"As long as we've confirmed it can be transferred, that's enough."
Fisk dismissed the concern about minimum units with a wave of his hand. The limitation didn't bother him in the slightest.
"What's next?" Bullseye asked. "Do we start distributing it to the rest of the organization?"
"Not yet," Fisk said. "Noah wants this kept quiet for a month. For now, we build his reputation. Make sure everyone knows this is his method."
A few of them exchanged glances.
"The guy from earlier?" someone asked. "The one who gave you this? And you're really planning to release something like this to the public?"
Fisk's voice turned calm, almost reflective. "He's the same man who wiped out every vampire in New York tonight."
That shut down any lingering doubts.
"Keeping it secret won't work," Fisk continued. "Something like this always gets out eventually. If we want maximum return, we need scale. The more people using it, the more valuable it becomes."
He paused briefly.
"Better to control the narrative early. We trade exclusivity for influence—and I get my mayor's seat."
Unspoken, but present in his mind, was another thought:
And I'd rather not end up on Noah Vale's bad side.
"Here's what we'll do," Fisk added. "Send people to Africa. Work with local warlords. I want a hundred thousand recruits."
The room went still for half a second—then understanding spread across their faces.
Cheap labor.
Future assets.
If this system really took off, the cost of acquiring people willing—or forced—to generate energy would skyrocket.
Fisk intended to get ahead of that curve.
His subordinates nodded immediately.
While Fisk's organization moved into action, the internet was already exploding.
Footage of Noah's battle had gone viral.
Edited, replayed, amplified—every angle pushed by media outlets hungry for spectacle.
To the public, the narrative was simple: a lone figure defeating a group of dangerous superhumans.
A hero.
But what truly stunned viewers wasn't the story.
It was the speed.
The force.
Every strike hit like artillery. Every movement blurred past what the human eye could track. Even slowed down to a fraction of normal speed, the footage was overwhelming.
For many people, it was the first time they truly understood how powerful enhanced individuals could be.
And when some recognized Noah as the same man who had stopped a bank robbery days earlier, the hype only grew.
By the time morning arrived, Noah was already awake.
His phone rang sharply, cutting through the quiet.
He reached out from under the covers and answered without opening his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Mr. Vale? We're the team Mr. Fisk assigned to you. We're at Aiken Field now. Are you available?"
Noah rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Give me a few minutes. I'll be there."
He hung up.
Beside him, Camila shifted slightly, her voice soft. "Heading out already?"
"Yeah."
He sat up, stretching lightly. "I left some blood packs in the fridge. You'll be fine."
She hummed in acknowledgment, still half-asleep.
In the next moment, Noah was already moving.
He dressed in seconds, then vanished from the room in a blur.
The streets were still waking up when he arrived.
Even holding back, each step carried a dull, rhythmic thud—like distant drums echoing through the pavement. Pedestrians glanced around, confused, but by the time they tried to locate the source, he was already gone.
Two and a half minutes later, Noah reached Aiken Field.
A team of engineers in work uniforms was already waiting.
He slowed to a normal pace and approached them.
"You the team Fisk sent?"
A man stepped forward quickly. "Yes, sir. Name's Ark. We've been told to prioritize your project above everything else."
"Good."
Noah got straight to the point. "I need modifications to a heavy press system. Specific adjustments to the impact pattern, timing, and distribution—"
He laid out his requirements clearly, with just enough detail to guide them.
The team listened carefully, occasionally taking notes.
Once he finished, Noah nodded. "Handle the design. I'll check in later."
Then he turned and left again.
His next stop was a factory rented under Smith's name.
Inside, a massive machine stood waiting.
Steel. Reinforced joints. Industrial-grade hydraulics.
Noah stepped closer, studying it.
"So this is what you came up with?"
Smith nodded eagerly. "Yes, boss. Once you're secured in place, the system delivers continuous impacts across your back at high frequency. Your lower body stays fixed under pressure, while your arms remain free for additional training."
He gestured toward the wiring. "We've also integrated electrical stimulation. As long as the machine holds, it can run indefinitely."
Noah climbed onto the platform, testing the setup.
It felt solid.
Restraining mechanisms locked into place with a series of heavy clicks.
Smith watched nervously. "We kept the force moderate for safety. Around two hundred tons. Enough to push your limits, but not risk structural failure."
"Good," Noah said simply.
He settled in, adjusting his posture.
Then he glanced over his shoulder.
"Well?" he said. "Let's see what it can do."