Utopian's return was accompanied by a profound change within him. The Compound V, stimulated by his ordeal, had completed its work, forging him into a being with stabilized, even enhanced, abilities. But this new power needed to be tamed.
His first few days back, he stuck to simple missions: rescues, surveillance, getting back into the rhythm. But a new energy coursed through him, demanding to be channeled. He needed to test his limits.
Watchtower
The door to the main training room slid open, revealing a scene far different from what he remembered. The space, once fairly sparse, was now a hive of activity. Heroes he didn't recognize trained side-by-side: a young man in green wielded an energy staff with stunning agility, while a woman with violet hair lifted massive weights using telekinetic force.
Utopian: Whoa! There are a lot more people...
A man wearing a simple T-shirt and a cap, but whose eyes shone with sharp intelligence, approached him with an outstretched hand.
Mister Terrific: Hello. I'm Mister Terrific. And you must be Utopian. Welcome aboard.
Utopian, shaking his hand: Yes, thanks. I see there are new faces. The League has expanded.
Mister Terrific: So have the challenges. It's good to see you operational. I heard about your... adventure in Bialya.
Utopian nodded, his gaze sweeping the room. Then his eyes landed on the most recognizable figure, training alone in a corner: Superman, hammering a one-meter-thick alloy punching bag with blows that made the floor tremble.
Utopian: Has he been at it long?
Mister Terrific: A while. He was waiting.
A silence fell between them. Superman stopped his assault, turned, and met Utopian's gaze. A silent message passed. It wasn't a challenge, but an invitation. An offer.
Superman: You look fit, Marcus. Word is you stood off an entire army.
Utopian, walking closer: The Compound V finished its work, it seems. I feel... different. More stable.
Superman: In that case, you need to get to know this new you. Nothing better than a sparring partner who can take a hit.
A smile spread across Utopian's lips. This was exactly what he needed.
Utopian: Are you proposing what I think you are?
Superman: The high-density training room is free. Unless you're afraid of getting your suit dirty.
The challenge was issued. Around them, training had gradually ceased. Flash had appeared, munching on a sandwich, Mister Terrific crossed his arms, looking interested. Even Batman was present, observing from the mezzanine, a motionless silhouette in the shadows.
Minutes later, inside the reinforced spherical room, the two men faced each other. Neither wore a smile. This was serious.
Superman: Show me what you're capable of now.
Utopian took a deep breath, feeling the energy flow through him, perfectly controlled. Then, in a movement too fast for the naked eye, he lunged.
The first impact shook the room's energy shields. This wasn't a fight; it was a test. A dialogue of power. A way for Utopian to find himself again, and for the League to measure the extent of their new asset.