"You want to run? Did I say you could?" Ethan's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
The flames from the explosion were suddenly ripped apart by an unseen force, and Ethan emerged through the smoke.
A controlled zone of swirling vectors—generated by micro-scale directional wind pressure—formed a protective sphere around him, completely shielding him from the blast radius.
Within three meters, the shockwave had dissipated.
Nearby, Spider-Man was slumped by the curb, dazed.
Melinda May, eyes sharp again, steadied herself with Coulson's help.
The ambush had been well-coordinated, but it failed to take Ethan down.
However, before he could retaliate, a phantom figure intercepted his teammate. Dozens of flashes danced through the air—sword strikes, swift and surgical.
This attacker, a meta specialized in cold weapons and burst-speed combat, wielded a blade forged from adamantium.
Using his instant-step ability, he unleashed 64 slashes in under a second.
"Boom!"
And yet, as the final slash landed, he collapsed to his knees.
Ethan's vector manipulation had quietly reversed the impact force of each strike, sending the kinetic energy surging back into the attacker's arms.
The bones in his forearms cracked like brittle wood, the sword slipping from his broken fingers.
Ethan picked up the fallen blade with a glance, and without a second thought, decapitated the attacker.
"You bastard!" another brute bellowed.
He lifted a massive steel container and hurled it toward the roadside.
"Bang!" Ethan caught it with one hand, applying opposing upward force vectors on key structural points to nullify the momentum.
"You think strength matters here?" Ethan gripped the container and the brute himself, vectors swirling around both objects.
With a flick of his wrist, he slammed them into the ground repeatedly.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The brute's enhanced physique held for a few blows, but after repeated impacts, blood spilled from his mouth.
Sensing death, the man roared and surged back, unleashing his final blow—a punch the size of a sandbag, muscles bulging like iron cables.
"Pfft!"
Before his fist even connected, Ethan altered the vector trajectories inside the brute's body.
The force redirected violently inward—rupturing blood vessels, exploding muscles, and shattering bones.
His brain liquefied.
What remained was a crumpled heap of ruined flesh.
Whoosh—whoosh!
Two energy crescents flew at Ethan. He snatched them mid-air, disrupted their directional energy vectors, and sent them flying back.
Screams followed as the energy user was bisected by his own attack.
"You're next," Ethan said, locking eyes with a one-eyed psychic.
He reached out, manipulating the air currents into a rapid vortex.
A vacuum-like wind tunnel formed, dragging the psychic through the air toward him.
"Help me—!" the psychic cried as he fired off his powers to no effect.
Just then, a lean figure rose from the earth and grabbed the psychic, dragging him downward.
Nearby, Killian was already halfway buried.
"An underground phasing meta?" Ethan's brow furrowed.
That explained the stealthy infiltration and sudden ambush.
Ethan stomped his foot hard.
With precise control, he fired a radial seismic shockwave through the ground. It lifted earth like a wave.
"Ahhh!"
When the dust cleared, the one-eyed psychic lay amidst rubble, coughing blood. The shockwave had shattered his internal organs.
Despite it, the man smirked. "Too late. I won."
As he lay dying, he activated a mind barrier, absorbing the brunt of the blast and shielding his ally.
The underground meta slipped away into the depths.
Ethan approached, his expression dark. "Who's pulling your strings?"
The one-eyed man sneered. "You think I'll tell you? If you want answers, come join me in hell."
Ethan grinned. "Who said death would keep me from asking you?"
The psychic didn't understand at first, his fading mind drifting into darkness.
As his consciousness fell into what felt like death, he steeled himself.
For Hydra's ideals, even hell was worth it.
But just as he felt he'd arrived in the afterlife, he stopped falling.
He opened his eyes…
Before him stood a barefoot girl in a black gothic princess dress, black hair flowing. Her crimson eyes bore into him.
"A devil…?" he muttered. "This is hell?"
His thought was cut short by a cold pressure—her gaze wasn't cute. It was predatory.
"Ethan, I've pulled his soul," she said lazily. "Ask what you need."
The psychic followed her eyes—and froze.
Ethan stood beside her.
"You again…" Ethan smirked.
Terror gripped the psychic's soul.
He looked down at his transparent hands. He was dead—yet somehow still in their grasp.
"Let's try again," Ethan said calmly. "Who are you working for?"
"Don't… think I'll—" the psychic began to resist. But he couldn't stop his own words. "I'm with Hydra's Special Ops. Chief Whitehall ordered me to capture Killian."
His mouth moved against his will, spilling truth after truth. Despite his psychic discipline, his soul was unraveling, puppeteered by the Black Queen.
"Whitehall, huh?" Ethan muttered. That surprised him.
He'd assumed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s embedded Hydra was behind this. But Whitehall—the Kree ruins freak—wanted the Extremis project too?
"Typical. He's obsessed with powers."
Ethan pressed. "Why Killian?"
"No idea," the psychic spat. "Just followed orders."
Ethan continued his interrogation, drawing out everything.
The psychic's soul, still self-aware, wept silently as his secrets were laid bare.
When it was done, the Selene snapped her fingers.
The soul shattered into wisps of pale-blue energy, which she promptly devoured.
"Mmm. Strong psych. mid essence," she purred, licking her lips.
"What's your plan now?" she asked, lazily floating beside Ethan.
"Time to see Fury. SHIELD's situation can't be ignored anymore."
She raised an eyebrow. "Not my concern. But since you brought me dessert, I'll give you a tip. My divine essence has settled into your body. You're on the verge of a breakthrough."
Her tone sharpened. "But listen—advancing to a further beyond isn't like before. If you keep coasting on talent, your power will devour you."
Ethan's expression stiffened. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Right. Guess it's time to hit the books again."
"I said, a little respect wouldn't hurt. I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., you know." In the S.H.I.E.L.D. operations room, Nick Fury stared at Ethan, who was casually sitting on his desk, stretching as if he owned the place.
"Why get worked up over something so small?" Ethan replied with a smirk. "I'm also the youngest direct of the Academy City. So what? Titles don't mean much if the world's burning."
Fury rolled his eye but didn't argue. "Alright, down to business. How did things go with the Vice President?"
"Correction," Fury said, tone dry. "As of yesterday, Congress passed the impeachment bill. He's now the 45th President of the United States."
"That was fast," Ethan said, leaning forward. "So what did you two agree on?"
"Long story short, we're back in. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been reinstated for domestic law enforcement—officially. In return, I supply resources, protect his administration from political fallout, and maintain peace by leading global counterterrorism efforts under the UN banner."
It was a smart move. The U.S. government had long tried to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. at arm's length.
But with Killian's Extremis attacks ravaging cities and even nearly incinerating the last president, public trust had crumbled.
They needed order—fast. And Fury? Fury was order.
"That's good progress," Ethan said with a nod. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. wore a UN badge now, everyone knew Fury didn't answer to anyone but himself.
And while the World Security Council had once tried to rein him in, Fury had long since thrown off their shackles.
Recognition from the U.S. was the tipping point. Once the world's most powerful nation acknowledged S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority again, others would fall in line.
Sure, the other four major superpowers would still need some convincing—probably a trade in tech or advanced intel—but politically, the tide was shifting.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s back in action," Fury said, "but we've got problems on the inside."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You mean Killian's little show wasn't a coincidence?"
Fury sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No. We've confirmed Hydra leaked data related to the Extremis virus. That whole program should've been dead years ago."
The timing was too perfect.
Right after the emergence of the X-Crystal—an alien artifact known to enhance meta abilities—Extremis returned.
Only this time, it wasn't a prototype; it was a weaponized serum.
It mimicked parts of an ability-triggering compound once developed by Dr. Stern, who'd noted its similarity to meta awakening formulas.
Someone had clearly mixed old research with new tech.
"Hydra again," Ethan muttered. "They always pick the worst times to crawl out of their holes."
Fury nodded grimly. "Killian's just a puppet. Without Hydra's help, he couldn't have gotten close to destabilizing Iron Man, let alone hijacking military tech."
The problem wasn't Killian. It was the roots Hydra had sunk deep into S.H.I.E.L.D.
"They've always operated from the shadows—creating threats so S.H.I.E.L.D. looks like the world's savior. We were too busy fighting fires to see who was holding the matches."
"So what now? You planning to burn the whole forest down to catch a few snakes?" Ethan asked.
Fury looked weary. "Some days, I wonder if I'm leading S.H.I.E.L.D. or just managing Hydra's legacy. At this point, they're not infiltrators. They are us."
Hydra had embedded itself so thoroughly that removing it would gut S.H.I.E.L.D. entirely.
One-third of S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives—scientists, agents, even upper leadership—had ties to Hydra.
Cut Hydra out, and S.H.I.E.L.D. might not survive.
"That's not the Nick Fury I know," Ethan said, narrowing his eyes. "You don't surrender. So what's your real play?"
Fury looked up, and something cold returned to his gaze. "The Nirvana Project."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"They think I'm still dancing for them," Fury said. "I've spent twenty years building this machine. I'm not going to let parasites turn it into their puppet. If Hydra wants to feed off S.H.I.E.L.D., fine. I'll let them—until I turn their own systems against them. They'll be absorbed, digested, and erased."
He handed Ethan a thick file. "This list came from Professor X and Emma Frost. They've been tracking Hydra's moves for years. Most of these names are key assets embedded in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s core."
"Alexander Pierce?" Ethan blinked, flipping to a page. "He's your mentor. The one who trained you."
Fury didn't respond immediately.
"You want me to call in Emma? Start the absorption plan with her telepathy?" Ethan asked.
He could already see the subtext.
Fury didn't want to eliminate Hydra. He wanted to replace it—from the inside out.
An uno reverse situation.
"No. I'll handle Pierce myself," Fury said.
His expression was a mixture of pain and determination.
"Why? He'll see you coming."
Fury didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his eye patch.
Ethan blinked. The eye underneath was blood-red, with three comma-like marks rotating in the iris.
The moment he locked eyes, Ethan felt a tug—like something was pulling him into a psychic space.
"You... awakened psychic abilities?" Ethan asked, steadying himself.
"Not exactly. My meta ability is more specific—copying. I can mimic a person's power and their expertise for 24 hours."
The commas merged into a dart-like shape.
But almost instantly, blood trickled from Fury's eye.
"Let me guess," Ethan said. "You tried to copy my vector manipulation."
Fury wiped the blood with a tissue. "Your ability is on a different level. Trying to force it caused backlash."