News blasts about Miranda Oakridge's arrest continued to flood the TV networks across the city. footage of her being carried away by police officers were intercut with the relief efforts of her victims and victims of the Children of Liberty as they were treated by paramedics and volunteers. The whole city came together to help and retake the square once and for all. The debris was cleared, storefronts were repaired and by the end of the day every member of the Children of Liberty was detained and taken off the streets. It was no guarantee that the movement was finished, as the new anchors cautiously warned, but the fanatical sect was contained leaving the terror they were inflicting in the past.
It opened up a brighter future for Humanity and the Alien Refugees to coexist.
Lena watched the TV in her office as she hurried to finish her calls for the day. She'd left in such a hurry to help her friend she'd left a few of her board members hanging on the conference calls. She managed to smooth everything over by late afternoon, putting the phone down and slumping down into her chair with a sigh of relief by the time James Olsen paid her a visit. "You look exhausted" the tall black man remarked as he politely knocked on her glass doors.
"It's been a busy day" she smiled closing her eyes. her day had consisted of making calls to the board of directors all morning, interrupting them when Eliza Danvers paid her a visit to talk about her daughters and Jake White, interrupting that when learning about the Children of Liberty attack on the news, grabbing the experimental vial of liquefied blue kryptonite before racing into the L-Corp helicopter to help Supergirl, bringing her back to the DEO to monitor the effects and make sure her body was purged of the toxin before returning to L-Corp to finish her calls and business for the day. She might've even skipped lunch. "How's Kara?" she asked from her desk.
"Recovering, thanks to you" he replied gratefully. "Whatever you gave her seemed to work."
"Something I've been working on ever since Kryptonite has been spreading through the streets" she explained. "I'm hoping it'll neutralise the green kryptonite when it's finished. Right now it's only use is to weaken its physical effects of Kryptonians."
"Well, thank you for coming to her rescue. Kara sends her thanks too."
Lena smiled. She was glad to have done something good today. "So what brings you here at this hour" she asked him curiously. "I hope it's an invite to dinner. I'm starving."
"Maybe another time" he grinned apologetically. "I have to find Kelly later and talk to her about…a lot of things" he sighed.
Lena raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise your sister was coming to town."
"Neither did I. but first I've managed to get an appointment to interview Miranda Oakridge at the police station. She isn't cooperating with the detectives and I convinced them she might be open to talk with me."
"You do realise the Children of Liberty have already labelled you as a traitor to the cause" Lena pointed out.
"I'm hoping they also remember I'm a brilliant impartial judge when it comes to telling someone's story. I'm bringing one of my reporters with me, so they can keep me safe" he added.
"It wasn't your safety I was worried about" she laughed. She sat up and leant her elbows on the desk, thoughtfully contemplating something. "You hope she'll give up the Blacksmith" she deduced.
Olsen nodded. "And if she does, he might lead us to his associates."
"To Jake" she muttered under her breath.
James heard the venom in her tone as she narrowed her eyes, no doubt imagining what she'll do when she got her hands on him. He'd seen that look before. Last time was when Maxwell usurped her technology and used it in his Samaritans. "We haven't exactly talked about what we're going to do when we find him" he remarked, walking cautiously to her desk to lean on an empty chair.
She looked up at him mildly confused. "What do you mean? I thought the plan was to have him arrested and face judgement?"
"I know, but…we both know it's more complicated than that" he noted. "Jake knows an awful lot about all of us. Our identities, our secrets…"
"You're worried he might expose you and our friends if he's arrested" Lena said, leaning back in her chair. "You know there are ways to solve that problem" she remarked callously.
Olsen flashed a look at the woman, seeing a cold glint in her eye. "That sounds like something Lex Luthor would say" he commented worryingly.
Lena blinked her eyes and snapped out of whatever thought she was in. it did sound like my brother she thought. "My apologies. I guess I'm more tired than I realised" she stammered, her face flushing a shade of pink as she sat up and composed herself. She looked back at Olsen, telling him "I'm sure we'll figure something out. There's every chance he has no interest in revealing your secrets to the world" she said. "When Lex found out who Kara was, he certainly didn't advertise it. It gave him too good an advantage."
"Maybe" Olsen nodded. He didn't know if that made it better or worse. It still left his next move ambiguous. "Or maybe he's holding onto that information until he needs it."
"All the more reason for us to find him before he feels the need to use it" she agreed, wishing him luck in his interview.
He thanked her, turning towards the exit adjusting his bag. "By the way, everyone's getting together at Kara's later to celebrate. You're welcome to join us."
"I've already gotten the invite" she smiled, holding up her mobile phone showing the email.
"I hope that's your personal phone" he chuckled. She told him of course and then tilted her head wondering what was so funny. "Oh nothing. My aunt sent me an email a week ago to invite me to a family dinner I couldn't attend. The problem was I opened the email on my work phone which is synced to the company account. The email got flagged to everyone on staff and they all asked if they could come to family dinner. They were joking of course, but all the same…"
Lena let out a much needed laugh as she shook her head. "Well, for your information, I'm much more adept at keeping my work and personal life separate. Anything synced to my laptop or phone is automatically screened and remains internal."
"So no embarrassing photos or emails accidentally leaked to other departments?"
"Absolutely not. Most everything got a retrofit a few months ago anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure the oldest thing in this office is my…"
She suddenly froze, a thought crossing her mind, and idea she'd overlooked. It brought her attention to a standstill. Olsen saw her expression narrow and her brow furrow. "Lena? Are you alright?"
She snapped out of it almost immediately, looking up at him saying "I'm fine. Sorry, I just…it's nothing" she dismissed, straightening in her seat. She suddenly looked agitated. "I wish you luck on your interview" she told him, her eyes almost willing him to leave her office. He took the unspoken hint, promising to see her later before leaving the room, eager to make his appointment.
Lena sat at her desk for a long moment, concern suddenly overcasting her gaze. A creeping feeling of dread began to gnaw at her. I must be wrong she told herself, even as she picked up her desk phone and called her assistant. "Miss Price, I need you to put a call to maintenance. No, I don't need anything fixed. I need the log sheets from a specific period in the last two years. Also get me Jake White's employment file again, as soon as you can."
Miranda Oakridge sat handcuffed to the table in the interrogation room of the National City Police department. She had been kept here for almost two hours. She had refused legal counsel, she believed she didn't need it. She had nothing to apologise for. She freely admitted her crimes but refused to elaborate how many of her followers remained at large, where they had been hiding or where they got their weapons from. Detectives and FBI agents came and went attempting to get her to share what she knew. She refused to talk.
Nia stood on the opposite side of the Perspex glass watching this middle aged woman, her dark hair tied in a ponytail, her narrow features fixed dead ahead straight at the mirror. She felt those eyes burning through the glass into the dark room. Memories of the first time she saw those eyes, when she was kidnapped and chained up, flashed through her mind. She didn't chase them away, didn't let them distract her. She forced herself to face it. She needed to confront what was done to her.
Olsen came up beside her, watching the young reporter as she scratched at the bandage around her palm. He could tell she was nervous. "You don't have to be here you know" he whispered. "I've got a room full of reporters I could've brought…"
"No…I need to do this" she insisted, just as she had when she volunteered to join him on this interview.
They locked gazes and the man nodded in understanding. "If it gets too uncomfortable, just signal me and we walk right out of there, no matter what" he said, lightly touching her arm indicating that to be her signal. She smiled, accepting the terms without a word. He gave the nod to his officer contact who led them out of the room and around the corner.
Miranda didn't react when the door opened. She did look up however when she discovered the two reporters walking in instead of the detectives. She watched them silently as they took their seats opposite her, narrowing her eyes at the black man she recognised. "Miss Oakridge, my name is…" the man began but she interrupted him; "James Olsen. I remember. Editor of Cacto Worldwide media. You approached us a year ago. You claimed you wanted to tell our story. You betrayed us" she hissed.
Olsen looked at Nia sideways before casting a glance to the officer by the door. The uniformed man silently stepped outside, giving the three of them some privacy. "I'm here to listen to your story, again" he explained, putting a recording device on the table between them while Nia pulled out her notebook. She didn't lift her eyes to look the woman in the eye.
Miranda didn't pay the young woman any notice, her gaze fixed on Olsen. "You want to tell my story? Why should I believe you? You, a traitor?"
"I never claimed to believe in your cause" he argued calmly. "If I lead you or Ben Lockwood to have that impression, I apologise. I'm not here with an agenda, except to listen and deliver the facts, the truth. I want people to hear your side so they can make a balanced, informed opinion themselves. I'm not going to twist your words" he promised.
She looked at him sceptically, glancing over his shoulder to the mirror behind him. "Is this a ploy to get me to confess?" she asked.
He shrugged. "My agreement was to have ten minutes with you. But you're right, this conversation isn't privileged. They may indeed be listening. But this is the only chance you'll have to tell your side of this story, before the media is finished writing you as the bad guys."
Which you are Nia's thoughts screamed as she sat opposite the woman who had committed so many vicious acts. She tried to remain professional, impartial, but considering how much this woman and her followers had done to her and her friends, the refugees and innocents they hurt, it was difficult to stay focused. Right now staying silent was the only thing she could do. She saw Olsen would periodically glance at her, checking how she was doing. She took a deep breath, pen poised, waiting to see if Miranda would make up her mind.
The woman stared intently at the pair of them, doubt and suspicion crossing her expression until finally she sat back, her wrists clinking as the cuffs pinned them to the table. "Very well. What would you like to talk about?" she asked.
Olsen nodded, looking optimistically at her partner starting with asking "what made you and your movement come out of hiding after almost a year?"
"The freak of course" she scoffed.
"Their name was Dorian" Nia muttered, unable to help it.
Miranda turned her gaze towards the young woman and Nia, gritting her teeth behind her closed lips, lifted her gaze to meet it holding the glare. "I don't care what the freaks name was" Miranda hissed, turning back to the recording device making sure it was listening. "The Children of Liberty never went away. We were just biding our time. But when the news started talking about this freak running for our senate seat, I knew we couldn't have that."
"It was your idea to come out of hiding?" Olsen asked.
"Without our Agent of Liberty, the movement was fractured, weak. It needed leadership. It needed a Sentinel to stand up and show the way forward. I was happy to take up the role. Some of our group wanted to return sooner, which I was all for expect those fools drew too much attention. The wrong kind of people noticed" she muttered.
"Captain Sawyer?" Olsen guessed, recalling Alex's briefing about the captains investigation.
She smirked. "Fortunate timing her getting blown up" she chuckled. James and Nia shared a glance. They both knew the Children of Liberty weren't behind that, but Miranda didn't seem to be in a hurry to clear their name. They overheard the detectives theorising a connection between the bomb and the group, which was wrong. "No matter. I have no interest in talking about her. No, her absence made it easy to mobilise the movement and deliver our message."
"And what message was that?" James asked.
"That aliens have no place in our government, or on this planet. We thought they'd learnt that lesson when the president was exposed, but then they let one of them run for the senate?"
"He could've lost the vote" Olsen argued.
"That's not the point!" she snapped. "The idea that a freak could run at all, or they deserve any of the rights we have is absurd!"
"He had the right to stand for the election" Nia growled.
"Not in our eyes he didn't!" she shouted.
They waited until the volume lowered before Olsen calmly continued. "So your attacks on the aliens and the human sympathisers were all about spreading your message. Why use such violent methods?" he asked. "Lockwood never took it that extreme."
"Violence speaks louder than words" she replied bluntly.
Unfortunately, Olsen couldn't refute that answer. He also wasn't here to debate with the woman. He looked at Nia, who obediently made her notes keeping her emotions under control. He slyly brushed his knee against hers, a silent query to see if she was alright. She glanced in his direction, subtle nod her response. He nodded, continuing.
"If you don't mind me asking…how did you manage to stage such a public announcement?" he asked. "How long had you been planning to return?"
"Planning, since the day we went into hiding" she answered. She caught the direction his question wanted and chuckled. "You want to know how we became so well armed. So to the police."
"You're fellow members are all incarcerated. How much harm could telling us more do them?" he asked her.
Miranda lowered her gaze contemplatively. After a long pause she sighed. "Yes, to answer the question I appreciate you not bluntly asking, we had help" she said. Nia opened her mouth but Olsen wordlessly told her not to speak, to let their subject fill the silence. "We were contacted a few weeks ago. They heard we were looking to buy weapons for our cause. At first I thought it was a scam, or a set up, but when we went to meet we were introduced to a man with just what we needed."
"Guns?"
"More than gun. They had weapons that used kryptonite, seemingly as much as we needed. We made a business arrangement, a profitable one. For the most part."
Olsen leant forward, making sure he had the facts correct. "You're saying they contacted you? How?"
"Email."
"Who contacted you? The man who sold you the weapons?"
"They never gave a name. I never asked" she shrugged. "The man who emailed me put me in touch with the weapon smith. I heard he went by the Blacksmith. Word about him had been circulating over the past few months. He became our point of contact after the introduction."
Now Nia leant forward. "What about the other person, who introduced you?"
She let out a low sigh of contempt. "I don't know. Whoever he was, he certainly had a way of raining on our plans" she said in a huff.
"What do you mean?" James asked. Their conversation was almost interrupted by a knock on the door, indicating their time was up. Olsen flashed a look over his shoulder to the mirror, holding up his hand asking for five minutes. "What can you tell us about the guy who works for the Blacksmith?"
Miranda saw the urgency in his expression and, against her better judgement, indulged him. "The guy doesn't work for him. If anything the Blacksmith seemed to work for him. Or at least he might as well. I heard this guy had a few fights with Supergirl and wanted him to join us, but he refused. He said our goals didn't align with his. The most infuriating part is as part of the deal the Blacksmith couldn't sell us any lethal kryptonite weaponry."
Nia narrowed her eyes as the knocking on the door continued. "None of your kryptonite attacks were lethal?"
"No. a condition of doing business he said. We had free reign to kill as many aliens as we wanted, as long as Supergirl wasn't permanently harmed. I have a feeling he had greater plans for her."
Olsen turned back to Miranda, cautiously but insistently asking "would you be able to describe this man if you saw him again?"
"He wore a suit of Black and Red armour, supposedly built by the Blacksmith he claimed. He used it to demonstrate the type of weapons he could make. It was convincing" she smirked. "I saw him take out three of our followers. I would've paid anything to have him join our cause. He might've killed that abomination for me" she mused, her eyes flickering up to the reporters as the knocking got more insistent. "Sounds like our time is up."
"Thank you for seeing us" Olsen said, picking up his stuff just as the officers opened the door. "We're done!" he told them, politely obeying them as the detectives insisted he leave the room.
Nia took a final look at Miranda, deciding to keep her own thoughts to herself as she put her notebook away and slung her bag over her shoulder. Miranda sat back in her chair watching the pair of them rise to their feet and prepare to leave. "Dangerous work, being a reporter?" she asked the young woman.
Nia looked at her dispassionately until she followed her gaze looking to the bandage on her hand. "Paper cut" she replied curtly, not wanting to waste time on this woman any longer.
"Nasty papercut" Miranda said, her eyes lifting up to Nia's. Nia held her gaze as a small part of her began to wonder. Was there something in Miranda's gaze? Did she know? Nia was ushered out of the interrogation room before she could find out, leaving the Sentinel of Liberty to be locked away forever. Nia didn't look back as they left the precinct.
Lena spent the rest of the evening pouring through the security reports she had made, her most trusted IT people going over everything once again at her request. It was as she expected, no reports of a security breach from her office, computer system, the mainframe, and no intrusions of malware, Trojan horses, and no hacks of any kind. Since she took over L-Corp she made security a vital part, something she'd since doubled in recent months. She'd gotten it to the point there was a log of any data coming or going from her company. There was nothing to say the data she was looking for had been stolen.
And yet, as she went over the employment files and maintenance records, something got her worried. It hadn't occurred to her until her conversation with Jimmy Olsen, but she may have overlooked a vital flaw in her security. If she was right, that was a problem. But if she was right, then she had bigger fears. She looked at the files side by side. She made a timeline. She knew the date she was looking for now. The date alone brought her alarm, the window it was placed in. she inhaled sharply, putting the paperwork down and climbing out of her chair.
Her assistant was at her desk when Lena stepped out of the office, walking across the small lobby to the piece of equipment Jimmy had inadvertently made her think off. Her photocopier. It was installed for her assistants to use at their pleasure, separate from her main printer in her office. But it synced to the same cloud. Her computer shared a network. She had often used it to send print outs to her assistant without needing to leave the glass room. It was convenient. It was also the only piece of equipment she hadn't replaced in the last two years. A replacement was never needed, it works perfectly.
She stood before the printer, her pulse quickening as she began tapping at the touchscreen interface. Miss Price stood up at watched her boss curiously as she cycled through the settings. Like any up to date wireless device, the printer had an archived backlog of jobs it had performed. She found the right tab and scrolled. It hadn't been purged in all its time. Lena never thought about it. Why would she?
The tasks were timestamped. She found the date she was looking for. Her breath quickened when she scrolled down and found the timestamp smack bang inside the window she was looking for.
"Miss Luthor?" Eveline Price said cautiously. "Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer her assistant, running the timeline in her head. The math was right. That didn't mean she was right. God, don't let me be right she pleaded as she tapped the task and pushed the print button.
The machine whirled to life as it began to print the archived file in its memory, a duplicate of the printout it made on a specific date at a specific time rolling out of the machine to be presented to Lena Luthor. A grand total of fifteen pages materialised before her. Her eyes scanned each of them rapidly. She knew what they were, recognised the date printed upon them. Her heart sank lower and lower with each print out.
But then the last page slid to the top of the pile and it felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. "Miss Luthor?" her assistant cried as Lena stumbled backwards away from the printer, her chest tightening as she hyperventilated. Miss Price ran to her side as she slipped onto the floor, her eyes transfixed to the piece of paper as it fluttered from the machine and drifted to the floor, the ink scored upon it taunting her as she tried not to scream.