In Sokovia, within a hidden underground complex unknown to the world, soldiers rushed through the corridors at the arrival of a very special cargo—an entity not from this Earth, and one of terrifying power. Fifteen years earlier, a portal had opened inside their base and delivered to them a little girl who would prove very useful. Eventually, they discovered that three other portals had appeared across the globe. Since then, they had hunted down every extraterrestrial arrival, seeking to use them, to clone them, and to uncover their secrets.
A truck pulled into the base and soldiers unloaded a capsule from its hold. Inside lay a black-haired boy, peacefully asleep within the ice. The capsule was carried to a secret chamber deep within the bunker, where three others of the same design were already resting.
In the first capsule, a young girl of about Ace's age lay dormant in the frost. Her red hair glowed like a sunset, and her round face still carried traces of childhood softness.
In the second capsule was a blond boy of fifteen, his features sharp and sun-kissed, a scar running from the corner of his mouth across his right cheek.
The third capsule did not contain a human, but a wolf, its gray fur frozen mid-motion.
Above the capsules, a massive screen displayed the vitals of each occupant.
When the soldiers connected the fourth capsule to the network, new numbers appeared on the screen. The scientists leaned forward, eyes widening in shock as Ace's brainwaves spiked with chaotic intensity. Whispered notes filled their pads, pens scratching furiously. For several long minutes they studied the data before finally leaving the chamber, their absence leaving only the cold, rhythmic beeping of the machines.
Meanwhile, Ace's soul was adrift in fury. He stood alone upon a vast white sea, overshadowed by a black sun, the sky endlessly oscillating from white to black, scattered with stars that shifted in opposite hues with every change. Blinded by his rage, Ace finally stirred, noticing his strange surroundings. His eyes darted left and right, until they locked on something jutting from the waters—an emerging blade.
He stepped forward, approaching it. As his hand closed around the hilt, a voice echoed from everywhere at once:
"Greetings, little brother. At last, we meet. Or rather, you meet me, for I've always known you. After all, we are within your soul. You may call me Ulysses. I am the blade forged by our father, created to guide you through every trial you shall face."
The words tumbled out so quickly that Ace couldn't even interrupt.
Finally, he shouted, his voice filled with anger and a dangerous edge:"Who are you? Where are we? Where are the bastards who killed my family?!"
The voice answered calmly, almost soothing:"As I said, my name is Ulysses. And in a way, I am your brother, for our father forged me from his blood and our mother's. As for your second question, we are inside your soul. The third, I cannot answer… I do not yet exist in the physical world."
Ace absorbed the words, silent and motionless. His gaze dropped back to the blade before him, and oddly enough, he wasn't even surprised anymore. After all, he lived in a world where an alien army had once been defeated by a team that included an archer with nothing but arrows.
Fixing the sword with a steady look, he asked:"If this is my soul, then how do I leave it?"
"Simple," Ulysses replied. "You need only will it."
At that, Ace vanished from the white sea. Ulysses remained, staring at the space his brother had just occupied. A long sigh escaped him.
"Ace is blinded by rage. If I cannot be the voice of reason, he will be deceived—perhaps worse. His trust could destroy him."
Back in the real world, Ace awoke inside the capsule. He felt the icy grip paralyzing his limbs, the cold biting into his skin. Rage surged through him, demanding fire, demanding destruction. He wanted to burn the world itself.
And with that thought, everything exploded.
The capsule shattered, ice bursting outward, the very ground cracking into a crater of pulverized concrete. The bunker shook, lights flickering wildly. At the center of the devastation stood Ace, wreathed in black and white flames. His hair whipped about in the heatless wind, his eyes silver and blazing, their whites drowned in midnight black.
And his heart beat with nothing but hatred.