Inside a high-security military base, deep within the restricted zone, lights buzzed quietly above a sealed laboratory. Armed patrols moved with precision around the perimeter, and the air carried the weight of something important—a new era was being born behind reinforced glass.
Within the lab, rows of researchers in sterile white coats hustled between machines, test chambers, and control panels. Behind a thick observation window stood two men: one, the lab director, and the other, the ever-imposing General Thaddeus Ross.
The director turned toward Ross and spoke with calm excitement, "We're almost ready to begin the final phase of testing."
General Ross, arms crossed, nodded slowly. "What's the subject's current status?"
The director adjusted his glasses, then tapped a screen. "Carl's strength measures at twenty-five tons—roughly eight times that of Captain America's known strength of three tons."
Ross's eyes narrowed, intrigued.
"His durability is also unprecedented. Close-range handgun fire, knives, even intermediate rifle shots—he can withstand them all. We've tested it thoroughly. Carl's defense is superior to 99% of known superhumans. What's more—he shows no signs of psychological instability. He's mentally intact."
The director allowed himself a small smile. "He's the most complete version of the super-soldier we've developed so far—far beyond Captain Rogers."
Ross raised an eyebrow. "And if the next phase is successful?"
The director's voice dropped slightly, carrying the weight of what he was about to say. "Carl's strength will double to fifty tons. His defense will also improve—resistance to sniper rounds, full immunity to conventional firearms. And this is only the beginning. His biology suggests continued adaptability and growth."
At that, General Ross's face lit up with dangerous satisfaction. "Fifty tons of strength. Armor for skin. Controlled mind. That's not just a soldier. That's a weaponized god."
Ross clenched his fist.
"If we create a battalion of soldiers like Carl... then we won't just survive the next alien invasion or another Sokovia. We'll dominate it."
He turned to face the lab again, his voice dropping into a growl. "No more relying on outsiders. No more passivity. The United States will lead the superhuman age."
The director nodded solemnly. "We'll extract Carl's ability and refine it into a new serum line soon. The first prototype should be ready for cloning within the month."
Outside the lab, the base tightened its defenses. Extra guards were deployed. Checkpoints were doubled. Surveillance drones flew overhead. The base had turned itself into an impenetrable fortress.
---
Back in New York City, Nathan stepped out of his isolation chamber, his body humming slightly with residual energy from the replication experiment. Across from him, Daredevil—his sightless eyes now open—was awake again, sitting upright on a lab bench.
Nathan approached with something in hand—a vial filled with glowing green serum.
"This is the enhanced lizard serum," Nathan said calmly, handing it over. "It can restore your vision."
Daredevil's hands trembled as he took the vial. "This... can really make me see again?"
Nathan gave a firm nod. "Take it home. Use it carefully. Let your body absorb it naturally."
Daredevil bowed slightly, gratitude written on his face. "I won't forget this. If you ever need legal counsel… pro bono, of course—you know where to find me."
With that, he slipped the serum into his coat, adjusted his glasses, and left with grace befitting both a vigilante and an attorney.
After he left, Nathan wiped the systems, purged the lab data, and made sure no trace of Daredevil's treatment remained. He didn't need notes. Everything was already in his head.
He turned his attention to Substance No. 7—the dark metallic canister standing quietly at the edge of the lab. His eyes narrowed.
"Who created you...?" Nathan murmured.
He studied the top of the canister. Around the sealed black lid were two emblems of Earth—one left, one right, circling a triangular symbol.
Nathan's brow furrowed. "An organization? A forgotten company? Why the Earth symbol...?"
He had no immediate answer, and he wasn't about to waste time guessing. For now, the Electric Man was priority.
He pulled out his phone and messaged Kurt. The order was simple: Clear the lab. Burn it if necessary. Relocate. Nathan never stayed in one place for long.
Then he fired a webline and leapt into the night, swinging from rooftop to rooftop. In the distance, he could already hear the thunderous explosions of Electro's powers ripping through Osborn Tower.
"Electro," Nathan muttered. "Your power... is mine."
He thought quickly.
"Electro absorbs electricity to enhance himself. The more he takes in, the more powerful he becomes. Eventually, he can even turn into living electricity—intangible, unstoppable. But he has limits. Too much power and he could explode. Too little and he's helpless."
Nathan's eyes sparkled.
"I generate electricity. My power is internal—bioelectric. The stronger my body, the stronger my current. No absorption cap, no risk of overload. Just... slow progression."
He zipped past a speeding cab.
"If I combine his powers with mine… I'll have the ultimate short and long-term weapon. Absorbing electricity for short bursts of incredible power. Transforming into electricity for infiltration, travel... even stealth missions into enemy strongholds."
A thought struck him.
"With that power, I could infiltrate Ross's base. Get inside. Find Luke Cage. Maybe even extract Carl before they realize what's happened."
Nathan's lips curled into a smile. "Electro… don't run. You're not just an enemy now. You're an upgrade."
From the front pocket of his suit, a tiny head poked out—Little Spider-Man.
It blinked in the wind, then raised a tiny foot as if to cheer. "Go, go!"
---
Across the city...
Daredevil sat in his apartment, changed into casual clothes, staring at the glowing vial in his hands. His fingers shook, knuckles tight with emotion.
He whispered, "This is my shot. My only shot."
With a deep breath, he injected the serum.
Warmth rushed through him.
His internal injuries—worn muscles, damaged organs, frayed nerves—were repaired almost instantly. It was like a thousand tiny hands massaged his insides. Decades of scars and strain vanished in minutes.
Then came the most critical moment.
The serum surged toward his optic nerves.
Arterial clots cleared. The necrotic nerves regenerated. Synaptic connections rewired. Light flooded into his brain like a sunrise breaking an eternal night.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time in decades… he saw.
The color of the walls. The texture of the wooden table. The fine lines in his palm.
He picked up a mirror and gasped—his own face stared back. Familiar. A stranger. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Dad... I see you again."
He pulled out his wallet, unfolded a photo of a smiling man.
It had faded with time—but now it was vivid and real once more.
---
Back at Osborn Tower, Electro arrived at the finance floor. His eyes glowed with greed.
"I'm rich. Finally. I'll take it all."
Behind him, Norman Osborn caught up again, damaged but determined. "Stop!" he shouted, flying in on his glider.
Electro turned, annoyed. "You again? You're still breathing?"
Norman launched pumpkin bombs—one exploded midair, blasting Electro backward.
But Electro rose again, angrier than before.
"You'll pay for that!" he roared.
He flung a chain of electricity, wrapping it around Norman's armor.
Norman twitched violently—his suit smoked, his body convulsed.
He crashed into the wall and slumped, unable to move.
Electro cackled. "No one can match me! My electricity is unstoppable!"
Then—
CRASH!
The window shattered.
A masked figure leapt through in a streak of speed and shadow.
Nathan landed without a word.
Norman, slumped on the ground, gasped, "Leave… He's too strong… Not worth it…"
But Nathan stood tall. His eyes locked on Electro—not with fear, but with anticipation.
Electro frowned. "Who the hell are you now?! Another hero playing martyr?"
"I'm not here to play anything," Nathan said calmly. "I'm here to take what's mine."
Electro raised his hands. "You're not taking anything! I deserve this! That money's mine! These people—these rich bastards—sat on piles of gold while I starved! I'm not leaving without it!"
Arcs of electricity flared to life in his palms.
"Go to hell!"
He fired twin blasts directly at Nathan.
Norman screamed, "Move!"
But Nathan didn't flinch.
---
To be continued…
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