"What is that thing?"
Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe both stiffened as the figure stepped into view. The pressure it gave off wasn't just physical—it was suffocating, like standing in front of something that didn't belong on the same battlefield.
If Noah Vale had been there, he would've recognized it instantly.
A Sentinel.
And not just any Sentinel—this was a highly advanced model, far beyond anything that should exist at this point in time.
"Doesn't matter what it is," Scott said through clenched teeth. "We take it down."
His visor flared.
Twin beams of concussive force erupted forward, tearing through the air with overwhelming power.
The Sentinel didn't dodge.
It simply raised one hand.
"Bad move," Scott muttered, confidence flashing across his face. "You're not tanking this."
The beams struck the Sentinel's palm—
—and stopped.
Like they'd hit an invisible wall.
Scott's expression froze.
The energy didn't push through. It didn't even budge the machine. It just… ended there, as if the Sentinel had casually decided the attack didn't matter.
"That's not possible," he breathed.
The Sentinel stepped forward, one heavy footfall at a time, still holding his blast at bay.
"Scott—move!" Ororo snapped.
Her eyes turned white as she rose into the air. The atmosphere shifted instantly, wind spiraling around her as she called down a bolt of lightning.
Thunder cracked.
The lightning slammed directly into the Sentinel's body—
—and dissipated in a flicker of light.
No damage. No reaction.
"What is this thing?" Scott's voice tightened, fear creeping in despite himself.
He cut off his beams and turned to retreat—
Only to find the Sentinel already standing in front of him.
It had been behind him a second ago.
There was no time to process how.
The Sentinel moved.
Its hands shot out, grabbing both Scott and Ororo by the throat with effortless precision. It lifted them like they weighed nothing, tightening its grip.
Scott struggled, firing again at point-blank range.
It did nothing.
Ororo tried to summon another storm—
Her focus broke as the pressure on her throat increased.
Their vision blurred. Their faces flushed red as the grip tightened further, inching closer to snapping their necks—
Then, suddenly—
The Sentinel stopped.
Its hands loosened.
Its head tilted downward, body going still, like a machine that had abruptly lost power.
Scott and Ororo dropped to the ground, gasping for air.
What just happened…?
They didn't get the chance to figure it out.
Two sharp impacts—tranquilizer darts.
Their bodies went heavy, vision fading as the drug hit their systems.
Within seconds, both of them collapsed.
The remaining soldiers moved in quickly, efficient and silent. They secured the unconscious mutants and hauled them away.
"Report," one of the officers said.
"All targets inside the school have been captured," a soldier replied. "One escaped—a phase-shifter. The rest are accounted for."
"Good. Make sure all combat data from the Sentinel is logged. We'll need it for further development."
The officer glanced at the machine, now standing inert after being forcibly shut down.
Even knowing what it was capable of, the display it had just put on was… unsettling.
The next morning—
Noah Vale pushed himself up from the couch, disentangling himself from Camilla as he stood.
He didn't linger.
By the time the sun was fully up, he was already back at the factory.
The massive training rig loomed in front of him, its hydraulic systems capable of exerting up to five thousand tons of force.
A few weeks ago, that had been more than enough.
Now?
He flexed his fingers slightly, assessing.
Not for much longer.
If anything, he'd been deliberately slowing his own progress just to keep things balanced. Without that restraint, the machine would've become useless already.
Another four or five days, he estimated. Then this won't cut it anymore.
Still, he wasn't particularly worried.
For the current state of the world, his strength was more than sufficient. As long as he kept improving steadily, there was no need to rush.
"Mr. Vale!"
Wilson Fisk strode in, looking like he hadn't slept at all—and somehow more energized because of it.
"We made a killing last night," Fisk said, unable to hide his excitement. "With the internal energy reserves we had on hand, we cleared several hundred billion dollars."
Noah barely glanced at him. "And?"
Fisk blinked. "And… every major pharmaceutical and biotech company reached out overnight. They want partnerships. This is going to scale globally."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.
"And per your instructions, the trading platform is already live. From here on out, most transactions will go through us. We take a cut from every exchange."
He spread his hands.
"This is a pipeline of endless revenue. You don't think that's worth celebrating?"
Noah frowned slightly.
"Should I?"
Money, at this point, didn't mean much to him. Once basic needs—and then some—were covered, it stopped being interesting.
The whole "global tax" angle had been more about control than profit.
"I asked you for something else," Noah said, his tone sharpening. "The equipment. Where are we on that?"
Fisk hesitated.
"You know the scale you're asking for," he said carefully. "Anything above forty thousand tons… only a handful of countries can even manufacture something like that."
"And that's before modifying it to focus that force on a surface area as small as your body. We'll need rare materials too—adamantium, vibranium—something that won't collapse under the stress."
He exhaled.
"Even with everything moving at full speed, we're looking at at least a month."
Noah clicked his tongue softly.
At this rate, he might outgrow Earth's ability to challenge him entirely.
That thought wasn't comforting.
At the White House—
President Ellis sat across from a visiting head of state: the president of Equatorial Guinea.
"You're proposing a seventy-thirty split?" Ellis asked, fingers steepled.
"That's correct," the man replied smoothly. "Allowing civilians to retain this kind of power creates instability. For their own safety—and for national security—we intend to centralize all internal energy under government control."
He smiled.
"We'll ensure it's used responsibly."
Ellis didn't bother reacting to the justification.
It was obvious what this really was—resource extraction, dressed up as public safety.
Still…
He did the math.
A population of over a million, all feeding into a centralized system.
Thirty percent of that, flowing directly to him?
Ellis smiled and extended his hand.
"The United States will always support your pursuit of freedom and stability."
"Pleasure doing business."
Their hands clasped.
Then—
Gunfire erupted outside.
The doors burst open as a cloud of blue smoke flooded the room.
Both men flinched.
Out of the haze, a tail lashed forward—sharp, precise, a blade tied to its end. It cut through the air, aimed straight for Ellis's eye.
The attack never landed.
A flash of violet energy knocked it aside.
Standing there, framed by the dispersing smoke, was a blue-skinned figure with a prehensile tail and glowing yellow eyes.
Nightcrawler.
Ellis rose slowly.
Purple energy flared around his body, humming with power.
"So," he said, almost amused, "I finally get my hands on this energy… and the first thing that happens is an assassination attempt."
His smile widened.
"Perfect timing."