Cecil stood in front of the main display with his hands clasped behind his back and watched the footage in silence — the garden, the Mauler Twins, the Guardians, and then the other thing. The green thing. The thing that had fallen out of nowhere, absorbed a sustained energy barrage without flinching, and then run through a perimeter fence, a parked vehicle, and the front wall of a coffee establishment on Pennsylvania Avenue like they were stage props.
He watched it three times.
— Pull everything — he said.
Donald was already moving.
— Satellites have partial coverage from the moment of arrival — he said, fingers moving across the console. — No atmospheric entry signature. No aircraft. No portal consistent with any catalogued metahuman or alien technology we have on file. He just — appeared. Mid-air. Approximately two hundred feet above the north lawn.
— Appeared.
— Yes sir.
Cecil looked at the freeze frame Donald had pulled up. The figure standing in the crater, one hand raised, entirely unbothered by the smoking impact around it.
— Source of origin?
— Unknown. We've cross-referenced the physical profile against every catalogued metahuman phenotypes, genetic experiments on file including Mauler, Lizard League and Dr. Seismic's work. — Donald paused. — Nothing.
— Weaponry?
— None observed. No projectiles, no energy discharge, no equipment of any kind.
— Threat assessment?
Donald pulled up a secondary screen. Footage, slowed down and enhanced — the barrage from the Mauler Twin's cannon, frame by frame. The rounds hitting. The figure not moving.
— The Mauler Twin's cannon fires compressed energy rounds at approximately forty kilojoules per projectile. — Donald let that sit for a second. — The subject sustained direct fire for eleven seconds across the face and upper body. No visible damage. No response. Ricochets suggest the rounds were deflecting off a surface with a hardness coefficient we can't currently calculate.
Silence in the room.
One of the analysts cleared her throat.
— Sir — she said carefully — he also crossed approximately ninety feet of open ground in under half a second.
Cecil didn't react visibly. He never reacted visibly. It was, Donald had always thought, either a tremendous professional discipline or a mild neurological condition.
Donald switched feeds. External camera, Pennsylvania Avenue. The moment of impact, the fence, the car, the window.
— The Mauler Twin he intercepted weighs approximately eight hundred and forty pounds — Donald said. — The subject moved him through three separate structures without losing meaningful velocity.
He pulled up two windows side by side without being asked. On the left, the subject crossing ninety feet in under half a second. On the right, Red Rush's documented top speed from the Detroit incident eighteen months ago — the fastest baseline they had on any active Guardian.
The timestamps didn't compare well.
— He's faster than Red Rush — the analyst said quietly.
Nobody argued with her.
Donald pulled up another comparison. Omni-man's durability benchmarks from the '09 Kaiju incident — the most punishment any catalogued friendly had ever absorbed and walked away from. He put it next to eleven seconds of Mauler cannon fire deflecting off green carapace like interference.
Cecil looked at both screens for a long moment.
— His durability is comparable to that of Omni-Man— Donald said. The words came out carefully, like he was still deciding whether he believed them.
The room absorbed that.
Then, from the back station —
— Sir. Omni-Man is en route from the engagement perimeter. — A brief pause. — ETA ten seconds.
Cecil didn't hesitate.
— Patch me through.
Donald was already on it. The comm channel opened with a low crackle — the specific frequency they used for Omni-Man, encrypted, direct.
Cecil spoke before Nolan could.
— Nolan. The subject currently outside the coffee shop on Pennsylvania. Do not engage until we've established intent.
A beat of static.
— I'm looking at him right now — Omni-Man's voice came back, even, measured, carrying that particular quality it always carried — like the concept of urgency was something he'd heard about but never personally experienced.
— Then keep looking — Cecil said. — Whoever he is...— He paused, just briefly. — He's faster than Red Rush. And almost as durable as you.
Silence on the channel.
Cecil let it sit. Let Nolan run those numbers himself.
— Are you sure? — Omni-Man asked.
Cecil continued looking to the display. On screen, the green figure was still standing outside the ruined coffee shop, looking up, apparently in no particular hurry about anything.
— Yes. — Cecil Said Finally.