Ascension Code: Reborn in the DC Universe - Chapter 0156

Chapter 156

Thirteen thousand meters above sea level, the Arctic ceased to be a defined place and transformed into a vast desert of pure whiteness, stretching to the horizon without relief, without direction, without a single detail to catch the eye. Inside the jump compartment, the only sound was the guttural hum of the reactors, pulsing like a mechanical heart that still held them attached to the fuselage.

For now.

Erick and Artemis sat side by side, facing the metal ramp that concealed the icy abyss outside. They saw nothing in particular, only felt the cold and the anticipation of the imminent fall. The silence between them was as dense as the thin air, and speaking seemed superfluous.

The aircraft carrying them was not detected by radar and emitted no signal that would justify the investment—a stealthy marvel that had consumed resources beyond what Erick would openly admit. Outside that hull, there was only wind and ice at over one hundred and eighty kilometers per hour, the polar storm that reduces any ordinary jet to scattered wreckage across the infinite white.

The armor that enveloped Erick’s body was his first creation without asking permission. Years ago, he had hidden the inventor boy beneath his tie and suit; there, finally, he had let the boy sign off on every screw. Every favor wrested from the world, every sleepless hour, every piece acquired in secret had merged into that suit. 

The steel was black, matte, free of robotic angles, revealing the shape of each muscle beneath almost organic layers. Erick was over two meters tall, and the armor accentuated every inch. His helmet remained open, revealing his greenish skin and eyes fixed on the void. To the untrained eye, just another jumping suit; for the one who had built it, it was life.

At its core, a reactor pulsed without radioactive matter. Erick had used spheres of an nth-scale metal to trap pure energy, a fragment of power that didn’t need to breathe. It beat within the armor like a mythical heart, fueling every servant and every thread.

Beside him, Artemis wore the variant they had designed together. They maintained the same visual language and the same reactor in the chest, but its carapace was more slender, designed to cleave the air rather than resist impact. Thin layers of composite embraced the body, and small fins hidden in the calves and forearms opened at the mere thought of wind pressure, ready to twist air currents at forbidden angles. Where his pierced walls, hers dodged them without touching them. Erick admired this every time he looked.

He knew the price of that machinery: unpaid favors, sleepless nights, an outstanding debt to a witch who hadn’t yet collected anything—and, in Tala’s world, that was always the harbinger of a higher price. But, seeing the faint, pulsating glow in Artemis’s chest, there was no remorse.

They turned back to face the emptiness outside, about to become real.

“You know there’s no going back now?” Artemis broke the silence without taking her eyes off the closed ramp. “For both of us.”

Erick didn’t need to ask. It wasn’t just about the jump.

“We become targets as soon as that door opens,” she continued. “And not just Waller’s. The entire League’s.”

 The country that guarded that vault under seventy meters of ice wouldn’t act alone: ​​the same American flag flew at the League’s headquarters. The moment the operation began, there would be no way to erase the traces. Sooner or later, every step of that invasion would be retraced until their names were reached. And, within the League, the world’s greatest detective was just waiting for the cue. When that day came, there would be no court, no fair hearing—only the hunt.

Artemis let out a long sigh, the air vibrating inside the half-open helmet like trapped thunder. There was no fear of what lay ahead, but the weight of what she was leaving behind tightened her chest: long-time allies, faces she had watched grow and evolve alongside her, now all replaced by a decision that had never belonged to just one person. She knew she would miss each of them—the sound of their laughter in the cafeteria, the teasing during morning training, the camaraderie during sleepless nights—but she carried deep in her stomach the conviction that the family she had chosen was worth every sacrifice.
“I haven’t been mad at you in a long time,” she said, and it was the first genuine smile that had escaped her lips since they sat in that jump compartment. A corner of her mouth lifted from behind the visor, soft, almost incredulous. “Even though you’re the only one responsible for this whole mess.”

Erick felt his cheeks burn beneath the cold metal of his helmet. A blush rose quickly, unusually, filling his face as far as the visor allowed. He ruffled his hair inside the armor, a small gesture considering the size the suit conferred upon him—broad shoulders made of titanium plates, cooling tubes pulsing blue lights, and energized bars intertwining like artificial veins. In a moment of stifled honesty, he knew he had let arrogance guide him: he had created this armor to impress the world, or perhaps only himself, and only afterwards had he considered the price they were both paying.
“Honestly? This annoys me,” she continued, her voice clear, without accusations, just observation. “This whole situation you’ve put us in.”

He scratched the back of his neck, the gesture jarringly different from his otherwise imposing mechanical demeanor.
“Doesn’t seem very surprising,” he ventured, the hollow sound of his helmet.

“I’m not,” Artemis confirmed, and her half-smile widened, illuminating the gloomy interior of the compartment. “I knew it would come to this, sooner or later.”

He placed his hands on the reinforced ceramic knees, his gloved fingers feeling the grooves of the hydraulic joints. “Are you okay with this?”

She let out a suppressed laugh, muffled by the communication circuits. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but my parents were villains my whole life, back in the East. I grew up knowing I was going to follow in their footsteps.” She shrugged, a discreet, almost imperceptible shrink. “But I always knew, deep down, that this path wouldn’t hold up. And, in the end, it didn’t.”

The silence that followed was full of meaning. The status lights blinked in a measured rhythm, the hum of the electronic support systems filling every empty space. Erick swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat slower. “Thank goodness it didn’t last,” he whispered, his voice lower than he intended.

Artemis didn’t respond with words. He rested his armored shoulder against his companion’s, the metallic heat mingling with the human warmth that had always existed between them. A minimal touch, but enough to reaffirm everything they already knew about each other.

Erick remembered the five waiting a few rows behind, motionless as living statues, the chimpanzees and gorillas lined up in a semicircle of steel and fiber. He thought of Jade, trapped somewhere underground, and her mother, risking her own neck to get her out alive. He recognized, once again, that family had long since ceased to be just blood ties. It was who was willing to jump from an aircraft thousands of meters high for you.

The corner of Erick’s mouth lifted in a relieved smile, and the air became less dense. “The way we talk, it sounds like after this we’re going to kidnap babies, drink blood, rob banks, and take over the world.” He shook his head, amused. “Maybe we’re choosing the most selfish path. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to turn into bad people.” He paused briefly. “Well. I hope not.”

“I hope not either,” she replied, returning the smile, and for a second the heel compartment seemed too small to contain the tightness in her chest and the lightness that still remained between them.

They looked at each other in that silent way that only they understood, and soon the time came to fulfill each other’s roles.

…

Minutes earlier, Natasha had managed to infiltrate the security of the entire complex. For the satellite sector, the digital barriers crumbled under her code: screens flashing, alarms looping insanely, circuits malfunctioning. But not everything gave way immediately—large areas of the base remained isolated, without any connection, defending themselves in self-sufficiency and complicating each subsequent step for Erick. Even so, the chaos unleashed on the cameras and electronic locks was enough to secure an advantage: doors closed and sealed precisely where locking was most costly for whoever was on the other side.

He sighed and turned his face back. Five silhouettes accompanied him: his “children.” Three chimpanzees, standing tensely, each robust arm supporting a suit of lead-gray plate armor; two gorillas, massive, like living walls of metal, their armor less ornate than his, but just as effective. The pieces fit snugly on their hunched shoulders, broad chests, and firm limbs. In the practical simplicity of the armor, Erick recognized the lesson he had learned over time: saving on aesthetics never cost performance in battle, but saving on armor cost lives—and the five lives he saw there, ready to follow him to the end, he was not willing to risk for mere vanity.

“Everyone knows their missions, right?” Erick’s voice cut through the silence like a steel wire. Emergency lights flickered on the ceiling of the jump bay, casting silvery reflections on the combat suits lined up around it. Five heads bowed in a restrained nod.

Goliath looked up first, his chin firm beneath his still-open visor, determination etched into every muscle of his face—a strength that needs no words. Beside him, Ambos clenched his fists once, the ritualistic gesture that always preceded the dismantling of engines too complex for others; the muffled sound of metal against metal seemed to call for concentration. Octavio kept his gaze fixed on Erick for a moment longer than necessary, his grey eyes calculating centimeter by centimeter every variable of the mission before accepting it. Zack limited himself to a calm nod, seeming more at ease there, about to launch himself into a storm of wind and ice, than he would remain in a silent corridor. Zoe hesitated for an extra second—an imperceptible fraction, but enough for Erick to notice the quick tightening in his chest.

He lingered a moment longer, feeling the weight of hesitation before his own children. It wasn’t weakness: it was the price of having raised them with the courage to care. “Come back, all of you,” he murmured, the phrase slipping from his helmet like a soft request, and they took a step back, ready.

They trained for this moment with superhuman intensity: months hermetically confined in capsules that compressed years of experience into each hour, meticulous simulations in which the flesh reacted to pain—although they knew, rationally, that it was all virtual. But now there was no more simulation. It was their debut on the true razor’s edge.

From day one, Erick had ensured that everyone chose their own path—even the path of refusing the mission. None of the five refused. Each had more hours of simulated combat than most real soldiers in an entire career. Goliath and Ambos filled the compartment with broad shoulders, like two steel colossi ready to crush any obstacle. Zack, Zoe, and Otávio, more slender and agile, bounced softly, their feet tapping in a restrained rhythm against the titanium floor without realizing it. The air was thick with tension, a mixture of sweat and the faint smell of ozone escaping from the backup batteries.

Erick sighed and, with a mechanical hiss, the dragon-inspired helmet closed over his face, the same black and gray paint that let out sparks of personality and dread. Behind him, Artemis was the second: the visor slid, revealing only the reflection of the green LEDs flashing inside. The other six were equipped with standard, simpler models, without the artistic signature, but equally armored.

In the lower corner of Erick’s visor, a row of indicators glowed green: Stable core. Internal temperature, perfect. Structural integrity, one hundred percent—an index he contemplated for a second, knowing it wouldn’t last beyond the first impact. He felt the slight mechanical delay in the closing of the reinforced glove, minuscule, almost imperceptible, less than a millisecond, but enough for only the system’s creator to notice.

Erick glanced quickly at Artemis, her visor still open for a few brief seconds. The silence between them spoke louder than any words: inside, they understood each other without noise. Erick turned to the ramp. “I’ll clear the way. Don’t fall behind,” he announced from the inner channel, his voice filtered through the layer of graphite and fiberglass.

Then the compartment shook: the ramp opened. A gust of wind entered like an arctic punch, stealing the breath from anyone who dared to take a deep breath. Without hesitation, Erick stepped forward. One step, and the void swallowed him.

In the next instant, he plummeted, his body a black arrow against the white blanket of ice below. The weight of his armor made each meter of the fall a compressed eternity. Behind him, Artemis and the five others plunged as well, human spindles in the immensity of the sky. At thirteen thousand meters of altitude, most would lose their minds. But not them: they had been ready for a long time.

Erick activated the thrusters—although he could generate thrust with the flames in his palms, he preferred to test each function in real combat. A metallic crack echoed through the armor’s inner panels as the plates opened, revealing orifices that spewed tongues of fire. The compressed acceleration shattered the sound barrier in three deafening cracks, causing the visor to tremble and the surrounding air to solidify against the visor. Each breath was forced by a pounding of anxiety, but there was only one point in the universe to which all senses converged: the ground refracted in veins of blue and white that drew closer every millisecond.

Right behind him, Artemis launched her own fire projectiles, cutting through the icy wind that howled in the heat of her armor. The Arctic cold scratched at all the exposed skin around her helmet, but her eyes never left Erick’s figure. Wherever he went, she would go—a silent pact forged before armor even existed between them.

Then, a serene voice cut through the buzzing: “Elevator shaft confirmed, two degrees to the left of your current trajectory.” It was Natasha, calm as someone announcing the weather forecast, guiding the most lethal fall Erick had ever experienced.

“Received,” he replied without taking his eyes off the mass of ice that now displayed fissures that looked like pulsating veins. Natasha paused, and Erick noticed the rarity in that hesitant breath: “Erick… good luck down there.”

There was no answer. He didn’t need one. She already knew. And, in a split second, the distant gray dot became a definitive relief, announcing the beginning of the real mission.

But the same sensors also betrayed the gravity of the situation. Soon after the last recorded descent, layer upon layer of steel had narrowed above the shaft, one after another, until the original gap had become a wall several meters thick. There, without a precise plan, it would be impossible to advance. Waller never erected a structure without anticipating who would try to bring it down next.

Erick flashed a smile behind the tinted visor of his helmet. He, too, had never acted without calculating every contingency. He extended his arm forward and, with the sheer force of his mind, commanded the armor to reconfigure itself: there were no buttons, no exaggerated gestures, no voice—only the ironclad intention of someone who knows their own power. Microscopes could reveal what was actually happening: the nanoparticles of the exoskeleton, the result of months of research between Morgana and the Engineer, shedding their scaly rigidity to rearrange themselves around his arm, layer upon layer, fueled by the acceleration of the fall.

In place of the armored forearm, a gigantic helical drill emerged: more than a meter and a half in diameter, widening at the base and tapering to an almost surgical tip, despite its colossal size. Its metallic surfaces, initially a dull gray, glowed like embers: the matte red rose up the edges, until it became incandescent gold, a liquid heat so intense that it projected golden reflections onto the swirling ice flakes that cut through the slip tunnel.

Never before had that singular metal—the same metal for which Erick had fought for reserves on every continent, facing competitors as stubborn as a faceless businessman in Metropolis—been forged in fire itself. Any ordinary armor would melt in a second, but not that one. Tala had compared its touch to a muffled scream in a vacuum, where no spell would find an echo. Against a vault sealed by engineers who trusted magic as much as concrete, it was worth as much as the burning drill spinning in Erick’s fist: magic and engineering, Tala and the Engineer, sleepless nights and favors exchanged materialized in glowing metal.

He crashed against the steel. The first layer gave way with a dull thud that vibrated more against his chest than echoed in his ears, and the shockwave coursed through every joint of the armor before disintegrating. The second fell even faster, the third in an instant—compact blocks of steel shattering under the converging heat, rotational momentum, and unrestrained friction of a drill that would brutally tear off an ordinary arm. Sparks of incandescent metal flew in all directions, disappearing in luminous droplets of smoke before reaching the whitish tunnel, like a liquid comet’s tail.

Inside the helmet, the sounds came through filtered, muffled by layers of composites, as if a thick glass separated Erick from the outside turmoil. But the tremor, that one rose without barrier: it ran through his arm, across his torso, reminding him, in every fiber, of the titanic force applied to every centimeter pierced.

Without hesitation, he maintained the pace. Meter after meter crumbled until the last obstacle—a final barrier that collapsed with a sigh of bent metal. In theory, he already knew how much heat that alloy could withstand after endless reports and conductivity tests. In practice, he felt the drill tearing through steel like a razor blade in frost: the violence was mechanical poetry, the contrast between the biting cold around and the searing heat in his hand.

As soon as it passed through the tunnel, the drill gently retracted back into the arm. Layers that had appeared in an instant dissolved with the same speed, and the armored limb reassumed its original shape without Erick losing a tenth of a second in the descent.

Artemis was witnessing the real spectacle for the first time, beyond the emails crammed with graphs that Erick insisted on sending even though he knew she rarely read them. A mixture of pride and relief tightened her chest: so easy to scoff at his exaggeration on solid ground, so impossible to deny that, once again, he had delivered exactly what he had promised.

Behind him, Artemis and her five companions floated along the open path, their bodies fitted onto small gliding surfaces designed by the armor. The freefall transformed into controlled flight, every angle calculated by software integrated into the suit. Artemis was the first to glimpse the newly opened edges without touching them, proving that speed, when well applied, rivals any drill.

On the other side, a monumental warehouse stretched out: its soaring ceiling could house machines that Erick didn’t even need to identify at first glance. The floor, scattered with loose earth and pieces of steel hastily ripped from previous excavations, trembled under every step. In the background, distant alarms made the walls vibrate with intermittent amber light, a sign of the chaos already established in the rest of the base, as Natasha had managed to perceive before losing access. Where an elevator had once rested, there was now an irregular crater, smoke rising lazily from wires until they disappeared into the distant dome.

The air inside smelled of burnt oil, heated metal, and centuries-old dust stirred moments before. Each step returned in echoes too long to decipher their origin; that space seemed built to hide something colossal, something that would justify the inner sky of that warehouse. Erick had barely had time to set foot on the rubble when he sensed, through instinct and subtle silences, a movement.

It wasn’t a deafening roar, but an intimate hum, the kind you only perceive when all your senses are on high alert: the subtle creaking of metal rubbing against metal, the deep whisper of a system stabilizing itself in the depths of the crater illuminated by incandescent sparks. From the darkness emerged a silhouette: a pitch-black armor that slowly rose until it floated a few meters above the ground, revealing in each joint the haste of those who built it. The plates didn’t fit together perfectly—misaligned edges, fresh welds still gleaming under the flickering spotlight—but the structure worked: it supported a living body in the air, stable, determined.

From its joints escaped a wisp of milky smoke, thin streamers dissipating on the high ceiling of the shed, as if the suit doubted its own physical coherence. A cloister of shadows stirred as the armor’s optical “glasses” scanned the enclosure: first the slippery crater of molten metal, then the twisted rubble, and finally the five figures descending the access ramp, shadow by shadow. The focus shone on Erick, a precise point of sharp light.

Even before fully absorbing the scene, he recognized Amanda’s improvised engineering: hastily repurposed parts, sloppy but sturdy connections, exposed cables wrapped in a braid of electrical tape. For a fraction of a second, a spark of admiration ran down his spine—a silent respect for this feat erected with meager resources and a sharp mind. But as soon as the armor emitted a slight mechanical click, the gesture of reverence faded.

In the blink of an eye, he calculated the vulnerabilities: smoking joints that revealed shoddy workmanship; the total absence of external armament, save for the metal hull itself; the slight hesitation when adjusting its center of gravity, a sign of mechanical insecurity. Enough information to use, if necessary.

Behind him, Artemis landed silently, its wings folding in like a beam of silence. Then, one by one, the five team members spread out in choreographed silence: Goliath and Ambos flanked the crater’s edges, their hulls sinking into the loose earth and creating furrows that still oozed dust; Zack, Zoe, and Octavius ​​stood on twisted concrete blocks, each standing guard at a strategic corner of the hangar—a surveillance triangle that Erick didn’t even need to command. He felt the weight of each ally, the trust placed in him like invisible armor.

For a moment they froze each other. The entire warehouse seemed to hold its breath, broken only by the distant, intermittent alarm and the persistent dripping of metal cooling in its fiery shell. There she hovered—Amanda Waller—mechanical eyes against human eyes, face to face, without electronic filter, without interpretive wall, without an army beyond that improvised armor.

Erick activated the internal communicator with a discreet touch on his wrist.
“Everyone knows what to do,” he murmured, his voice controlled, low as a restrained thunderclap, while he fixed his gaze on the figure floating above the crater, unwavering and austere.