It was supposed to be a quiet year.
"Aaah... do you hear that, Banner? That's the sound of peace," Owen said as he sank into the couch of the new Vitae base.
For the first time since their arrival, everything around them was calm. There were no more soldiers patrolling the halls every few minutes like in a traditional military base. Although they were still technically part of the army, this place wasn't completely isolated—if backup was needed, it would arrive quickly. After all, they were a special subdivision. But they didn't answer to the usual chain of command. Their only direct superior was Nathaniel, and he... only answered to the President. Sometimes, not even that. That old con man had managed to manipulate even the Commander-in-Chief.
"What are you talking about?" Banner asked, confused, setting aside the tablet with Owen's training reports. Lately, he'd been in charge of monitoring his progress and stat levels.
"That after Thor's little incident, I'm pretty sure we're in for a nice, quiet year," Owen said with a relaxed smile.
Banner stared at him for a few seconds with a neutral expression, as if analyzing just how stupid he could be, then went back to the data. He was already used to Owen and his occasional nonsense. The important thing was that when things got serious, Owen was reliable. And ruthless.
An interesting contrast for a soldier. According to Owen, it was the serum's fault. But seeing the other guy lying like a starfish in the corner of the room, Banner had his doubts. Owen and Nicolás had been raised and trained together since they were kids. Both forged by the same man. Both enhanced. And yet… so different.
"Owen... this world is rotten. It just needs to be destroyed," Nicolás muttered, lying flat on the floor and staring blankly at the ceiling.
It was a fascinating contrast. Raised like brothers, and yet opposites. Banner couldn't help but wonder if General Nathaniel had broken something inside them during training—something that couldn't be fixed.
"What happened to you?" Owen asked, leaning on the armrest of the couch and glancing down at him.
"I met a fiery woman... but she... I don't want to talk about it," Nicolás said, turning his head away, half his face hidden by his arm.
"Alright," Owen muttered, shifting to get more comfortable, ready to enjoy the silence.
"I'll tell you!" Nicolás suddenly exclaimed, sitting up with a dramatic jolt. He stayed on the floor, staring at Owen with intense eyes. "She was absolutely stunning. Her body looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves—the real gods, not Thor, that wrinkled alien. Her red hair lit up like a sunset inside my heart. And her smile... ah, her smile was all I needed to live. Love at first sight."
He paused theatrically before continuing.
"When I saw her, I couldn't stop fantasizing. But it was like she read every dirty thought in my head... she made a face of pure disgust and walked away. Just like that!"
He slammed his hand on the floor, clearly upset.
"And then that damn guy with the red sunglasses swooped in to flirt with her! I should blast him with the antimatter cannon—boom, boom!" he shouted, making wild hand gestures of explosions and people running in panic.
"Red sunglasses?" Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's what you care about!? I'm telling you about the love of my life!" Nicolás shouted, furious. "And yes! Weird red sunglasses. He didn't even take them off inside the damn store. I can't imagine how he sees anything with that permanent red filter from hell..."
"Mmm. Yeah. Quiet year. Ignore everything else," Owen mumbled, then threw a pillow at Nicolás's face and lay back down on the couch, perfectly satisfied.
"How are my favorite minions doing?" said Tony as he walked in through the door, arms wide open and smiling as usual.
"And there goes my peace..." Owen sighed, closing his eyes.
"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds rude. And I came to bring you new weapons," Tony said, taking off his black sunglasses and slipping them into the inner pocket of his suit.
"Weapons?" Nicolás asked, jumping to his feet. His eyes weren't shining with childish excitement, but with the kind of tension that only someone eager to use them in the field carried.
"Yeah, but I'm giving Owen's first. Yours can wait a little longer," Tony said, throwing a firm glance in Nicolás's direction.
Just then, Rhodey entered behind him, visibly annoyed, carrying several heavy steel cases.
"You know you could help me, right? I'm not your damn porter," he grumbled, slamming the cases onto the table.
"I already gave you an upgraded armor set. That thing was more expensive than all of theirs. You're paying with labor," Tony replied with his usual smug grin.
"And now, for my favorite soldier," Tony declared as he looked at Owen, opening the case with unnecessary theatrical flair. "That material you got me was hell to melt. I had to simulate a freaking sun on Earth. But since it's me... easy."
Inside the case lay two dark, double-edged daggers resting on black foam. They were larger than Owen's old military knives, polished and perfectly balanced even at a glance. Beside them was a pair of reinforced tactical gloves with metallic slots at the wrists—clear upgrades from the old wristbands that used to anchor his steel cables.
"Each cable is now twenty meters long. Designing them without losing tension or speed was hell. But I did it," Tony said, grabbing one of the daggers and hurling it toward the wall.
The blade pierced through the concrete effortlessly and lodged deep. Then Tony grabbed one of the gloves and gave a slight twist at the wrist. A soft vibration echoed. The dagger trembled—then launched itself back at him, tearing chunks of wall along the way and smashing through the table, knocking over the case.
"Ahem… maybe I should tone down the force a bit," Tony admitted, slightly embarrassed.
"No. If you tone it down, I lose speed, right? It's perfect like this," Owen said with an excited smile, picking up the gloves from the floor.
"If you say so. I used the same material for the cables—thinner, more durable, and razor sharp, just how you wanted," Tony explained, though Owen had already stopped listening.
With practiced ease, he slipped on the gloves, connected the daggers to the wrist cables, and began spinning them in smooth, rapid arcs. The sharp whistle of metal cutting through air filled the room as the blades danced with deadly precision.
Tony, slightly annoyed at being ignored, stopped talking to Owen for a moment and walked over to the third briefcase. He opened it without much ceremony, revealing neatly folded clothing. One by one, he pulled out three distinct sets. The first was a black tactical suit. At first glance, the material looked sleek, but it had a dense texture—as if it could endure far more than it let on.
He tossed it to Owen, who was still happily spinning his knives.
"Your new gear," Tony announced. "I did the best I could, but I'm not promising miracles. It's still fabric at the end of the day. I'd recommend a full metal suit, but that's more my thing," he added with a shrug.
Then he grabbed a pair of dark military-style pants and a set of sturdy boots, which he tossed toward Banner.
"You're going to thank me. These are designed to withstand Hulk's size shifts. As for the shirt—well, let's just say the big guy would probably tear it apart anyway, so I didn't bother making one," Tony said with a grin.
"No. This is exactly what I need," Banner replied, picking up the black pants with side pockets and the reinforced boots. His smile was genuine.
Tony turned to Nicolás, who was staring at him with poorly concealed anticipation.
"Well, that's it. I'm out," Tony said, spinning on his heel with theatrical flair.
"Wait, wait! What about me? Nothing for me?" Nicolás protested, clearly annoyed.
"Oh, right... your specs were kind of ridiculous, if I'm being honest," Tony replied with a mocking smile. "Shooting coins? What are you, a kid?"
"Hey! That was your idea," Nicolás shot back, indignant. "I said a handheld electromagnetic railgun that shoots metal fragments like copper. I never said coins!"
"Which is why I made it that way. Easy," Tony replied, opening the last briefcase with a proud expression.
Inside was a medium-sized futuristic weapon, with glowing blue lines running along its body. Beside it was a cylindrical power cell and a set of metallic coins stamped with the letter "V."
"Coins?" Owen asked, finally paying attention.
"They're great magnetic conductors. Cheaper than bullets… and way cooler," Tony said, puffing his chest with pride.
"Wow..." Nicolás whispered, picking up the weapon like it was sacred treasure. His eyes sparkled as he examined every detail, like a kid holding his very first toy.
"By the way, I used a bit of that material you brought back to upgrade my armor. Hope the General doesn't mind," Tony added, feigning innocence.
"I don't," said a sudden voice—firm and unexpected—that made everyone jump… everyone except Owen, who had already sensed his arrival.
Nathaniel stood at the entrance, wearing his usual calm expression and a faint, knowing smile.
"Old man, you really have to stop doing that," Nicolás said, clutching his chest and catching his breath.
"Sharpen your senses," the General replied flatly. He stepped further into the room, scanning the briefcases and new gear with a critical eye. "Looks like everything arrived just in time."
Everyone frowned. Especially Owen.
"Don't worry. I just need Owen. You guys can keep playing," Nathaniel said before turning and walking out with the same calm stride.
The rest of the team turned their eyes toward Owen, their faces full of mockery.
"Bring me back a souvenir," Nicolás said, stifling a laugh.
Owen just rolled his eyes, then stood up and followed the General.
—
"How's your training going?" Nathaniel asked as they walked down a polished concrete hallway.
"Fine. At this point, I think I could take a punch from Hulk and only break half my bones. Maybe twice the strength of the old Captain America," Owen replied casually, adjusting the new gloves. "Just tell me what mission needs only me. I'm sure it's a pain."
"It's actually quite simple. But if anyone else attempted it, they'd ruin it. I want you to go to a place called the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning and find out everything you can. There's some strange data I need to confirm," Nathaniel said, his tone serious.
"Institute? Wait… Xavier? Are you talking about... mutants?" Owen asked, stopping mid-step.
Nathaniel also stopped. His face tightened.
"How do you know that? I only found out this morning. The top brass didn't even know the school existed until a week ago. It just... appeared. The weirdest part is everyone swears that place was empty for years."
"And what the hell are mutants?" he added, genuinely curious.
Now Owen looked just as confused.
"It appeared out of nowhere… a week ago?" he repeated, brows furrowed.
"That's right. Apparently, the site used to be an underground AIM facility. One of their experiments went wrong a month ago and the place was abandoned. But seven days ago, a damn mansion just appeared. Big. Complete. Perfect. And the worst part: everyone sent to investigate comes back calm. With almost no useful intel," Nathaniel explained.
Owen listened in silence. Then he stepped back a few paces, toward an open space where he could see the dark night sky between the exterior walls.
He raised his arms to the sky and shouted:
"Aaaaaah! It was supposed to be a quiet year!"
Nathaniel watched from the shadows, a faint smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, Owen was finally starting to crack.
"I think I'd better send someone to prep the chopper," he said at last, turning back toward the interior corridors. "You leave at dawn."
Owen let out a long sigh, lowering his arms as he faced the General again.
"Perfect. Magic mansion. Secret school… all the things a guy like me loves investigating," he muttered sarcastically, though his expression had already hardened—he was ready.
Nathaniel gave a single nod, satisfied, and vanished into the hallway shadows without another word.
Owen stayed there for a few more seconds, staring at the starry sky, lost in thought. Then he turned, adjusted his gloves, and muttered under his breath:
"They're not even supposed to be part of this cinematic universe."
And with that, he walked off toward the dorms. He had only a few hours left to sleep—and a brand new problem to unravel.