At the high-altitude command center of General Ross's mobile base, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of stale coffee and electronic ozone. Ross was pacing like a caged tiger, his eyes fixed on a glowing digital map of Manhattan.
"I don't care if you have to peel back every roof in Chinatown! Use the high-res thermal scanners. Locate Huang Wen and the asset immediately," Ross barked. His voice was a rasping growl that sent shivers down the spines of the younger analysts. "If he isn't at the school, surround the block. Lock down every exit. If he wants to play ghost, we'll see how he likes it when his neighborhood becomes a military zone."
He didn't believe for a second that a man of Huang Wen's caliber would just disappear. People like that always had a base, and the Wing Chun Martial Arts School was the heart of his operations.
Suddenly, a sharp chirping sound cut through the room. The lead communications officer froze, his face turning a sickly shade of gray as he looked at the caller ID on the secure line.
"General... it's the Pentagon. The Chief of Staff is on line one. He sounds... urgent," the officer stammered.
Ross's eyes narrowed. Mark Sherman? Why was he calling now? He walked over, snatched the receiver, and straightened his posture out of habit. "General Ross here. Sir, I'm in the middle of a high-priority recovery operation—"
"Lieutenant General Ross," the voice on the other end was like a sheet of ice. "Let me be very clear so there is no room for 'tactical misinterpretation.' Regarding the Hulk project—you may continue your biological research. That is your sandbox. But as of this second, you are strictly forbidden from engaging, tracking, or even breathing in the direction of Mr. Huang Wen."
Ross felt a surge of heat crawl up his neck. "Mark! You can't be serious! Did you see the satellite footage? That man is a walking tactical nuke! We can't just let him walk around—"
"Watch your tone, Thaddeus," Chief of Staff Mark Sherman's voice dropped an octave, dripping with authority. "You are speaking to a four-star General and your superior. Don't forget which family pulled your career out of the fire after the Hulk's New York 'vacation' cost the taxpayers three billion in damages. The only reason you still have stars on your shoulders is because I'm allowing it. Now, stand down from Chinatown. That is a direct order."
Ross gripped the receiver so hard the plastic groaned. He took a long, shaky breath, forcing the rage down. "Understood, Chief of Staff. I will focus on the super-soldier research. David Banner left enough biological residue for a decade of study... and the Hulk's data is being processed."
"Good. Don't waste more of my money, Ross. People are starting to ask why your 'monster hunt' has a higher budget than some small countries. I've been covering for you, but my patience isn't infinite."
Ross hesitated, his eyes flickering to the screen showing Huang Wen's vanishing point. "Sir... one more thing. The reason I flagged Huang Wen was because Charles Xavier, the leader of the mutants, manipulated my intel. It seems he and Huang Wen have a bit of a... history."
There was a pause on the other end. "Xavier? The telepath?" Mark's voice sounded almost amused now. "Interesting. If even the world's most powerful mind can't handle this man and has to trick the military into doing his dirty work, it only proves my son's judgment was better than yours. Ross, do your research and leave the politics to me."
The line went dead. Ross stood there for a long moment, staring at the handset. He finally set it down and turned to his command crew.
"Cancel the deployment to Chinatown. Scrub the satellite tracking on Huang Wen. We're pivoting," Ross said, his voice flat. "Get the samples from the David Banner site to the lab. I want a full breakdown of the mutated serum. If we can't have the Master, we'll build our own army from the scraps he left behind."
On the other side of the country, Mark Sherman sat in a leather-bound office, looking at a photo of his son, Jack. He wasn't just acting out of family loyalty; he was a pragmatist. If Huang Wen could make the X-Men's leader desperate, then Huang Wen was the most valuable insurance policy on the planet.
He picked up a private burner phone and dialed Jack's number.
"Jack, it's done. Ross is on a leash," Mark said without preamble. "But listen to me: this move came from the mutants. Charles Xavier tried to use the army as a scalpel against your teacher. Tell Mr. Huang Wen to watch his back. Xavier's mind is a dangerous place."
At the Wing Chun school, Jack was wiping down a wooden dummy, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thanks, Father. I'll pass it on. And don't worry—the Master isn't the type to be caught off guard. I'm making progress here. I think I'm finally breaking into the 'inner circle'."
"Good. If you can learn even a fraction of what he did in that quarry, the Sherman family will never have to worry about the military-industrial complex again. We'll be the complex."
Meanwhile, in a darkened office at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Nick Fury was having a very bad day.
His "Grand Trap" for a suspected Hydra mole had just turned into a funeral. The agent he had intercepted hadn't even blinked before shouting "Hail Hydra" and biting a cyanide capsule. It was a level of fanaticism that made Fury's skin crawl.
"Sir, we're cleaning up the interrogation room," Maria Hill said, walking in. "But he didn't leave a single scrap of intel. He was a professional."
"He was a ghost," Fury muttered, his one eye staring at the ceiling. "How many more of them are sitting in my meetings every morning, Hill?"
His private phone rang—a specific tone reserved for Frank (The Punisher). Fury answered it immediately. "Frank. Tell me you have better news than I do."
"Depends on how much you like explosions, Nick," Frank's voice was heavy with a rare kind of awe. "The Master just did something in the suburbs. I've seen a lot of things, but I've never seen a man turn a water-monster into a missile with a handful of seeds. I'm sending the satellite packet now."
Fury opened the file on his desk tablet. He watched the grainy footage of the Ice Flame Palm, the freezing of David Banner, and the final, blinding white blast. The data analysis popped up next to it: Zero radiation. 100% kinetic yield. Source: Unknown.
"Jesus," Fury whispered. "And the military? Ross must be halfway to Chinatown with a tank division by now."
"That's the weird part," Frank said. "Ross pulled back. Chinatown is quiet. Just the usual local cops, led by that Jack Sherman kid."
Fury's mind whirred, connecting the dots at lightning speed. "The Sherman family... Mark Sherman. He's the Air Force Chief of Staff. He's shielding the school. He's not just playing politics; he's buying a seat at the table. He knows Huang Wen is the real deal."
Fury leaned back, a grim smile touching his lips. "It seems I've been too aggressive. If the Sherman family is playing the 'long game' of friendship, S.H.I.E.L.D. can't afford to be the enemy. Hill! Cancel the surveillance on the Wing Chun school. We're changing tactics. From now on, we treat Huang Wen like a sovereign nation. We don't spy; we negotiate."
At the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the mood was far more somber.
Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair in the center of the subterranean "Cerebro" chamber. He looked older, more tired than he had just a few hours ago. Magneto stood by the window, his cape billowing slightly despite the lack of wind, while Mystique leaned against the wall, her eyes sharp and predatory.
"I'm sorry, Erik," Charles said, his voice a soft rasp. "The plan... it didn't just fail. It backfired. Huang Wen is far more entrenched than I anticipated. He has the backing of high-level military families, and his own strength is... well, it's beyond my ability to quantify."
"So he wins?" Magneto turned, his voice cold. "He cripples me, humiliates our cause, and we just sit here and wait for him to decide we're next?"
"He isn't a hunter, Erik," Charles countered. "He's a mountain. If you don't climb it, it won't fall on you. But if we keep trying to blow it up, the landslide will bury us all."
"We could take the people he cares about," Mystique suggested, her form shifting momentarily into a generic student. "He has students. He has a girl. Everyone has a leash, Charles."
Charles shook his head, a look of genuine fear crossing his face. "No. You don't understand the 'bottom line' we established. If we touch his family, he won't just come for us—he'll dismantle this entire school. He'll show the world that mutants are a threat, and then he'll be the one to 'save' them by wiping us out. It's a silent pact. We stay away from his life, and he stays away from ours."
Magneto gripped the window sill, the metal groaning as it bent under his frustration. "Then we are at a stalemate. A king who cannot move his pieces."
"For now," Charles said, closing his eyes. "We wait. We watch. And we pray that the next monster he fights is more dangerous than we are... because right now, Huang Wen is the only thing keeping the balance from tipping into total chaos."