Rick Flag Sr. finally made it home.
The car engine went silent in the driveway, the familiar sound echoing softly against the old house he had lived in for years. For a moment, he didn't move. He sat behind the wheel, hands resting lightly on it, feeling the quiet settle around him.
This house had seen better days. It had also seen worse.
Rick opened the door and stepped out, boots touching the concrete with a firmness that still felt unreal. He reached into the back seat, grabbed his military backpack, and swung it easily over his right shoulder. No hesitation. No weakness. Just muscle memory.
He walked.
Straight up the path. No limp. No pause.
The front door opened with a familiar creak. Rick stepped inside and shut it behind him, sealing off the outside world.
For the first time in a month, he was truly home.
He dropped the backpack and car keys onto the small table near the entrance. The sound was ordinary—metal on wood—but to him it felt monumental. He moved into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch, exhaling a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
The room smelled the same. Old books. Clean dust. A faint trace of gun oil from the hidden cabinets he never bothered to disguise. The framed photo of his son sat where it always had.
Rick leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the silence wash over him.
He was alive.
He could walk.
And for now, no one knew how.
Outside the House — A.R.G.U.S. Surveillance Team
Across the street, hidden behind tinted windows and disguised equipment, the A.R.G.U.S. surveillance team froze.
Every single one of them.
For days—weeks—they had watched this house. Nothing. No movement. No visitors. No lights at odd hours. Just a quiet, empty home belonging to a broken man.
That narrative shattered in seconds.
"Wait… wait—pause that," John Economos said sharply, fingers flying across his tablet.
The camera feed zoomed in.
A black car sat in the driveway.
The driver's side door opened.
Rick Flag Sr. stepped out.
And stood up.
"What the hell…" Leota Adebayo whispered.
Sasha Bordeaux leaned forward, her enhanced vision automatically running probability checks. Her HUD lit up with alerts she didn't like.
"This is Rick Flag," she said slowly. "Gait matches. Height matches. Facial recognition confirmed."
Emilia Harcourt—Hardcore—didn't say anything at first.
She already knew.
Five minutes earlier…
Flashback — Five Minutes Earlier
The surveillance van had been quiet. Too quiet.
John had been counting down the minutes in his head, already half-convinced this was going to be another wasted day. Rick Flag Sr. had said he'd return today—but no one truly believed it.
Except Harcourt.
She stood near the monitors, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"He'll come back," she said suddenly.
Leota glanced at her. "You sure? It's been weeks."
Harcourt nodded once. "That house is where his son grew up. Rick Flag doesn't abandon that."
Right on cue, a black sedan appeared at the edge of the street.
Harcourt straightened. "That's him."
John frowned. "How can you tell? Plate's civilian."
"Just trust me."
The car slowed. Turned. Pulled into the driveway.
The team leaned in.
The door opened.
Rick Flag Sr. stepped out.
And stood.
Every breath in the van stopped at once.
"He's—he's walking," Leota said, disbelief bleeding into her voice.
John's tablet nearly slipped from his hands. "That's impossible. His medical file—"
"—said he'd never walk again," Sasha finished. "Confirmed. Multiple sources."
Rick closed the car door and walked toward the house. Calm. Controlled. Like a man who had never known a wheelchair in his life.
Harcourt swallowed. "Amanda needs to know. Now."
Present — Inside the Surveillance Van
Sasha raised her wrist communicator. "Connecting to Director Waller."
Static. Then a voice—not Waller's.
"Director Waller is currently in a classified meeting," the assistant said. "Can I take a message?"
"This is not a message," Sasha snapped. "This is priority-level intelligence. Patch us through."
"Ma'am, I—"
"Now."
A pause. Then: "Stand by."
While she worked, John was already moving.
"I'm backtracking him," he said. "City cameras. Traffic feeds."
His fingers danced across the screen, bypassing municipal firewalls with practiced ease.
"Found him," John muttered. "Courthouse. About an hour ago."
Leota turned. "Courthouse?"
John nodded. "He entered on foot. Walked. No assistance."
Sasha's eyes narrowed. "What did he do there?"
John's screen flashed with new data.
"…Oh. That's interesting."
"What?" Harcourt demanded.
"He filed a document," John said slowly. "Non-disclosure agreement. Legally binding."
Leota frowned. "Who signed it?"
John's face drained of color.
"A judge," he said. "A respected one. Federal-level trust rating. This thing's airtight."
Sasha stiffened. "What does it say?"
John scrolled, reading what metadata he could access.
"It references… a cyberware implant," he said carefully. "Restoration of mobility. Provided by Batman."
Silence fell like a dropped bomb.
"…Batman?" Leota whispered.
"And," John continued, "the implant is named. Sandevistan."
Harcourt's jaw tightened. "Jesus."
Sasha tried again to reach Waller. This time, the line connected.
A.R.G.U.S. Headquarters — Amanda Waller's Meeting (Intercut)
Amanda Waller stood at the head of the table, mid-briefing, when her communicator buzzed.
She glanced at it once.
Then answered.
"What."
Sasha's voice came through tight and controlled. "Director, we have confirmation. Rick Flag Sr. has returned home."
Waller smirked faintly. "And?"
"He's walking."
The smirk vanished.
"…Explain."
Sasha didn't hesitate. "He drove himself. Walked unassisted. Entered the house. We confirmed via visual and biometric match."
Waller's eyes hardened. "That's impossible."
"It gets worse," Sasha continued. "He filed a legally binding non-disclosure agreement at the courthouse. Signed by a judge."
Waller's fingers curled slowly against the table.
"What does it say?"
John's voice cut in. "It credits Batman with restoring his mobility. Mentions a cyberware implant called the Sandevistan. Sole recipient. Non-replicable. Failsafe on death."
The room around Waller went silent.
Steve Trevor leaned forward. "Amanda… if that's true—"
Waller raised a hand, silencing him.
Her mind was already racing.
Batman.
Cyberware.
A soldier she lost control of now walking again.
"…Continue surveillance," Waller said coldly. "Do not engage. Do not confront."
"Yes, ma'am," Sasha replied.
Waller ended the call.
She turned back to the room, eyes like steel.
"Rick Flag didn't just disappear," she said quietly. "He made a deal."
Sam Lane frowned. "With Batman?"
Waller nodded once.
"And that," she added, "makes him dangerous."
Back at the House — Rick Flag Sr.
Rick Flag Sr. opened his eyes.
For a brief moment, he felt the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. Then the quiet. The peace.
He stood up from the couch and walked to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to look outside.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
He smiled faintly.
They were watching. He knew that.
But for the first time in a long while, he wasn't afraid.
Let them watch.
Rick Flag Sr. was back.
And this time, he wasn't broken.