Vincent was certain: Jean Grey had locked her grief away.
It was a technique high-level telepaths used—suppressing humanity to reveal divinity. Jean hadn't discarded her humanity, but she had temporarily sealed her vulnerability. It took immense skill.
Vincent and Jean talked and laughed like old friends.
Vincent had a gift for conversation. Between his knowledge of his past life (Marvel comics/movies) and his current life, his Psychic Sovereign brain processed information faster than a supercomputer.
His evolved biology meant they were peers.
Eventually, they stopped speaking.
A subtle collision of minds conveyed complex thoughts instantly. Beyond language. Beyond knowledge.
It was a higher-dimensional connection. They had found a peer. A fellow "god."
"You're right. Our views differ, but our altitude is the same," Jean looked at Vincent. "But you seem to prefer... baser things. Like women."
"I exist like a god, but I keep a human heart of flesh and blood," Vincent shrugged. "Never forget your original intention. Never forget where you stand."
Jean nodded thoughtfully.
"Thank you, Vincent. You helped me complete this mental transformation."
Jean had been reborn from death and baptized by this psychic storm. She was different now.
"As we say in my homeland: Finding a true confidant is life's greatest luck," Vincent chuckled.
He had gained much too. Copying Jean's psychic techniques was far more enlightening than copying Xavier's. She was a true god-tier telepath.
Oscorp Lab. Night.
Vincent didn't stay at the villa. Jean was stable, but he didn't want to provoke his other women. Jealousy was dangerous, especially when the jealous woman had the Phoenix Force.
He stood in the lab, looking at Maria Hill inside the stabilization chamber.
Vincent smiled.
This woman was brave. Injecting an experimental serum was risky, but she didn't hesitate because he demanded it.
"Putting herself in a lower position to comply with my wishes?"
"A top-tier agent. I don't like stubborn cows, but I don't fear foxes with hidden agendas."
Hill was a fox. Smart. Purposeful. She was here to monitor him or get something from the Ice Demon.
Vincent guessed she knew about his "deal" with Natasha. To normal people, it was shameful. To Natasha and Hill, it was just another mission parameter. But they weren't easy. Their bodies were weapons; lowering their guard was just a feint to stab you in the heart.
"She is a perfect agent. After the injection, she might rival Steve Rogers," Raven praised, watching the monitors.
"Aren't you worried she'll destroy us?" Vincent asked.
"Her target is you. Why should I worry? You handle her," Raven teased.
"True. The game is more fun this way. We didn't invest billions in gene tech just to play around. We need a profitable product."
Vincent finally admitted his plan. Oscorp wasn't the only player.
He was using his Psychic Sovereign powers to copy Dr. Connors' research remotely. The water magic mark on Connors allowed Vincent to track him anywhere—even deep in a Hydra bunker in Siberia.
Connors and Peter Parker were a gene-tech dream team. Connors had evolved into a Grandmaster of genetics. Hydra had promoted him to Elder status.
But Connors' serums had flaws—they turned people into animal hybrids. Perfect for Hydra monsters, bad for commercial sales.
Hydra still coveted the Super Soldier Serum. They hated that Captain America, their nemesis, was the only success story.
"So, how much do we charge for a Super Soldier?" Raven blinked playfully.
Running Oscorp was expensive. Vincent's experiments burned money. They were leeching off Tesla Lighting to stay afloat.
"Depends on the client's wallet," Vincent smirked.
"The Super Soldier Serum is our flagship product. And with Steve Rogers back, he's the perfect billboard," Raven said, fully embracing her role as a capitalist.
"Exactly. Let Cap do the marketing."
They decided to sell the Super Soldier Serum. It was stable. The Spider Serum was too risky (monster transformation). The Super Soldier Serum was clean.
Vought American was officially setting sail (in spirit).
The chamber opened.
A female researcher handed Hill a robe.
Vincent and Raven didn't look away.
Hill's muscle definition was perfect. Toned, lethal, sexy.
Hill dressed and stood still, marveling at the power surging through her.
"Is this the power of a Super Soldier? How did you do it? S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Military have the formula, but we never perfected it like this," Hill admitted, shocked.
"Genetics is our specialty," Vincent said solemnly.
Raven suppressed a smile. It's all stolen from Connors.
"I understand Mr. Hall's rules," Hill said coldly.
This should have been a moment of joy, but she knew the cost.
"No, no. This is a gift. A free trial for S.H.I.E.L.D.," Raven interjected smoothly. "Our production capacity is limited. If S.H.I.E.L.D. wants more soldiers, we can manufacture them. But the fee is... substantial."
Hill looked at Raven. Ice Demon and Mystique. What a pair.
Hill suppressed her excitement.
The world was changing. Other factions were recruiting mutants. S.H.I.E.L.D. was losing its edge. If they could mass-produce Super Soldiers...
"S.H.I.E.L.D. can pay. But we want exclusivity. Oscorp must only supply us," Hill negotiated calmly.
"Hill, you know that's impossible," Raven rejected coldly.
Vincent watched the two women spar verbally.
"We can pay in ways other than money," Hill said, hinting at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources.
"I prefer money," Vincent sighed, crushing her leverage.
"We will pay. But you must control the numbers!" Hill gritted her teeth.
"Talk to Raven. She's the boss. I don't handle operations," Vincent shrugged.
Raven smiled victoriously.
Central Park Villa. Late Night.
Vincent lay on his favorite sofa.
Gwen wasn't coming tonight; she needed rest. Jean was on a spiritual journey in Africa.
Knock, knock.
Maria Hill stood outside, wearing a trench coat. She composed herself.
She needed an "asset." That was her secondary objective.
She had already sacrificed her shame to get the serum. Now, she needed the Demon's Promise. With her new strength, she was a match for Cap, but she was a child compared to Vincent.
The door opened via telekinesis.
Telekinesis? That's not in his file, Hill noted. He's evolving.
Vincent poured two glasses of Romanee-Conti.
"Welcome, Hill."
He looked like a sunny, handsome college student. It was disarming.
"Nice wine," Hill sipped.
"I don't know wine, but I like this one," Vincent smiled.
"Mr. Hall, you know why I'm here."
Hill stared at him aggressively. She wouldn't beg. It was a transaction.
"If it's about the serum, talk to Raven."
"No. I'm talking about the Demon's Deal," Hill stated firmly.
Slowly, she opened her trench coat.
Underneath, she wore a wild, leopard-print bikini.
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