Plumber MothershipOrbital Station Above Earth
"It's only been a few days, and the cumulative number of superpower rampage incidents worldwide has already surpassed ninety-eight thousand."
Norman Osborn looked exhausted.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes—a rarity for someone with access to Primus Technologies' advanced medical treatments. His normally immaculate suit showed wrinkles across the shoulders, and his tie hung slightly loose around his neck. He'd been wearing the same clothes for thirty-six hours straight.
All his energy over the past week had been devoted to coordinating the arrest and containment of newly manifested mutants.
The sheer scale of the crisis defied comprehension. Nearly one hundred thousand incidents in less than seven days. That translated to roughly fourteen thousand awakening events every twenty-four hours. Almost six hundred per hour. Ten every minute.
The numbers kept climbing.
"The volume alone would be manageable if we were dealing with ordinary criminals," Norman continued, pulling up holographic data displays that painted the command center in shifting blue light. "But these aren't criminals. They're terrified children with abilities they don't understand and can't control."
He gestured at the statistics floating before them.
"Their powers are bizarre, unpredictable, and often completely unique. We've documented seventeen thousand distinct ability manifestations so far, and we're still cataloging new ones hourly. Ordinary Plumber agents—even enhanced ones—struggle to capture some of them safely."
Ben studied the incident reports scrolling past. Each one represented a tragedy. A family destroyed. A neighborhood traumatized. Lives ended or irreversibly changed in moments of uncontrolled power.
"Moreover," Norman said, his voice taking on a bitter edge, "all the superpowered individuals are adolescents going through puberty. Many of them, after awakening their abilities, immediately develop delusions of grandeur. They think they're chosen ones. Special. Above the law."
He pulled up footage of a teenage boy with electrical powers standing atop a burning car, laughing maniacally while lightning arced from his fingertips.
"They refuse to surrender. Some actively attack our agents, believing they're invincible."
"And then reality corrects their assumptions," Ben said quietly.
"Swiftly and permanently, yes." Norman closed the video feed with a gesture. "To be honest, I almost prefer the delusional ones. At least they make themselves easy to find. The real problem is the others."
He switched to different footage. A girl, maybe fourteen, sobbing over the crystallized remains of her family members. Her touch had transformed them to living glass, and then her panicked flailing had shattered them.
"Many of these children are genuinely kind-hearted," Norman said softly. "They don't want to hurt anyone. But their out-of-control abilities create tragedies anyway. And their immature minds can't process the guilt."
The girl in the footage ran from approaching Plumber agents, terror written across her face.
"They panic and flee, believing we'll execute them or experiment on them. They're terrified of falling into our hands, imagining we're some kind of mutant-hunting death squad."
"Can't entirely blame them for that fear," Ben muttered. "The public discourse hasn't exactly been sympathetic."
Norman nodded grimly.
"Most of them can't escape capture—except for the rare few with mimicry or invisibility abilities. But tracking them down drains our resources. And even when we catch them, we face another problem."
He pulled up images of detention facilities.
"Manpower is stretched beyond breaking point. Our prisons are overflowing. We've had to requisition SHIELD's old detention centers, repurpose Hydra bases, even create temporary holding facilities in pocket dimensions."
Norman's expression turned conflicted, an unusual vulnerability showing through his typical composure.
"We can't just exile them all to the Null Void Realm," he said quietly. "Even I—with my reputation for ruthless pragmatism—can't justify condemning thousands of teenagers to dimensional imprisonment for accidents they couldn't prevent."
Ben remained silent, letting Norman work through his thoughts.
"The key issue is public sentiment," Norman continued, his voice hardening. "The non-mutant population harbors extreme resentment toward these individuals. The media's calling them 'mutants' with the same tone they'd use for 'plague carriers' or 'terrorists.'"
He pulled up news headlines from around the world:
MUTANT MENACE CLAIMS FIFTY LIVES IN CHICAGO
ARE YOUR CHILDREN SAFE? MUTANT DETECTION CENTERS OVERWHELMED
PARENTS DEMAND GOVERNMENT ACTION: "EXTERMINATE THE MUTANT THREAT"
"The victims and their families are especially vocal," Norman said. "They're demanding we exterminate all mutants. Complete genocide of anyone carrying the X-gene, regardless of whether they've manifested abilities yet."
"Exterminating them is impossible," Ben said without hesitation.
His tone carried absolute finality.
"In just a few days, one hundred thousand people have awakened mutant abilities. Even if this represents an initial surge, the numbers will still be staggering."
He met Norman's gaze directly.
"We can't possibly execute tens of thousands of people every day. The logistics alone would be nightmarish, never mind the moral catastrophe. And it wouldn't even solve the problem."
"I agree completely," Norman said, relief evident in his voice. "Besides, execution as deterrence is fundamentally useless in this context."
He dismissed the news feeds with an irritated gesture.
"Even if we use death to terrorize mutants into compliance, it won't matter. They'll still awaken if they're genetically predisposed to awaken. They'll still cause casualties if their powers manifest violently. The entire concept of deterrence assumes voluntary behavior."
Norman's frustration bled through his professional demeanor.
"This isn't like dealing with criminals. The Plumbers deter supervillains from committing crimes because crime is a choice. But I can't control a physiological phenomenon any more than I can threaten all the men in the world not to experience morning erections."
The crude analogy made Ben smirk despite the situation's gravity.
"Exactly," Ben agreed. "Which is why we need to completely reframe our approach. Stop viewing mutants purely as threats and start considering what they can contribute."
"You have a proposal?" Norman asked, straightening with interest.
Ben pulled up his own prepared documentation, distributing it to Norman's interface.
"I've categorized awakened mutant abilities into five distinct power levels, each requiring different management strategies."
The holographic display reorganized itself into a clear hierarchy.
"The weakest designation is Epsilon—represented by the Greek letter ε. These mutations are so weak they're essentially harmless. More physical deformities than superpowers."
He pulled up examples: a boy who'd grown a sixth finger, a girl whose eyes changed color based on her emotions, a teenager who could make small objects slightly magnetic.
"For instance, someone might spontaneously develop an extra digit. Or redundant anatomy elsewhere."
Norman raised an eyebrow at the vague phrasing but didn't comment.
"While having, say, duplicate organs might prove personally inconvenient," Ben continued diplomatically, "it poses zero threat to society. Even among superpowers, we're talking about the equivalent of lighting a match. Barely worth noting."
"No intervention required, then," Norman concluded.
"Correct. Next is Delta—represented by δ. Weak abilities with minimal practical application. Most Delta-level mutants won't cause harm, but they also can't accomplish much with their powers."
The display showed a teenage girl who could change the color of her hair at will. A boy who could make small objects taste different without changing their actual composition. Someone who could sense when it would rain exactly thirty minutes in advance.
"For Delta-level mutants, we only require simple registration," Ben explained. "Most won't even realize they have abilities beyond normal human variation. But some might abuse minor powers for petty crimes—shoplifting with a distraction ability, that sort of thing."
"Basic civil monitoring," Norman agreed. "Minimal resources required."
"The third tier is Gamma—represented by γ. This is where abilities become genuinely significant." Ben pulled up more impressive footage. "At this level, not only do their powers manifest clearly, but their physical capabilities improve substantially. Enhanced strength, speed, durability—all surpassing baseline human performance."
The hologram showed a teenage boy lifting a car one-handed. A girl running at speeds approaching one hundred kilometers per hour. Someone taking a direct hit from a baseball bat without flinching.
"I propose establishing specialized educational facilities specifically for Gamma-level mutants," Ben said. "They serve their sentences—assuming they caused harm during awakening—while simultaneously receiving ideological education and skills training."
Norman leaned forward with interest.
"You're suggesting we train them as Plumber recruits?"
"Exactly. It serves dual purposes: maintaining social stability while building our organization's membership. We transform a crisis into an opportunity."
Ben's expression turned sardonic.
Professor X had the right idea with his mutant school in the original timeline. But one school was laughably insufficient for managing a global population. Not to mention the professors themselves were psychologically unstable with their own extremist tendencies. Students taught by damaged teachers inevitably become more extreme themselves.
"So we create a proper educational infrastructure," Norman said, nodding thoughtfully. "Multiple facilities across different regions, staffed by stable mentors with actual pedagogical training."
"Precisely. We give them structure, purpose, and a path forward beyond either victimhood or villainy."
Norman pulled up architectural plans already forming in his mind—repurposed military bases, isolated campuses, secured training grounds.
"Training Plumber recruits from the mutant population," he mused. "That's actually brilliant. They get rehabilitation and purpose. We get enhanced agents. Society gets protection. Everyone benefits."
"Then we have Beta and Alpha levels," Ben continued, pulling up significantly more destructive footage. "Represented by β and α respectively. These mutants experience dramatic power increases and can eventually learn to freely control and use their abilities."
The videos showed teenagers creating walls of ice, generating force fields, manipulating metal, projecting energy beams.
"Alpha-level mutants can display combat capabilities comparable to the Thunderbolts team," Ben said. "Peak human physical abilities combined with powerful offensive or defensive powers. They're natural candidates for advanced Plumber training."
"But their awakenings cause catastrophic destruction," Norman observed, watching a building collapse in one clip.
"Exactly. Take Jenny Becker, for instance."
Ben pulled up the fire mutant's file. Thermal imaging showed her body temperature approaching the sun's surface during her initial manifestation.
"I've ultimately categorized her abilities as Alpha-level. Extremely high power ceiling—she could potentially manipulate stellar temperatures given proper training. But the energy consumption makes sustained combat difficult. She burns too hot, too fast."
Norman studied her file, frowning.
"And her sentence?"
"She won't enjoy school life like other mutants," Ben said flatly. "She receives education and training while serving her full sentence for the deaths she caused. If missions require her deployment, she participates under guard and returns to lock down immediately afterward. No exceptions until her sentence expires."
"Isn't that excessive?" Norman asked, surprising himself with the question.
The old Norman Osborn would never have questioned harsh punishment. But working with the Plumbers, seeing the bigger picture, had shifted his perspective.
"She killed people unintentionally, yes, but she still killed them. If she successfully completes missions, perhaps her sentence could be—"
"No." Ben's voice carried absolute finality.
"Unless she develops the ability to resurrect the dead, there is no sentence reduction. Her merits can be exchanged for privileges, better accommodations, educational opportunities. But they cannot erase lives taken."
Norman held Ben's gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"Understood."
He couldn't persuade Ben, and truthfully, he wasn't sure he disagreed. The line had to be drawn somewhere.
"Fortunately," Norman added, "with Primus Technologies' healing serum now in mass production, most incidents result in injuries rather than fatalities. The victims can be restored to full health relatively quickly."
"Which is why the public outcry hasn't escalated to actual lynch mobs yet," Ben agreed grimly. "When people know their injured loved ones will recover, they're more willing to accept imprisonment over execution."
"Of course," Ben continued, his expression hardening, "all of the above applies only to mutants who harmed others unintentionally. Those who deliberately hurt people out of malice or enjoyed their victims' suffering—regardless of power level—are immediately exiled to the Null Void Realm."
"Zero tolerance for genuine criminals," Norman confirmed.
"Finally, there's Omega level—represented by Ω." Ben pulled up a much smaller collection of files. "The strength of Omega-level mutants is extremely difficult to quantify because most of them can already ignore conventional physics. Reality warpers, matter manipulators, probability alterers."
The few confirmed Omega manifestations showed terrifying capabilities. A boy who'd accidentally erased a city block from existence. A girl who could manipulate fundamental forces. Someone who'd briefly altered local gravity so severely they'd created a temporary singularity.
"We need extreme caution with this category," Ben said. "Containment requires specialized facilities, and training requires instructors capable of surviving their students' accidents."
Norman nodded, organizing the classification system in his mind.
"Let me see if I understand the practical equivalencies," he said. "Epsilon and Delta are essentially civilian variations—no intervention needed beyond registration."
"Correct."
"Gamma level equates to basic super-soldier capabilities. Enhanced but manageable. They're our entry-level Plumber recruits."
"Yes."
"Beta level is roughly equivalent to Captain America with his shield—peak human physical abilities plus significant combat powers. They're Plumber officer candidates."
"Right."
"Alpha level destructive potential matches Spider-Man or Sandman. Powerful enough to level buildings but not cities. They're your elite Plumber agents and Thunderbolts reservists."
"Exactly."
"And Omega level stands alongside the Hulk and Thor—reality-threatening power requiring maximum security and specialized handling."
"That's the framework," Ben confirmed.
Norman studied the classification system, finding it elegant in its simplicity.
"Not perfectly accurate across all variables," he admitted, "but it provides solid reference points for resource allocation and threat assessment."
"Oh, right," Norman said suddenly, as though remembering something urgent. "There's one more critical issue."
He pulled up a communication from Wakanda.
"Eunice sent a message from the monitoring stations. She told me the next collision crisis is imminent."
Ben stared at him.
"What?"
"The next universe is approaching. It's entering collision range."
"That's impossible," Ben said sharply. "We had a month before the next incident. Only one week has passed since we destroyed the Hydra Earth!"
"I don't know why," Norman said helplessly, pulling up the astrophysical data, "but the two universes are approaching at an accelerated pace. The gravitational attraction is intensifying exponentially faster than predicted."
Accelerated collision. Unnatural timeline compression. Something's actively manipulating the approach vectors.
Mad Ben and Bad Ben.
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