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Director Alexander Anderson sat in his seat at the large round table located in the emergency situational response bunker. Marcus Ryder and several other S.T.R.I.K.E administrators joined him, their eyes glued to the large monitor which showed them the events as they unfolded in the streets above. None of the people inside the bunker could pry their eyes away from the absolute mayhem and carnage that were unfolding on the monitor before them.

“Sir, our sources on the street have confirmed multiple meta human sightings, right in the thick of the convergence.” said one of the men at the table. “One of the meta humans that we…lost track of has recently shown up, and there are rumors that War-Pulse has been spotted.”

“I’m sure, Lee. It’s not exactly like the costumed freaks to pass up a photo op.” Anderson said, the tension from the recent events beginning to take their toll.

“Sir, there have been multiple reported sightings of Him.” Lee added.

“Who?” Anderson asked, already with an inkling of what the man would say next.

“Icon.” Lee confirmed.

“Good, it’s about time he dragged his ass back into the fire.” Anderson snapped.

“Alex, I think that maybe we need to make our presence felt. We have to have a show of force to show the people that we’re still here.” Ryder said. 

Anderson took a moment to think on his friend’s words. He had been through hell with Ryder. Over the years, the two of them have seen, and done things that would have driven most people insane. Truth be told, Anderson saw Ryder as more of a brother than just a colleague, more than a friend. Ryder was the one man in the entire organization who was willing to speak freely, and who wouldn’t hesitate to put Anderson in his place, if the situation warranted it.
“You’re right.” Anderson said. We’re going on full Omega Alert. I want everyone who isn’t in a hospital bed or the morgue out there. We need to get this thing under control.” There was a sudden pause before Anderson spoke again. “What’s the status of the Iron Knight’s repairs?” 

“98 Percent complete sir.” One of the men seated at the table spoke up.

“That’ll have to do. Tell him to suit up, he’s our ace in the hole.” Anderson ordered, before adding, “Marcus, you take the lead on this thing…and send those sons of bitches back to Hell.”