The cold bit hard at the windows of the GDA's northernmost testing facility, buried beneath meters of reinforced steel and permafrost. Outside, the sky was a smeared, pale grey, snow cutting sideways across a frozen wasteland. Inside, it was silent, except for the hum of machines and the occasional hiss of breath against glass.
Cecil Stedman stood at the center of the control room, his one good eye locked on a wall of monitors that tracked a single figure.
"He's holding at Mach 2.5," Donald Ferguson reported, eyes flicking from console to readouts. "Oxygen intake stabilizing. Core body temperature adapting again."
Cecil nodded slowly. "And the terrain?"
Donald hesitated. "Destroyed. Permafrost fractured over two kilometers back. Sonic pressure is shattering ice sheets before he even reaches them."
"And his suit?"
"Still holding. Woven kevlar-carbon blend. Prototype. Heat-resistant, friction-resistant, and built to handle compression from hypersonic velocity. But even this one's starting to show micro-tears."
Cecil raised an eyebrow. "How fast is too fast?"
Donald didn't answer right away. Then, quietly: "We don't know yet."
Cecil smirked, just a little. "Well… let's find out."
He turned back to the monitors, watching the orange blur streak across the ice like a meteor.
"Any correlation to the Atom Eve file?"
Donald brought up the secondary display. "There's overlap in their genetic templates. Both have adaptive molecular pathways. Eve alters matter at will Jonathan adapts to stress instead. The faster he moves, the more his body modifies itself to survive it. Heat, air pressure, friction, even perception."
"Fascinating," Cecil murmured. "Almost poetic. Eve changes the world around her. He changes himself."
Jonathan's POV
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His name was Jonathan Wilkins. Sixteen years old. Sort of. Technically older, if you counted his first life.
He remembered dying. Then waking up in a baby's body. Inside a bright, sterile room. Cold hands. Shocked voices. And a reflection, orange hair, freckles, and glowing eyes.
He'd been reborn into one of his favorite shows. Invincible. And not just anywhere—inside the Global Defense Agency.
As Atom Eve's younger brother. Well technically atleast.
Mach 3.2. The snow lifted in walls. The earth beneath his feet quaked. The air shattered into concentric rings that pulsed away like shockwaves. Every step sent spiderwebs through the ice below.
His body adapted instantly. Muscles hardened. Bones flexed. Even his organs reconfigured, syncing with the force of every impact. Blood vessels thickened. Skin grew more durable. His eyes adjusted to the bending of light around him.
He didn't have a Speed Force or magic or divine tech. Just raw motion—and a body that refused to die from it.
Mach 3.9.
He gritted his teeth. "Okay... One more push."
Mach 4.0.
And then he stopped.
He dug both feet into the ice and braced every muscle. Pain exploded through his legs as the ground split beneath him. The force of his deceleration triggered a quake that shook the Arctic shelf. A massive slab of ice behind him rose, cracked, and collapsed into itself.
He staggered, panting. Steam rose from his shoulders. His goggles were cracked. The suit along his back hissed where the fibers had burned. But he was still standing, Barely.
Guess that's my limit today...
Mach 4. Earthquake. Three busted drones. One dead polar bear... sorry, buddy.
"He stopped," Donald said, breathless.
Cecil rubbed his chin. "I noticed."
"Do we send in the retrieval team?"
"Not yet." Cecil looked back at the monitor. "He's still absorbing kinetic feedback. Let him cool off."
Donald looked down at the trembling seismograph. "If he ever loses control—"
"He'll level a city," Cecil finished. "That's the gamble."
He took a slow drag of his cigarette, then exhaled into the cold recycled air.