The Warehouse - London
It was mostly empty, save for a single, humming machine in the center.
It stood a meter tall, glowing with a soft, ominous blue light.
It was a localized nuclear reactor, a compact version of the one his father, Sebastian Shaw, would famously use in the future.
Ernst ran a hand over the cold metal casing.
"If the Americans knew I had a functional fission reactor sitting in a London basement two years before Trinity," he thought with a smirk,
"Oppenheimer would have a stroke."
He connected a heavy set of copper cables to the output terminals.
He stripped his shirt, revealing a lean, defined physique.
"Time to feed," Ernst whispered.
He gripped the live cables.
Zzzzt.
He didn't scream. He didn't burn.
As the high-voltage current hit his palms, his mutant biology took over.
The electricity didn't shock him; it nourished him.
It flowed through his nerves like water through a riverbed, saturating every cell with pure potential energy.
He avoided the nuclear core itself, radiation was a variable he hadn't tested yet, but the electrical output was more than enough.
Ten minutes later, Ernst let go.
The cables smoked, drained.
His skin felt tight, buzzing with power.
He dropped into a stance, the one Lady Shiva had drilled into his muscle memory in the simulation.
He moved.
Whoosh.
His fist snapped out. He wasn't aiming at anything, just shadowboxing.
But the air cracked like a whip.
BOOM.
A shockwave rippled through the warehouse, rattling the corrugated iron roof.
Dust rained down from the rafters.
Ernst looked at his hand. He hadn't touched anything, but the air pressure alone had created a sonic boom.
"Control," Ernst muttered, flexing his fingers.
"I have too much torque."
He walked over to a metal workbench to pick up a towel.
He gripped the edge of the table casually.
CRUNCH.
The solid steel bent like wet clay under his fingers.
Ernst sighed. This was the "Superman problem."
He was living in a world of cardboard.
If he didn't master this new density, he would tear a door off its hinges every time he opened one.
"Master Ernst!"
The door burst open. Kerry and Azazel rushed in, weapons drawn.
"We heard an explosion!" Kerry shouted, scanning the room for threats.
"Relax, Kerry," Ernst said, holding up his hands.
"Just a workout. I... miscalculated my output."
Kerry looked at the bent steel table, then at the smoking cables.
He swallowed hard.
"I see. Perhaps we should reinforce the gymnasium walls. More money."
One Month Later
For thirty days, Ernst lived in the warehouse.
He treated his body like a machine that needed calibration.
He practiced the bio-feedback techniques he had learned in the simulation, using his mind to direct the absorbed energy.
Instead of letting it sit on the surface, he pushed it deep into his bones and muscle fibers, increasing his density.
By the end of the month, his base strength was five times that of an Olympic athlete.
And that was without actively absorbing kinetic energy.
"We are done here," Ernst announced, buttoning his shirt.
He turned to Kerry.
"Maintain the estate. Keep the scanners on Greenwich. And Kerry?"
"Sir?"
"I have the formula for the Serum. When I return to the Alps, I will synthesize a variant for you. It won't make you a super-soldier, but it will triple your vitality and extend your lifespan by decades. You've earned it."
Kerry's eyes widened. He bowed deeply, his voice thick with emotion.
"Thank you, Master Ernst. I will serve you for as long as I have breath."
"Azazel," Ernst nodded.
The mutant grabbed his shoulder.
BAMF.
Hellfire Club Headquarters - New York
They materialized in a plush, velvet-draped office.
The air smelled of expensive cigars and ambition.
Sebastian Shaw stood behind his desk. He looked up, not startled, but delighted.
"Ernst!" Shaw boomed, spreading his arms.
"My prodigal son returns. And looking... sharper."
Ernst walked forward and embraced his father.
"It was a productive trip, Father."
"I heard whispers," Shaw said, eyeing Ernst with a predator's curiosity.
"Hydra is frantic. Schmidt thinks you're still in his lab, working diligently. You have a talent for being in two places at once."
"I have a talent for planning," Ernst corrected.
He spotted a surgical scalpel on Shaw's desk, a remnant of Shaw's own amateur dissections.
Ernst picked it up. He tossed it high into the air.
As it spun down, point-first, Ernst didn't dodge.
He held his palm open, flat.
Thwack.
The razor-sharp blade struck his palm. It didn't pierce.
It didn't even scratch.
It bounced off his skin with a metallic clink, as if it had hit a tank hull.
Shaw's eyes lit up. He walked around the desk, grabbing Ernst's hand and inspecting the unblemished skin.
"Energy Absorption," Shaw whispered, a grin spreading across his face.
"You have it!!"
"Unlocked it," Ernst corrected.
"And improved it."
Ernst placed his hands on Shaw's temples.
"I didn't just come back to show off, Father. I brought you a gift. You have been using it wrong."
"Wrong?" Shaw scoffed.
"I am invincible."
"You are a battery," Ernst said.
"You take energy and you release it. But if you turn that energy inward... if you use it to reinforce the molecular bonds of your own cells..."
It wasn't magic; it was advanced bio-physics.
He showed Shaw how to create a static feedback loop, turning his skin into an impenetrable barrier that didn't just absorb energy, but hardened against it instantly.
Shaw gasped, his eyes rolling back as the information flooded his brain.
————
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