Summary: The body is brought to a hidden S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Scientists note impossible biological readings. Before they can begin analysis, the man's heart slams once—and his eyes open.
"…I'm telling you, those veins were glowing," Ramsey repeated for the fifth time, shivering in his towel as technicians moved past him.
Director Fury didn't respond. He just stared through the reinforced glass at the thing in the containment unit below.
The body—transported under extreme security—now lay in a pressure-stabilized thermal pod, housed in a remote S.H.I.E.L.D. facility carved into the edge of the Greenland Shelf. Medical drones buzzed around it like curious bees.
The man inside hadn't moved since extraction.
Chest bare. Skin pale with an almost ceramic sheen. Faint crimson lines ran beneath his arms, down his ribs, and spiderwebbed up his throat like veins filled with molten wire. His muscles were lean, compact, unnaturally coiled—as if still braced for impact.
"Dr. Keller," Fury said. "Vitals?"
Dr. Keller, mid-40s and terrified, adjusted her tablet. "Sir, I… there are no vitals."
Fury turned to her slowly.
She swallowed hard. "No heartbeat. No breathing. No signs of metabolic activity. But… we're picking up neural static."
"Explain."
"Like a broken radio," she said. "There's no conscious brain function, but every few minutes something pulses. Almost like a—like a reflex being fired by a dying battery."
From inside the pod, a flicker of movement—no, not movement. A spasm. Just once. A finger twitched.
The drones paused.
The light above the chamber flickered.
Keller froze. "Did anyone touch—?"
Then it happened.
WHAM.
The sound rang out like a cannon blast.
The body had slammed against the pod wall—just once. No build-up. No transition from rest. From fully still to impact. The glass webbed with cracks.
Alarms screamed.
Fury didn't blink.
"Sedate him," Keller yelled, backing away. "Now, now, hit the chamber—"
Inside, the man opened his eyes.
The red glow from his veins flared. And for a second—just a second—they weren't veins at all.
They looked like cracks in something breaking.
... ---------------...
The second his eyes opened, the pod exploded.
Not outward—inward. The reinforced glass didn't shatter from pressure—it was pulled inward like it had caved to something deeper than physics.
A security bot went flying. Alarms howled.
The man stepped from the smoke.
Barefoot. Breathing hard. Red lines now pulsing like they had a heartbeat of their own. His head turned slowly, neck cracking once. No recognition in his face—no confusion, either. Just focus.
A soldier aimed a pulse rifle. "Sir, on the ground—!"
Too late.
Crack.
He was there. One step. Elbow shattered the rifle, and the same motion crumpled the soldier's visor like a soda can. He hit the floor twitching.
"Hostile in motion!" someone screamed over the intercom.
The man didn't run.
He walked—fast, low to the ground, like a predator that hadn't hunted in decades. A security team met him in the hall.
Thirteen seconds later, they were down.
No wasted motion. Every strike broke something—collarbone, jaw, rib, knee. It wasn't violence. It was surgery. A wordless message written in fractures.
Then he reached the final door—thick, titanium, sealed. He raised a palm.
It dented before he even touched it.
And then—it didn't open.
Because someone else was already there.
"Hey."
The voice was calm. Low. Familiar. Like it belonged to the kind of man who didn't raise his voice even during war.
Steve Rogers stood alone, arms lowered, blocking the hallway.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
The man stilled. One foot forward. Shoulders hunched. Breathing sharp.
Steve watched him carefully.
"I don't know who you are," he said. "But I don't think you want to hurt anyone."
The silence hung like a loaded trigger.
The man took another step forward. His hand flexed. Muscles coiled.
Then his eyes met Steve's.
Blue met yellow.
Something flickered.
Not memory. Not thought.
Recognition. Like a buried instinct clashing with something… older.
The man's fingers twitched.
His breathing slowed.
And then—he collapsed.