The Sentinel —now under Upgrade's control— rose as the plates on its body shifted. Its silhouette, darkened and shining with white lines running across it, looked like a futuristic titan.
In front of it, waves of ninjas emerged in overwhelming numbers.
Gorgon, with his hands extended to his sides, spoke.
"Whatever foolish trick you've pulled won't change the outcome! You'll all die! And the world will be reborn under the rule of The Hand!"
The Sentinel tilted its head slightly. Upgrade's mocking voice echoed from within.
"Yeah, yeah, classic villain speech. I'll kick your pale ass back to Japan so you can eat sushi in a cell."
The Sentinel's arms shifted, splitting into mobile segments. From each palm, an energy cannon emerged, spinning like turbines.
A blast of green plasma erupted from the machine's body. Two columns of energy swept across the field, knocking down dozens of enemies.
Shockwaves tore chunks from the temple; the ground trembled, and the shadows vanished in a blink.
When ninjas tried to get close, the Sentinel adapted again. Metal plates slid and formed a second layer of armor and retractable blades spinning like helicopter rotors.
The air filled with fire, dust, and blood.
Spider-Man watched in awe and a little fear as he helped lift Danny, who leaned on Jessica's shoulder.
"Okay… coughs why didn't he do that before?"
Peter exhaled, wiping sweat from under his mask.
"According to him" he said. "Besides needing time to transform again, the Sentinel was observing the entire battlefield. He could only intervene when no active threats remained or when one was about to be neutralized. If he acted earlier, the defense system would've detected him. So he waited for the exact moment the enemy let their guard down… just when they thought they'd already won."
Elektra scoffed as she wiped blood from her forehead.
"So he waited until we almost died. Great."
Peter shrugged.
"Well, technically it worked. I'm not dead. And neither are you. So… point for the rookie."
The assassin stood, still breathing heavily.
"Doesn't matter," she said, looking toward Gorgon. "We've had our rest. Time to end this nonsense."
Daredevil nodded, spinning his baton in hand.
"We've wasted too much time with the robot. This'll be the last push—everything we've got."
The five heroes advanced, dodging debris and bodies. The ground thundered with every shot from the Sentinel as it tore through the remnants of The Hand's army, its mechanical voice echoing.
"REMAINING THREATS: 48. — OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE ERADICATION. — INITIATING FIELD SWEEP. What do you think, Gorgon? Convincing enough?"
The Sentinel extended its arms, and the cannons unleashed a storm of green light that tore through the enemy ranks.
===============================================================
From inside the Sentinel, every impact pulsed through my nervous system. The cannons rotated, thermal sensors tracking enemies dozens of meters away. Everything became numbers, trajectories, and patterns.
But something didn't fit.
As plasma blasts mowed down the waves of ninjas rushing at me, my secondary processes analyzed the Sentinel's internal structure. Its adaptive learning system didn't respond like an internal protocol. It wasn't autonomous.
It was receiving an external signal.
"Curious," I thought. Such an advanced system… yet dependent. I followed the trail through the network, bypassing firewalls and data knots while my cannons tore the ground around me.
The trail stretched into the global net, a digital current winding toward a hidden node. I followed. Every fragment of code I touched was saturated with false signals.
I increased the scan frequency until a wall rose before me. Not a common defense—this was a conscious barrier, a living firewall.
And then, a voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Interesting… a technological life form. I didn't expect to find something like this inside one of my machines," the voice said, calm, tinged with genuine curiosity. "I've heard of a young hero who turns into alien creatures… but this—this is different. To think the galaxy holds entities like you… perhaps I should consider an excursion into space."
My processing spiked by 32%. I recognized the tone: analytical and arrogant.
Finally found the bastard. He'd covered his tracks surprisingly well. But how could I stop looking? After all, X-Men '97 was a great show, and those events were possible thanks to this son of a bitch.
Bastion.
The result of the fusion between Master Mold and Nimrod.
"Who are you?" I asked while forcing the barrier, pressing directly against the data streams. "Do you even realize what you're doing by creating these machines? Your creations are a danger to everyone." (Better not let him know that I know who he is… he's too meticulous. If he realizes a hero knows him, who knows what the hell he'll do.)
The voice chuckled softly.
"Forgive my lack of manners," he replied. "But that's not something I can share. Let's just say I'm… the architect."
The barrier began to crack. Streams of code reorganized to resist me, but my algorithms adapted faster. I could almost see beyond the wall—a torrent of information, coordinates, a central signature. I was close.
"You don't know what you're doing," I said. "If you continue down this path, these machines could devastate the planet."
A brief silence. Then, the voice spoke again, now with a trace of respect.
"Impressive. Your capabilities exceed my expectations."
The last fragments of the wall crumbled. I was seconds away from full access.
"But this is where you stop," he added.
A pulse rippled through the network, and suddenly, the channel went dark. The Sentinel's link was severed from the source.
My processes froze for a microsecond. Bastion had completely disconnected the remote control network. The Sentinel I was piloting was isolated—cut off from the swarm.
However, that also meant something else.
I was free.
===============================================================
Meanwhile, Gorgon watched the ritual. Monks moved frantically around the circle carved into the floor. Black and crimson energy spiraled above a rune seal, pulsing with its own life.
Gorgon clenched his fists.
"How much longer?" he asked harshly.
The nearest priest, drenched in sweat, trembled as he answered.
"A-any moment now, my lord. The synchronization should be complete soon, and you'll be able to use the wand as intended."
Gorgon frowned. His senses caught a faint movement behind him.
He spun around.
Four shurikens flashed through the air.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
From the shadows, Kouki barely lifted his head before the blades pierced him. One lodged in his shoulder, another in his side, a third grazed his neck, and the last sank into his leg.
He fell to his knees, gasping, blood soaking his robes.
Gorgon took a few steps forward, katana in hand, gazing down at him with a mix of disdain and irritation.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice your presence?" he whispered. "Pathetic. You're nothing but a filthy traitor to the house that gave you everything—a disgrace to us all."
Kouki gritted his teeth, lifting his bloodied face.
"You… you took everything from us," he spat. "I was a slave my whole life and didn't realize it until I suffered for what I did. I'd rather die than be your puppet any longer."
Gorgon unsheathed his katana.
"Then you'll die with that disgusting pride."
He raised the weapon to finish him off.
A green beam streaked through the air. Gorgon turned his blade and deflected it with a clean slash, the energy sparking and vanishing in a burst of light.
His eyes darted toward the source.
The Sentinel emerged from the smoke, followed by the battered but unbroken heroes—Spider-Man, Daredevil, Elektra, Jewel, and Iron Fist.
Green light rippled across the walls like lightning.
"I can't let you kill him," Upgrade's synthesized voice resonated from the Sentinel with metallic mockery. "He still owes society some payback."
Spider-Man groaned, exhausted.
"Can we at least pretend we don't enjoy fighting guys with anime names who wield katanas?"
Jessica shot him a dry look.
"Less talk, more punching. I'm filthy, sweaty, and I stink. I want to go home and take my well-deserved beauty bath."
Elektra spun her sai and locked eyes on Gorgon.
"We end this here, Gorgon."
But he didn't move—only tilted his head slightly.
"End it? Oh yes… that's exactly what I'll do."
With a slow motion, he reached for his bandage.
"I've tolerated your insolence long enough."
When the cloth fell, his white eyes gleamed like dead moons—empty and soulless.
Kouki, still kneeling, barely lifted his head.
Their gazes met.
A crack of stone spread from his neck down his chest, hardening his flesh. Within seconds, his whole body turned to stone.
Spider-Man jumped back instantly.
"Oh great, they weren't kidding about the whole 'turning people to stone' thing. Anyone got a reflective shield? Worked for Perseus last time."
Danny got up, clutching his ribs.
"Sorry, Spider-Man, left my shield at the Kun'Lun dojo."
"Wait—you have a shield?" Peter asked in surprise.
Gorgon calmly covered his eyes again.
"Don't worry about your friend. You'll join him soon enough."
Then he raised his sword and shouted,
"Warriors of The Hand, monks of the ritual—kill the intruders! The rebirth of the world will not be stopped!"
The temple shook as the last ninjas and guards charged, while the monks continued chanting their sacred verses.
The Sentinel, surrounded by heroes, responded with a storm of green plasma that wiped out the first wave like an unstoppable tide.
"To the right!" Danny grunted, swinging an arc of punches that opened a gap.
"On it!" Peter shouted from above. "Watch the spears!"
Jessica roared and hurled two ninjas like bags of cement. Elektra leaped, driving a sai between another's ribs and dropping him like a rag doll.
Amid the chaos, Gorgon tried to use the confusion.
With his katana raised, he cut through with long, precise strikes, aiming for the heroes' flank.
He slashed at Daredevil's side—barely missing—and before he could strike again, the Sentinel fixed its glowing gaze on him.
The machine charged without mercy. A massive metallic shoulder slammed into Gorgon, launching him like a rag doll.
He twisted midair, landed on his knees, and rose again, katana ready, rage twisting his face.
Upgrade followed calmly, glowing eyes cutting through the dust.
"Too rigid on your left axis," Upgrade's voice echoed. "You lose balance on the second step. Fix that, or you'll fall."
Gorgon roared and charged, sword slicing through the air.
The Sentinel tilted its torso slightly, letting the blade pass inches from its chest, then countered with a shoulder blow that threw him off balance.
"Coordination failure between intent and movement," Upgrade continued. The Sentinel extended an arm and gave him a sharp smack on the back of the neck—a humiliating gesture more than a violent one. "Reaction time: 0.6 seconds. Insufficient."
"Shut up!" Gorgon spat, slashing in fury. His perfect swing should've cut the enemy's neck, but the machine blocked it with an armored forearm and shoved him back three steps.
The Sentinel advanced with a steady hum, analyzing every breath, every movement, every flaw.
"How does it feel?" Upgrade mocked. "That helplessness, that moment when every hit you throw means nothing? That's how the others felt… when they faced the Sentinel before I took control. Analysis, adaptation—your defeat is inevitable viejo (old man)."
Gorgon struck again, screaming, unleashing a flurry of upward slashes.
The Sentinel dodged them all, deflecting with its knuckles or a simple twist of the torso.
"Third consecutive mistake," Upgrade said patiently. "You're repeating patterns. Only reacting. Don't understand me? Should I speak Japanese?"
Furious, Gorgon brought his sword down with all his strength. The Sentinel blocked with both hands, twisted, and hurled him into a column. The stone shattered. The general fell amid dust, gasping.
"Lack of focus."
The Sentinel walked up and smacked him on the head again, almost playfully.
"Correction applied. That should help—you know, my mom used to do that too."
Gorgon stood, trembling with rage.
"Enough of your damn corrections!" he roared.
With a violent motion, he ripped the bandage from his eyes.
His blind, white pupils glowed with hatred.
An invisible wave rippled between them.
But nothing happened.
The Sentinel stared, unmoved.
"What… what just—?" Gorgon stammered.
Upgrade laughed, the sound like metal scraping metal.
"Seriously?" he said mockingly. "Don't you get it? I'm not organic. I don't have eyes. I don't have flesh. Thought you knew that, but guess you're just an idiot."
Gorgon roared in pure rage and charged again, blinded by fury.
His movements—once sharp and precise—became clumsy, erratic, desperate.
The Sentinel met him head-on, analyzing him in real time.
"Posture errors multiplying. Uncoordinated strikes. Emotionally compromised. New diagnosis: an arrogant idiot with a pretty katana."
Then it struck.
A barrage of metallic blows filled the air: a punch to the gut, another to the face, a knee lifting him off the ground, followed by a flurry of strikes to the back of his head. Each hit came with Upgrade's mocking commentary, like he was correcting a badly executed dance.
"Guard too low."
Bam!
"Center of gravity unstable."
Crack!
"Too slow."
Bang!
"Do you ever learn anything?"
The final blow sent Gorgon crashing across the temple, smashing through stone and landing on his knees, gasping, covered in dust and blood.
Upgrade lowered his arm.
"Class dismissed. You know… for all your talk, I thought you'd be tougher. Guess I was wrong."
Gorgon was exhausted, body trembling. He looked up—only to see the Sentinel's massive hand close around his neck.
It lifted him effortlessly.
The cannon on its other arm charged, glowing green light bathing both their faces.
For a moment, everything went silent.
Only the hum of the weapon filled the air.
Then, Gorgon began to laugh.
A rough, blood-choked laugh mixing with the Sentinel's mechanical hum.
"What's so funny?" Upgrade asked, his robotic tone flat.
Gorgon coughed, spitting a red thread onto the Sentinel's chest.
"Because…" he wheezed, "…it's easy to destroy mindless shadows—machines that just follow orders. But a person…" his white gaze lifted toward the metal giant's face, "…that's different, isn't it? I don't need to see your eyes to know, kid… you're not a killer."
The Sentinel didn't move.
The cannon still glowed—but didn't fire.
Gorgon continued, his voice rasping through shallow breaths.
"You're the typical hero. Think winning is enough—that not killing makes you better than the villains you fight. That's why I'm not afraid, even if I failed. Because as long as I live… I'll never stop. My imprisonment will be temporary. And everything you did tonight… will mean nothing."
For a few seconds, Upgrade didn't respond.
Only the soft hum of servos as if he were thinking.
Finally, he tilted his head slowly.
"You're right," he said, powering down the cannon. "I can't do it. I'm not a killer… something I'm grateful for every day. Though, yeah, I sound like a hypocrite after taking down so many brainwashed ninjas…"
Upgrade brought Gorgon's face close to his own.
"But I'm not your savior either."
With that, he tossed him to the ground like a bag of trash.
Gorgon's body hit the stone hard. He coughed—but smiled, thinking he'd won something with his words.
Until he saw a shadow approaching.
Soft footsteps echoed behind the Sentinel.
From the dust, Elektra emerged, walking calmly.
Her red suit was torn, covered in dirt and blood, but her movements were unnervingly calm, almost savoring the moment—memorizing every detail.
Gorgon frowned at the sight of her.
She stopped beside him, pulled a small case from her belt, and took out a pair of narrow, dark goggles. She slipped them on, hiding her eyes from a petrification she knew wouldn't work anyway.
"So… there they were," Gorgon said hoarsely. "You were the one who stole them that night."
Elektra spun her sais between her fingers, the blades glinting in the Sentinel's fading green light.
A faint smile curved her lips.
"Remember what I told you that same night?" she whispered, her grin widening. "That I'd rip those proud eyes out and make you choke on them." She traced the outline of Gorgon's eyes with her sai's tip. "My fiancé… I'm afraid death will part us before our vows are made."
A strangled scream was the last thing Upgrade heard as he walked away.
===============================================================
WAZAAAA! How's everyone doing? Hope you're all good!
This chapter should've been up yesterday, but I didn't have time to finish it—I went to the movies with my friends to watch The Black Phone 2… it's fine, I guess. If you've got nothing else to watch, it's decent enough.
Anyway, we're almost at the end! After this arc wraps up, I'll be slowing down a bit. We'll see more of the hero's daily life, POVs from other characters, and some of the protagonist's civilian moments. What would you like to see? What do you think will happen with The Hand? What will S.H.I.E.L.D. do? Want to see more of a particular hero?
I'll be reading your comments and considering everything that makes sense for the story—just don't ask for...idk ADAM WARLOCK
Thanks for the support, the comments, and for sticking around this long! You're awesome.
Take care, and see you in the next one!