Deep underground, beyond layers of biometric locks, electrified steel, and psi-blocking alloy walls, the secret council of HYDRA convened.
The meeting room itself was a relic of wartime paranoia: no windows, walls lined with shifting black metal, and a central table shaped like a broken circle, incomplete, like the organization's ethics.
The lighting was intentionally dim, not out of design, but ideology. HYDRA had always favored the shadows.
Around the table sat twelve figures regional leaders, mad scientists, military defectors, and whispered legends. None were fully visible.
Only glints of gold rings, glowing eyes, or the occasional flicker of unnatural skin hinted at the monsters beneath the suits.
A static hum broke as the central holoscreen activated.
Blue light carved through the gloom, revealing the image of a man: tall, lean, mid-thirties, hair loose, calm but alert eyes … Soren Macaluso.
The dossier began to unfurl.
NAME: Unknown (Alias: Soren)
OCCUPATION: Director, Everlife Medical Center – New York
IDENTITY: Untraceable (No known origin, DNA anomalous)
ABILITIES:
Advanced regenerative healing knowledge (some results classified as "post-human")
Spatial manipulation (teleportation confirmed)
High-level energy output (unquantifiable in existing metric)
Combat proficiency (based on limited footage — estimated Tier-7 minimum)
The screen shifted through stills, Soren battling Electro in New York, standing beside a healed human, and finally, sipping tea in the Everlife courtyard, the calm eye of a hurricane.
A cold silence followed. Only the hum of the surveillance projectors remained.
"He hides in plain sight. Healing the sick."
"But don't mistake the physician's robes for harmlessness."
The speaker's face never fully emerged from the shadows, but his voice was unmistakable… Krieger, HYDRA's foremost biotechnologist, and the father of far too many human horrors.
"I've had operatives pose as terminal patients. None of them returned."
"Either healed completely and vanished from our radar… or were never heard from again."
Someone scoffed.
Across the table, a brutish figure leaned forward into the faint light. He wore the HYDRA insignia like a brand burned into his skin, and his bulk barely fit the reinforced chair.
Director Voss, head of HYDRA's Weaponization Division.
"You're afraid of a glorified herbalist?"
He jabbed a thick finger toward the hologram.
"The man runs a glorified spa. So what if he patched up a few monsters? We've seen his kind before, lone wolves, rogue do-gooders."
"You put enough pressure on the bones, they crack."
A pause. Then another voice, quiet but cold.
"You weren't watching the footage from Norway. I was."
The room turned slightly toward Agent Yelkin, the intelligence czar of HYDRA Eastern Europe. She rarely spoke unless she had receipts, and when she did, they listened.
"He didn't just 'heal' a patient I heard…he reversed organ death. After disintegration. This isn't just a man. He may not even be from our world."
Krieger stirred again.
"Regardless, he poses a problem."
Another moment of tension.
Then, from the head seat, a low voice cut in dry, emotionless, and vaguely distorted, as if passed through several filters.
The man (if he still was one) had eyes like molten metal behind his visor.
"I've already begun preparations."
He raised one gloved hand. A separate screen flickered to life behind him, this one displaying eerie silhouettes in reinforced containment chambers.
Men and women, armored with synthetic plating fused to their skin, glowing veins pulsing along their arms, their faces hidden by tactical masks. Each stood motionless, twitching only slightly.
"My Centipede Units. Hybrid enhancements, Extremis-based regeneration, alien muscle-fiber overlays, Chi-core stabilizers."
"Built from the failures of Project Deathlok, perfected with the pain of a hundred broken bodies."
Yelkin frowned slightly. "And you plan to send them after him?"
"A skirmish."
"A pressure test. If he's a fraud, they'll overwhelm him. If not… we'll learn. Either way, his sanctuary will fracture."
"Trust is fragile when blood hits the tiles."
Silence.
One by one, the figures nodded. Approval.
HYDRA did not fear gods or monsters. It dissected them.
"What if the attack fails?"
"…?"
One of the seated men, a regional administrator from South America, judging by the accent, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"We can't afford another mess."
"The doctor has ties to important people. We don't even know the full extent of his retaliation capability."
A low scoff echoed through the room.
The tall figure from earlier turned his head slightly, the glint of his obsidian-plated visor catching the low light.
"Do you believe I'd risk the plan over one man?"
He leaned forward, the synth-muscle of his arm flexing audibly under his coat.
"The Centipede warriors were bred for expendability. No names. No history. No access to classified knowledge."
"They obey, and if they die, they die without trace. If you need more… I grow more."
Another voice, laced with disdain, floated across the chamber.
"Your confidence borders on arrogance."
Minister Alexander Pierce didn't raise his voice.
But his presence filled the room like a cold front.
"You see a man with strange gifts and immediately want to test your pet projects on him. You mistake Soren for an experiment."
"I see a variable. An unknown."
Pierce leaned forward just enough that his features caught the overhead light. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips.
"Variables ruin plans."
His adversary stood slowly. His silhouette blotted out half the holotable, shadow engulfing the map projections.
"What HYDRA needs is strength. Warriors. Not your bureaucratic rats burrowing through data and protocol."
Pierce's face froze in a politician's smile.
"And yet it's those rats that built the tunnels you now crawl through."
The silence that followed… this was a standoff wrapped in civility. No one interrupted.
"When your 'variables' bring this house down, don't ask my warriors to save you."
He left the room without another word.
The remaining council members exchanged loaded glances. A few followed, others lingered, murmuring behind hands or encrypted earpieces.
Pierce said nothing.
But his eyes stayed locked on the darkened holoscreen where Soren's face had once been.
Washington, D.C. – World Security Council Headquarters
The sun over D.C. did little to warm the mood inside Minister Pierce's private office. The sleek, sterile space buzzed faintly with encrypted transmissions as he returned from the meeting, jaw tight and steps clipped.
Behind the pristine exterior, marble floor, leather-bound dossiers, antique globes simmered.
Fury knew it the moment the door opened.
"Come in, Fury."
Pierce's voice was even, but his eyes betrayed fatigue. Fury stepped inside, trench coat swaying, eye patch gleaming in the morning light.
"Minister Pierce."
"Nick."
"It's been a while. You holding up alright?"
Pierce gestured to the chair across from his desk. No handshake.
The tension was a subtle chord between them, two men used to power, but not each other's methods.
"Let me guess." Pierce said smoothly. "You're not here to reminisce about old times. Is this about the hijacking?"
"That's part of it." Fury replied, lowering himself into the seat. "But not why I'm here."
He placed a small encrypted tablet on Pierce's desk.
"I need to delay the Insight Project."
That got Pierce's attention. His fingers froze on the glass of water he'd just picked up.
"Excuse me?"
"I need a vote. Not a stall. A freeze. A full system lockdown. Too many variables."
Pierce's face remained a mask of practiced calm, but his fingers slowly set the glass down.
"Insight is set to launch in weeks, Fury. It's already gone through ten levels of clearance. What's wrong with it?"
Fury shook his head. "Not sure yet."
"And that's exactly why I'm here. I'm seeing patterns that don't add up."
Pierce's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is this about Doctor Soren Macaluso?"
Fury blinked. Slowly.
"You've heard of him too, huh?"
Pierce didn't answer directly.
"This delay… it's going to rattle cages, Nick. You're asking me to freeze a multi-billion dollar operation on a hunch."
Fury met his gaze.
"No. I'm asking you to trust that the guy you made Director still knows when something stinks."
A long pause.
Then Pierce smiled, warm as winter.
"Alright. I'll call a session. We'll push the vote."
Fury nodded, rising.
"Appreciate it."
As he left, Pierce swiveled slowly in his chair to the window.
"Soren…"
He whispered the name like a curse. "Let's see what kind of ghost you truly are."
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream