Marcus quickly pulled his hand back, the purple energy beneath his skin fading away. The nurse stood motionless, her expression alternating between confusion and concern. The clipboard remained in her outstretched hand, its metal clip still slightly warm from the discharge.
"I apologize for that," Marcus said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline rush. "This place must have extremely dry air. Since I woke up, static electricity has been an issue."
With a blink, the nurse's professional manner reappeared. "Yes, environmental systems tend to lower humidity levels. I will make a note of it for future maintenance." She placed the clipboard on his bedside table rather than handing it to him directly. "You can review and sign those forms in the morning before being discharged. "Do you need anything else tonight?"
"No, thank you. I am fine."
She nodded and left, but Marcus noticed how her gaze lingered on his hands before she turned away. He waited until her footsteps were completely gone before releasing the breath he'd been holding. That was careless. He needed more control before someone saw something he couldn't explain.
Marcus looked down at his hands and slowly flexed his fingers. The energy was still present beneath the surface, like a current running through a wire. He could feel it now that he knew what to look for: a subtle vibration in his cells, a potential ready to be released.
He spent the next hour sitting on the edge of his bed, honing the most fundamental control. He concentrated on keeping the energy contained, avoiding any visible manifestation. It required concentration, but it was doable. The trick appeared to be maintaining a light touch, keeping his awareness of the power but not actively using it.
He eventually stopped due to exhaustion. His head ached from the intense concentration, and his body reminded him that he'd been unconscious for three days. He sank back into the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep did not come easily. His mind kept returning to the impossible situation he found himself in, going over the implications and possibilities until the early hours of the morning.
Marcus gave up on rest as dawn light began to filter through the window. He signed the discharge forms, dressed in civilian clothes retrieved from his apartment, and waited for the doctor's final approval. The medical staff performed one final series of tests, found nothing concerning, and released him with instructions to rest for the next few days.
Marcus stepped out of the Triskelion's medical facility into the cold January morning. The winter air bit into his face, sharp and clarifying. He stood for a moment on the steps, gazing out at the Potomac River and the Washington, DC skyline beyond. This was real. This world, this body, this impossible second chance—all of it is real.
A taxi took him across the river to Arlington, to an apartment building he'd never seen but remembered vividly thanks to borrowed memories. His apartment was on the third floor, a small efficiency unit that reflected a life lived for work rather than comfort. The furniture was functional, with minimal decorations. A few photographs sat on a shelf, showing his parents younger and more alive in those frozen moments, as well as his own face smiling back at him from a graduation ceremony he had never attended.
Marcus set his bag down and looked around his new home. The apartment was clean but impersonal, the living quarters of someone who spent the majority of his time away. That would be advantageous for him. He needed privacy to complete his work and preparations.
He locked the door, closed the curtains, and turned off his phone. He then began seriously testing his abilities.
Energy manipulation came first because it appeared to be the most controllable. Marcus began with the lamp on his desk, just as he had in the medical bay. He focused his will on the electrical current flowing through the device and discovered that he could easily adjust the voltage. The lamp brightened and dimmed in response to his mental commands.
He switched to other electronics, including the television, computer, and digital clock on his nightstand. Each device responded to his influence, albeit with varying degrees of precision. The television was more difficult to control than the lamp because its complex circuitry required finer manipulation. His computer proved even more difficult, but after twenty minutes of practice, he was able to turn it on without using the power button.
He was sweating and feeling dizzy as a result of his exertions. Marcus sat down, clearing his head before proceeding. There was a cost to using these abilities, a drain on his stamina that he would have to watch carefully. He couldn't afford to exhaust himself at critical times.
He then tested the physical enhancements. Marcus performed push-ups until his arms burned, counting each repetition. He made it to one hundred before stopping, and he could have kept going. His muscles protested, but they were far from ineffective. Marcus Reid was in good shape prior to the accident, before his death and reincarnation, but this went beyond normal human conditioning.
He tested his grip strength by squeezing his desk chair's metal frame. The steel curved slightly under his fingers, deforming just enough to be noticeable. Marcus quickly released it, surprised by his own strength. He'd have to be careful. Normal people do not bend metal with their bare hands by accident.
The refrigerator was next. Marcus grabbed the appliance from the side and lifted. It rose from the floor with effort, but not with the force that it should have required. When fully stocked, the refrigerator probably weighed 200 pounds. He was lifting it single-handedly.
Marcus carefully set it down and took a step back, his heart pounding. Strength increases have been confirmed. Significantly enhanced, possibly two or three times the normal human capability. With his energy manipulation, he was becoming something other than human.
The most unsettling ability, however, was precognition. He had first noticed it in the medical bay, when he sensed the nurse would return before she did. Marcus, now sitting in his apartment with his phone turned off, attempted to replicate the experience.
He closed his eyes and relaxed his mind, allowing his awareness to drift forward rather than focusing on the present. It felt like I was trying to remember something that had not yet happened, reaching into a space that should not exist. For a long time, nothing occurred. Then—
His phone would ring. The knowledge appeared in his mind with quiet certainty. Not a guess or an intuition, but actual awareness of a future event. Within three seconds, his phone would ring.
Marcus opened his eyes and looked at the device sitting on his desk, which was turned off and silent. He had turned it off himself thirty minutes earlier. It couldn't possibly ring.
The phone rang.
The sound broke through the apartment's silence, a shrill electronic tone that should have been impossible. Marcus stared at the device, shocked, as it vibrated against the desk surface. It stopped after four rings. The screen remained dark, and the phone was still technically off due to its power state.
But the phone had rung. It happened exactly as he had expected.
Marcus picked up his phone and turned it on properly. A voicemail notification appeared instantly. He played it. Phil Coulson's voice came from the speaker, calm and professional.
"Hello, Agent Reid. This is Agent Coulson. I hope you are doing well after your accident. If you are feeling up to it, please report to briefing room seven at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow morning. I have an assignment that requires your particular attention to detail. Welcome back."
Marcus slowly set the phone down. The precognition was real. He could see seconds into the future, not with perfect clarity, but with enough precision to be useful. When combined with his other abilities, it made him truly dangerous.
He spent the remainder of the morning continuing his experiments. He moved objects with focused energy manipulation, carefully applying force to lift a coffee mug across the room. He tested his reflexes by dropping and catching objects, and discovered that his reaction time was much faster than usual. He practiced controlling the visible manifestations of his power, learning to avoid the purple glow that seemed to accompany more powerful uses of his abilities.
Marcus was completely exhausted by noon. The constant use of his abilities exhausted him faster than physical exertion. He forced himself to eat, despite the fact that his appetite had vanished under the strain of his situation.
After eating, he gave himself two hours of rest. He set an alarm and lay down in his bed, falling asleep almost instantly. When the alarm woke him, he felt marginally better, though still drained from the morning's efforts.
The afternoon was dedicated to a different type of preparation. Marcus sat at his computer and began looking into his own life. He went through Marcus Reid's personnel files, mission reports, and training records—everything that established his history with SHIELD. He needed to know this person well if he was going to keep the cover.
The first Marcus was competent but unremarkable. He had always followed instructions, completed assignments efficiently, and never made a fuss. His performance reviews were always positive, but never outstanding. He was, in every way, an average agent.
This would no longer be the case. Marcus couldn't help being different, given his knowledge and abilities. However, he would need to manage that transition carefully, making it appear natural rather than abrupt. A near-death experience can help a person improve, develop new skills, and broaden their perspective. As long as he did not change too drastically or too quickly, it would appear natural.
Marcus made mental notes about the people in his life, including colleagues, supervisors, and acquaintances. He would need to maintain those relationships convincingly while gradually establishing new ones with the key players he was familiar with from the MCU timeline.
Phil Coulson would be his first real challenge. The assignment for tomorrow morning would determine whether Marcus could function effectively in this world while concealing his true nature. Coulson was insightful and experienced. If anyone would notice something amiss, it would be him.
As the evening approached, Marcus resumed testing his abilities, but this time with greater subtlety. He practiced small manipulations that could be useful in the field, such as unlocking a door by affecting its electronic lock, disabling a security camera by disrupting its power supply, and detecting energy signatures from other rooms. These were the abilities that would make him useful without being overtly superhuman.
The energy sensing proved especially intriguing. Marcus discovered that he could detect electronic devices through walls by feeling their electrical signatures, which were similar to distant heartbeats. The apartment next door had a television, a laptop, and a number of other devices. He could count them without seeing them, map them by their energy patterns.
Living things had signatures too, though much more subtle. Marcus could detect his neighbors through the walls—vague presences that registered as warmth and bioelectricity rather than distinct shapes. It wasn't telepathy, or anything as obvious as reading thoughts or emotions. However, he could tell where people were, how many there were, and whether they were awake or sleeping.
The implications were staggering. With this sense, it would be nearly impossible to ambush him. He could scout buildings before entering them, detect hidden enemies, and navigate through darkness. With his precognition and improved physical abilities, he was becoming a near-perfect infiltration agent.
However, with each new discovery, he became increasingly aware of the danger he was in. These abilities rendered him valuable, but they also made him a target. If the wrong people learned what he was capable of, he would become a study subject at best, and a weapon to be controlled at worst. SHIELD would want to learn more about his abilities. Hydra would seek to take advantage of them.
He needed to conceal who he was until he gained enough trust and credibility within SHIELD to reveal himself on his terms. Even then, he would have to be careful about what he showed and to whom.
Marcus glanced at the time. Eight PM. He'd been testing and training for almost twelve hours, with only a brief break. His body ached, his head throbbed, and he felt hollow and exhausted. However, he had gained valuable knowledge about his abilities and limitations.
He needed to eat again and get enough sleep. Tomorrow would be his first real test—the briefing with Coulson and whatever assignment awaited. Marcus could not afford to be weakened or distracted. He needed to be sharp, focused, and totally in control.
He made a simple dinner and ate it mechanically, his thoughts elsewhere. After cleaning up, he prepared his clothes for the morning—professional, understated, and appropriate for a SHIELD agent returning to duty. He set his alarm for 6 a.m., giving himself plenty of time to prepare.
Marcus stood at his apartment window, looking out over Arlington, before falling asleep. Lights glittered across the cityscape, while thousands of people went about their daily lives. They had no idea what was going to happen. The battles, the invasions, the losses. All the tragedies he knew were approaching like an inevitable tide.
He knew, though. And now, if he was careful, smart, and lucky, he could change some things.
Marcus turned away from the window and got ready for bed. He was exhausted enough to fall asleep quickly, despite his racing thoughts. He dreamed of purple energy and impossible futures, of choices that branched into infinite possibilities, of a world balanced on the edge of chaos.
He woke at five-thirty AM, thirty minutes before his alarm. His internal clock had adjusted to his body's natural rhythms, and those rhythms apparently required less sleep than he was accustomed to. Marcus took it as another sign of his enhancement—faster recovery, less need for rest.
He took a shower, dressed, and ate a quick breakfast. By 7:30 p.m., he was in his car, a plain sedan that fit his image as an unremarkable agent. The drive to the Triskelion took forty minutes due to morning traffic. Marcus used the time to mentally prepare, going over everything he knew about Phil Coulson and brainstorming possible scenarios for the briefing.
He arrived at SHIELD headquarters at ten minutes to eight. Security clearance went smoothly; his credentials were valid, and his medical discharge had been properly processed. He made his way through the vast facility to Briefing Room 7, arriving with five minutes to spare.
When Marcus entered, there were already six other agents present. He recognized the majority of them from borrowed memories: colleagues from his division, competent professionals he had previously worked with. They greeted him with nods and brief words of welcome, recognizing his return without making it a big deal.
Marcus sat down and waited. At precisely eight AM, Phil Coulson entered the room.
Marcus remembered Coulson from the movies as having a professional suit, a calm demeanor, and an unremarkable appearance that allowed him to blend in anywhere. However, there was an intensity in his eyes that the movies could only partially capture, a sharp intelligence that assessed everything and everyone.
"Good morning," Coulson said, placing a tablet on the podium in the front of the room. "Thank you all for being on time. We have a fairly simple surveillance assignment that requires careful attention." He tapped the tablet, causing a photograph to appear on the screen behind him.
The image depicted a middle-aged man who was well-dressed and appeared ordinary. "This is Victor Kozlov, a suspected arms dealer linked to several Eastern European organizations. We have intelligence that he will meet with an unknown contact here in DC within the next 72 hours. Our objective is to monitor his activities, identify his contact, and document their transaction."
Coulson continued the briefing by going over the technical details of the operation. Surveillance rotations, equipment assignments, and communication procedures. Marcus listened carefully, but his gaze kept returning to the photograph on the screen. There was something about Kozlov's face that triggered a vague recognition he couldn't place.
Then something clicked. Not Kozlov himself, but rather the organization that supports him. Marcus didn't recognize the name from the movies, but he did recognize the pattern. Arms dealers with Eastern European connections who operated in the early 2010s were frequently linked to the same networks that supplied Hydra.
This was not just a routine surveillance operation. This was his first real glimpse of the conspiracy that had infiltrated SHIELD, the cancer that would eventually consume the organization from within.
Marcus forced himself to remain calm and show no reaction. He couldn't say what he suspected right now. He required evidence, credibility, and time. But this assignment provided him with an opportunity to begin developing the case that would eventually be required.
Coulson concluded the briefing and began assigning partners and schedules. Marcus waited, unsure who he'd be paired with. When Coulson mentioned his name, the response came quickly.
"Reid, you'll be partnering with Agent Chen. The first rotation begins at fourteen hundred hours today. I want both of you to familiarize yourselves with the surveillance location this morning. Questions?"
Sarah Chen. Marcus recalled her as an experienced agent who was competent, professional, and thorough in her work. He had previously worked with her, but never closely. She was someone he could rely on to be competent without being overly concerned about her partner.
"No questions, sir," Marcus said.
The briefing concluded. Agents gathered their supplies and started coordinating logistics. Marcus found Sarah near the equipment lockers, checking her surveillance equipment with practiced efficiency.
She looked up as he got closer. "Reid. I heard you came back. "How are you feeling after the accident?
"Better, thank you. The doctors cleared me for active duty, so I'm ready to go."
Sarah looked at him for a moment, her expression assessing. "Good. I could use a partner who pays attention to detail. Surveillance work is 90% boredom, but the 10% where something happens requires sharpness."
"Yes, I understand."
They spent the next two hours getting ready for their shift. They investigated the surveillance location, a parking garage across from an upscale restaurant where Kozlov was known to hold meetings. They tested their equipment, established communication protocols, and memorized information about their target's known associates.
Marcus found himself settling into the job quite naturally. The borrowed memories provided the technical knowledge he required, while his new abilities gave him advantages that he would have to conceal. He could detect electronic devices around him and felt the energy signatures of cameras and microphones. It would make counter-surveillance easier, but he would have to be cautious about how he used the advantage.
Marcus and Sarah arrived at the surveillance location at 1:30 p.m. in an unmarked van equipped with observation equipment. They parked in a location that provided clear sight lines to the restaurant entrance while remaining inconspicuous among the other vehicles.
The afternoon moved slowly. Kozlov arrived at 3 p.m. and entered the restaurant. Marcus and Sarah photographed him from a covert location, documenting his arrival for the case file. After that, they waited.
Sarah engaged Marcus in conversation to pass the time, asking about his recovery and plans to resume field work. Marcus responded appropriately, keeping his cover as a normal agent grateful to be back at work. However, he kept some of his attention on the restaurant, using his enhanced senses to monitor energy signatures within the building.
Marcus felt a new presence enter the restaurant at 4:15 p.m. The energy signature was distinct—controlled and disciplined, with an edge that suggested military or intelligence training. This was no ordinary civilian.
"Someone has just arrived," Marcus stated quietly. "This might be our contact."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You saw them enter?"
"There's movement at the door. Figure fits the profile of an Eastern European operative."
It provided a plausible explanation for knowledge acquired through supernatural means. Sarah accepted it without hesitation and started preparing the camera for photos. Three minutes later, a man emerged from the restaurant and approached a car parked on the street. Marcus and Sarah took clear pictures of his face.
The man drove away. Kozlov stayed inside the restaurant. The meeting had been too brief for a significant transaction. This was a preliminary contact and initial negotiation.
Sarah sent the photos to headquarters for identification. Within ten minutes, a response arrived. The contact was listed in SHIELD databases as a low-level operative with ties to organized crime, but there was no explanation for his connection to an international arms dealer.
Marcus looked at the photograph on their surveillance monitor. There was something about the man's face that triggered Marcus's warning instincts. He had the bearing of someone who had seen combat, as well as the control that comes with serious training.
"Conduct a more thorough background check," Marcus suggested. "Something about him feels wrong."
Sarah glanced at him. "Wrong in what way?"
"Military training, most likely in special forces. The way he moved as he exited the restaurant—that was not civilian."
"Could be private security with a military background."
"Could be. But let's verify it."
Sarah sent a request for additional intelligence, flagging the contact as potentially significant. Marcus continued to watch the restaurant, but his thoughts were elsewhere. That man had triggered something in his precognition, a faint warning that became more intense the more he thought about it.
Hydra. He was almost certain. Not a major player, but someone associated with the organization. And if Kozlov was meeting with Hydra agents, this surveillance operation was more important than Coulson had suggested.
The shift lasted until ten p.m., when another team arrived to take over the overnight rotation. Marcus and Sarah returned to headquarters, filled out their reports, and secured their equipment. Marcus was about to leave for the night when he noticed Phil Coulson waiting near the exit.
"Agent Reid, a moment of your time."
Marcus followed Coulson to a quieter area of the facility, away from the main corridor. Coulson's face remained professionally neutral, but his eyes were sharp with scrutiny.
"You flagged the contact as potentially significant," Coulson explained. "What sparked your suspicion?"
Marcus selected his words carefully. "His bearing was wrong for a civilian business associate. The way he moved suggested military or intelligence training. If Kozlov is meeting with professionals rather than simple buyers, it elevates the threat level."
Coulson gave a slow nod. "Good instincts. The more thorough background check confirmed your assessment. The contact is connected to a number of organizations that we have been monitoring. I'm widening the scope of this investigation." He paused to study Marcus. "Reid, you have a good eye for details. That is an important skill in this line of work."
"Thank you, sir."
"Go get some rest. Tomorrow's rotation begins at oh-eight hundred.
Marcus drove home, his mind racing. He left an impression on Coulson, albeit a small one. More importantly, he had confirmed his suspicions that the investigation had Hydra ties. He had to be cautious about how he pursued that knowledge, but it provided a foundation for the larger work ahead.
When he first arrived, his apartment was dark and quiet. Marcus locked the door and immediately began his nightly training routine, practising precise control over his abilities.
The energy manipulation became easier, and the movements were more intuitive. He could light a candle across the room with a thought and detect electronic devices through multiple walls.
But he also found something new. Marcus discovered that he could do more than just push or pull objects as he practiced using focused energy. He had the ability to create barriers, which were thin sheets of force that prevented movement. They appeared as faint purple shimmers in the air when he concentrated, but were nearly invisible otherwise.
The barriers were ineffective, barely stopping a thrown object. Nonetheless, they existed. With enough practice, they may be able to stop bullets.
Marcus let go of the barrier and sat down, exhausted from his efforts. Every new discovery about his abilities brought the realization of how much more he still had to learn. These abilities were evolving, becoming more refined with each use.
He needed to accelerate his training while maintaining complete secrecy. And he needed to start developing the relationships that would be important when larger threats emerged. Coulson was a start, but Marcus would eventually need access to Fury, the Avengers Initiative, and the inner circle of those who would face the upcoming challenges.
However, that would take time. For the time being, he needed to concentrate on the immediate tasks at hand: finishing the surveillance operation, honing his skills, and establishing himself as a competent and trustworthy agent.
Marcus prepared for bed, but sleep did not come quickly. He lay in the dark, feeling the city's energy as if it were a vast electric web. Millions of people go about their daily lives, unaware of the dangers lurking in the shadows. Unaware that a man who did not belong in this world was about to change their destiny.
Eventually, exhaustion took him. He slept soundly, with no dreams.
The next morning, Coulson sent a message stating that the investigation was expanding. Additional teams were formed to track Kozlov's associates. Marcus and Sarah would continue their surveillance, but with increased resources and priority.
Marcus arrived at the surveillance location at precisely eight a.m. Sarah was already present, reviewing the overnight reports. Nothing significant had happened during the night shift, but Kozlov had made a number of phone calls that communications intercepts had identified as suspicious.
The day went much like the previous one: long hours of watching, waiting, and documenting. Marcus's enhanced senses, however, provided him with advantages that he carefully used. He could feel when someone approached the restaurant before they were visible. He could sense the electronic devices that Kozlov carried, tracking his movements inside the building even when they could not see him directly.
At two PM, Marcus detected an anomaly. Someone was scanning their surveillance van with electronic equipment. He could feel the radar waves washing over them, probing for hidden technology.
"We have been discovered," Marcus said quietly. "Someone's scanning us."
Sarah tensed. "Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes. "Electromagnetic scan, most likely looking for surveillance equipment."
"How do you know?"
Marcus quickly improvised. "I installed a counter-surveillance detector on our equipment this morning. "Basic precautions." The lie came naturally, smoothed by necessity.
Sarah made an instant decision. "We are withdrawing. "This location has been compromised.
They drove away calmly, not rushing but not stopping. Marcus used his energy sense to monitor their surroundings and see if anyone was following. Although no pursuit ensued, the damage had already been caused. Kozlov's organization was aware that they were under surveillance.
They returned to headquarters and informed Coulson of the compromise. His expression remained calm, but Marcus could detect his frustration beneath the professional veneer.
"Someone tipped them off," Coulson stated. "Kozlov had no reason to engage in counter-surveillance unless he suspected we were watching."
Marcus' precognition flared suddenly and urgently. There is a danger approaching. Something is wrong. He couldn't pinpoint the source, but the warning was clear.
"Sir, I think we should…."
The lights went out. All of the electronic devices in the operations center died at the same time. The backup generators failed to activate. The emergency lighting remained off. Someone had shut down the entire facility's power grid.
In the sudden darkness, Marcus heard Sarah's voice beside him. "What the hell's going on?"
Marcus extended his energy sense to feel the building's systems. Everything was dead: computers, communications, and security systems. Someone had hit them with a massive electromagnetic pulse or had cut off power to the entire facility.
Then he noticed them. Multiple hostiles are moving through the building with practiced efficiency. Sweeping through the corridors, looking for something. Trying to find someone.
His precognition activated once more, providing him with a glimpse into the near future. Armed operatives are entering this room. Weapons raised. Sarah in the line of fire.
"Get down!" Marcus shouted.
The door exploded inward.