Echo woke before her alarm.
That alone told her something was wrong.
She lay still for several seconds, staring at the ceiling as pale morning light crept in through the blinds. Her body felt rested, but her mind was already awake, already moving, already sorting through thoughts she had not finished the night before.
The rhythm was still there.
Not loud. Just present.
She sat up slowly, testing herself. Sometimes after a hard night her balance was off, her muscles stiff, her thoughts scattered. Today, everything felt… aligned. Her breathing fell into that same steady cadence she had noticed last night, as if her body remembered something her mind had not yet accepted.
Echo swung her legs off the bed and stood.
No dizziness, or hesitation.
She crossed the apartment and filled a glass with water, drinking it in measured sips while watching her reflection in the dark kitchen window. Same face. Same scars. Same hard-earned control.
And yet.
Something had shifted.
She set the glass down and flexed her fingers, then her wrists. Habit. Grounding. She moved into a short warm-up sequence, slow stretches followed by precise, controlled motions. Each movement landed cleanly, her balance perfect. Her body listened to her today without resistance.
Good.
She finished by sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, hands resting on her knees. Meditation was nothing new to her. She had learned early how to silence her thoughts when the world became too loud.
Except today, she did not want silence.
She focused inward.
The memory came immediately.
The café, stage, and him.
Erik.
She opened her eyes.
Her jaw tightened, not in anger but in resolve.
She did not like unanswered questions. She did not like relying on things she could not explain. But she also did not run from them. She had survived by facing problems head-on, even when they scared her.
And this scared her. Not because it hurt, but because it felt right.
That was more dangerous than pain.
Echo stood, grabbed her jacket, and checked the knife concealed inside without thinking. It was where it should be. She was still herself. Still prepared.
She paused at the door, then turned back and picked up her phone.
The video stared back at her.
She had avoided watching it last night. Seeing it through other people's eyes felt too intimate, too invasive. But now she pressed play.
The footage was shaky.
She watched Erik walk onto the stage. Watched the instruments respond. Watched the room fall quiet. She watched herself in the corner of the frame, barely visible, head bowed, shoulders tight.
Then the moment came.
Her breath caught.
Even through a screen, the resonance reached her. Not as strongly as before, but enough to make her chest warm, enough to make her eyes sting. She watched herself look up, watched confusion flicker across her own face, watched the exact instant her world cracked open just a little.
She stopped the video.
That settled it.
Echo locked the phone and slipped it into her pocket.
She left the apartment.
The city felt different in daylight. Sharper. Louder. But not overwhelming. She moved through the streets with purpose, eyes scanning, mind alert. She did not retrace last night's route by accident. Her feet carried her exactly where she intended to go.
The café was open.
Harbor Harmony looked ordinary in the morning sun. Brick walls. Large windows. A couple of people were already inside with laptops and coffee cups. No sign of magic. No sign of danger.
Echo stopped across the street.
She studied the entrance, her reflection faint in the glass.
This was not about gratitude, dependence, or about needing help.
This was about answers.
She crossed the street and went inside.
The bell above the door chimed softly. The barista glanced up, recognition flickering across his face before he masked it with a polite smile.
"Morning," he said.
Echo nodded once and moved to a table near the stage. The instruments were there, quiet and unmoving. Just objects again. Wood and metal and strings.
She sat, posture straight, eyes alert.
Minutes passed.
People came and went. She ordered tea. Sipped it slowly and waited.
Then she felt it.
A familiar vibration, faint but unmistakable.
She looked up.
Erik stood near the counter, dressed simply, posture relaxed. Lady Death was with him, leaning casually against a nearby wall like she belonged anywhere she chose to stand. Erik had not noticed Echo yet. He was listening to the room, attuned to it the way others listened with ears.
Echo rose from her chair.
She did not hesitate. She did not second-guess herself.
She walked toward him and stopped a few feet away.
Erik turned.
Recognition flashed across his face, followed immediately by warmth. Not surprise. Not fear.
Relief.
"Good morning," he said softly.
Echo lifted her hands.
She signed slowly, deliberately, making sure he could see every movement.
'I wanted to see you again. Not because I need you. Because I choose to.'
Erik nodded, understanding settling easily over him. "I am glad you came."
She studied his eyes closely. The waves within them moved gently, unthreatening. He was not reaching for her mind. Not pushing. He was simply there.
Her hands moved again.
'I need to understand what you did. And why.'
Erik did not answer immediately. He glanced at Lady Death, who gave a small, approving nod, then back to Echo.
"Then let us talk," he said. "At your pace."
Echo considered that.
Then she sat back down at the table.
And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to stay.
Echo sat with her hands wrapped loosely around her cup, eyes on the surface of the tea rather than on Erik. Steam curled upward in thin strands, vanishing before it reached her face. The café was calm this morning. Not empty, but subdued. Conversations stayed low. Keys tapped on laptops. A spoon clinked softly against ceramic.
Ordinary.
She preferred ordinary.
Erik waited.
He did not fill the silence. He had learned, quickly, that silence meant something different to her than it did to most people. It was not a gap to be closed. It was space to think.
Finally, Echo lifted her gaze.
Her hands rose.
She signed slowly, deliberately, making sure each motion was precise.
'What you did last night, you did it without asking.'
Erik nodded immediately. No defensiveness. No excuses. "You're right."
That surprised her. Just a little.
Her hands continued.
'I am not angry, but I need to know if you can do that again without my consent.'
The question lingered between them, heavier than anything said so far.
Erik folded his hands on the table. His posture shifted, subtle but real. This was not a performance. This was not a crowd. This mattered.
"Yes," he said. "I could."
Echo's jaw tightened.
"But," he continued, "I won't."
Her eyes flicked up sharply.
He met her gaze without wavering. "I should have asked. I felt your pain and reacted before thinking about what it meant to you. I won't do that again."
She searched his face, looking for hesitation, for the kind of half-truth people told when they wanted forgiveness without responsibility.
She found none.
Her hands moved again.
'Are you dangerous.'
Erik blinked. Not because the question hurt, but because it was honest in a way most people avoided.
"Yes I am dangerous," he said quietly. "Because sound reaches places words cannot. Because intention matters. And because people don't always know when they are being moved."
Echo nodded once.
That matched her instincts.
Lady Death, who had been leaning against the wall near the window, finally spoke. "You should know," she said casually, "that very few beings would admit that so plainly."
Echo glanced at her.
There was something about this woman that set her on edge. Not fear. Awareness. The way you noticed gravity only when it shifted.
Echo signed again, eyes never leaving Erik.
'I do not want to be changed, without choosing it'
Erik inclined his head. "Then you won't be."
He hesitated, then added, "If you ever want to hear again, in your way, you can ask. And if you never do, that is fine too."
That landed harder than the song had.
Choice.
Echo exhaled slowly.
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
Before she could respond, Erik's head tilted slightly. His attention drifted, not to the door, but somewhere beyond the café walls.
Lady Death straightened.
"Someone's listening again," she murmured.
Echo noticed it then too. Not through sound, but through instinct. The faint sense of being observed. Yet not directly.
Erik's voice stayed calm. "Two people across the street. One pretending to read. One pretending to talk on the phone."
Echo did not turn around. "Not amateurs."
"No," Erik agreed. "And not Fisk's men either."
Lady Death smiled thinly. "Different flavor of curiosity."
Echo's fingers tapped once against her cup. A habit when thinking.
She signed.
'I don't want a fight.'
"There won't be one," Erik said.
Lady Death added, "If they escalate, I'll end the conversation. Permanently."
Echo looked at her sharply.
Death raised a brow. "Metaphorically speaking… Mostly."
Echo almost smiled. Almost.
Erik leaned forward slightly. "This is why I didn't want you dragged into this."
Echo's hands moved quickly now, sharp and precise.
'I was already in it, before you played that song.'
That made him still.
She continued.
'My life does not become complicated because of you, it already was.'
She lowered her hands.
'If you are part of it now, that is my choice.'
Erik felt something settle inside him. Not relief. Responsibility.
"Then I'll respect that," he said.
Outside, one of the observers checked a device, then subtly turned away.
The city exhaled.
For now.
Echo finished her tea and stood. She slung her jacket over her shoulder, movements confident and unhurried.
She paused, then signed one last thing.
'I don't trust you yet, but I believe you.'
Erik smiled softly. "That's more than enough."
She nodded once and headed for the door.
At the threshold, she stopped and looked back.
'Next time, ask first.'
"I will." Erik promised.
Echo left the café and disappeared into the morning crowd, spine straight, steps steady.
Lady Death watched her go. "She's going to be trouble."
Erik's smile widened just slightly. "Good trouble."
Outside, the watchers melted away, reports already being written, names already being searched.
And somewhere deep in the city's rhythm, the resonance shifted again.
Not louder.
Clearer.
__________
(Location - Stark Tower)
Tony finally completed it.
The workshop lights dimmed automatically as the final calibration sequence locked into place. Holograms collapsed one by one, blueprints fading into transparent outlines before vanishing entirely. The massive frame standing at the center of the lab powered down with a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through the floor.
Tony Stark stood there in silence, arc reactor glow reflecting off dull gray armor plates scarred by weeks of testing.
The CMC Powered Combat Suit.
No longer a prototype.
No longer a concept stitched together from stolen alien data and human desperation. Finished.
Tony ran a hand through his hair, exhausted, exhilarated, and just a little afraid.
"Well," he muttered, voice echoing softly in the cavernous lab, "you look like you could punch a god."
The suit stood nearly ten feet tall, broad-shouldered and brutal in silhouette. Unlike his sleek Iron Man armors, this thing was unapologetically military. Heavy plating layered over reinforced servos. Thick joints designed to take impact rather than avoid it.
This wasn't meant to fly gracefully through the sky.
This was meant to stand its ground.
Tony brought up the final diagnostic.
Power source: Hybrid arc reactor and bio-adaptive capacitor
Structural integrity: Extreme
Mobility: Reduced compared to standard Iron Man suits
Firepower: Excessive by any reasonable standard
He smirked tiredly. "Excessive is my brand."
The chest core pulsed once, synchronizing fully with the armor's internal systems. Tony watched as the HUD projected onto the inside of the helmet flickered to life, even though no one was wearing it yet.
Neural interface stable. No resonance drift.
That last line made him pause.
"Friday," Tony said quietly, "confirm resonance stability."
"Confirmed," the AI replied. "No harmonic anomalies detected. The system is self-contained."
Tony exhaled. "Good."
He didn't say the other part out loud.
Good that the cosmic musician hadn't nudged this one.
Or maybe he had, just enough to make it work.
Tony stepped closer, resting his palm against the armor's forearm. It was warm. Alive with energy. But steady. Obedient.
"This thing," Tony murmured, "isn't a hero suit. It's a line in the sand."
Mars. The Zerg. The inevitability of something coming that even the Avengers might not be enough to stop.
He remembered the footage. The café. The music. The way the instruments moved like they were listening.
And how the Zergbuster had hummed in response.
Tony straightened.
"If sound can shape reality," he said to the empty lab, "then let's see what raw human stubbornness can do."
He snapped his fingers.
The platform beneath the suit shifted, mechanical arms locking into place. The armor split open down the center, interior systems lighting up in response to his presence.
"Friday," Tony said, tone sharpening into something focused and dangerous, "log this as official completion. Designation: CMC Powered Combat Suit, Mark One."
"Logged," Friday replied. "Congratulations, sir."
Tony stepped toward the open armor, then stopped.
He hesitated.
For just a second.
Because once he tested this, there was no pretending this was theoretical anymore. No hiding behind simulations. This meant the war on Mars was no longer a distant problem.
It was personal.
Tony smiled thinly.
"Guess we're really doing this."
He stepped inside.
The armor closed around him with a heavy, final clang that echoed through the workshop like a declaration.
Systems came online. Servos locked. Weapons armed but restrained.
Tony flexed one hand.
The suit answered instantly.
He felt heavier. Slower. Stronger.
Unstoppable.
"Alright," Tony said, voice now filtered through layers of steel. "Let's see what you can do."
Far away, beyond Earth's atmosphere, beyond Mars, beyond the reach of human sensors, something ancient shifted its attention.
The Zerg hive mind felt it.
Not sound.
Not fear.
Resistance.
And somewhere else entirely, Erik paused mid-step, head tilting as a new vibration entered the universe's song.
Metal. Resolve. Human defiance given form.
He smiled faintly.
The stage was being set.
And the first soldier had just armored up.
__________
__________
And that's all for today. Honestly thank you all for the powerstones. It means I'm doing at least something right. Thank you all again.
Also this novel is going to be a slow burner at times. There will be times it speeds up to get to new plots and all but since it will be a slow burner expect a lot of chapters for this fanfic.
Hope you all enjoyed it and as always any questions or concerns leave a comment.