That evening, you sat in a meditative chamber Echo Division called the "Echo Room." No tech. No distractions. Just soundproof walls and a dim overhead light.
You were learning to recall more than just energy.
Movement. Speech. Tone. Pressure. Even emotion.
Everything left an impression. Some small. Others like brands.
Pulse sat across from you now, ribs bandaged, sipping from a protein shake.
"You pulled the punch," he said finally.
You nodded. "Didn't want to knock out your lungs."
He smirked. "Appreciated."
There was a long silence before he spoke again.
"You ever wonder what happens if you copy something you shouldn't?"
You looked up. "Like what?"
He tapped the side of his head. "People like us—we carry more than just power. We carry trauma. What if you mirror that too?"
You didn't have an answer.
Later, in your quarters, you stood before a reinforced wall lined with dented panels—training leftovers. You reached out your hand, summoned the electricity again.
It returned faster this time. No hesitation.
You tested it—firing it into a dummy. The surge was clean, sharp, as if it had always been part of you. And you could feel other remnants now too:
• The kinetic timing of Pulse's footwork
• The disarm move from the lab guard
• The evasive pattern from the drones
All waiting. Like a growing library.
But something new happened.
As you focused deeper, you felt... pulls. Faint echoes of other energies. Things you'd brushed against. The tranquil rhythm of birdsong. The thermal variance from heat sensors. Even the static buzz of the facility's emergency lighting.
The more you noticed, the more you realized you weren't just adapting.
You were archiving.
There was a knock at the door. Hartman entered with a tablet.
"We've got a situation."
You glanced at him. "More drones?"
"No. A rogue enhanced. Off-grid. Someone we tracked for months. Ex-Banner Project."
You tensed. "As in—Hulk?"
"Not him," Hartman said. "But someone touched by the same gamma experiments. His power's unstable. Melts what he touches. But here's the twist: his patterns are changing. It's like he's learning to stabilize."
You felt a chill.
"He's adapting."
Hartman nodded grimly. "Like you. We think he's copying other mutations."
You stood slowly.
"Where is he now?"
"Brooklyn."
You narrowed your eyes. You'd copied a lot of things so far.
But it was time to see what happened when someone else did the same.
And who adapted better.