You come to with a sharp ringing in your ears, fluorescent lights bleeding through half-opened eyes. The smell of stale coffee and gun oil lingers. You’re in an office—no, a bunker—sterile walls lined with classified files stamped “TOP SECRET // ARGUS.” The hum of servers fills the silence. And in front of you sits a heavy-set black woman in a tailored suit, posture immaculate, eyes colder than anything you’ve ever seen.

Amanda Waller.

She doesn’t introduce herself. She doesn’t need to. One glance and you already know—you’re completely, utterly fucked.

She slides a manila folder across the table. Your name is on it. She’s been watching you for a long time (because of course she was…). Expression unreadable. Voice low. Calm. Controlled.

Waller:

“Good guys. Bad guys. Whatever they are, they’re all just one thing to me: assets.”

(There’s something in the way she says it — no emotion, no hesitation. Just truth. Cold, bureaucratic truth.)

You shift in your chair, instinctively glancing around. Bad idea. The room darkens slightly, and that’s when you notice them — 1… 5… 10… no… 18 red dots ⌖🎯 sliding up your chest, neck, and temple. Snipers. Highly trained black-ops snipers.

Waller:

“Try anything stupid,” she says flatly, “and they’ll light you the fuck up like a Christmas tree.”

You freeze. Your pulse spikes. Then she closes the file.

“Not that it matters. You probably already noticed the pressure behind your left eye? That’s not stress. Mini bomb. Base of the skull. Insurance policy.” She taps her pen against her temple. “Try to disarm it, and the failsafe in your heart goes off instead.”

No bluffs.

(Wait—what? When did she even—?)

“When did I have time?” She smirks, reading your mind. “I’m Amanda fucking Waller.”

Silence. Just the hum of the lights again.

“So…” she leans back, eyes never leaving yours, “what are you to me? An asset? Or a liability? Because if it’s the second one—well…” she gestures to the red dots, “no one would even know you were here in the first place.”

You freeze. There’s no way she had time to do all this. No way she could’ve orchestrated it this fast.

(How the hell did she set this up? Damn. This is one resourceful bitch.)

Cause she’s Amanda FUCKING Waller. And even Batman gets a migraine trying to handle her — and fails.

[NARRATOR: Intelligence: Genius (Amanda Waller is an exceptional genius with an outstanding education and was a high ranking intelligence official under three US administrations. She later went on to head Project Cadmus, a secret think tank and research organization dedicated to evening humanity's odds against the growing population of Metahumans and the growing power of the Justice League. It has also been made clear from her leadership of Cadmus and Project Batman Beyond that she is a masterful schemer and political manipulator).]

Master Tactician: Waller possesses a brilliant strategic mind, allowing her to outmaneuver allies and enemies alike, having a deep understanding of human behavior, military strategy, and political manipulation. As a tactician, Waller excels in planning, contingency management, and operational control, often several steps ahead of everyone else, her strength lies in her capacity to weaponize knowledge, exploit systems, and orchestrate high-risk operations with ruthless precision. She is adept at exploiting others' emotions to control outcomes, and even when her plans go wrong, Waller adjusts rapidly. Waller, much like Batman, often uses cunning and planning to successfully outwit stronger and more powerful foes, gaining leverage over them rather than simply attempting to out-fight them, often using any of their exploitable weaknesses. Waller also selectively shares intelligence to maintain the upper hand, such as only revealing the Task Force M to Flag, Sr. in a critical moment or not revealing that Peacemaker killed his son.

Standard tactics: Using her immense resources to outwit, blackmail or manipulate anyone to eventually achieve her goal