Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 29: The Balance Of Power
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 18:44:47 +0000 UTCAshborn sat silently in the living area, the warm lighting doing little to ease the cold stillness between him and the young woman sitting across from him. Jinx had a look on her face that was caught somewhere between shock and sorrow, her pink eyes wide but dimmed.
Ashborn’s expression, however, was unreadable—neutral, calm, detached.
His words had been straightforward. There was no sugar-coating, no false kindness. “You’ve changed,” he had told her, “and that’s fine. But our relationship hasn’t changed—at least not for me.”
There was no malice in his voice. No anger. Just facts.
And that, somehow, made it sting worse.
Jinx sat there for a few more seconds, her hands clenched together in her lap. His words echoed in her head, bouncing against the walls of her chest like a cruel truth. She had hoped... maybe something more had grown between them. That maybe he saw her differently now. But Ashborn, as always, was painfully clear.
She lowered her head "I understand," she said quietly. "Sorry for the inconvenience."
Without another word, she stood and walked away, her footsteps soft but weighted with the kind of hurt that lingered.
Ashborn didn’t move. He just watched her leave.
He knew what he said had hurt her. He wasn’t blind to emotions—just unwilling to lie to them. Pretending things were fine would have been worse. He didn’t feel affection for her. That was the truth.
Later that evening, Gizmo had called him.
“Hey,” Gizmo’s voice crackled through. “What’s going on with Jinx? She just called me out of nowhere saying she’s going back to Jump City. Said this place doesn’t suit her.”
Ashborn leaned back in his seat, his tone calm. “She’s right. Staying in a house all day doesn’t suit her. She’s looking for something else.”
There was a pause on the other end. “So… that’s it? There’s nothing else she can do?”
Ashborn said plainly. “Even if I gave her something else to do, she’d know it wasn’t earned. And she wouldn’t take it again.”
Gizmo sighed. “Yeah… that sounds like her.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Finally, Gizmo grunted. “Alright. I’ll keep in touch with her.”
“Thanks,” Ashborn replied simply before ending the call.
He sat still again, staring at the darkened window across the room.
He hadn’t kicked her out. He hadn’t said she needed to go. But after their conversation, he knew she wouldn’t stay. Because she knew. There was no path forward from where they stood.
___________
Jinx’s departure barely left a ripple in Ashborn’s daily routine. The house was back to being empty and life moved at its usual, steady rhythm. The pace of his work remained undisturbed. No emotional fallout, no drama. Just the same cycle of research, planning, and the occasional small indulgements.
That was, until he received an unexpected call.
Amanda Waller.
The name alone was enough to catch his interest. A high-level government agent with her fingers in more pies than anyone cared to admit. Ruthless, calculated, and always three moves ahead.
She requested a meeting. No details given, just a direct and formal request for his time to discuss “an important matter.” Naturally, he agreed.
The next day, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Shadow Corp’s gates. No markings, no identifiers—just clean, polished, and clearly government-issued. Ashborn stepped in without a word.
The drive was long and uneventful. When they arrived, he was escorted through several layers of security into a nondescript government facility. But instead of being taken to an office or a briefing room, he was led deep underground—far below the surface—to what felt more like a bunker than a meeting space.
The room was cold, sterile, and built like a vault. Waiting inside was a stern-looking Black woman whose very presence radiated command. Amanda Waller.
Ashborn greeted her with a casual smile, settling into the chair across from her. “Not every day a government agent calls me in for a chat.”
Amanda nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you for making time for me on such short notice.”
He leaned back slightly. “So what’s this all about? Dragging me into an underground fortress? You worried about someone going to eavesdrop?”
Amanda’s expression didn’t change. “Precisely. This room is constructed to prevent any and all forms of external surveillance—alien or otherwise. Superman, Martian Manhunter, telepaths, tech-based spies… none of them can hear what we’re about to discuss.”
Now she had his full attention.
Ashborn folded his hands on the table. “Alright. I’m listening.”
Amanda slid a collection of folders across the table. “Look through these first.”
He opened them and flipped through quickly. Reports of large-scale destruction, civilian casualties, massive insurance claims, global instability. Metropolis. Gotham. Central City. All bearing the scars of battles between gods and monsters—and sometimes between the supposed ‘heroes’ themselves.
He looked back at her, silently prompting her to continue.
“Our world is more fragile than it looks,” Amanda said. “Brainiac’s invasion proved how ill-prepared we are. If he hadn’t been stopped… we would have been erased. And the Justice League? They’re powerful, unregulated, and completely untouchable. If they ever decide to rule the world, who would stop them? Who could?”
Ashborn hummed. “So where do I fit into all of this?”
“You’ve been busy,” she said. “You sued Supergirl and forced her into a public accountability arc. You helped known villains reform. It shows something important: You care about this society. You care about humanity. You want to preserve it, not control it.”
Ashborn raised an eyebrow, then gave a sly smile. “Is this your way of recruiting me?”
Amanda’s voice was firm. “I’m assembling a covert division. Designed to prepare for the worst. Alien invasions. Rogue heroes. Threats beyond our reach. I want you to support it.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, Ashborn leaned back, thoughtful.
[Did I just become the Lex Luthor of this world?] he mused. It was an amusing thought.
After a pause, he said aloud, “You are afraid of the League—and that’s reasonable. But giving people too much power, even for defense, is a double-edged sword. Recipe for disaster.”
“This division will be overseen by government protocols,” Amanda argued. “It won’t be run by one person. Every major action will require approval from multiple layers. We’re not looking for tyranny.”
Ashborn tilted his head. “Sounds familiar. Justice League does that too. Except they’ve been doing it longer.”
Her frown deepened. “We’re human. They’re aliens. Don’t you think it’s absurd that we’ve put our entire species’ safety in the hands of beings from other worlds?”
He shrugged. “Humans aren’t exactly peaceful or trustworthy either. But… I see your point.”
He glanced at the file again, then met her gaze. “What do you want from me, specifically?”
“Funding,” she said without hesitation. “And access to your lab’s research. No interference—just results that could help us defend against extraterrestrial or metahuman threats.”
Ashborn narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking it over.
“I will support you,” he said at last. “But I expect a detailed report on the protocols you follow and assurance of no abuse. The moment your group breaks any of them, I will turn on you.”
Amanda nodded once. “Agreed.”
Then, Ashborn leaned forward, his smile returning—but this time with something sharper behind it.
“Tell me… is Lex Luthor part of this too?”
That caught her off guard. For a fraction of a second, her expression slipped. “Why would you think that?”
“Because Lex is the loudest critic of the League. And he’s richer than me. If you offer him a way to oppose Superman and look noble doing it, he’ll empty his pockets.”
Amanda studied him closely. Then she gave a slow nod.
“You’re right. He’s already involved. In fact… he was the one who told me to reach out to you.” She gave a small smirk. “Said you like to make friends.”
Ashborn chuckled softly. “Lex knows me well.”
___________
The ride back to Shadow Corp was quiet, filled with little more than the low hum of the engine and Ashborn’s thoughts.
His decision to support Amanda Waller wasn’t weighed down by morality or trust—it was strategy. Cold and simple. The world was a stage, and everyone was playing a part.
Supporting Amanda Waller’s division had been an easy choice.
If the Justice League ever went rogue—if Superman decided humanity’s chaos required his guidance, if Wonder Woman chose to enforce peace by the sword—then Amanda’s team could, in theory, stand as a countermeasure. Something to balance the scale.
On the other hand, if Amanda’s group lost its way, corrupted by its own sense of righteousness or consumed by paranoia and power, the League could crush them. He knew how they operated. They wouldn’t ignore tyranny in their backyard.
And if both groups failed?
If the worst happened?
If power clashed with power and the world teetered on the edge of collapse?
If it came to it, he would step in.
To correct them.
To stop the destruction of the life around him.
He wasn’t a hero. Not a savior. Not someone who craved glory or wanted a statue in his name.
He just wanted to enjoy life and any real threat to that will be dealt with.
