Cecil paced back and forth, his impatience growing with every second. His eyes were glued to the monitor, where the remaining Guardians of the Globe were barely holding their own against a massive monster. Without Mark and Omni-Man, the team's weaknesses were glaringly obvious, and with Eve still missing, the situation was spiraling out of control.
"For fuck's sake," Cecil muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Get ready to pull the kids out the second things go to shit. I'm not losing anyone else today." He rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache pounding behind his eyes. Turning sharply to one of the console operators, he snapped, "Any updates on Atom Eve's location? And where the hell is my coffee? I asked for it ten minutes ago!"
The operator flinched but kept their eyes on the screen. "Still no sign of Eve, sir. And, uh, your coffee's on its way."
Cecil sighed, muttering, "Unbelievable," as he turned back to the monitor, his jaw clenched. It was always something when Nolan dissapeared to hell knows where.
Another explosion rattled the command center, shaking the walls as the battle outside escalated. Cecil's grip tightened on the console, his patience running razor-thin. "Patch me through to the Guardians," he ordered, leaning forward.
A second later, static filled the room before Kate's strained voice came through. "—holding, but not for long! Where's our backup, old man?"
"Working on it," he said, his tone clipped. "Do not let that thing breach the city. I don't care what it takes."
"Yeah, great plan, gramps. We'll just—" A sickening crunch cut her off, followed by a sharp scream. The feed crackled.
Cecil's stomach turned. "Status?"
The operator hesitated. "It's… not good."
Gritting his teeth, Cecil turned away from the monitors. If Eve didn't show up soon, if Mark and Nolan were still off-world, and if the Guardians fell—then he was running out of options fast. And he hated running out of options.
Cecil took a slow breath, forcing himself to think. Panicking wasn't going to help. He needed solutions, now.
Just then, a series of small but rapid explosions erupted at the monster's leg, throwing off its balance and forcing it to kneel. Robot didn't waste the opportunity. He aimed his arm, firing a precise laser straight into the creature's eyes. The monster let out a deafening roar of pain, thrashing wildly.
Cecil's eyes narrowed. "Who—?"
Rex Splode emerged from the rubble, a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he grabbed more rocks with his hands. "Did you miss me? 'Cause I sure would've." With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the rocks at the monster's hand, which they exploded when they made contact. His smirk faded slightly as he glanced at the struggling Guardians. "Weren't you guys supposed to be, like, invincible or something? 'Cause right now, you're missing half your team. Not exactly a good look."
Kate groaned, wiping her brow as she staggered to her feet. "Oh, shut up and throw more bombs, jackass."
Rex snorted but didn't argue, already reaching for more debris. "See, that's the kinda team spirit I missed."
Cecil leaned closer to the monitor, watching as the Guardians regrouped around the injured monster. They weren't winning yet, but Rex's surprise return had bought them time. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Finally, some damn good news."
But just as he allowed himself that brief moment of relief, another alert blared through the command center. One of the techs paled, their fingers flying over the keyboard. "Sir—new energy reading. Unknown source. And it's big."
Cecil's gut twisted. "Where?"
The Mauler twins dropped Eve's unconscious body in front of Machine Head, her form crumpling lightly against the cold floor. They exchanged a wary glance before turning their attention to the crime boss.
"Don't try anything funny, Copperhead," one of the twins warned, his voice low but edged with tension. "Just pay us what we're owed, and we'll be out of your way. No fuss, no mess."
The other twin crossed his arms, his posture stiff but confident. "The girl's intact, just like you asked," he added. His eyes flicked toward Isotope, who was lurking nearby, and he shot him a sharp, warning look. "So let's keep this simple, yeah?"
Machine Head leaned back, tilting his head slightly, the metallic sheen of his mask catching the dim light. "Intact?" His voice was smooth, almost amused. "That's an interesting way to phrase it."
Isotope remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the room, but the tension between him and the Maulers didn't go unnoticed.
One of the twins rolled his shoulders, impatient. "We're not here for small talk. Pay up."
Machine Head chuckled, the artificial distortion of his voice making the sound eerily detached. "Oh, boys… you act like I don't appreciate your work." He gestured lazily toward Isotope. "Give them their reward."
Isotope nodded, reaching for the briefcase at his side. But just as he unlatched it, the room was flooded with a low, rumbling hum. The lights flickered. Eve stirred.
Machine head's hand twitched. "Now, that's interesting…"
The collar around her neck trembled, barely containing the surge of power within her. The light flickered and died down, leaving the room in a tense silence. The twin who had his hand outstretched toward the briefcase let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "When are they gonna stop underestimating us? Just because we look like meatheads—just because we've got some muscles—doesn't mean we're dumb. We can think too, y'know?"
The other twin rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "And that's why you're the clone, idiot."
Eve coughed weakly, her eyes flickering between a faint pink glow and their usual state. Her voice was strained but sharp. "You're... so stupid..." Her gaze shifted to the briefcase, then darted around the room, scanning for something—or someone. "Ambush..." she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible but laced with urgency.
Machine Head's synthetic laugh crackled through the room. "Ambush? Now that's a really cute way to try to escape, you think my associates will believe you?" He tilted his head, his golden faceplate gleaming under the dim lights. "That's adorable."
The Mauler twins, however, weren't as dismissive. One twin shot the other a wary glance, his grip tightening on the briefcase. "She's bluffing," he muttered, though there was an edge of doubt in his voice.
"Maybe," the other conceded, his eyes scanning the room. "But if she's not?"
Isotope shifted slightly, his usual silent demeanor now laced with tension. That was enough for the Maulers to take a step back, their muscles tensing, ready to react.
Eve forced a weak smirk, despite the pain weighing her down. "You're all so sure, huh?" Her fingers twitched slightly against the cold floor. "Choosing to believe a mob boss not to stab you in the back? That's cute."
The Maulers exchanged a look, their expressions hardening. They weren't stupid—working with Machine Head always came with a risk. But a job was a job, and as long as the money was right, they could ignore that nagging feeling in the back of their skulls.
Machine Head let out another synthetic chuckle. "Please. If I wanted to betray you, I wouldn't need theatrics. That's for amateurs." He gestured toward the briefcase. "Now, let's finish this transaction before someone gets the wrong idea."
Isotope took a step forward, but the twins didn't move. Eve's smirk widened just a fraction. "Guess you're thinking about it now, huh?" she rasped.
The first twin exhaled through his nose. "Shut up." But he still didn't reived the briefcase being offered.
The twins exchanged a quick glance before taking a step back. One of them grabbed Eve without hesitation, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Machine Head rose from his chair, the legs scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. He spread his arms wide.
"Gentlemen, come on now," he said. "You're really going to trust the ramblings of a cornered mouse? You're about to throw away the job—and the payday—over some desperate lies? You'd have better luck finding treasure in a drunkard's dreams."
But the twins weren't buying it. One of them narrowed his eyes, his voice calm but firm. "True enough. But if you're so confident, why don't you prove it? Let your friend over there open the case. Call it a show of goodwill."
Machine Head was silent for a moment, the hum of his processors the only sound in the room. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he shrugged. "If that's what it takes to ease your fragile little minds, fine." He snapped his fingers. "Isotope, indulge them."
Isotope hesitated, his gaze flicking between the twins and Machine Head. A small, almost imperceptible shift in his stance told Eve everything she needed to know—something was off.
The Maulers weren't idiots either. The one holding Eve tensed, gripping her tighter. "Slowly," he warned, watching as Isotope knelt beside the case.
The second twin, still focused on Machine Head, scoffed. "You really thought we'd just take your word for it?" His fingers twitched near his belt, where a concealed weapon rested. "Like you said, boss, we ain't amateurs."
Isotope exhaled sharply through his nose and flipped the latches open. The briefcase creaked as it was lifted—then, in a split second, his hand shot forward.
The Maulers reacted instantly. The one carrying Eve threw himself backward, shielding her as the other twin swung, landing a heavy blow against Isotope's wrist. The teleporter grunted as the impact forced him to drop the device he had hidden beneath the briefcase's lid—a compact but deadly energy disruptor.
Machine Head's laugh was drowned out by the chaos. "Tsk, tsk," he mused. "And here I thought we had trust."
"Yeah, and we thought you had a brain," the first twin shot back.
Eve gritted her teeth, her body still sluggish under the collar's effects. But this was her chance. If she could just—
A sudden, sharp pain shot through her head as a high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Something was happening. Something bad.
Machine Head let out a booming laugh as Eve floated limply from the Mauler's hands, her hands clutching her head as the collar around her neck buzzed and crackled with electricity. "Amateurs," he sneered, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive shrug. "You never even bothered to study what the collar actually does, did you? Typical."
Eve—no, Samantha—felt her mind slipping. Fragments of her life flashed before her eyes: the hours she'd spent experimenting with her powers, the nights she'd wasted crying over the emptiness of her life, the crushing despair that had consumed her when her real family was torn away. She remembered the twisted satisfaction—and the guilt—that had coursed through her when she'd used her powers on the man, no, the monster, who had tried to turn her into a weapon. Her consciousness was drowning, sinking into a thick, black sludge as she desperately reached out for her friends, for her mentor, Omni-Man. And then… nothing.
The Mauler twins barely had time to react as pink lightning erupted from Eve, striking the ground around them. The earth twisted and warped, transforming into a chaotic mess of materials—gold, rock, glass, all fused together in a surreal, twisted art.
Machine Head clapped slowly. "Well, well. Ever wondered what a god looks like? Now you know." He turned to Eve, his tone dripping with mock politeness. "Be a dear and give our guests the payment they so richly deserve, won't you?"
Before the Maulers could even process what was happening, Eve's energy beam lashed out, wrapping around one of them. The Mauler didn't even have time to scream as his body began to change, his hand stretching out toward his twin in a silent plea. In moments, he was nothing more than a golden statue, frozen in a look of pure terror.
The remaining Mauler staggered back, his breath caught in his throat. "What the—?" His wide eyes darted between the twisted remains of his twin and the girl floating before him, her form outlined in crackling pink energy.
Eve—no, whatever was left of her—tilted her head slightly, her expression blank, almost serene. But her eyes burned with something deep, something undescribable. The raw power radiating from her twisted the air itself, bending reality in ways it shouldn't.
Machine Head, ever the showman, leaned forward in his chair, his synthetic voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, don't look so shocked. This is what you signed up for, isn't it? Evolution, power beyond comprehension… I mean, you won't get to enjoy it, but still. A sight to behold, yeah?"
The Mauler clenched his fists, his mind racing. He'd survived plenty of betrayals before, but this? This was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. He was strong, but against this? Against her? He had to get out—now.
His feet barely moved before Eve's gaze snapped to him.
And then she smiled.
Back in the Pentagon, a screen flickered, shifting to a satellite feed. A new blip had appeared—far from the current battle. And as the system processed the data, a name popped up beside the reading.
Atom Eve.
Cecil's breath caught for just a second before his jaw clenched. "Get me eyes on her, now."
The techs scrambled, fingers flying across keyboards as the satellite zoomed in on the signal's source. Within seconds, a grainy but rapidly clearing image filled the main screen. Cecil's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene—warped terrain, jagged and fused like something out of a nightmare. The metallic remains of what looked like one of the Mauler twins stood frozen in place, his final expression twisted in terror.
And in the center of it all—Eve.
But something was wrong.
Her body hovered just slightly above the ground, bathed in an eerie pink glow that flickered and pulsed like a living thing. The collar around her neck sparked wildly, malfunctioning from sheer overload. Her face was unreadable, her eyes almost too bright, like staring into the heart of a star.
One of the techs swallowed hard. "S-Sir… that energy signature—it's off the charts. She's never outputted this much before."
Cecil didn't need a readout to see that. His gut was screaming at him, warning him that whatever was happening wasn't just a power surge—it was something else entirely.
"Send a drone," he ordered, his voice tight. "I want a live feed, now." He turned to another operative. "And prep an emergency extraction. If she's unstable, we need to contain this before it gets worse."
The tech hesitated. "Sir… what if she resists?"
Cecil's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then pray she doesn't."
Nolan wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing as Mark coughed and gasped for air, dragging himself backward. Mark's body shielded what looked like a Flanxan infant, his trembling arms forming a protective barrier.
"I'm not a monster," Nolan said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "You don't need to go that far. We still need them to get back home." He paused, his gaze shifting to the child. "It'll be that child's choice whether he wants to fight me when he's grown. I'm just here for the resistance."
Mark glared at him, his breathing ragged. "How long do you plan to keep this up?" he spat, his voice hoarse. "I get your point, but until you understand mine, your words mean nothing to me."
Nolan crossed his arms, his eyes lingering on Mark's unkempt beard. "Funny," he muttered. "You're asking me to stop fighting, but you're still here, aren't you? Until you're ready to listen, don't expect me to consider yours."
Mark wiped at his face, smearing dirt and blood across his cheek. His chest heaved as he forced himself upright, keeping the infant cradled against him. "I'm not here to fight," he said, though the defiance in his eyes told a different story. "I'm here because I have to be. Because you won't stop until you get what you want."
Nolan exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. "That's what survival is, Mark. You think I wanted to do any of this?" He gestured around them—to the crumbling battlefield, to the bodies of Flaxan soldiers strewn across the ground. "This is what happens when you refuse to accept reality."
Mark's hands tightened around the infant. "Their reality? Or yours?"
For the first time, something flickered in Nolan's eyes. Not hesitation—but something. He let the silence stretch before answering, his voice quieter than before. "One day, you'll understand. I just hope, when you do, it won't be too late."
Mark's jaw clenched. "Yeah? Well, I hope you understand before it's too late for you."