Countdown

While Mongor smugly described his perfect backup plan to Jay, the mainframe in the underground facility beneath the government building told Helena the same story. A bright red countdown flickered across the screen, and the interface was covered in alien writing she could not understand. But the graphical display and timer told her enough: a super-mobile fortress loaded with interstellar weapons was approaching Earth.

Helena tried to stop it, but she could not read the alien interface. Even the computer terminal mounted on her wrist could not identify the mainframe's code. However, she discovered that although the mainframe's system was entirely alien technology, it was still connected to the internal network of the building above her. In other words, if she could reach the building's central server, she could cut off the resources supplied to the underground mainframe and stop its work.

But as mentioned before, the World Federal Government building's security was airtight. Not even a mosquito could get in. How was she supposed to slip past all those obstacles and reach the main server on the top floor?

The elevator hidden inside the walls of the previous room immediately came to mind.

As long as she remembered the elevator's approximate location within the wall, it was not hard to find. Helena quickly located the mechanism embedded behind the wall panel. As it activated, a compact keypad popped out from behind the panel. Its lower half was shaped like a handprint, clearly requiring palm-print verification, while its upper half was a retinal scanner.

This lock had to be directly connected to the government building's system as well. Never mind whether she could crack it; even if she could, it certainly would not be quick. Fortunately, she did not need to worry about a mere electronic lock anymore. She returned to the previous room, casually picked an official who looked fairly high-ranking from among those seated at the base of the "Black Benevolence" plant, and dragged him over to the keypad. Grabbing him by the collar, she lifted the limp official before the lock. He still wore a blissful, foolish grin, with drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Both verifications passed successfully, and the concealed elevator doors opened before her with a ding. Helena thanked the official, casually tossed him aside, and stepped into the elevator herself.

In the corridor on the government building's top floor, three men in black suits stood side by side waiting before the elevator doors. The floor number on the electronic display rose rapidly without pause, stopping moments later at their floor. The elevator doors opened with a pleasant ding-dong, revealing no one inside.

The three entered the elevator while discussing work matters. Just as the automatic doors closed, Huntress dropped from the ceiling in a flash, driving a knee into one black suit's forehead and knocking him unconscious. The other two reacted quickly. The instant the attack began, they struck together without hesitation. Helena leaned back to evade one man's punch, then her arm coiled around his like a nimble water snake and seized the back of his head. With a sharp cry, she exerted force and slammed him to the floor with an over-the-shoulder throw. Before he could react, she planted a kick squarely on his head, using just enough force to knock him unconscious.

Only one of the three black suits remained standing, but he was well-trained and showed no panic in the face of this situation. He somehow produced a dagger, spun it half a turn in his palm, and gripped it in reverse as it swept toward Helena with a chilling whistle. Helena dodged two attacks in succession, then seized his knife arm with one hand at the right moment and smashed her other elbow into his nose. His head tipped back involuntarily, his movement slowing for an instant. Helena turned and kicked backward, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees before driving her foot fiercely into his chest. The black suit grunted and crashed heavily into the elevator's rear wall.

The elevator doors opened again. Helena stepped over the black suits sprawled across the floor and was about to leave when instinct suddenly told her something was wrong. When she turned back, she saw all three black suits had risen again, moving their joints mechanically as their bones cracked with an unsettling sound.

Helena watched their faces rapidly distort, their skin wrinkling at once. Two snake-like bones pushed up along each of their cheeks to the tops of their heads, while their pupils turned green, evoking thoughts of lethally poisonous venom.

Three shape-shifting aliens. That could imply something worse—perhaps there were more of them in this building.

Helena pressed a hand to her utility belt and instinctively took two steps back. "Uh, is it a little late to say sorry now?"

At that moment, in New York City.

The collateral damage from the battle between the two aliens was rapidly expanding, and more and more areas were becoming disaster zones. Reinforced concrete buildings were as fragile as building blocks before the ruler of Warworld and the Kryptonian. With a single leap, they could cross from one end of a street to the other; with one punch, they could send the other flying across Manhattan.

James Jerome was already a veteran Air Force pilot. Six years ago, he had been part of the vanguard resisting Apokolips's army and had survived that hellish battlefield. He seemed to be the only survivor among pilots with comparable qualifications.

He had not received a mission like this in years—an alien was demolishing New York City with complete impunity. He had thought such an era had vanished into history forever, and it could not help reminding him of when he had first climbed into a fighter jet.

Back then, he had been a rookie who had only recently joined the Air Force. His target had been an alien causing trouble in Metropolis, perhaps from a planet called Kadom or something. He could not remember clearly. He only remembered that the creature was enormous, its body as hard as rock. He had worked up the courage to fire two air-to-ground missiles at the thing, but the effect had seemed no more than a scratch.

Then the alien monster fired a high-density energy beam from its mouth. He tried to evade it, but one of his wings was still hit. To make matters worse, the damned ejection lever on his seat had gotten stuck, leaving him unable to bail out before his burning fighter made intimate contact with the ground.

That should have been the end of his brief flying career, if Superman had not appeared at that moment.

James could still clearly remember the day he first saw Superman, every detail branded into his mind with perfect clarity. He remembered Superman catching up to the diving fighter at unbelievable speed as if a god had descended from heaven, supporting the fuselage with both hands and helping it land safely. Then he had opened the cockpit, looked at James with that seemingly magical smile, and said, "Are you all right, sir?"

He would never forget that day, never forget that moment. He should have died there. Superman had given him all these extra years of flight.

So when he piloted a supersonic fighter over New York again and saw that blue figure confronting Mongor, the red cape streaming like a banner, he was overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if he had returned to that day and become that inexperienced rookie again.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself. "I knew you'd come back. You always come back."

He spoke into the radio. "This is Owl. Target spotted! I repeat, target spotted! Requesting instructions!"

"This is White Wolf. Target description: wearing a blue bodysuit and red cape. Target confirmed highly dangerous. Authorization granted for destructive weapons. Over."

James froze. For a moment, his mind seemed unable to process the order.

"What did you say?"

(Thanks to readers Lonely Black Feather Sai and Anhui Water Commoner for their 100 Qidian Coin donations, and readers kabuto555, Enchanting Bitch Pure and Unaffected, and Leisurely Man of This Life for their 500 Qidian Coin donations!)