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Five years had passed since the day Wanda Maximoff first felt the piercing cry of Subject Omega echo in her mind.
Life in the dark, sterile halls of Hydra was relentless, punctuated by brutal training sessions and the constant watch of their captors. Wanda had settled into a routine—one that involved mastering her own powers and surviving the endless experiments
Each time she experienced it, the sensation was elusive, just beyond her grasp. Sometimes it felt like a heartbeat, sometimes like the echo of a laugh or the warmth of a presence, but every time it slipped away like smoke between her fingers. These connections made her heart ache, awakening a longing she couldn't quite name. Was it hope? Was it love?
Pietro, her brother, her twin, often sensed her restlessness. He would come to her cell, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "What is it, Wanda?" he would ask, his voice low, as if afraid of waking some hidden monster inside her. "You've been distant."
She would look at him, those striking blue eyes reflecting a familiar strength. "I feel something," she would say, her voice barely a whisper. "Something out there... but I can't reach it. I don't know what it is."
Pietro would nod, the same frustration etched on his features. "You have to focus. It's just your mind playing tricks. Remember we are here for a reason."
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Subject Omega had become something more than just a name; he was now a weapon forged in the fires of Hydra. His life had been a constant cycle of physical and mental training, shaped by the relentless hands of Dr. Stryker. The sterile facility was a home of sorts, though one built on pain and conditioning, not warmth and safety.
Today was no different. The gymnasium where he trained was vast, with high ceilings and walls lined with heavy bags and various combat equipment. Three full-grown, heavily muscled men stood before him, grinning as if they were about to enjoy an easy afternoon. They were seasoned fighters, trained to handle even the toughest opponents. But Omega—once merely an infant in a pod—was different now.
Stryker watched from a distance, arms crossed, a predatory smile creeping across his lips. He had molded Omega meticulously, instilling in him both the skills of a soldier and the rage of a beast. "Show them what you're made of, Subject Omega," he commanded, his voice slicing through the air.
Omega stood at the center of the room, a strange calm settling over him. This is what I was made for. He had learned to embrace the combat training, even if the memories of his past were still fragmented. They had returned to him in bits and pieces—a flicker of laughter, a glimpse of freedom, a sense of loss.
The fight began.
The first man charged at him, swinging a heavy fist. Omega dodged to the side, his reflexes sharper than he had anticipated. He countered with a kick that caught the attacker squarely in the stomach, sending him stumbling back. The other two wasted no time, closing in from both sides.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of movement—punches and kicks flying, bodies colliding. Omega took a few hits, feeling the sting of blows against his skin, but he pushed through. With each strike, he felt a familiar sensation course through him, like a dark green ember igniting within. It was power—raw and unrefined—fueled by the energy of the Scepter that had been part of him since his creation.
Despite the pain, he kept moving, refusing to back down. The trainers were relentless, but Omega was relentless too. He felt the ache in his muscles and the bruises forming beneath his skin, but they faded as quickly as they appeared. His regeneration rate was astonishing—faster than any human, even beyond the original Super Soldier Serum. Each time he got hit, he healed almost instantaneously, the pain quickly becoming just a memory.
As the fight progressed, Omega began to sense something deeper. The air around him shimmered with energy as he channeled he channeled his rage and emotion. With a fierce yell, he extended his hands, and a wave of Green energy exploded from him. It surged through the air, a tangible wave of psychic energy, and sent the three men flying across the room as if they were mere toys. They crashed into the wall, grunting in shock, momentarily incapacitated.
Stryker's eyes narrowed, a glimmer of intrigue flickering behind his cold demeanor. "Interesting," he muttered, a hint of approval in his voice. Omega's abilities were proving to be something he had not fully anticipated.
In the aftermath of the skirmish, Omega stood in the center of the gym, panting and disheveled but victorious. He felt powerful, stronger than he had ever imagined, yet the sensation was clouded by the knowledge of his confinement. This isn't freedom, he thought bitterly. This is just another form of captivity.
The memories of his past life had begun to surface over the years, each revelation hitting him like a wave. He didn't remember who he was—his name, his family, his life—but he understood enough to know he wasn't just an ordinary child. He was in the world of Marvel, a universe filled with heroes and villains, battles and sacrifices.
The Hydra sigil burned into his shoulder blade and served as a constant reminder that he belonged to someone else. He was a weapon—a brand forged in blood and pain. But I can be more than that, he vowed to himself.
As he recovered from the fight, Omega found himself lost in thought. He had a purpose, even if it was dictated by the whims of Stryker. But somewhere deep within, a flicker of rebellion sparked. He yearned for more than the confines of this life—he wanted to break free.
But how?
Even with the memories that returned to him in flashes, he had no concrete plan. The connection he sometimes felt, a vague sense of someone out there but he didn't know who or what it was, or if he could trust it.
For now, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and looked at the three men and smiled, But before he could savor the victory, he heard the unmistakable click of a remote in Stryker's hand.
"Impressive," Stryker remarked, an edge of cold disapproval in his tone. "But this was a physical examination, not one with your powers." With that, he pressed the button on the remote.
An agonizing jolt of electricity coursed through Omega's body, seizing his muscles and throwing him to the ground. The world blurred as pain shot through him, radiating from his core outwards. The sensation was overwhelming; it was as if lightning had struck him, filling every nerve with searing agony.
"AHHHH!" Omega cried out, his voice strained and desperate as he crumpled to the floor. The electric shocks continued, each pulse feeling like a brand on his skin, reinforcing the reality of his imprisonment.
Stryker stepped closer, looming over him. "Now, let's do this again, but correctly this time." There was a satisfaction in Stryker's voice, a twisted pleasure at asserting his control over the boy who had become both his greatest experiment and, in some ways, his greatest achievement.
Omega's body convulsed involuntarily as the shocks continued, but his mind raced. This is what I was made for, he thought bitterly, forcing himself to focus through the haze of pain. He recalled the moments of triumph and the feelings of empowerment from moments before. But I will not be broken.
The electricity finally ceased, leaving Omega gasping on the ground, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. He forced himself to push against the cold, hard floor, struggling to rise. He could feel the bruises forming beneath his skin, but even that pain was fleeting. He could heal quickly, but that didn't mean he wanted to endure this torture.
"Get up, Omega," Stryker ordered, his voice sharp and unyielding.
With a herculean effort, Omega managed to regain his footing. He stood hunched over, breathing heavily, but he was determined to rise above the treatment Stryker was inflicting upon him.
"You need to understand the distinction between your natural abilities and your physical capabilities," Stryker continued, pacing back and forth in front of him. "Your telekinesis and psychic powers are tools, yes, but they are not your only assets. In the field, you must rely on your strength and training. Now, let's try this again."
As Omega squared his shoulders and prepared for the next wave of attackers, he felt the remnants of his past life flicker at the edge of his consciousness. He was more than a weapon; he was still Omega.
The training session resumed with Omega facing the three men again. Each second stretched into eternity as he battled not just the physical onslaught but the mental struggles that accompanied his existence. They lunged at him, fists flying, but this time he had the experience of pain fueling him.
He fought with everything he had, relying on his training while wrestling with the memories that continued to bubble up from the depths of his mind. Each punch, every kick he delivered felt like a glimpse into a life he didn't fully remember—a life that had once belonged to someone else.
But as Stryker observed from the sidelines, he saw the ferocity in Omega's eyes, a fire ignited by both anger and determination.
"Focus, Omega Use your instincts!" Stryker shouted.
With each clash against the men, the shadows of his past life filled the training room. He envisioned faces and places, snippets of laughter and joy, moments that made him feel alive, even if they were just shadows of memories. It was these echoes that provided the strength to keep moving forward, despite the physical and mental torture he was enduring.
One of the men managed to land a solid punch to his gut, causing Omega to double over. Pain shot through him, but he forced himself to stand tall again, gritting his teeth. The men attacked again, but this time he was ready.
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Stryker stood at the edge of the training floor, a predatory gleam in his eye as he clapped his hands together. "Good job, Omega. Now we move on to weapons training." His voice was cold, and the smile on his face was anything but friendly.
With another press of a button on his remote, the walls of the gym began to shift and open, revealing a vast array of weapons displayed like trophies of war. The sight sent a thrill through Omega, mingled with apprehension. This was a different kind of training, one that would push him beyond just hand-to-hand combat.
As Omega's gaze swept across the rows of gleaming blades, guns, and blunt instruments, Stryker's voice cut through the anticipation. "Hurry up and pick a weapon. You only have five seconds. Now, four... three... two... one!"
Without hesitation, Omega sprinted toward the nearest weapon, heart racing as adrenaline surged through his veins. He spotted a sleek combat knife, its blade glinting under the fluorescent lights, and in one swift motion, he snatched it up. It felt perfectly balanced in his hand, a familiar weight that evoked echoes of a life he couldn't fully remember.
Stryker's voice boomed again, filled with urgency. "Now, let's see how you use it!"
Before Omega could process the implications, the three men he had just fought against returned, their expressions a mix of determination and malice. They were armed with their weapons: one brandished a katana, another wielded a heavy axe, and the last held a pistol, its muzzle glinting menacingly.
"Let's go!" Stryker barked, his eyes glinting with excitement as he watched the confrontation unfold. "Show me what you've got!"
Omega felt the thrill of challenge wash over him as the three men advanced. The knife was still foreign in his grip, but he was determined to adapt quickly. With a deep breath, he shifted into a fighting stance, his senses heightened, every sound and movement amplified.
The man with the katana struck first, slashing downward with practiced precision. Omega dodged to the side, the blade whistling past his ear. The adrenaline pumping through him allowed him to focus, sharp and alert, as he retaliated with a quick thrust of his knife aimed at his attacker's midsection.
The man sidestepped, grinning cruelly as he swung again. Omega ducked low, avoiding the deadly arc of the katana while using the momentum to spin around. With a flick of his wrist, he aimed for the man's leg. He felt a rush of satisfaction as the blade caught the fabric of the man's pants, slicing through with ease.
"Not bad, Omega!" Stryker called out, his voice echoing off the steel walls, but the praise felt hollow amidst the chaos of the fight.
As he continued to evade attacks from the katana-wielder, Omega felt the weight of the axe as the second man swung it toward him, aiming for his shoulder. The blade came down hard, and Omega barely managed to roll away, the edge nicking his skin and leaving a sting behind.
"Focus!" Stryker shouted, his tone growing impatient. "You need to anticipate their moves!"
With the encouragement mingled with pressure, Omega pushed himself up and refocused. He had to think strategically. He darted to the side, drawing the katana-wielder's attention. As the man lunged again, Omega spun, evading the strike and moving closer to the one with the axe.
Seizing the opportunity, he feinted toward the katana-wielder before pivoting to confront the axe-wielder. This time, he aimed low, using the sharp blade of his knife to cut across the man's ankle. The man stumbled, the axe falling from his grip as he cried out in pain.
That was when the last opponent—gun-wielding and lethal—took his chance to shoot. The sound of the gunshot rang out, echoing sharply in the enclosed space. Omega's instincts kicked in, and he ducked just in time, feeling the bullet whiz past him.
"Watch out!" Stryker barked, his excitement palpable.
Omega's heart raced, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through him. He sprang forward, closing the distance between himself and the shooter. The gunman attempted to pull the trigger again, but Omega was faster. With a swift movement, he plunged the knife deep into the man's side, the shock of the attack evident in the man's eyes as he crumpled to the floor.
The remaining two opponents regrouped, glaring at Omega as he stood, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still surging through his veins. He was aware of the sounds of the facility—the hum of the fluorescent lights, the distant sounds of machinery—but all that mattered now was the fight.
"Get back in the game!" Stryker shouted, his voice cutting through the haze of battle.
With renewed determination, Omega faced the katana-wielder and the axe-wielder once more. They charged at him together, and for a moment, he felt an odd sense of clarity wash over him. Memories of past battles flickered through his mind like flashes of light—images of conflicts long forgotten yet familiar.
He was more than just Subject Omega. He was a fighter, a survivor. The realization emboldened him.
As the katana swung at him again, Omega ducked and rolled, using his knife to deflect the blade with a quick flick of his wrist. He sprang to his feet and advanced on the axe-wielder, who was still nursing his wounded leg.
Summoning the surge of dark green energy that pulsed within him, Omega focused intently. He extended his free hand toward the axe-wielder and, with a fierce determination, unleashed a wave of telekinetic force. The man caught off guard, was propelled backward as if struck by an invisible hand, crashing into the gym wall with a bone-jarring impact.
Stryker's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "Remember, no abilities, Omega. I let it slide this once but use that power again, and you know what will happen."
With the axe-wielder incapacitated, Omega turned his attention to the katana-wielder, who remained poised and ready for combat. Despite the fatigue weighing heavily on him, Omega was far from finished. This fight was a crucible, testing not just his physical limits but his very will to survive.
As the katana swooped through the air again, Omega quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the deadly blade. Seizing the opportunity, he launched a counterattack, driving his knife forward with precision. The blade sliced cleanly through the man's defenses, finding its mark.
The katana-wielder crumpled to the ground, and Omega stood over him, panting heavily yet feeling a sense of triumph wash over him. In that moment, he understood he was no longer merely surviving; he was adapting and evolving into the weapon they had always intended him to be—but on his terms.
Stryker approached him, a glimmer of satisfaction lighting up his eyes. "Good. You're finally beginning to grasp your strengths. But remember, this is just the beginning. There's still much more for you to learn."
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