Marcus woke to the sound of dripping water. For a brief second he thought he was still dreaming, but the sensation of weight beneath his arms, the faint hum of energy running through his body, reminded him it was all real. He dragged himself into the bathroom, still groggy, and placed his hand against the shower wall for balance.
The wall shattered.
Not cracked. Not dented. Shattered, fractured tiles scattering across the floor, the concrete beneath spider-webbing like glass under a hammer. Marcus jerked back in surprise, his breath catching.
"What the—"
Before he could process, he shifted his footing, trying to steady himself, and launched upward, slamming into the ceiling with a heavy thud. His head bounced off the plaster, dust rained down, and instinctively he muttered, "Ow."
But the pain never came. He blinked, hanging there for a second in disbelief before slowly floating back down. His body felt like a spring wound too tight, waiting for release. He flexed his fingers, studying his hands as if they belonged to someone else. The strength coursing through him wasn't imagined. It was alive.
Marcus stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his skin as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His reflection was different now. His muscles looked more defined than yesterday, his frame tighter, stronger. He wasn't just in shape anymore — he looked carved, forged, as if his body had been re-designed for power. He placed his hand on the sink, careful this time, and exhaled slowly.
A smirk crept across his face.
He had work to do.
One Month Later
The base was still rough, but it was his. What had once been an abandoned subway tunnel now pulsed with a strange new life. Rusted tracks had been stripped and repurposed; cracked tiles patched and reinforced. A decommissioned train, gutted and rebuilt from the inside, served as the beating heart of the operation.
The outer tunnels were laced with layered security: infrared sensors, signal jammers, vibration detectors, all tied directly to his biometrics. He could walk these halls blind and the system would recognize him, but anyone else would trip half a dozen alerts before they took three steps.
It wasn't pretty. Not yet. Bare walls, exposed wiring, temporary scaffolding. But the skeleton was there, and Marcus knew bones always came before flesh.
By Month Three
The hum of energy filled the base for the first time. After weeks of pulling strings, risking exposure, and burning through every connection he had, Marcus had secured enough palladium. It had nearly broken him, cost, secrecy, logistics, but the reward was worth it.
The arc reactor sat in the center of the gutted train car, glowing faint blue, steady and constant. A stable, self-sustaining power source. No more reliance on city grids, no risk of being traced. His base had its heart, and Marcus could feel it beating in sync with his own....wait he could've been ironman....oh well.
Months Four Through Six
The world outside thought Marcus had gone quiet. In truth, he had never been louder within his own walls. His focus shifted from construction to his body. Control first, he learned how to walk without breaking floorboards, how to grip without crushing steel, how to breathe without shattering glass. Reflexes followed, testing his limits in controlled drills.
Then came the grueling part. Strength, speed, endurance, durability, measured, pushed, tested again and again. He remembered watching The Incredibles as a kid, Mr. Incredible training in the old trainyard. Marcus took that blueprint and built on it. Weighted rigs using old trains as weights, bench press etc. The old trainyard served me well. Every day he grew stronger, faster. And every day, the ceiling of his abilities climbed higher with no sign of stopping.
Present Day
The suit was ready.
Marcus stood in the center of the base, dressed in black from head to toe. Combat jacket, reinforced boots, fitted pants and shirt. Practical, but sleek. The only color breaking the shadow was the emblem stitched into his chest and across the back of his jacket, gold, gleaming faintly in the low light.
On the workbench lay the final piece: his helmet. Matte black, shaped with angular precision, faint gold accents lining its edges. Inside, the wiring was delicate, intricate. GPS integration, secure uplinks, encrypted police scanner feeds, direct connection to his base systems.
He lifted it carefully, like a craftsman with his final creation.
The bottom half of the helmet folded outward, opening to receive him. He slid it on, the plates locking into place with a seamless click. It tightened around his head, snug but comfortable. Then, with a low hum, the HUD flickered to life.
SYSTEMS ONLINE
Information streamed across his vision: biometric readouts, system stability, comm frequencies, threat alerts. Marcus exhaled, the smirk returning to his face.
Half a year. Half a year of sweat, secrecy, and more money than most men would see in their lifetime. But the games had paid off. He'd won as much as he'd spent, high-stakes tables funding high-stakes dreams. And now those dreams had weight.
His base was ready. His body was ready. His mind was sharper than it had ever been.
Marcus rolled his shoulders, the suit moving with him, natural as a second skin.
At last, he was ready.