Fury's POV
"The last vaccine batch has been prepared and installed, sir," Hill said. "Ready for global deployment at a moment's notice."
I offered Hill a short nod, trying not to show how much relief flooded me in the presence of the Novan Ambassador, Ne'va. She had been sent down after the discovery of the Red Death and had been pleasantly surprised by the progress we had made—that is to say, discovering the cure already.
She had freely provided rocket technology that the Nova Empire once used to terraform the atmosphere of a small moon, and Dante had supercharged it, much to the surprise and horror of the Ambassador and the scientists watching, then proceeded to cover the rockets with glowing runes that were supposed to help the aerosolized vaccine spread further, mesh with the global population, and grant a modest health boost.
It had taken him seven days and seven nights to charge all 6,000 rockets, and nearly as long to fill them with the new vaccines, which we had all taken.
We were ready to deploy them and end this global catastrophe before it became an issue, but Dante had insisted that we wait and put on a front of desperation while we scrambled in secret and prepared our attack.
The headquarters were covered with runes that amplified the anti-mind-control technology the Novans had brought to ensure complete secrecy, and Dante had provided rings to everyone intimately involved with the project, granting absolute protection, a panic button that alerted him, his Widows, the Avengers, and my team, as well as keeping our minds perfectly calm and refreshed.
It was, quite frankly, obscene, and I had not wanted to take advantage of it, but as Hill and Captain Marvel had rightfully pointed out, we were well past the point of no return.
Ne'va, unlike me, did not share my reservations. In fact, she was practically over the moon at the prospect and had nearly begun frothing at the mouth when she heard that he planned on loaning us armor that would allow our super soldiers to keep up with the strongest of the demons.
It was a big part of why she had insisted on coming today.
I had been looking forward to this day for nearly sixty years.
The Prometheus Project was finally complete, and on the eve of humanity's greatest battle.
"Alright," Betty said softly in front of me. "Double-check the clamps, and everybody clear out."
Andrea, the Xandrian xenobiologist, one of her closest confidants, stood behind her. Beside me, Ambassador Ne'va watched in great anticipation, and behind her, Senator Kane, Pierce's replacement, and all of the members of the World Council sat at a raised table, exchanging whispers among themselves.
I had debated whether to tell them about the project at all, but our agreement with the Novans demanded some level of oversight, and they were it—ill-equipped and overeager as they were.
Above us, in the skies over the desert base, Dante and Captain Marvel waited, ready to intervene should Lauren attack.
And finally, Captain America—the man the entire process had been modeled after—watched with visible trepidation.
Scientists and technicians scurried out of the testing chambers where our volunteers lay in equidistant pods reminiscent of Captain America's own, except ours were fashioned out of vibranium to better contain the inevitable energetic outpouring. They were being infused with power from the Infinity Stone and gamma radiation, Armando Muñoz's genetics, as well as the exotic chemicals that had first transformed Steve Rogers.
The metal restraints gripped them tightly, and IVs were attached to specific major arteries. They were already in a great deal of pain, and this was only the beginning.
"Gentlemen. Ladies. Are you sure you want this?" Betty asked, causing me to frown slightly. Natasha had shared Betty's reservations about the entire process—the war implications, the greed. I had anticipated all of this, and the Council members had signed treaties. A new soldier could only be created if four of the five members of the World Council aligned, and even then, it was up to Betty, who could, at a moment's notice, decide to scrub all memory of the formula from her mind should she be threatened or captured. I had other failsafes in case all of these scenarios happened, but I doubted anyone could get close, not with the protection detail she now had.
The soldiers were sworn to serve all nations, not just one, like Captain America.
He was also their Commander-in-Chief and was slated to receive an infusion himself, something far more comprehensive and high-risk. Dante had promised to oversee it personally.
"We are ready," Sergeant Walker shouted. He had the highest PT scores ever recorded in the Army, had earned three Purple Hearts, and had experience in black ops, managing to emerge without PTSD. He was the best America had, and the President's personal pick.
Each member of the World Council had selected a candidate.
"Born… to do this," Wei Li said. He was the Chinese Councilwoman's choice.
The British officer, Gwen, also gave her approval, alongside the choices of the remaining two members.
Andrea did not bother with the Novan volunteers. Two of them were human, one was pure Xandarian, and the last was a mix of Xandarian and human. The diversity confused me, but we had been assured that they were all perfectly suited for the procedure.
Betty took a steady breath. "Well, here goes nothing."
She pressed a button on her console, and the serums were pumped into the volunteers. The screams were loud enough to make you shudder in sympathetic pain—wild, and barely human. The light show began almost immediately. Veins pulsed, teeth shattered and broke, bones snapped and lengthened. Their entire biology was rewritten right before our eyes, all while I watched with a detached horror, the sight forever seared into my mind. I was certain more than a few onlookers would need therapy after this ordeal, not that they would be allowed to seek it.
Betty covered her mouth. Ne'va recoiled as the light began to pour out of their mouths and bodies, just as Andrea had predicted it would. No one was unaffected. Even Captain America looked conflicted. With his fist clenched and his jaw set, he might have burst into the room if I had allowed it. One of the World Council members nearly toppled out of their seat.
Andrea was the most unbothered. She leaned forward with curious, eager eyes. Meanwhile, Maria Hill tried to copy me, watching it all unfold with a manufactured detachment long perfected through years of service.
They were going to be fine. We had taken every single precaution.
One by one, the light faded as the serums stopped flowing, the subjects tipping forward bonelessly. The process had completely exhausted them.
But one was different.
He continued glowing seconds after the others had stopped, the rapid physical changes seemingly accelerating. He had gone from an average soldier to a respectable bodybuilder, and now to a genetic anomaly. The blue light shifted, transforming into gold, the same shade as his hair.
A frown crossed Andrea's face as she looked at Betty.
"Tell me the serum is supposed to do that?" I asked, stepping forward, my hand drifting toward the panic rune on the ring Dante had gifted me.
"I… didn't—This shouldn't be happening."
"My calculations were accurate," Andrea said, anger flashing across her perfect face. She glanced down at the screen, then back up at the glowing man. "He must have kept something off his scans."
I blinked. How? Walker had been the cleanest of the bunch. He was as close to Captain America as you could get. He had even volunteered specifically for this mission because of the kids. He could not stand that they were suffering in Limbo.
Maybe it was a dormant X-gene. No, we would have caught that. It certainly was not something he ate. We had been monitoring them for days. Or maybe it was Lauren. But Dante had checked them all extensively.
However, this had happened, one thing was clear. Walker was unstable now, and everyone here was in danger. I hated to do this to someone so good, but he had known the risks.
I tapped my ring.
It was as if Dante had been in the containment room the entire time. His new armor was taking some getting used to. It had segmented, dull metal plates and shone with pulsing runes that seemed almost ethereal. He wore no helmet, and his wild hair whipped around, pushed by the surging energy.
And then they were both gone.
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