The warning came too late.
Blaze was halfway across the lot when Mike's fist smashed through the side of the van. Skye shrieked as the door crumpled inward. May lunged to intercept, but Mike's backhand caught her squarely — a brutal strike that sent her crashing into the asphalt.
"May!" Blaze sprinted forward, but Mike was already dragging Skye out, desperation burning in his eyes.
"Stay back!" Mike roared, his voice ragged with fury. "You don't understand!" With that, he hauled Skye toward the shadows, disappearing before Blaze could close the gap.
Blaze dropped to one knee beside May. She groaned, clutching the back of her head, but forced her eyes open.
"Don't—" She winced, trying to push herself up. "Don't you dare say a word."
Blaze smirked despite himself. "Wouldn't dream of it." He offered his hand, and she batted it away, hauling herself up on sheer will.
By the time the team regrouped, Skye was gone. And they all knew where Mike would run.
Union Station
The chaos was immediate. Civilians screamed as Mike stormed through the concourse, dragging Skye with him. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes, the air thick with panic.
Coulson's voice was calm, steady, even as agents and passengers scrambled. "Mike! You don't want to do this!"
Mike's glow was unmistakable now, veins pulsing with volatile light beneath his skin. His voice cracked with equal parts rage and desperation. "They made me like this! They turned me into a weapon!"
Ward slipped into position with the Night-Night Gun, but Blaze and May had their own problem: Centipede operatives had moved in, intent on containing their experiment.
"Guess they didn't expect him to blow in public," Blaze muttered, ducking a wild swing as one operative lunged at him with a shock baton.
May spun on another, efficient and brutal. "Focus." She disarmed him with a twist, slammed his head into a pillar, and kicked him down.
Blaze dropped his opponent with a sweep and cracked a grin. "Show-off."
"Keep up," she shot back, moving to the next.
Together, they fought back-to-back, pushing the Centipede agents away from the panicked crowd. Civilians scrambled toward safety as Blaze barked directions, covering them with quick bursts of suppressive fire.
Meanwhile, Coulson edged closer to Mike. "Listen to me, Mike. You're not alone. We can help you. But you need to let Skye go."
For a moment, Mike's face broke — torn between fury and despair. His son's voice echoed in his head, his own failures laid bare. But then the unstable glow across his skin intensified, cracks of fiery energy spreading like molten veins.
"He's going critical," Simmons warned from cover, scanner shrieking.
"Ward," May barked, flooring another operative, "now!"
The Night-Night Gun discharged with a hiss. The dart hit Mike squarely, pumping him full of dendrotoxin. He staggered, tried to fight it — then collapsed heavily, the glow sputtering out as the concourse fell silent.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Blaze exhaled slowly, lowering his weapon. "So… do we call that a win?"
May straightened, brushing blood from the corner of her mouth. "We call that Tuesday."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
As med teams swarmed in, Mike was secured for treatment. Skye stood off to the side, shaken but alive, eyes flicking between Coulson and Blaze. She didn't say anything, but her expression said enough: awe, suspicion, curiosity.
Blaze caught her gaze briefly, then looked away, tugging his gloves tighter.
In his head, Aegis' voice was calm but certain.
"Observation: This hacker will be trouble. And yet… perhaps the right kind."
Blaze glanced back at the chaos of Union Station — civilians comforted, agents gathering evidence, the broken figure of Mike being carried away.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "This is just the beginning."