Noah held Nick Fury's gaze, completely unfazed.
To anyone else, it might have looked like a simple conversation.
But Noah could hear everything.
Every whispered suggestion feeding into Fury's earpiece. Every carefully crafted psychological tactic being fed to him in real time.
"…You've been analyzing every move I make since we started talking," Noah said flatly. "Does S.H.I.E.L.D. always treat people this rudely?"
The effect was immediate.
On the other end of Fury's comms, the psychologist fell completely silent.
Like someone had cut the wire.
For a moment, the room on their side might as well have been frozen.
Fury sighed and removed the earpiece.
"Fair enough," he said calmly. "Standard protocol. You're… a high-risk individual. We prepare accordingly."
"High-risk?" Noah let out a short laugh. "I've taken down criminals, vampires, and a giant lizard in a school. And this is the thanks I get?"
Fury smiled faintly.
"We acknowledge your… contributions," he said carefully. "That's actually why I'm here."
He paused.
"We're putting together a team. A group of individuals with unique abilities—people who can handle threats normal forces can't."
He studied Noah closely.
"I think you'd be a strong candidate."
Noah tilted his head slightly.
"A team, huh?" he said. "Who's on it?"
Fury didn't hesitate.
"It's still early," he admitted. "Right now, we have a highly skilled archer and a top-tier field operative."
Noah leaned forward slightly.
"An archer… and a spy."
His tone sharpened.
"And you want to put them in the same league as me?"
The air shifted.
"Be honest," Noah continued. "If something goes wrong, am I supposed to clean up after them?"
Somewhere inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command center—
Natasha Romanoff cut the audio feed with a quiet huff.
"…Charming," she muttered.
Fury didn't react.
"There will be more," he said evenly. "Others with abilities. People like you."
Noah shrugged.
"Then why not recruit the X-Men?" he shot back. "They already exist. Experienced. Organized."
He gave Fury a look.
"From what you're describing, your 'team' sounds… underwhelming."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Just blunt honesty.
"And if that's your pitch," Noah added, straightening, "then I'm not interested."
He glanced away.
"Anything else?"
Fury opened his mouth—
But Noah was already gone.
BOOM.
A burst of air and dust marked where he'd been standing.
Fury remained where he was, staring at the empty space.
After a long moment, he let out a breath.
"…He really is something else," he murmured.
Then, quieter—
"Let's hope he stays on our side."
Back at the factory—
Rogue was still training.
Another mouse in her hands.
Another life drained.
Another step forward.
As the number of lifeless bodies around her grew, she began to notice something new.
Her strength felt… different.
Stronger.
Not just temporarily.
Permanent.
She stared at her hands.
"My power… it's not just absorbing," she whispered. "It's keeping it."
That realization sent a chill down her spine.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the room.
Rogue looked up—
Noah was already back, standing on the training platform like he'd never left.
"Mr. Vale!" she said, brightening instantly. "You're back!"
She quickly explained her discovery.
Noah listened, then nodded.
"Good," he said simply. "Keep going."
To him, it was useful—but not urgent.
Even at full efficiency, there were limits to how far that ability could scale.
Still—
It had potential.
"Start it up," Noah said.
Smith flipped the switches.
Machines roared to life.
Massive pressure systems engaged, forcing down against Noah's body while electric current surged through him.
He began lifting again.
Calm.
Focused.
But this time—
His attention drifted inward.
Something felt off.
Not his strength.
His control.
During the fight with Connors, there had been a slight deviation—small, but noticeable.
Too much force.
Too little precision.
He flexed his hand slightly, watching the movement.
My body's stronger… but my control hasn't caught up.
That was the problem.
His physical attributes had surged ahead.
But his mental processing—his precision, awareness, and fine control—
Lagged behind.
It wasn't a huge gap.
But at his level?
Even a small mismatch mattered.
Noah exhaled slowly.
I need to balance it.
Strength, endurance, control.
All of it had to stay aligned.
Otherwise, sooner or later—
He'd lose control at the wrong moment.
And that would be a problem.
Across the city—
Inside a towering office building—
Wilson Fisk stood up immediately.
Sweat prickled along his back.
In front of him, floating in midair—
Erik Lehnsherr.
Beside him, a blue-skinned woman watched silently.
Raven Darkhölme.
Fisk forced a polite smile.
"Well," he said carefully, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Inside, his thoughts were far less composed.
Why is he here?
Compared to someone like Magneto, Fisk knew exactly where he stood.
He was powerful.
But not like this.
"Relax," Magneto said calmly. "I'm here on Noah Vale's recommendation."
Fisk blinked.
"…Noah?"
"He said you have something I need," Magneto continued.
There was no threat in his voice.
But it didn't need one.
Fisk took a slow breath.
So that's it…
Noah had sent him.
Which meant—
This wasn't optional.
"…Of course," Fisk said smoothly. "If it's for him, I'll make arrangements."
He reached for his phone.
"Tombstone," he said. "Bring up Container Three. We have a guest."
He hung up, his expression tightening slightly.
This is going to cost me.
But refusing?
That wasn't even on the table.