I kept Callisto, Caliban, and the kid Leech, Tar Baby, and Mole with me. Callisto and Caliban are already working, but the others are a different story. Their gifts are unique, and they don't just translate into raw muscle or simple utility.
Of all of them, Leech is the one who breaks my heart the most. His power is incredible, but his life isn't. He can save every mutant around him from their own burdens, yet he can't save himself. When his X-Gene awakened, it rewrote his DNA so thoroughly that he was left looking like an outcast while others could still pass for human. He has the ability to negate every power in existence, yet he's the only one who can't turn his own off.
Tar-Baby is a bit of an oddity, but practically speaking, his power is one of the most useful in the field. All I need to do is design a specialized suit that can store and channel his secretions without them sticking to his own skin. With the right gear, he could be a hero if he wanted to. He'd be able to swing through the city and trap enemies in an instant, turning his 'weird' mutation into a perfect tactical advantage.
Once I finished with Tar-Baby, I sent him over to Isaiah. His problem was the easiest to solve with a bit of engineering. Mole, however, is a different story. His power is perfect for excavation, but for it to be practical, he needs university-level knowledge. If he understands the science, he could become the most effective boring machine on the planet. Imagine this city having the most advanced underground transit system in the world, built by one man. The hurdle is his appearance at his age, his hunchback and mutation make it impossible for him to blend in.
I still haven't fully decided how to best utilize Mole's talents, so for the time being, I've sent him to train with Isaiah. It gives me a moment to breathe and think about the most practical application for his abilities. Isaiah will instill some discipline in him, and while he works on his form, I'll be figuring out how to turn his power into something that benefits the city's future.
That left only Callisto and Caliban. Callisto is easy enough to read, though she's got a habit of simply taking whatever she wants, even a husband isn't off the table if she sets her sights on one. She's already a master of combat, but after training with Isaiah, she's developed a sharper, more dangerous edge. She has the potential to be the most effective leader I've ever seen. I kept her and Caliban for last because I need her to coordinate with me. We need a real strategy to give everyone in this family a purpose and make this whole plan work.
I decided it was time to give Caliban a serious upgrade. I presented him with a sleek, cyberpunk-style helmet forged from my Reinforced Carbon-Ceramic Nanocomposites, the most badass piece of tech I've built to date. It's designed to amplify his mutant detection range, helping him lock onto new signatures with pinpoint accuracy. He was buzzing the second he saw it, and even more so when I mentioned the built-in cooling system.
Callisto looked a little jealous, and while I'm not ready to introduce a full AI interface just yet, it's too risky right now, I fabricated an identical version for her. For now, it's a high-tech toy for her to play with, but it keeps my command team looking the part.
****
Now that everything is finished and everyone has their assignments, I have mine as well. My job is to ensure this operation runs smoothly. This is a massive development for the town, especially with the mutants being integrated into THRUSH.
I've already engineered the teleportation watches for Callisto and Caliban, but now I need to scale up. My next task is to construct a fixed-point machine, a permanent gateway within the town, capable of transporting larger cargo, like vehicles, to any destination instantly.
As I wrap up this task, a certain curiosity lingers, one that only the Eternals can satisfy. While I know what is destined to happen, and I am certain they will stop the Emergence themselves, I still find myself wanting to understand them. I'm not here to sit in judgment, I have no right to do so. The Celestials have their directives, and the Eternals are bound by them even more strictly. Fortunately, I know exactly where to find one of them here.
Phastos is the one I intend to meet. While he once swore never to use his technology to aid humanity again, he hasn't completely abandoned his craft, he's currently working as an engineer at a tech firm. He continues to apply his brilliance to all things mechanical, and I want to discover where his limits truly lie. Just because he refuses to introduce world-changing technology doesn't mean he wants nothing to do with it, his passion for creation clearly still burns, even if it's hidden in plain sight.
A week has passed since I began wrapping things up here. While the transition has been relatively smooth, there have been minor hiccups along the way. Since the Morlocks are still young, Isaiah and I understand their learning curve, we've made a point not to pressure or reprimand them for their mistakes. Instead, we offer clear direction and guide them on how to improve where they've gone wrong.
the kids from the morloc gruop have heard about the x men at this point in time, they feel like they have done a good thing like the x men did, while there are a jealousy there where the xmen was all the kid who cant control their power and not looking ugly like them, they like living here more, they didnt get discriminated, if they go to the xmen, they sure will be eye by people there.
I suspect Charles is aware of the Morlocks' existence, which makes his lack of outreach even more curious. Why hasn't he invited them to his school to hone their abilities? I think I've identified the rift between them: Charles envisions mutants assimilating into and befriending human society.
The Morlocks, however, have faced a much harsher degree of discrimination. Their mutations aren't just internal powers, they have fundamentally altered their physical appearances, making them 'outcasts' in a way the X-Men rarely experience. Charles likely wants to parade them as symbols of peaceful coexistence, but there is no way the Morlocks would allow themselves to be used that way. I'm fairly certain Callisto has already rejected his overtures once before.
As I made my way out, I called Emma to let her know I was heading to Chicago. I told her I intended to meet a being who has resided on Earth for over five thousand years. Emma didn't even want to know the details, she could already feel a headache coming her way. She simply told me to be careful. I contacted one of my agents who handles my private jet and instructed them to prep the plane. Our destination: Chicago.
****
Chicago, Illinois
Chicago is booming with the automotive industry, and I think I understand why Phastos chose to settle here. With the vibrant Black community, it's the perfect environment for him to blend in and live a quiet life.
As soon as we arrived, I gave my agent Phastos's description and sent them out to locate him. However, Phastos is more observant than I anticipated. I believe he spotted them first, he's already preparing to make a run for it. He's clearly afraid, he knows they didn't find him by accident, and he suspects they know exactly what he is.
As he attempted to flee, I intercepted him, appearing directly in his path. Phastos froze, sensing immediately that the man standing before him possessed a strength comparable to Ikaris. That realization only deepened his fear. His hands began to move, glowing with golden geometric energy as he prepared to do whatever was necessary to defend himself.
I spoke to him calmly, my voice steady: "Phastos, of the Eternals, I've come only to talk." My attempt at a light tone may have backfired, if anything, knowing that I already knew his true identity and origin seemed to make him even more alert.
Phastos replied dryly, "You know, if you just wanted to talk, you could have made an appointment, right?" Having lived among humans for so long, he knew exactly how they tended to react the moment they realized who and what he truly was. He was used to being hunted or exploited, and he wasn't about to let his guard down now.
I replied to him, my voice resonant and calm, "Where's the fun in that? It's not as if I traveled all this way just to kidnap you. I certainly could do that, but it would only make things worse and I have no desire for that. Besides, my wife would kill me." I shared that small detail about my life intentionally, letting him see that I am a man with a family and responsibilities of my own. I wanted him to understand that I hadn't come here to ruin the life he's built.
Phastos relaxed his stance slightly, though he remained skeptical of my intentions. "So, what is it you want to talk about?" he asked. Despite his lingering doubt, his curiosity had been piqued. He wanted to understand why a being of my caliber had traveled all this way just to find him.
"Come, let's talk somewhere private, where no one is listening," I said, making my way back to my car. Phastos followed, and while some might call him foolish for doing so, he knew he didn't have much of a choice. Although my agents had rattled him during the pursuit, and despite having his own means of defense, he was pragmatic enough to realize that a direct confrontation was a fight he couldn't win.
As the car drove on, I spoke quietly. "I know what happened in 1945, Phastos. Don't blame yourself for that. I was there too, in the thick of that war, trying to save people. While they turned your technology into a weapon of mass destruction, that same foundation is used to save lives today."
I spoke as gently as I could, but the moment the words left my mouth, the guilt radiating from him was so intense that even I could feel it. It was a heavy, suffocating weight.
Phastos flared with sudden anger. "What do you know about it? You weren't there in person to see them use my invention to slaughter millions. I saw exactly what it did. Do you really expect me to just be okay with that?"
He was trapped in that memory, the fire, the destruction, the lives snuffed out by his own handiwork. Even though he logically knew his inventions had saved far more lives over the millennia than they had taken, the guilt was a living thing. It was a weight that refused to go away.
I wasn't there to debate the ethics of the past with him. "Well," I said bluntly, "let's just say that if you hadn't done what you did, someone else eventually would have. The inventors might change, but the methods of war rarely do."
I understood his perspective perfectly. It was that crushing weight of responsibility that drove him to hide his intellect, to lower himself to working at an automotive company, fixing mundane machines just to keep his mind busy without the risk of changing the world again.
Phastos fell silent at that. He recognized the cold truth in my logic, he's lived through enough eras to know that while the world changes, human greed remains a constant, it only changes its form.
As we pulled up to a local spot where we could eat and talk privately, I avoided anything too formal. We headed into a simple, no-frills diner. I didn't need a five-course meal, I was just hungry for a good burger.
As we stepped inside, I dismissed my agent, telling him to do as he pleased until I called for our departure. We took a seat, and I proceeded to order twenty cheeseburgers and a milkshake. When I asked Phastos what he wanted, he just gave me a look of pure bewilderment. I could see the thought flashing across his face: 'Is he actually going to finish all of that?'
Phastos kept it simple, ordering only a single burger and a side of fries. As the waitress walked away to fill the order, she had a look of total bewilderment on her face. After all, it wasn't every day she saw someone order twenty cheeseburgers in a single sitting. She likely didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned.
As we waited, I looked him in the eye and said, "Phastos, the nature of my visit though I admit the approach was unseemly, is to invite you to my home. My goal is to make our city a truly prosperous place to live. I don't care about a person's origins, if someone comes to us seeking shelter, we do not hesitate to provide it."
As we spoke, the milkshakes arrived first. Phastos took his drink, the tension in the air settling slightly as we prepared for the meal.
Phastos asked curiously, though his voice was still laced with disbelief, "And just where is this so-called home of yours?" I couldn't blame him for being skeptical, after all, who would believe a man who introduced himself by hunting him down through the streets of Chicago?
As we spoke, the waitresses brought out Phastos's meal and the first five burgers of my order. The moment they hit the table, they practically vanished. I made short work of them before Phastos could even get his own burger to his mouth. He just stared at me, mid-bite, as if he were looking at a starving monster that hadn't eaten in weeks.
The waitress looked genuinely torn between being terrified and being impressed by the sheer speed of it. Realizing I was finishing the burgers faster than the kitchen could probably flip them, she hurried back, knowing she'd have to bring everything out at record speed just to keep up. It wasn't just an order anymore, it was a challenge.
"In Houston, Texas," I said casually, taking a slow sip of my milkshake.
The words hit Phastos like a physical blow. He started coughing and wheezing, reaching desperately for his water as he tried to process what I'd just said. It was a shock, even for someone who has seen everything. He knows exactly who and what resides in that territory. To hear me speak as if that city were mine, as if I were the one in control of it, was something even he couldn't bring himself to believe.
Phastos knew exactly what that city represented. He had heard the rumors of a place where everyone could live in peace, a sanctuary where the chaos of the outside world was strictly forbidden from crossing the border. He believed me because even he, an Eternal who had seen empires rise and fall, knew that Houston had become a beacon for the future.
It was a city of unprecedented living standards: affordable food, controlled prices, and a stability that seemed impossible in this day and age. He had even heard whispers of the '17 Royalty' the shadowy figures behind the city's rise. To see one of those figures sitting across from him, eating a burger in a common diner, was overwhelming. This was a man who had hidden from the world because he wanted nothing more to do with it, yet here the world was, knocking on his door.
Phastos shook his head, a look of pure incredulity on his face. "You really expect me to believe that?" he asked, his voice sharp with doubt. He looked at me, a man sitting in a diner, devouring a mountain of burgers and struggled to bridge the gap. Just because I had the presence and the power of someone in charge didn't mean he was ready to swallow a story about a hidden utopia and the '17 Royalty.' To him, it sounded like a fairy tale designed to lure him back into a world he had already left behind.
The waitress arrived with another five burgers, but as she stood there, she watched them vanish just like the others. To her, I wasn't just a customer anymore, I was a hungry ghost. Phastos, meanwhile, hadn't even finished half of his single burger. For him, eating was merely a hobby, a way to mimic the humans he lived among. He watched me with a mixture of disgust and fascination. The waitress, now thoroughly spooked, hurried back to the kitchen, convinced she needed to move even faster if she wanted to keep pace with my metabolism.
"Well, I could always show you, if you'd like?" I said to him lightly. I never truly expected him to take my word for it anyway, a man like Phastos needs data, not stories. I realized that if I wanted to break through his wall of skepticism, I didn't need to argue, I just needed to show him the reality I had built.
This gave Phastos pause. I could see the curiosity gnawing at him. He was beginning to think that if a place like this truly existed, it might actually change his cynical worldview of humanity. For an inventor like Phastos, the itch to create is a constant ache, one that only grows sharper when he's forced to look at the primitive world around him.
Now, someone was offering him a canvas. While his core directive was to avoid direct interference in human affairs, like in the past, He didn't have to lead them, he could simply leave a 'breadcrumb' of technology, a spark of inspiration and let humanity find its own way forward. The temptation to build something meaningful again was becoming irresistible.
Phastos made his choice, but it wasn't born out of sudden loyalty. It was a cold, calculated necessity. He refused to let the ghosts of Hiroshima and Nagasaki haunt this new era. If someone was building a 'utopia' with advanced technology, he had to see it for himself, not to help, but to ensure the tools of creation didn't once again become the tools of annihilation. He was stepping out of the shadows to be the watchman, making sure the history he helped write didn't repeat itself.
"Fine," Phastos said, his voice echoing with a gravity that demanded respect. "I will follow you. But mark my words: if you so much as show me that you intend to create a weapon of mass destruction, I leave the very second I see it."
He extended his hand, a firm, man-to-man offer of a pact. I didn't hesitate. I reached out and took it, feeling the strength of an Eternal in his grip. To him, this was a warning, to me, it was the first brick in the foundation of the world's most secure sanctuary.
Just as we finalized our handshake, the last ten burgers arrived. The same thing happened, they vanished into a blur of impossible efficiency. The waitress stood there, frozen, looking like she'd just witnessed a haunting. Phastos simply looked away, choosing not to care about my biology anymore, he had bigger things to worry about now.
I settled the bill for both of us and left a two-hundred-dollar tip on the table. As we walked out, I heard a small gasp behind us, the waitress looked like she was about to jump for joy. It was a small price to pay to ensure the only thing people remembered about this night was the 'hungry man with the big wallet' rather than the conversation of two world-shapers.
My driver pulled up exactly as the last of the burgers settled into my system. We made our way to the private airfield, where my transport sat waiting under the hangar lights. It was massive, the kind of craft that could easily house a bus in its hold, yet I had designed it to be as compact and sleek as possible. I wasn't interested in making a spectacle, I was interested in efficiency.
As we approached, I saw Phastos's eyes begin to scan the hull. He didn't just see a plane, he saw the lack of fuel ports, the specialized thrusters for vertical takeoff, and the distinct hum of a miniaturized tokamak reactor buried in the core. He stood there for a long moment, the realization sinking in: I didn't just have money, I had a level of technology that rivaled his own creations. He looked at me then, his expression hardening. He finally understood that I was far more dangerous than he had initially calculated.
Phastos backed away a step, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and accusation. "You have all of this technology at your fingertips, and you expect me to do what? Build you a weapon?"
He looked like he was ready to bolt. From where he stood, he could see the subtle housings for laser arrays, defenses that were at least a century ahead of anything the modern world could produce. He realized this craft could likely tank a direct hit from a fighter jet and barely feel the vibration. To a man who had seen the destruction of empires, this plane wasn't a marvel of transport; it was a terrifying omen of what I was capable of.
I let out a sheepish, self-deprecating laugh. "To be honest, I went a bit overboard with this one. My wife was so furious when she saw what i build and the specs of the plane that she made me sleep on the porch for a month. You have no idea how lonely those nights were," I said, letting a small, mock-tear escape my eye.
The image of a man who could command such technology being kicked out of his own bedroom left Phastos speechless.
"No," I continued, my tone softening. "This isn't a war machine. It's just how I get around. My position in the town... it's complicated. That's why I need your help. I need someone who understands the soul of technology, and how how to build it." Phastos just stood there, his mouth slightly open, trying to reconcile the 'Dangerous Royalty' with the man who just admitted to being henpecked.
"Well, you can see it for yourself and make your own decision," I said, meeting his gaze. "I could have kidnapped you, but I didn't. I believe that if you want to truly work with someone, you must leave their dignity intact."
That resonated with him. Phastos had spent centuries being a pawn of the Celestials, used for his hands and his brain without regard for his heart. My words gave him the one thing he didn't expect from a man of my power: a choice. He followed me up the ramp without another word, finally ready to see the home I had built.
****
Houston, Texas.
As we arrived, Phastos was impressed by how the city was built. It was far more than just rows of buildings, everything here had a purpose. The center served as the hub, while the outer ring was dedicated to living spaces. He could see a large oilfield and immediately recognized that the technology used to extract the oil was the most advanced of the decade. He understood my perspective then, while I could have built anything, for someone capable of constructing a tokamak reactor, building an oil extraction machine was a far simpler task.
"While I could make this the most advanced city in the world," I told him, "I have to keep things on the down-low given the current climate. You know what a mutant is, right?"
The realization hit Phastos immediately. He understood the situation now, I was a mutant. I couldn't just step out and build a futuristic utopia overnight without painting a massive target on my back. The government would never allow a mutant to possess that kind of unchecked technological and economic power. He saw that my restraint wasn't a lack of ability, but a calculated survival strategy.
"Yeah, I can see where you're coming from. You want me to act as a buffer for you?" Phastos asked me.
"A buffer for me?" I laughed. "Why would I do that? I could develop this technology here without anyone ever knowing, I don't need your help for that. I brought you here for something else altogether." Phastos had clearly misunderstood my position. I didn't need him to explain my technology to the world, I could do it the other way around.
"Then what do you need me here for?" Phastos asked, still thinking I wanted him to act as the face of the company. But I was thinking of something else entirely.
"Phastos, you are more technologically advanced than I am. You know that, and I know that. What I need from you is to teach my researchers how to create cleaner technology powered by solar energy. While I have hydrogen reactors providing electricity here, I need systems like solar panels, battery-powered homes, and ways to recycle them. While I told you I could do all these things myself, my hands are tied right now, I can't manage too many projects at once. That's where you come in. I'm asking you to help me, and to help this world. Stop the burning of coal, shift us to cleaner energy, and make a profit doing it. That's all."
I continued, "You could refine a stone and turn it into a working car, I know you're capable of that. That is exactly where you come in. You don't just understand technology, you understand the cost of it. You know how to minimize a budget and use the most primitive elements to create something more advanced than this century can offer. We can sell high-quality products at an affordable price. Isn't that something worth fighting for? Don't you agree, Phastos?"
I needed him to see that "more advanced" didn't always mean "better." That was why he had pushed himself to create those nuclear bombs in the past, he had taken the primitive elements of this world and forged something devastatingly advanced. Now, I was asking him to use that same genius for a different kind of revolution.
"You say this as if it were a form of global domination on an economic scale," Phastos said, his eyes narrowing. "While I understand that you want to create something affordable, can you honestly say you won't use this money to do harm? Money is its own kind of engine, and in the wrong hands, it can be far more dangerous than any weapon."
Phastos could see exactly what I was doing. I wasn't trying to conquer the world through military force; I was using the economy as my moving engine. He knew that controlling the flow of resources and energy could reshape nations more effectively than a fleet of warships.
I laughed even harder at that. "You know, Phastos, I could have done that a hundred years ago, but I didn't. Not because I couldn't, it was just too much work. I'm honestly too lazy to even think about it." My answer was as simple as that.
Phastos looked at me, stunned. To him, it was the most ridiculous yet honest answer he had ever heard. The idea that a man with the power to reshape history chose not to simply because he found the paperwork of ruling the world "too much work" was absurd, but it was so blunt it had to be true. It was that strange mix of laziness and honesty that finally convinced him. He realized that if I weren't going to rule the world, the least I could do was use my mind to help refine things here.
Phastos pov
Phastos looked at the agent walking with us, who was actually laughing at his own boss. The agent wasn't stunned by the "laziness" excuse, it was clear he already knew exactly how his boss would answer that question.
Then, right in front of him, he had the audacity to pick his nose. Phastos looked at him with pure disgust, but in that moment, he saw the undeniable truth. If even his own agents felt comfortable enough to laugh at him, then the story about his wife kicking him out of the house was definitely real. This wasn't a calculated performance by a cold, and cruel man, it was just a man who was far too comfortable being himself.
The agent couldn't help himself. "Sir," he said, turning to Phastos while still grinning, "you didn't see Madam Frost chase him across this very field just to smack the Big Boss. Every time we remember that story, we laugh to this day." The agent descended into a fresh tirade of laughter, nearly doubling over at the memory.
Phastos watched this exchange, his skepticism finally melting away. He looked at the vast, high-tech airfield, then back at him, a man apparently capable of being hunted down by his own wife in front of his troops. It was the final nail in the coffin of his fear. he aren't a cold, and untouchable, he is a man with a very terrifying wife and a very loyal, very amused staff.
Phastos could see it clearly now: this wasn't just a corporation or a military outfit, it was a family. Even the agents tasked with protecting him were treated as part of the inner circle. To see someone as powerful as Ikaris, being laughed at by his own people was revolutionary. He knew that if he told the rest of his Eternal team about this, they would think he had gone completely insane.
Phastos think that this might work for him.
to be continued -