"It's over…"
The President of the United States stared ahead, his eyes dull, his expression lifeless. His body slumped in the chair, limp as if all strength had drained from him. In that instant, the willpower of a leader had vanished. He could not even lift a finger.
He stared blankly at the live feed transmitted by the Satellite General Administration. In space, amid the flames and the fading fireball, a clear figure stood tall in the darkness. The hope he had placed in the strike vanished in an instant.
The Oval Office fell deathly silent.
The air itself seemed to freeze, thick with suffocating despair.
The faces of the military generals turned pale. High-ranking members of the administration raised their voices in shock and panic.
"How is this possible? Those were nuclear bombs! How could anything survive that?!"
"He survived… completely unscathed."
"No damage… at all."
An elderly admiral of the Air Force spoke with a trembling voice, his body shaking as his breathing grew rapid and heavy.
The idea that any living being could endure the full force of a nuclear blast defied everything they knew.
This moment shattered their understanding of life.
A living being… more powerful than a nuclear weapon.
And worse still, it meant that no weapon on Earth could harm Barmulodi. He now stood free to dominate the planet unopposed.
The mere thought of it filled the room with dread. The generals, the congressmen—all of them fell into stunned silence as panic took hold. A heavy, oppressive fear pressed down on the room like the weight of a mountain.
The failure of the nuclear strike had crushed their last hope.
"What… what do we do now?"
The President's voice was hollow. His body remained slumped in the chair, like a man broken beyond repair. He muttered to himself in a daze, staring emptily ahead.
The realization clawed at him—the presidency he had fought so hard to win would now be remembered as the last presidency of the United States. The man who had overseen the fall of America. The last president, condemned as incompetent, buried under the ruins of his country's destruction.
That thought shattered what remained of his resolve.
His face pale, hands trembling, he reached for the drawer beneath his desk. Inside lay a custom-made Glock pistol, its surface smooth and polished like white jade. It was one of his favorites, a weapon he often handled during quiet nights alone, finding a strange comfort in its cool weight and balance.
But this time, his trembling hand raised the pistol beneath his chin, finger tightening on the trigger.
It was fear. Panic. An overwhelming desire to escape. To avoid facing the weight of history's judgment.
Sam Lane sat silently, watching the President's movements without the slightest flicker of emotion. Even the other generals, their faces pale from the horror of Bardi's survival, showed no surprise as the President raised the gun to his chin.
To them, such a death seemed almost expected. An understandable choice to avoid the greater tragedy to come—the condemnation of the American people, the shame of the world, the final disgrace of being the man who lost everything.
The room remained silent as they waited for the President to pull the trigger.
But Amanda Waller's expression suddenly changed. She stepped forward swiftly, moving to the President's side. With a sharp motion, she struck the pistol away from his chin, knocking it out of his hands.
'Bang…'
The Glock discharged with a soft crack. The bullet struck the ceiling, shattering one of the chandelier's bright bulbs. Glass fragments rained down onto the pristine floor below.
The chandelier swayed faintly, trembling as if in fright.
"Mr. President, we are not at the end yet," Amanda Waller said firmly.
Her words snapped the President out of his daze. His body trembled violently as he flung the Glock away from him. His white-knuckled hand burned red from gripping the weapon so tightly. The faint sting of pain helped jolt him back to reality.
In that brief moment of madness, he had been ready to end his life.
Now, sweat poured from his body. Goosebumps covered his arms. He had been on the verge of crumbling beneath the pressure.
"What… what else can we do to stop him?"
Breathing heavily, the President grabbed a handkerchief from the table, wiping the sweat from his face as he asked hurriedly.
His gaze turned to the gathered admirals and generals, but they could only look at one another in silence, shaking their heads.
The President's heart sank further. There was still no solution.
Then Amanda Waller spoke calmly.
"I have contacted the superpowers within the United Nations. The person who knows Barmulodi best—Deathstroke—has proposed a desperate plan."
The President immediately responded, "No matter how desperate it is… we will do it."
At this point, any possibility was worth trying. The United States would fully support any plan if there was even the slightest chance of success.
Sam Lane remained silent, his face grim, though a strange glint flickered in his eyes.
Amanda Waller pulled out a laptop and opened an encrypted communication channel. More than twenty leaders and superpowered representatives from around the world had already gathered on the line. In the face of Barmulodi's overwhelming power, these leaders had recognized the looming danger and joined forces, determined to prevent the Kryptonian's future rule.
They understood that Barmulodi's ambitions could not be contained. His thirst for domination was obvious. If left unchecked, the entire world would fall beneath his rule.
"What about Barmulodi's artificial intelligence? Won't this plan be detected?"
The President voiced his concern. They all knew Bardi's AI system, Hera, monitored most of the Earth's satellites.
Over seventy percent of all satellites were already under Bardi's control, serving as his eyes and ears across the planet.
"No," came the calm reply. "Barmulodi's artificial intelligence is not omnipotent. Our communications are disguised at the data level, registering as nothing more than background noise to his monitoring systems."
Deathstroke's voice came through the laptop's speaker.
"What is your plan to defeat Barmulodi?" the President asked again.
"For ten years, I have been studying Barmulodi. Ever since he arrived on Earth, I've been preparing for the possibility of killing him. I knew from the beginning he wouldn't just be my enemy. He would become the enemy of the entire world."
"The radiation of a red sun can suppress his ability to absorb solar energy, limiting his strength. But at this point, it's useless. His Emperor's Tower contains more than enough stored solar energy to sustain him."
"Kryptonite remains his true weakness. It can weaken him to the level of an ordinary man. It is the key to defeating him."
"But he has already swept the Earth clean of all kryptonite."
"I need people. I need the help of every superhuman on this planet."
"Barmulodi has captured Princess Diana of the Amazons and killed the King of Atlantis. These actions will undoubtedly provoke retaliation from both of these ancient powers."
"His millions of soldiers will be fully deployed to crush those two forces, leaving his Emperor's Tower exposed. That will be our moment."
"When he is preoccupied with these two ancient armies…"
"I need all superhumans on Earth to follow my command."
"We will invade the Emperor's Tower, seize the kryptonite, and kill him."
(To be continued.)
***
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