The headache wasn't a pulse; it was a sledgehammer.
Elias Thorne gasped, sitting bolt upright in a bed that cost more than his entire previous life's earnings. The air smelled of ozone and expensive cologne. He brought a hand to his face—calloused, scarred, yet trembling.
He rushed to the bathroom. The face staring back from the gilded mirror was handsome, sharp-jawed, with jet-black hair that seemed to defy gravity. But it was the eyes that froze him.
They weren't just blue. They were deep, cosmic pools that seemed to contain a thousand galaxies. When he focused, the pupils shifted, turning into a complex pattern of gears and divine light.
The Eyes of the Lord.
Memories that weren't his flooded in. He was Elias Thorne, a 26-year-old weapons manufacturer and private contractor based in New York. A rival to Stark Industries, though much more shadowy. Thorne Industries specialized in ballistics and defensive algorithms.
But the new mind—the one overlaid on top of Elias—processed this information with terrifying speed. He analyzed the room's dimensions, the structural integrity of the high-rise, the exact chemical composition of the air, and six different exit strategies within a microsecond.
"Bruce Wayne's intellect," Elias whispered, his voice gravelly. "And Adam's eyes."
He looked at his hands. In his previous life, he was a nobody who died in a traffic accident. Now, he was a titan in a world of gods and monsters.
The Stark Expo, 2010
Two years had passed.
Elias hadn't wasted a second. Using the Wayne-level intellect, Thorne Industries had pivoted. While Stark was playing with Jericho missiles, Elias was building something else: The "Aegis" network—a global threat detection system disguised as communication satellites. He needed eyes everywhere.
He stood on the balcony of the VIP lounge at the Stark Expo in Flushing Meadows. Below, Tony Stark was grandstanding in the Iron Man suit.
"Flashy," Elias muttered, sipping sparkling water.
"Jealous, Mr. Thorne?"
Elias didn't turn. He had calculated the stride length and acoustic footprint of the woman approaching him ten seconds ago. "Natasha Romanoff. Or are we going by 'Natalie Rushman' tonight?"
The redhead paused, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You have a dangerous habit of knowing things you shouldn't."
"I possess a dangerous amount of curiosity." Elias turned, his unique eyes hidden behind tinted wayfarers. "SHIELD is worried about Stark's erratic behavior. You're the babysitter. Fury wants to know if I'm a threat or an asset."
Natasha's hand twitched—a micro-movement toward the taser disk on her thigh. To a normal human, it was invisible. To Elias, it happened in slow motion. He saw the muscle tension, the nerve impulse, the trajectory. He knew exactly how to counter it: a pivot of the left heel, a strike to the radial nerve.
He didn't move. He just smiled.
"Relax, Agent. I'm not selling weapons to terrorists. I'm just... watching."
Suddenly, the glass ceiling of the Expo shattered. Drones—Hammer Industries' drones—dropped from the sky, their weapons charging.
"Vanko," Elias noted calmly.
People screamed. The crowd became a stampede. Natasha shed her cover instantly, moving to engage.
"Go," Elias said, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket. "Get Pepper out."
"What are you going to do?" she shouted over the roar of repulsors.
Elias removed his sunglasses. For a split second, his eyes flashed with that terrifying, ancient light.
"I'm going to test a theory."
The Dance
Elias vaulted over the balcony railing. It was a fifty-foot drop.
Calculation: Impact velocity 17 m/s. Roll to dissipate kinetic energy. Vector: 35 degrees.
He landed in a perfect crouch amidst the chaos of the main pavilion. A Hammer Drone, looking like a bulky mockery of the Iron Man suit, locked onto him.
[TARGET ACQUIRED. CIVILIAN DETECTED.]
The drone raised a minigun arm. The barrel began to spin.
Elias's perception shifted. The world turned gray and silent. The spinning barrel slowed to a crawl. He could see the rifling inside the gun. He could see the hydraulic pistons firing in the drone's shoulder.
Eyes of the Lord: Active.
The drone fired.
Elias didn't run. He swayed.
To the onlookers, he was a blur. He moved like a leaf in the wind, dodging bullets by millimeters. Every movement the drone made, Elias mirrored in reverse instantly, slipping through the firing arc.
"Too slow," Elias murmured.
He closed the distance. The drone attempted a piston-powered punch. Elias saw the technique—a crude, mechanical haymaker.
Copying...
Elias threw a punch. It wasn't a human punch. His muscles hardened, his skeletal structure reinforcing instantaneously to match the torque of the machine. His fist met the drone's chest plate with the exact force of a hydraulic press.
CRUNCH.
The drone crumpled, its chest caved in, flying backward into a concession stand.
Elias shook his hand. "Biological emulation works. Good to know."
Three more drones landed, surrounding him.
"Sir," a voice spoke in his ear—his own AI, Alfred. "Heart rate is elevating. Do not overexert the ocular nerves."
"I'm fine, Alfred. Just a little warm-up."
One drone activated a flamethrower. Another launched a micro-missile. The third charged.
Elias took a deep breath. He saw the missile's trajectory. He saw the flamethrower's ignition spark.
He grabbed the charging drone by its wrist, using its own momentum to swing it around. He slammed it into the path of the missile. The explosion rocked the pavilion. In the smoke, Elias moved. He replicated the agility of the Black Widow (whom he had observed for months) combined with the raw, brutal efficiency of a machine.
He tore the arm off a damaged drone and used it as a baton, dismantling the remaining units with surgical precision. It wasn't a fight; it was an execution.
High above, Iron Man flew past, chased by Rhodey. Tony's sensors picked up the heat signature below.
"Jarvis, who is that guy down there playing whack-a-mole with Hammer's toys?" Tony asked, panting.
"Facial recognition identifies him as Elias Thorne, Sir. CEO of Thorne Industries."
"Thorne? The guy who sells those boring satellites? Since when does he know kung fu?"
The Aftermath
The Expo was safe. The police were swarming. Elias sat on a piece of rubble, dusting off his tuxedo. He checked his watch. The fight had lasted forty-five seconds.
A shadow fell over him. Nick Fury stood there, his leather trench coat flapping in the wind.
"Mr. Thorne," Fury said, his one eye narrowing. "You move fast for a CEO."
Elias looked up. He didn't activate his eyes, but he used the Wayne intellect. He read Fury's stance—defensive but intrigued. He saw the hidden backup agents in the rafters.
"And you're late for the party, Director."
"We have footage of you punching through titanium alloy with your bare hand," Fury said. "Care to explain?"
Elias stood up. He adjusted his cufflinks.
"Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, Nick."
"Don't play games with me. I'm putting together a team. People with... unique skill sets."
Elias smirked. "The Avengers Initiative. I know. I read the file you keep in that encrypted server in the Triskelion. The password was 'Peggy', by the way. You should change that."
Fury froze. His hand drifted to his gun.
"Relax," Elias said, walking past the most dangerous spy in the world. "I'm not joining your boy band. But..." He paused, looking back, his eyes catching the light of the burning drones. "...when the sky opens up and the real monsters come? Call me."
As Elias walked away into the night, Alfred chimed in his ear.
"Sir, detecting an anomalous energy signature in New Mexico. Similar to the Einstein-Rosen Bridge readings."
Elias smiled. Thor.
"Book a flight, Alfred. It seems a god is falling to Earth. I'd like to see if he has any moves worth copying."