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The Golden Lotus was one of the best Chinese Restaurants in Washington D.C. The rooftop dining area, which in the cold winter months was sheltered four removable glass walls as well as a temporary roof, offered some of the best views of the capitol in the entire city. Director Alexander Anderson sat at a table along the western wall of the rooftop dining room, which gave him an unobstructed view of the Capitol Building. However, Director Anderson wasn’t alone. Sitting across from him was Michael Newcastle, one of the rising stars within the ranks of STRIKE’s administration, and a young man who Anderson had taken a bit of a liking to. Newcastle may have been young, but he was ambitious. He saw himself one day replacing Anderson as Director, and if the truth were known, as far as Anderson was concerned, if Newcastle stayed on his current course, he may be the one to succeed him when he decided to call it a career. 

“….in Lost Haven, Mr. Arthur along with Icon and several other heroes took care of our ‘Nightmare Problem.’” Newcastle said, concluding his report on recent metahuman activities.

“They caught him?” Anderson said, genuinely surprised.

“No sir, they killed him.” Newcastle corrected.

“Heh.” Anderson chuckled as he shoved a fork-full of General Tso’s Chicken into his mouth. “I didn’t think Ol’ Blue and the tin man had the balls for that. Good for them.” He paused for a moment as he reflected on how the monster known as Nightmare had destroyed his life the night that he had dismembered his son.

“Of course, I’d rather to be the one to put a bullet in that bastard’s skull myself. But hey, so long as the deed is done.” Anderson said wistfully. 

“It would seem that the fates favor us, though. With the Pax Metahumana organization being brought under heel, and the end of Nightmare and his cult, things are looking up. Though, we still have the problem of Vorian von Traupitz.” Newcastle told him, clearly uncomfortable mentioning the industrialist. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about the doctor. We’ve already handled it. We’ve frozen his assets and rounded up or killed the remaining members of the AV, and we’ve destroyed all of his…experiments. As soon as shit went south, the coward did what all the good Nazis did headed down to Argentina. I suspect that he’ll be dead much sooner than later.” Anderson said as he took a sip of rice wine.

“Director, STRIKE can’t…we can’t assassinate him, he’s too big—” Anderson cut him off.



“Don’t be foolish. Could you imagine what the reaction in the streets would be if the people of this country found out that Vorian von Traupitz was The Good Doctor…a maniac that everyone thought was killed during World War II, and he tried to put a virus into the Lost Haven water supply that would turn everyone’s insides to liquid shit?” Anderson said.

“Fucking pandemonium.” 

“Exactly, Sir. So you understand my concerns about having STRIKE—”

“STRIKE isn’t going to take him out. We’re not in the business of assassinating heads of multinational corporations, not even terrorists like The Good Doctor.” Anderson assured him.

“So, may I ask…what are we dong about him?” Newcastle asked.

“He’s made a lot of powerful enemies, Michael. I sent Vorian’s current location, as well as his itinerary for the next couple of weeks to an…interested party.” Anderson said with a grin.

“You don’t mean?”

“STRIKE couldn’t get its hands dirty with this one, so I may have tipped of the mercenary’s information broker, what was his name? Oh yes, Warden.” Anderson took another swig of rice wine.

“How much did you have to pay him?”

“Nothing. Sometimes, just sometimes…revenge is its own reward.”

Silence fell over the two men as Anderson continued to devour his meal. However, the Director could tell that Newcastle hadn’t raised all of his concerns. The man was uncharacteristically shaken, and he had barely touched his food. Anderson looked to the man’s plate, and then to Newcastle himself.

“Is there something else, Michael?” Anderson finally asked.

“Sir, what are we going to do about…?” He trailed off for a moment and looked around to make sure that nobody was within earshot. “The anomaly, sir.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Nothing.” Anderson said in a matter of factly.

“But Director, Sir…shouldn’t we warn the President? The American people?” Newcastle asked, perplexed.

“Are you stupid son? The President already knows. The prick doesn’t know what to do with the information, but he knows. And as far as the American people…well, the less they know the better.” Anderson told him. 

“But sir, we’re potentially looking at an unprecedented crisis.” Newcastle said.

“Yes, we are…and I’ll tell you what my daddy always told me, never…ever, let a good crisis go to waste.”