Here I Am

"So..."

...the white-haired old man in a perfectly tailored black suit settled into his chair at the far end of the long, gleaming conference table. He folded his hands, his piercing blue eyes scanning the group seated across from him, the representatives from the Ninth Special Service Division. His expression was one of thinly veiled impatience, and his tone carried a sharp edge.

"Are you telling us that aliens are already on their way?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the high-tech, dimly lit conference room.

The old man's name was Zidane, a figure of immense influence and power, one of the elite few who controlled the levers of the global economy and security. Recently, he had been assigned a critical new role—oversight of the operations of the Ninth Special Service Division. It was a position created out of necessity. The division, known for its clandestine nature, had become too autonomous, too secretive. The incident with Ross—a former high-ranking officer turned rogue—had exposed leaks and weaknesses at the division's highest levels. The fallout led to a power vacuum at the top, leaving the director's chair unoccupied and prompting the formation of a special oversight committee to scrutinize the division's activities.

In the absence of a director, several senior figures from the Ninth Division had gathered for this meeting, and they now sat under Zidane's unrelenting gaze. Across the polished table, screens flickered with encrypted data feeds, casting pale blue light onto the faces of those present.

"To be precise, the entities described in the information we've gathered are more like deities—beings that might transcend our understanding," said Richard. He leaned forward, his hands resting on a tablet displaying complex data streams; his voice was steady. "Signs suggest that our current capabilities may be insufficient to handle what's coming."

"And the reason you believe this…" Zidane's tone grew even colder, laced with doubt. "Is solely because of the claims of a so-called 'ancient' being?"

"She provided us with a wealth of detailed information—much of which we've verified through our own research and excavations," responded Professor Miyazaki, a wiry man with silver-rimmed glasses and an air of academic rigor. He adjusted his glasses, glancing at his own screen filled with data.

"We've conducted extensive comparisons with what she shared, cross-referencing it against ruins and artifacts we've unearthed. Many of the things she spoke of match up. There are undeniable traces of these entities—what she calls 'gods'—in ancient records, artifacts, and even biological remains. They are not merely myths. The evidence is clear, even if we've never interpreted it this way before."

"But that still doesn't mean they pose a threat to us," Zidane countered. He leaned back slightly, his posture conveying a mixture of skepticism and authority.

"True. We have only proven their existence. The idea that they could pose a danger to the Polar Star is based on the warnings from this 'Old One' and the surge in ancient infestations reawakening over the past year," Richard admitted, rubbing his temples.

"So, based on this speculative danger, you've put forward an enormous resource request—larger than any allocation the Ninth Division has ever received," Zidane remarked, his voice rising with incredulity. "Have you even reviewed this application, Professor Miyazaki? Do you realize the magnitude of the resources you're asking for?"

"If it's about ensuring the safety of this planet from external threats, then we've done everything in our power to keep it secure," Miyazaki replied, his expression resolute despite Zidane's cutting tone.

Zidane's jaw clenched as he leaned forward, placing his hands firmly on the table. "You're proposing to drain resources on the basis of a theory—perhaps even a convenient cover to secure more funding. And I must stress that, given the substantial investments we've already made, the Ninth Division's performance has been... less than impressive."

"We're well aware of that, but we must also recognize that the ancients we've encountered thus far—these are merely remnants, ancient beings who have managed to tap into something beyond themselves. And even with just that, we've seen what they can do. If the true source of their power emerges…" Miyazaki began, his voice trailing off as the implications hung in the air.

Zidane opened his mouth to respond, but a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, seated to his right, interjected before he could.

"I think Professor Miyazaki has a point. We can't afford to dismiss the possibility of an external threat, even if it is only a possibility," said Chai, another member of the oversight committee. His tone was more measured, but he didn't shy away from highlighting the division's shortcomings. "That said, it's also true that the Ninth Division's performance has not met expectations. Your plan is worth considering, but it will need to undergo rigorous evaluation before approval."

Zidane, still focused on his agenda, pressed on. "Before we address this hypothetical alien threat, shouldn't we first resolve more immediate issues within the Ninth Division? So far, we haven't received a satisfactory report on those matters."

"We've sent a team to the coordinates provided by the captured Elder, but its companions were no longer there. We did find evidence that three of them had been present at the site," said Hercules, the broad-shouldered Minister of Operations, his voice steady and low. "We're continuing to search for their specific whereabouts based on the captured Elder's descriptions. It shouldn't be long before…"

"No, that's important, but it's not what I'm referring to," Zidane cut him off, his tone icy. He gestured to an assistant, who tapped a few commands into their tablet. A projection screen flickered to life above the conference table, displaying a series of images and video clips.

The footage showed a montage of masked figures in action—Batman maneuvering through the shadows, Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers, Batwing defying gravity with acrobatic precision, Iron Man lifting a massive structure, and a battle between ancient entities and an army of mechanized soldiers. It was a meticulously prepared presentation, proof that Zidane had come ready for this confrontation.

"A mysterious force is running rampant under our noses. A group of masked vigilantes equipped with extraordinary technology is operating freely in our world. Their identities, their origins, their intentions—these are your responsibilities to uncover. But what do we know? Nothing. Is this the result of all the funds we've funneled into your division?" Zidane demanded.

The tension in the room thickened. The asylum representatives shifted uncomfortably. It was clear that Zidane's accusations hit a sore spot.

Richard spoke up, his tone strained. "The technology and abilities of these individuals surpass ours, making tracking them extremely difficult. However, everything suggests that they are not hostile. On the contrary, they've shown a willingness to cooperate so far."

Richard glanced at Chai, who nodded slightly. "We are open to negotiation and understanding, but it must be based on mutual respect. As we've seen, they possess capabilities far beyond our own, and if we overstep…"

"They've entered our territory, wielded unknown powers, and carried highly dangerous weapons among us without our knowledge or consent," Zidane snapped back, his voice cutting through Richard's words. He leaned forward again, eyes narrowing. "Let me ask you, Richard—if a new neighbor moved into your community, and you discovered he had a nuclear bomb hidden in his basement, wouldn't you want to know exactly who he is?"

Richard hesitated, but Chai interjected once more. "Zidane, it's true that we must investigate, but Minister Richard is also right. If they are friendly, it's in our best interest to keep it that way…"

But Zidane ignored him, pressing on with his own conclusion.

"No, in that situation, I would immediately contact the authorities to ensure that the neighbor's bomb was under control—so I could sleep at night. That's exactly what we need to do.

Do you want more resources? Fine, but it comes with a condition.

I need to know who they are. No masks, no secrets, no games. I want to know where they come from and what their plans are. Only then…"

He paused suddenly, his words trailing off, his expression shifting to one of wide-eyed shock. His mouth opened slightly, as if trying to form words but unable to believe what he was seeing.

In the center of the conference table, ripples of light shimmered, distorting the air. It was as if the space itself was warping, bending in unnatural waves. Then, with a sudden flash, a figure materialized out of thin air—red and gold armor gleaming under the room's pale blue lights.

The armored figure stood tall, clad in the unmistakable Iron Man armor, Mark XVI—code-named Nightclub, a stealth variant. His crimson and gold plating reflected the conference room's dim lighting, and his cold, unreadable faceplate seemed to scrutinize each person in the room.

"I heard that someone wanted to see me?" a mechanized voice crackled from the speakers embedded in the helmet.

The tone was cold, with an eerie resonance that sent a shiver through the room.

"Well, here I am."

(end of chapter)

[TL Note - I am confused about Chai; it doesn't seem like a Chinese name]