[DEO Headquarters, Private Office — July 2017, 10:15 AM]
The security feed showed a small conference room—neutral furniture, no windows, the kind of space designed for sensitive conversations. J'onn sat on one side of the table, his posture relaxed, his expression professionally neutral.
Jeremiah sat across from him, equally calm.
Mon-El watched from an adjacent monitoring station, headphones in, heart pounding. Winn had arranged the feed without asking questions—a favor between friends that Mon-El would probably have to explain later.
"—routine follow-up," J'onn was saying. "Standard reintegration protocol for any long-term asset returning to duty."
"Of course." Jeremiah's smile was warm. "I appreciate the thoroughness. After everything Cadmus did, it's important to verify that I'm still... reliable."
"Speaking of verification." J'onn produced a tablet, placed it on the table between them. The screen showed Mon-El's photographs—Jeremiah at the terminal, the data device, the alien registry scrolling past. "Can you explain this?"
The change was instantaneous.
Jeremiah's smile didn't fade—it transformed. The warmth drained out, replaced by something cold and calculating. His posture shifted from relaxed to coiled, a predator recognizing that the trap had closed.
"You had your Daxamite spy on me."
"I had a concerned colleague bring concerns to my attention." J'onn's voice remained steady. "Concerns that you were accessing restricted systems without authorization. Copying sensitive data. Compromising the security of every registered alien in this city."
"Protecting this city." Jeremiah's voice hardened. "Protecting my daughters. From the alien threat that you're too blind to see."
"I'm an alien, Jeremiah. So is Kara. So is Mon-El. Are we the threat you're protecting against?"
"You're the exceptions. For now." Something flickered in Jeremiah's eyes—pain, maybe, or the echo of a personality that existed before Cadmus rebuilt him. "I didn't ask for this. They broke me, J'onn. Broke me and put me back together wrong. But they also showed me the truth."
"What truth?"
"That aliens are dangerous. That Earth isn't safe while they walk among us." Jeremiah leaned forward. "I love my daughters. I love Eliza. And I will do whatever it takes to protect them—even if that means making choices they'd hate me for."
"By selling them to Cadmus?"
"By ensuring they have a world to live in." Jeremiah stood, his movements smooth despite the tension. "This conversation is over. You have your evidence. I have my mission. Whatever happens next—"
He moved.
Mon-El was already running, but the security feed showed him too late—Jeremiah's arm extended, something mechanical clicking into place beneath the skin, and a pulse of energy rippled outward. The feed died. The lights died. Every system in the DEO flickered and crashed simultaneously.
EMP. Embedded in his cybernetics. Cadmus had prepared for everything.
Mon-El hit the corridor at superhuman speed, enhanced vision cutting through the emergency lighting. Shouts echoed from multiple directions—agents responding to the sudden blackout, confusion and protocol competing for attention.
Jeremiah was already moving. Mon-El tracked him by sound—footsteps too fast, too certain, heading for the emergency exit. He cut through a side corridor, positioning himself between Jeremiah and escape.
They collided at the junction point.
Mon-El caught Jeremiah's first strike—augmented strength, cybernetic enhancement, more power than any human should possess. The impact jarred through his arms, but he held his ground.
"Don't do this." He forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Whatever they programmed into you, you can fight it. You told me—"
"I told you to protect them." Jeremiah's knee drove toward Mon-El's midsection. He twisted, taking the blow on his hip instead of his stomach. "This is me protecting them. From the consequences of what I've done."
"By running? By letting Cadmus use you?"
"By staying alive long enough to make it right." Jeremiah grabbed Mon-El's shirt, pulled him close. "They have fail-safes, boy. If I don't report in, if they think I'm compromised—they activate protocols that will kill my family. Kill everyone."
"Then let us help—"
Jeremiah threw him.
The world spun—corridor walls, ceiling, the harsh red of emergency lighting—and then impact. Mon-El crashed through a partition wall, plaster and metal giving way around him. Pain flared along his ribs, his shoulder, a rebar scratch opening across his cheek.
By the time he pulled himself upright, Jeremiah was gone.
---
Footsteps. Running. Kara's voice cutting through the chaos.
"Mon-El! Mon-El, are you—" She appeared in the wreckage, her face pale with fear. "Oh god. What happened?"
He spat dust. His ribs screamed when he tried to stand. "Jeremiah."
"What about—" She stopped. Her expression changed as she processed the implications—the destroyed wall, the blood on Mon-El's face, the way he couldn't meet her eyes. "No."
"Kara..."
"No." She stepped back. "He wouldn't. He's my—Alex's—he's—"
"He's been compromised." Mon-El forced himself upright, ignoring the protests from his body. "Cadmus programmed him. He's been stealing data, planning—I don't know what. But J'onn confronted him and he ran."
"You knew." Her voice was quiet. Dangerous. "At dinner. In the backyard. You knew."
"I suspected. I gathered evidence. I brought it to J'onn this morning." He reached for her. "Kara, I wanted to be wrong. I wanted—"
"Where is he?" Alex's voice cut through. She appeared in the corridor, weapon drawn, face torn between tactical focus and dawning horror. "The EMP came from Section 3. Jeremiah was scheduled for debrief in Section 3. Where. Is. He."
Mon-El met her eyes.
The moment stretched—Alex processing, understanding, refusing to accept what she already knew.
"Alex..." He stepped toward her. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't." The word was a knife. "Just don't."
She pushed past him, moving toward the emergency exit, toward the trail her father had left behind. Kara followed without looking back.
Mon-El stood alone in the wreckage, blood dripping down his face, ribs aching with every breath.
He'd done what he'd promised. Gathered evidence. Brought it to J'onn. Tried to stop Jeremiah without destroying the family in the process.
It hadn't been enough.
He pulled himself together and started walking. There would be time for guilt later. Right now, there was a compromised agent loose in National City, a family in crisis, and a Cadmus operation that needed to be stopped.
Protect my girls. Whatever it takes.
Jeremiah's words echoed in his mind. The cruel irony of a broken man asking Mon-El to save his daughters from himself.
Whatever it took.
Mon-El wiped the blood from his face and headed for the command center.
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