**
In the private quarters of Queen Bee, the air was heavy with intoxicating perfumes. The sovereign of Bialya stood before a screen, her delicate fingers tracing the cold surface displaying stolen footage. Footage of Utopian.
A triumphant, possessive smile illuminated her flawlessly beautiful face.
"My dear Marcus..." she purred, her voice a saccharine poison. "Look at you, become so... brilliant. So powerful. Compound V did more than create a mere soldier. It created a god. And you belong to me."
Her joy was palpable, a shiver of pure satisfaction. To see her creation, her Project M, performing on the world stage, dominating adversaries like Metallo... It was the ultimate proof of her genius. He was the living showcase of her power, even if the world was ignorant of it.
But this joy was quickly tinged with another, darker, more burning emotion. A cold wrath.
"But you flew from your cage, my beautiful bird," she whispered, her smile twisting. "You wear new clothes. You call yourself 'Utopian'. You fight for them. For those pathetic heroes who see you as nothing but a tool."
Her fist clenched, her perfect nails digging into her palms.
"They taint you. They steal you. They persuade you that you are one of them. That you have a choice."
She rose, her gaze drifting to the window as if she could see across continents to Tokyo.
"You have forgotten your true place. By my side. You have forgotten who gifted you this perfection."
The wrath rose, a possessive, green fire. Every time she saw him intervene, save strangers, smile at that Hawkgirl, it was a sting. An insult. It was her creation bestowing his favors upon others.
"Do you think you can deny me?" she said, her voice becoming a dangerous murmur once more. "Do you think I will let you play the hero in your little idealistic world? No, my dear Marcus. No."
She turned to Psimon, who waited silently in the shadows, his transparent skull pulsing faintly.
"Psimon. It is time to remind him. To remind him where he came from. And to whom he belongs. Find a way. Use Intergang. Use any tool at our disposal. I want him to understand that every life he saves is a gift from me. That he is merely an extension of my will."
Her smile returned, but it was cruel now, laden with unsavory promises.
"The world will soon see that its new 'hero' is but a puppet. And I will be holding the strings once more. His wrath, his joy, his power... it all belongs to me. And I will take back what is mine."