Rick Flag Sr. — POV
After Damian and Raven left, Rick Flag Sr. remained alone in the quiet house, sitting motionless in his wheelchair. The echo of their conversation replayed in his mind again and again. A second chance. In less than twenty-four hours, he would be leaving this place—leaving behind the life he thought was already over—for the possibility of getting it back.
For the first time in years, hope scared him.
He exhaled slowly and shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Thinking too much wouldn't help. He needed clarity before making any final decisions. First things first—he needed to clean himself up.
Rick rolled into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and let it run over his hands longer than necessary. Afterward, he changed into clean clothes, moving with practiced efficiency despite his condition. When he finished, he wheeled himself into the bedroom and pulled a military-grade backpack from a hidden compartment.
Inside were the essentials:
A laptop.
Cash in multiple currencies.
Spare clothes.
Several passports—some official, some not.
Two pistols.
And three encrypted, untraceable phones.
Old habits never really died.
His first call was to his landlord. Rick calmly explained that he'd be leaving on an extended vacation—at least a month—and that the rent would continue to be paid. No questions were asked. None were needed.
Once that was done, Rick decided he needed air—real air. He rolled himself out of the house and toward a nearby park, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. Birds, distant traffic, the hum of people living their lives without knowing his was hanging in the balance. For a few minutes, he allowed himself to breathe.
Then his phone buzzed.
A.R.G.U.S.
The message was short and direct:
Report to headquarters. Mandatory meeting. One hour.
Rick didn't look surprised.
A.R.G.U.S.—the Advanced Research Group for Universal Security—was the frontline against alien invasions and extraterrestrial technology. Rick had given years of his life to the organization. Blood, sweat, and everything else.
When he arrived at the main branch, security cleared him immediately. He was escorted into a conference room where familiar faces waited.
Amanda Waller sat at the head of the table, as composed and ruthless as ever. Around her were key personnel: Steve Trevor, Etta Candy, Sasha Bordeaux, Lyla Michaels, and John Economos. No pleasantries. No wasted time.
Waller spoke first.
"As of today, Rick Flag Sr., you are being relieved of your duties with A.R.G.U.S."
She slid a file across the table.
"Based on medical evaluations, your injuries are permanent. You will not walk again. A replacement has already been selected."
She paused, watching him closely.
"You may remain with A.R.G.U.S. in a supervisory role, should you choose."
Rick didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he rolled his wheelchair closer to the table, picked up the pen, and signed the resignation document without hesitation. He placed the pen down carefully and looked up.
"Is there anything else you need from me?"
The room went silent.
They had expected anger. Resistance. Bargaining.
They got none.
Waller studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "That will be all."
Rick turned his wheelchair and left the room without another word.
They assumed he had finally accepted defeat.
They were wrong.
Rick didn't care about titles or supervision roles anymore. If the surgery failed, none of this mattered. And if it succeeded, he would never again place his life under the control of people like Amanda Waller. Some of them—Steve Trevor, Lyla Michaels—genuinely wanted to make the world better.
But Rick needed his life back first.
By the time he returned home, night had fallen.
The house felt emptier than ever.
Tomorrow morning, he would leave this place behind and follow Robin to a secret base—where surgeons would remove his spine and replace it with something impossible. Something terrifying. Something miraculous.
Fear settled deep in his chest.
But Rick Flag Sr. had already made his decision.
This was his last chance.
And he would not waste it.