Morning light spilled across Ethan's desk, catching on blueprints, stacked notebooks, open textbooks, and three half-finished schematics that looked less like scientific diagrams and more futuristic drawings.
He hadn't slept much these past few days.
Forge's genius was still running in the back of his mind like a background process, humming, calculating, optimizing. Where Sage provided perfect recall, Forge provided intuition and instinct. The two together made the inside of his skull feel like a supercomputer with a caffeine addiction.
But Ethan liked that.
He thrived in it.
He sat cross-legged in his desk chair, scrolling through design images on his laptop while brushing crumbs from his morning toast off a blueprint titled: DNA–Stabilization Chamber v4.2. The artificial womb design lay beside it, and beside that—the nutrient matrix for the proto-symbiote project.
Individually, they were elegant.
Together?
They whispered to him.
A thought had bloomed last night while he traced through the viral coding of the Techno-Organic Virus—and that thought had not gone away.
'What if they aren't three machines? What if they were one?'
A single integrated chamber capable of:
– sequencing DNA safely
– stabilizing organic and inorganic hybrids
– incubating techno-organic systems
– shaping new life
A good name might be a Genesis Cradle.
He exhaled slightly, marveling at how easy the thought had come.
This is what Forge must feel like every day… no wonder he looks exhausted.
Ethan reached for a different blueprint—one he had started sketching at three in the morning.
The lines were ugly at first, raw instinct scribbled on paper:
"Symbiote–Nanite–T.O. Virus Fusion Integration Chamber Prototype A"
Now he refined it, replacing curves, stabilizing mass-flow routes, adding micro-reactor circuits, adjusting pressure gradients for organic resistance…
By the time he sat back, the diagram looked plausible.
A pulse of satisfaction rolled through him.
Forge's power wasn't a joke. Every correction, every refinement, every solution came to him so fast that sometimes it seemed he thought of the solution before he even knew what the question or problem was.
And the deeper he followed that instinct, the more audacious his ideas grew. It was like an endless rabbit hole of ideas and thoughts, and he still wasn't used to how far down he needed to dive into it.
Just moments ago, he dived as far as he could, and what felt like hours of thoughts ended up being mere seconds. The dive had given him so many ideas that he tested and shredded instantly, continuously, until his mind felt like it was on fire. When he finally managed to pull himself out, he had come up with a perfected version of the Techno Organic Virus, which he dubbed Machine Cells.
Creating these was no longer optional—it was inevitable.
He had spent half the morning finalizing their theoretical structure. He found the Techno organic virus fascinating but lacking what he needed, so he continuously altered it. Soon, what he created looked like a second immune system. A parallel biological operating framework.
Where the Techno-Organic Virus sought to take over and rewrite cells, the Machine Cells wished to cooperate with them.
Their behaviors formed naturally in Ethan's mental simulations:
Self-repair capabilities.
Adaptive reinforcement.
Molecular restructuring.
Evolution under stress.
Growth without corruption."
Even the Hive-mind component he'd theorized came out gentler than expected—no aggressive assimilation, no domination. Instead, he wanted a shared processing that could only be accessed by those with Machine Cells. Distributed cognition. Localized in some aspects but still part of a network able to share knowledge and data.
A swarm that chose to coordinate.
A new species of symbiotic cells.
A new technology.
A new future.
And Ethan was almost ready to build it.
The new lab was now packed with components he'd had quietly moved out of Luc's warehouse over the past few days. Oscillators. Reinforced tubing. Bio-reactive gel vats. Cryo-harnesses. Carbon-fiber exo-casings. Quantum regulators.
It had been hard for him to find a supplier, but after spending so much time incorporating the deceased Norman Osborn's criminal connections into Luc Moreau's own criminal enterprise, now he could get it easily. All this stuff cost a fortune, but thanks to the money he now had, it was just a drop in the bucket. Once again, Ethan thanked Norman for his untimely death, as it saved him so much time.
His new lab, under the alias Samuel Rourke, was almost ready. This was the identity that Ethan would use to do his own personal research and experiments. The lab he had chosen had been a quiet, forgotten, decommissioned research site on the edge of town.
Today, electricians were finishing the wiring.
Tomorrow, the last of the ordered equipment would arrive and be installed as he requested.
By Monday, he could begin creating the Machine Cells, which were superior to the liquid smart-metal used by Tony Stark for the Endo-Sym Armor or Model 50.
By Wednesday, he should have also finished analyzing the Goblin Serum along with the Asgardian DNA to create a new super soldier serum.
By Friday, he could begin constructing the design of the Endo-Sym Armor and should be able to produce samples of the new super soldier serum.
By next week… although painful, he could extract the venom symbiote piece from his body and start designing the prototype Scorn-like symbiote itself.
A grin pricked the corner of his mouth.
He checked the time.
7:18 AM.
He still had school; it was annoying, but he still needed to maintain the cover of a student so as to not worry his parents.
Moving added twenty minutes to his commute. Ethan left early, letting his father drop him off before the parking lot filled.
School hallways felt loud. Too loud. Useless teen chatter scraped against the inside of his skull while his mind still hummed at impossible speeds.
He kept his steps measured. His face was neutral and his pace slow.
Inside, Ethan Kane was mapping out the future of the new synthetic life.
He took notes in class because he had to pretend to care, even though his mind finished every problem at least twenty seconds before his pencil caught up. Until he could fully control his mind, he'd still be forced to use pencils.
By lunchtime, he had refined the Genesis Cradle's pressure modulation cycles.
By last period, he had solved the issue of nanite over-acceleration and cellular degradation during symbiote integration.
And the moment school ended—
He slipped out quickly, not even bothering to say farewell to Amy and Paige.
When he got home, Ethan retreated into his room with the casual excuse of "big project for school—might take a few hours." His mother smiled approvingly. His father grunted something encouraging.
The door closed.
Silence wrapped around him like a familiar cloak.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out the phone.
Not the old one.
The new one.
The first device he had ever built entirely from instinct and design rather than reverse-engineering someone else's work—a marriage of stolen components, repurposed boards, miniature regulators, and the subtle fingerprints of Forge's intuition.
It didn't look like a normal smartphone.
Too sleek.
Too angular.
Too deliberate in its geometry.
A fusion of matte-black alloy and soft-touch polymer, its screen dim until it sensed his fingertip.
He tapped the side.
The interface flared awake—shifting seamlessly between four profiles:
Ethan Kane.
Isaac Maddox.
Luc Moreau.
Samuel Rourke.
Each profile ran on a fully separated OS partition.
Each required:
A unique passphrase
Ethan's exact facial micro-map
Voice authentication
And finally—N.E.A.R.'s approval
Because the phone didn't unlock for Ethan.
It unlocked for who Ethan intended to be.
A soft, female voice echoed from the speaker—smooth, computational, and faintly curious, "Good evening, Ethan. Would you like to activate a primary identity?" This was N.E.A.R. or Neural Evaluation and Adaptive Response.
It was a Narrow AI—but already learning fast.
Task-oriented, loyal only to him, and wrapped around every bit of data the phone held like a digital serpent protecting its hoard.
One day he would integrate N.E.A.R. into every lab and every company he owned.
Instant access to every scrap of research.
A real-time editing capability for every project.
An invisible administrative empire managed at the speed of thought.
But for now?
She was his gatekeeper.
"Isaac Maddox," Ethan said.
The phone scanned his face, compared micro-angles, and N.E.A.R. murmured, "Identity confirmed. Good afternoon, Mr. Maddox."
The Isaac-interface bloomed open—sleek black, gold trim, encrypted messaging pane already highlighted.
Ethan then typed his message.
Isaac Maddox:
Robert
I need a progress report. I.M.A.G.I.N.E. should be entering Phase 2. Any status update?
The reply came almost instantly.
Robert Hughes:
Hello, Mr. Maddox.
Mallory has secured the companies you requested. Cybertek, the Essex, and Metro-General board leverage are all finalized.
While the Empire State Building floor is under renovation, we'll scout a few prospects.
Everything is proceeding smoothly, sir.
Ethan's lips curved—not a smile, but a recognition.
Of course, Mallory Book executed his orders without hesitation. It was why he chose her.
Of course, Robert maintained flawless obedience. He was a rare find a spineless cheating fool without a hint of bravery.
Pieces moving into their appointed positions on the board. Even the board was just a piece on a larger board that he wasn't ready for yet.
Every piece.
Every player.
Every invention.
Every enemy.
The Exemplars would walk the earth in approximately two months.
Delilah's assault on the Facility would begin in less than forty-eight hours.
Yuri Watanabe was carving the Hood's empire down to bleeding scraps.
Madam Masque was feeling the pressure of the NYPD attacking the Hood's organizations and would soon take his offer.
And Ethan?
He was about to create a new life.
Not a parasite.
Not a weapon born from trauma like the Klyntar.
Not the corrupted hunger of the Techno-Organic Virus.
Something new.
A living hybrid organism formed from:
– cooperative Machine Cells
– adaptive nanotechnology
– a sane, stable symbiote
– stabilized biological architecture
– and a symbiotic neural mesh
A being that could armor itself.
Disperse into mist or become liquid metal.
Reform without damage.
Regenerate mass through consuming either organic or metallic substances
Grow and learn uninhibited by negative emotions such as rage.
Change without losing itself.
A creature that would choose loyalty—not be forced into it.
A creature that would stand beside him—never chained, never coerced. His perfect partner.
He closed the Isaac interface.
N.E.A.R. dimmed the screen without being asked.
"Thank you," he said absently.
"Always," she replied.
Ethan set the phone down and turned to his desk.
The Genesis Cradle blueprint sat open beneath the lamplight—its lines clean, beautiful, almost sacred.
He ran a finger along the edge of the page.
"Soon," he whispered.
He looked at the Cradle design again, then at the diagrams for Machine Cells, the artificial womb, the nutrient matrix, and the first shell-notes of the future symbiote.
Four systems.
Four ideas.
Four beginnings.
And Ethan Kane was the one who would unite them.
His voice was a low promise in the still room, "Soon."
Because soon he would be beyond human capabilities. Soon, he'd be able to give even Asgardians a run for their money.