confrontation, but we also can’t sit around doing nothing.
I recommend a military exercise.”
He was fully aware how ridiculous it looked for ants to flex in front of a giant.
But first and foremost it was a posture, a declaration of sovereignty, even if the actual power to back it up didn’t exist.
On top of that, watching how Wayne reacted to their forces would give them data on personality, bottom lines, what he paid attention to, possible soft spots.
High risk, high reward.
Unfortunately President Matthew had zero interest in that level of risk.
One mistake and his name would be mud for the rest of history.
He also doubted they would learn anything useful.
What if Wayne simply couldn’t be bothered to notice them at all?
And even if he did notice, if the kid just looked mildly disgusted, could anyone seriously conclude “his personality is arrogant”?
If Matthew himself saw an ant flexing its muscles at him, he’d want to laugh too.
And even if they somehow didn’t misread the “arrogant” part, how exactly were they supposed to exploit that personality flaw?
One casual graze of Heat Vision would erase the planet.
Could that pig brain of his not grasp basic cause and effect?
President Matthew looked completely hopeless.
He didn’t agree with Ross’s plan, but he also knew they had to do something or the public would never buy it.
At minimum they needed to look like they were responding, or both domestic and international voices would start sticking every ugly label in the book on them.
“Fine, Mr.
President.
If you can’t accept that plan, then let’s try another.”
Ross pressed his lips together and dropped his voice.
“How about we arrest the Invisible Woman and the Human Torch?”
SWOOSH!
The second the words left his mouth both men let out involuntary yelps of pain.
President Matthew shot to his feet and grabbed his own backside.
It felt exactly like someone had just pressed a lit cigarette against it.
He looked over at Ross.
The general was on his knees, both hands clamped between his legs, face twisted into a knot.
Cold sweat poured down his face as he forced out low, gritted groans of pure agony.
Same burn, different target.
Matthew’s blood ran cold.
He scanned the room.
Empty.
Just the two of them.
How the hell had the kid known?
The room had lead lining and full soundproofing…
Cold sweat soaked through the back of his shirt.
Ever since Superman appeared, lead usage had skyrocketed worldwide.
Turns out lead was completely useless against him.
If every precaution they had taken over the years had been worthless from the start…
Matthew didn’t dare finish the thought.
He suddenly felt like Wayne was standing in the shadows watching him.
He needed to get out of this room immediately.
“General Ross!
Superman is our hero!
The Fantastic Four are our heroes!
I will never agree to you treating heroes in such a despicable manner!
Go home!”
He shoved the still-struggling Ross out the door.
Ross shot him a look of pure frustration but had no choice.
He left with his tail between his legs.
Matthew stared after him, still shaken.
What the hell lived inside that pig brain?!
Didn’t the man know that anyone called “Superman” was a family-first hero by default?
He had almost dragged both of them into an early grave!
If he had let Ross keep talking… would he actually have been scheduled for death?
Matthew didn’t even want to imagine it.
To casually burn the President’s ass with a cigarette at that age… what was this kid going to be like in a few years?
He shook his head hard, glanced around the room with fresh suspicion, and hurried out.
He needed to make a phone call.
And find a room that was actually private.