The interior of the Dominator flagship was a maze of crystalline corridors and pulsing bio-mechanical technology.
We moved quickly, knowing every second counted. My telepathy mapped the route ahead—clusters of minds marking patrol routes, concentrations of technicians in critical areas, and at the center of it all, the massive psychic presence of something I couldn't quite identify.
"Eight minutes," I announced, checking the magical timer Strange had embedded in my consciousness. "We need to move faster."
"Then stop being cautious," Elektra said, and she took off running.
We sprinted through the corridors, no longer trying to be stealthy. Speed was more important than subtlety now. The first patrol we encountered didn't have time to raise an alarm—Elektra's sai and Rogue's absorption-enhanced strength dropped them in seconds.
"Ah've got their security protocols," Rogue said, touching one unconscious Dominator. "Ah know the ship layout now. The jamming array is in the command nexus, three sections forward."
"Lead the way."
We raced through the ship, leaving unconscious Dominators in our wake. I used my telepathy to scramble pursuit, creating confusion and false directions in their minds. It wouldn't hold long—their command caste would see through it quickly—but it bought us precious seconds.
An armored door blocked our path. Rogue placed her hand on it, absorbed the access codes from a nearby technician's mind, and the door hissed open.
Beyond was a massive chamber filled with technology I barely understood—organic and mechanical elements merged into something that pulsed with psychic energy. This was the jamming array, and it was beautiful in its alien complexity.
"How do we destroy it?" Elektra asked.
"Carefully," I said, reaching out to touch the device with my telepathy. The moment I made contact, I understood—this wasn't just a machine. It was alive. A bio-technological construct with its own primitive consciousness.
And it was aware of us.
The jamming array's consciousness lashed out, trying to engulf my mind.
It wasn't intelligent in any human sense, but it was powerful—a living embodiment of psychic interference. Touching it was like sticking my hand into a blender.
"Marcus!" Rogue grabbed my shoulder, her absorption pulling me back from the connection. "What happened?"
"It's alive. Some kind of engineered organism. We can't just destroy it physically—it'll adapt, repair itself. We need to kill its consciousness."
"Can you do that?"
"Maybe. If I had time." I checked the timer. Six minutes. "But I don't."
"Then we do this together." Rogue took my hand. "Use my power. Ah can absorb its consciousness while you attack it mentally. Two-pronged assault."
"That thing nearly fried my brain in one second. If you absorb it—"
"Then you pull me back like Ah just did for you. We're a team, remember?"
Elektra positioned herself at the door. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. I'm reading multiple contacts headed this way. Your mental confusion is wearing off."
No time for debate. Rogue and I joined hands and reached out to the array together.
The experience was indescribable. The array's consciousness was vast, alien, and utterly hostile. It existed only to disrupt, to interfere, to silence. And now it focused all that malevolent attention on us.
Rogue's absorption yanked at it, trying to pull the consciousness into herself. But it was too big, too strange. Like trying to drink an ocean.
I attacked from the other side, using every technique Emma had taught me. I found the architecture of its mind—the pathways of thought, the structures of awareness—and systematically destroyed them.
The array screamed. Not with sound, but with psychic agony that echoed across the entire ship. Every Dominator on board felt it, their minds recoiling from the death cry of their creation.
Rogue pulled harder, absorbing fragments of consciousness even as I shattered others. Together, we were overwhelming it, killing something that had never been meant to die.
With a final psychic shriek, the array's consciousness collapsed. The jamming field died with it.
All across Earth, communications came back online.
"We did it," Rogue gasped, releasing my hand. She looked pale, shaken, with black veins crawling up her arms—aftereffects of absorbing alien consciousness. "But Ah don't feel so good."
"Four minutes," I announced. "We need to get to the extraction point."
"Small problem," Elektra called from the door. "We've got company. Lots of company."
I reached out mentally and cursed. Fifty Dominator soldiers, all converging on our position. And behind them, that massive presence I'd sensed earlier was moving.
Something big was coming.
We ran.
Not back the way we'd come—that corridor was packed with enemies. Instead, Elektra led us deeper into the ship, using her absorbed knowledge of similar military vessels to navigate.
"Where are we going?" I demanded.
"Escape pods. Every warship has them. We just need to find—there!"
A bay filled with small, egg-shaped pods. Each one was designed for emergency evacuation. They'd get us off the ship, at least.
"Three minutes," I warned.
Rogue was stumbling now, the alien consciousness she'd absorbed fighting for control. I could feel her mind fragmenting, trying to contain something that didn't belong.
"Hang on," I said, supporting her. "Just a little longer."
We were twenty feet from the pods when it appeared.
The Dominator Commander.
Not the ground force commander we'd killed earlier—this was THE Commander. The one who led the entire invasion fleet. It was massive, nearly nine feet tall, wearing armor that seemed to be part of its body. And its mind…
Its mind was a fortress. I couldn't touch it, couldn't even brush against its shields. This was a being that had spent centuries defending against psychic attack.
"Well," Elektra said, raising her sai. "Shit."
The Commander spoke, its voice a rumbling bass that shook the air. "You are the anomalies. The ones not in our intelligence. How… unfortunate for you."
It moved faster than something that size should be able to. One massive hand grabbed Elektra, lifting her off her feet.
"Small warrior. Skilled, but fragile." It squeezed.
Elektra screamed.
I hit it with everything I had—telepathic force that would have dropped a normal person instantly. The Commander didn't even flinch. Its shields were perfect, impenetrable.
"Your mental abilities are impressive for a primitive species," it observed. "But ultimately futile against superior evolution."
Rogue launched herself at it, her enhanced strength from absorbed powers letting her hit with devastating force. The blow actually made the Commander stagger, releasing Elektra.
"Ah," it said, interested now. "A meta-gene expression with absorption capabilities. Fascinating."
It backhanded Rogue, sending her crashing through a wall.
Two minutes.
I was out of options. My telepathy was useless. My combat skills—even enhanced—were nothing against this thing. And my team was being systematically dismantled.
Then I remembered something Strange had said. *Your origin is anomalous. You don't exist in the timeline the way others do.*
What if that applied to more than just precognition? What if there was something about me that didn't follow this universe's rules?
I stopped trying to affect the Commander's mind. Instead, I reached for something deeper—the fundamental connection between consciousness and reality. The quantum uncertainty that lets observation affect outcomes.
I wasn't trying to control the Commander. I was trying to erase the probability that it could move.
It was insane. Impossible. Reality didn't work that way.
Except it did.
The Commander froze mid-motion, its massive form locked in place. Not paralyzed—*stopped*. As if time itself had paused for it alone.
"What… have you done?" it managed, its voice distorted.
"Something I didn't know I could do," I admitted.
I couldn't hold it long—this was burning through my psychic reserves faster than anything I'd ever attempted. But I didn't need long.
"Elektra! Rogue! Pods! Now!"
Elektra limped toward a pod, dragging an unconscious Rogue. I backed toward another pod, maintaining the reality manipulation through sheer desperate willpower.
The Commander was fighting it, using its own considerable mental strength to reassert probability. It was winning. I could feel my hold slipping.
One minute.
"Marcus, move!" Elektra shouted, already in her pod.
I dove into mine, releasing the Commander. It roared and charged—but the pod was already launching, shooting out into space like a missile.
Through the pod's viewport, I watched the flagship recede. On board, I could feel the Commander's rage, its promise that this wasn't over.
But we'd done it. The jamming array was destroyed. Communications were restored. Earth had a fighting chance.
The pod's trajectory carried us toward Earth's atmosphere. Strange's magic was already reaching out, preparing to cushion our reentry.
Thirty seconds.
Ten seconds.
We hit the atmosphere, the pods shielding us from the worst of the heat. Below, I could see Manhattan—burning in places, but still fighting. Still surviving.
The pods crashed in Central Park, right where we'd left hours ago. Strange materialized immediately, using magic to yank us from the wreckage.
"You actually did it," he said, sounding surprised.
"Was there doubt?" I asked, then collapsed. The reality manipulation had taken everything I had.
I woke up in the SHIELD medical bay, every inch of my body aching.
Felicia was there immediately. "You absolute idiot. You went to space. SPACE!"
"Had to. No choice."
"I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it." She kissed me fiercely. "Don't ever scare me like that again."
"Can't promise that."
"I know. Which is why I'm going to be mad at you for at least another hour."
I sat up despite the protests of my body. "Status report?"
"The jamming field going down changed everything. Teams could coordinate again, call for support. The Dominators lost their advantage." She pulled up holographic displays. "They're still fighting, but we're pushing them back. Avengers retook Times Square. X-Men secured Central Park. Fantastic Four coordinated a global counterattack."
"Casualties?"
Her expression darkened. "Heavy. Both sides. But we're winning, Marcus. Because of what you did up there."
"What about Rogue and Elektra?"
"Rogue is in isolation. The alien consciousness she absorbed is fighting her. Xavier and Jean are helping her contain it." Felicia squeezed my hand. "Elektra has three broken ribs and a concussion, but she'll live. She's already demanding to get back in the fight."
"That sounds like her."
"Director Fury wants to see you when you're ready. Something about a medal and also possibly arresting you for unauthorized orbital operations."
"Can't wait."
I forced myself to stand, ignoring the protests of abused muscles. Through the window, I could see the battle still raging in parts of the city. Smoke rose from dozens of fires. But there were also heroes everywhere, fighting back.
We were winning.
The door opened and Fury entered, his expression unreadable.
"Cole. You destroyed their command ship's jamming array, exposed their flagship's position, and gave us the opening we needed." He paused. "You also went to space without authorization, risked three lives on a desperate gambit, and used methods even Strange couldn't explain."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Do it again."
I blinked. "Sir?"
"The Dominator flagship is their command nexus. You've been inside. You know its layout. We're mounting a final assault to take it down completely, and I want your team spearheading the infiltration."
"My team is in no condition—"
"Which is why you've got six hours to rest and recover. Use them wisely." He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing, Cole. Whatever you did to that Commander—the reality manipulation or whatever it was—Strange says it shouldn't be possible. Says it violates fundamental laws of this universe."
"And?"
"And nothing. Just making sure you know you're being watched. But for now, you're useful. Keep being useful, and we'll worry about the impossibilities later."
After he left, Felicia looked at me seriously. "What did you do up there? What was that reality manipulation?"
"I don't know. I just… needed it to work, so it did."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." I looked out at the burning city. "But whatever it was, I'm going to need to do it again. Because this fight isn't over."
Six hours wasn't much, but we made it count.
I spent the first hour with Rogue, helping Xavier and Jean contain the alien consciousness she'd absorbed. It was nasty work—the Dominator's fragmented mind kept trying to reassert itself, to take control.
"How are you holding up?" I asked her.
"Been better. Been worse, too." She managed a weak smile. "At least Ah'm not trying to kill everyone this time."
"Progress."
With Jean's help, we managed to wall off the alien consciousness, trapping it so deeply in Rogue's psyche that it couldn't affect her. She'd have nightmares for months, but she'd survive.
The second hour was spent with my full team, planning the assault on the flagship.
"This is different from the jamming array," I explained. "We're not trying to sabotage something. We're trying to kill their Supreme Commander and cripple their entire operation."
"The same Commander that nearly killed us earlier?" Elektra asked, her ribs bandaged but her spirit unbroken.
"That's the one."
"Then we need a better plan than 'hit it really hard.'"
She was right. The Commander was too strong, too well-defended. We needed an edge.
"What if we don't fight it directly?" Maya signed. "What if we turn its own ship against it?"
"Explain," I prompted.
She outlined her idea—using the absorbed knowledge Rogue had gained from Dominator technicians, we could access the ship's systems. If we could reach the core control nexus, we could potentially override their commands, turn their own weapons inward.
"It's risky," Jessica said. "We'd have to fight through the entire ship to reach the core. And the Commander won't just let us waltz in."
"No, but it might let one person through," I said slowly. "What if I surrender?"
"Absolutely not," Felicia said immediately.
"Hear me out. The Commander is curious about me—it said so itself. I'm an anomaly, something not in their intelligence. If I offer myself as a prisoner, it might want to study me. That gets me close. And once I'm close…"
"You use that reality manipulation thing again," Elektra finished. "It's insane. I love it."
"We'd need perfect timing," Jessica said. "The moment Marcus makes his move, we'd have to hit the core simultaneously. Any delay and they kill him."
"Then we don't delay," I said. "Here's how this works…"
For the next hour, we planned every detail. Timing, entry points, fallback positions. It was dangerous, possibly suicidal. But it was also our best shot.
The final three hours were for rest—not because we had time to waste, but because exhausted soldiers make fatal mistakes.
I lay in my quarters, knowing I should sleep but unable to shut my brain off. The battle, the Commander, the strange power I'd manifested—it all swirled in my mind.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Felicia slipped inside.
"Can't sleep either?" she asked.
"Too much to think about."
She climbed into bed beside me, not trying to initiate anything, just wanting contact. We lay together in comfortable silence.
"I'm scared," she admitted finally. "Not of dying—I've faced death before. But of losing you. Of losing any of you."
"I know. Me too."
"Promise me something?"
"If it comes down to a choice—saving Earth or saving us—you choose Earth. You don't hesitate, you don't try to find a third option. You do what has to be done."
"Felicia—"
"Promise me, Marcus. Because I know you. You'll try to save everyone. And sometimes, you can't."
I was quiet for a long moment. "I can't promise that. But I promise I'll do my best to save both."
"That'll have to be enough." She kissed me softly. "Now shut up and hold me. We've got three hours, and I want to spend them remembering what we're fighting for."
I pulled her close, and despite everything, I felt some of the tension drain away. Whatever tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.
Just like always.