Nathaniel Essex had dismantled the X-Men in under two minutes. He stood amidst the unconscious bodies on the dock, deeply dissatisfied.
Operating under the guise of "Ajax" had provided him with an immaculate cover. It gave him direct access to Weapon X, William Stryker's legacy, and an endless stream of United States military black-budget funding. Under the umbrella of a sanctioned government project, he had been free to conduct his own gruesome human experiments without drawing the eye of the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D.
Now, his cover was blown. The military would inevitably realize he had hijacked their assets. The logistical headache of relocating his data was going to be immense.
But down in the underground laboratory, during the ninety seconds it took Essex to wipe out the surface resistance, Peter had already stripped off the top half of his suit. He lay back inside the massive, metallic gene-editing pod.
"This thing looks vaguely familiar," Peter muttered, staring up at the heavy, mechanical canopy.
"It should," Hank McCoy replied, his thick blue fingers tapping rapidly across the control terminal. "The prototype architecture is heavily derived from the surgical pod that birthed Captain America."
Hank picked up a pneumatic syringe and drew a quick vial of blood from Peter's arm. He immediately turned and drew a second vial from Cindy. Both of them had been bitten by genetically identical spiders. Cindy's genomic sequence was perfectly stable. By using her DNA as the control template, Hank could program the surgical trimmer to aggressively prune and stabilize Peter's erratic mutations.
Hank frowned at the monitor. The calibration was suspiciously easy.
The mainframe indicated this exact genetic programming architecture had been accessed and refined multiple times in recent weeks. Hank found a ready-made sequence that perfectly matched what he needed.
He initiated the sequence. The heavy metal canopy of the pod clamped shut, sealing Peter inside. A low hum vibrated through the floorboards. Several automated pneumatic needles hissed, injecting the stabilization serums into Peter's bloodstream.
A blinding, sterile white light flooded the chamber's viewport.
"Vita-Rays," Hank explained, watching the readouts. "Captain Rogers was saturated in them during his procedure. Theoretically, the radiation acts as a catalyst, aggressively accelerating cellular reconstruction during periods of genetic instability." Hank adjusted his glasses. "I have no idea why subsequent Super Soldier programs abandoned the radiation component. Only this specific machine still utilizes it."
Hank's eyes flicked to the system login history.
Last User: N. Essex.
Hank's blood ran cold. He recognized the name instantly. A silent alarm bell rang in his head.
"What's wrong?" Jubilee asked, clutching the edge of the console.
"Nothing to worry about," Hank lied smoothly, keeping his posture relaxed so the teenager wouldn't panic. "An old rival of ours has apparently entered the fray. Scott can handle him. However, we need to ensure the facility's power grid remains uninterrupted. If someone cuts the power to the mainframe mid-sequence, Peter's cellular structure could collapse."
"I can make electricity!" Jubilee volunteered eagerly. She raised her hands, then hesitated. "Well, I can shoot sparks. Different colored plasma. Like fireworks. Will that work?"
"It might," Hank said. "If the primary grid fails, aim your plasma directly into the step-up transformer on the wall. Keep the current flowing."
The exact second Hank finished his sentence, the laboratory plunged into pitch-black darkness.
Jubilee didn't hesitate. She snapped her fingers. A brilliant shower of multi-colored plasma erupted from her hands, striking the transformer. The lab flickered back to life, bathed in the chaotic, neon glow of her sparks.
CLANG.
All three of them whipped their heads toward the corridor. A horrific, screeching sound echoed down the shaft. The heavy freight elevator wasn't just descending—it was being violently ripped down the cables by sheer telekinetic force. The velocity was terrifying.
Then, dead silence.
"I will handle him," Hank roared. "Jubilee, do not stop firing at that transformer!"
Hank ripped his glasses off and tossed them aside. He dropped into a feral, four-point fighting stance. He bared his fangs, his muscles coiling to spring.
The reinforced steel doors of the laboratory crumpled inward like tin foil. Nathaniel Essex floated into the room, his black cape billowing behind him.
Hank lunged, a blur of blue muscle and claws.
Essex didn't blink. He casually swiped a pale hand through the air.
The Leech field slammed into Hank. In mid-air, the blue fur instantly retracted into his skin. His fangs shrank. His massive muscles deflated. Hank McCoy crashed onto the linoleum floor as a completely ordinary, baseline human. Stripped of his mutant physiology, he had zero resistance to the invisible Omega Red death spores lingering on Essex's clothes. Hank gasped once and fell unconscious.
"I am deeply dissatisfied with how roughly you are treating my equipment," Essex said smoothly, stepping over Hank's body.
He turned his glowing red eyes toward Jubilee. He offered her a polite, chilling smile.
"Would you kindly return my property, little girl? Do not worry. You are not the one in danger."
Jubilee froze, her hands shaking.
Before Essex could take another step, Cindy Moon blurred into his path. She planted her boots squarely between Essex and the surgical pod.
Essex paused. His Leech aura was projecting at maximum output, yet the girl standing in front of him hadn't collapsed. She wasn't a mutant.
It didn't matter.
Cindy flicked her wrists, firing two rapid-fire streams of webbing directly at his face.
Essex raised a finger. A wall of telekinetic force caught the webbing mid-air, deflecting it effortlessly into the wall. He didn't bother engaging her physically. He pressed two fingers to his temple, driving a telepathic spike directly into Cindy's mind.
Cindy gasped, her hands flying to her head. S.H.I.E.L.D. had put her through rigorous psychic-resistance training, and she managed to hold her ground for a fraction of a second, her spider-sense screaming in agony.
But she was too young, and Essex was too strong. While her mind fought the telepathic invasion, she couldn't dodge the physical one. Essex gestured upward.
The concrete ceiling above Cindy groaned, fractured, and collapsed. Tons of rubble crashed down, pinning her violently to the floor.
Essex didn't look back at her. He needed to shut down the surgical pod before it ruined his data.
He glided toward Jubilee and clasped his hands behind his back. He smiled.
As the twelve-year-old was swallowed by his Leech field, the multi-colored plasma sputtering from her hands instantly fizzled and died. Her mutant gene was entirely suppressed.
Essex sighed, satisfied. It was over. The power was cut.
But the sterile white light of the Vita-Rays continued to flood the room. The pod was still humming. The mainframe was still operating at peak capacity.
Essex frowned, staring at Jubilee in the dark.
Jubilee looked at her empty hands, then looked at the pod. A slow, disbelieving smirk spread across her face. She let out a sharp laugh.
If Jubilee's power was suppressed, the transformer was dead. The machine had no external power source.
Which meant the power was coming from inside.
The subject inside the pod was generating a massive, continuous stream of bio-electricity to keep the machine running himself.
Crackling, pure white lightning erupted from the seams of the metal pod. High-voltage arcs whipped across the laboratory, shattering the glass monitors and scorching the floor tiles.
Essex took a step back in sheer shock.
The heavy metal canopy of the gene-editing pod hissed and slowly cranked open.
Essex stared. The pod was completely empty.
Before his brain could process the visual anomaly, a catastrophic impact slammed into his chest.
Essex was launched off his feet, flying backward through the air as his ribs cracked under the impossible force. He crashed hard into the ruined elevator doors, gasping for breath.
He struggled to lift his head, his red eyes scanning the room. He still couldn't see anything.
Then, the ambient electricity in the air surged. Brilliant white lightning arced through the empty space, the electrical current wrapping around a blurry, invisible silhouette. For a split second, the lightning illuminated the outline of Spider-Man.
The invisible silhouette leaped across the room and delivered a second, earth-shattering punch straight to Essex's jaw.
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