The meeting room sat deep in silence. Red emergency lighting cast long shadows across the circular table. Behind them, wall-mounted screens displayed maps, data streams, and surveillance footage.

  Justin Hammer broke the silence first.

  "Look, I'm just saying, if we're talking about the whole superhero problem, we gotta acknowledge the elephant in the room, right?" His hands moved as he spoke. "Tony Stark. The guy gets one tin suit and suddenly he's the golden boy of America. Meanwhile, I've been busting my ass for years, actual years, and what do I get? Second place. Always second place. But here's the thing, here's what kills me about it..."

  He was rambling now, sweat beading on his forehead.

  "The suit isn't even that impressive from an engineering standpoint. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's good, but it's not revolutionary. It's incremental improvement on existing technology, and if I had just gotten the DOD contract instead of..."

  His voice rose.

  "And another thing, the arc reactor? Please. The theoretical physics behind miniaturized fusion reactors has been around for decades. Decades! If the government had just funded my research proposals back in '03, I could have..."

  John Sublime's fingers twitched toward his pistol.

  "You know what really gets me?" Hammer continued. "The media coverage. It's like they're allergic to showing anyone else's innovations. We developed the Hammer Drone series, fully autonomous combat units that could revolutionize modern warfare, and what do they do? They compare them to Stark's suit. Everything is always compared to Stark's suit! Like he invented the concept of powered armor! I mean, technically speaking, if you look at the historical precedent..."

  The gunshot cracked through the room.

  Justin Hammer's head snapped sideways, a neat hole appearing in his temple. For a moment, he remained upright, mouth still open mid-sentence.

  Then his body slumped forward, face hitting the metal table and slipping to the floor.

  Blood pooled beneath his cheek.

  John Sublime lowered his pistol. His expression never changed.

  "This isn't a place for jokes," Sublime said. "You talk business, or you don't talk at all. Mr. Hammer clearly didn't understand the difference."

  Across the table, Nathaniel Essex leaned back in his chair, a smile playing across his pale features.

  "Aw man, I could have used his resources," Sinister said. "Hammer Industries has some fascinating weapons research divisions. Such delightful toys gathering dust in their laboratories."

  He paused.

  "Oh well. There are always other desperate men willing to fund science they don't understand."

  Daniel Whitehall's German-accented voice cut through from the shadows. "Such irrational decision-making. If you could have been logical for once, Sublime, we might have..."

  "Oh, a cult praying to a Kree experiment talks of logic?" Sinister interrupted. "That's rich, Daniel. Tell me, how many prayers did you offer to your hive god this morning?"

  Whitehall's hand moved to his sidearm. His jaw clenched.

  "You dare..."

  "Don't forget who supported and funded your enhanced soldiers after Erskine left for America," Sinister continued. "Who do you think kept Hydra's super-soldier program alive? When the Reich fell and your precious masters scattered like roaches, who extended the hand of partnership?"

  "You speak of matters beyond your understanding," Whitehall hissed. "The Red Skull's vision transcends mere mortality. While you play with genetics in your laboratory like a child with toys..."

  "A child?" Sinister's laugh was sharp. "My dear Daniel, I was manipulating bloodlines when your grandparents were still swimming in their fathers' loins."

  "Gentlemen."

  Madame Gao's voice carried weight.

  "To quarrel among ourselves while the enemy strengthens is to sharpen the sword for one's own execution."

  "Equals?" Whitehall spat. "I don't take lectures on honor from someone who poisons children for profit..."

  "LADY AND GENTLEMEN."

  Sublime's voice didn't rise in volume, but something in the tone made everyone freeze. He placed his pistol on the table.

  Justin Hammer's blood was still spreading.

  "We are here to talk business," Sublime continued. "Or was the example not enough for you?"

  Silence fell.

  Only a few people in the world knew who truly controlled the global underworld, and every person at this table understood that John Sublime had earned their respect through rivers of blood and mountains of corpses.

  Even Mister Sinister, who'd been alive since the Victorian era, knew the true depth of this Ancient monster.

  Sinister's mind raced behind his calm facade.

  No need to derail the plan, he thought. Not when we're so close to the real prize. Let Sublime play his power games. I have bigger fish to fry.

  Sublime stood slowly, drawing every eye in the room. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute conviction.

  "Existence is ordered and ordained," he said, each word precise as a scalpel cut. "Water flows downhill. Those who have, have. Those who do not, have not."

  He gestured at Hammer's corpse with clinical detachment.

  "The rich get richer. The poor get poorer. Some hold the winning cards... and some clutch at a handful of jokers." His eyes swept the room. "This is not chance. This is not accident. This is design."

  He moved to the screens, which flickered to life at his approach. Maps of major cities. Surveillance footage of superhero activity. News coverage of mutant protests.

  "The sore losers in the game of life see their fate woven in the fabric of creation and rail against it. Call it doom."

  A thin smile crossed his features.

  "There's a philosophical term for that perspective. 'The Just World Fallacy.'"

  His voice dropped lower, almost contemplative.

  "And imagine being so twisted. So filled with hate. So paralyzed by fear. Imagine thinking it a fallacy... that the world could be just."

  He turned back to face them.

  Sublime gestured to the screens behind them, which flickered to life with new images. Maps of major cities. Surveillance footage of superhero activity. News coverage of mutant protests.

  "We are gathered here because our work has been interrupted," Sublime said. "Vigilantes are rising up all over the world. Governments are setting up their own teams like the Tiger Division in South Korea."

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  His fingers moved across a tablet.

  "Worse, people are understanding the hidden side of the world. They're believing it. After the World War, we've spent decades hiding and suppressing vigilantes and heroes. Bribing them. Threatening them. Killing them when necessary. We kept the world ignorant and afraid."

  Sublime's jaw tightened.

  "But now we're failing. All because of him."

  Every screen in the room changed simultaneously.

  Jay.

  The images cycled. Flying through New York skies in Fantasticar. Meeting with Professor Xavier at the X-Mansion. Attending the New Year's party at the Baxter Building. Fighting alongside the Morlocks.

  "This alien came into our world with no evidence of his previous existence," Sublime said. "No birth certificate. No social security number. No digital footprint. He appeared out of thin air."

  He pulled up footage of the park incident. Jay's hands glowed green as he worked on the Castle children. Frank Castle's face transformed from desperate fear to relief.

  "His little act of saving and healing the Castle family put mutants in a positive light," Sublime continued. "Public opinion shifted overnight."

  Madame Gao nodded slowly. "The Hand has noticed the shift in the waters. Our usual recruiting methods among desperate humans have become less effective. They have hope now."

  "Then we discovered he's been pushing the Fantastic Four and X-Men to work on their PR," Sublime said, pulling up the heroes' official social media accounts. "Reed Richards doing science demonstrations for inner-city schools. Storm organizing weather relief for drought-stricken areas."

  The screens shifted to aerial surveillance of District X. Clean streets. Functional infrastructure. Mutants and humans living side by side.

  "He organized the Morlocks," Whitehall said. "Creatures that should have stayed in the sewers. Brought them into the light."

  Footage played of mutants who looked almost human. Former Morlocks who'd had their most obvious physical mutations adjusted.

  "He used Masque," Sublime said. "A flesh manipulator we'd commissioned from the Hell Fire Club for our own purposes. Turned most of them to appear normal enough that humans can't immediately identify and ostracize them."

  Mister Sinister leaned forward, his smile returning.

  "Jay, Jay, Jay," Sinister said. "I've obtained samples of his blood, gentlemen. Analyzed them with equipment that can break down matter at the subatomic level."

  His voice took on fevered quality.

  "His blood is like nothing I've ever seen. Every attempt to observe it at the cellular level fails. Every attempt to modify it results in immediate sample degradation. And his powers..."

  Sinister's smile widened.

  "Adaptive. Constantly growing. Taking on new abilities as if the world itself bends to accommodate him."

  "That Indian dog is the reason Captain America is back," Whitehall said. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the table edge. "Every day that man walks free is a great shame to Hydra."

  "Not just back," Sublime added. "Rogers defended District X from my U-Men. Fought alongside mutants against the Friends of Humanity. He's actively preaching mutant acceptance."

  Madame Gao's weathered face showed rare emotion.

  "Our honored associate in the land of the rising sun, Murakami, has returned to the ancestors," Gao said. "The Yashida family, guided by this meddler's hand, struck with the full force of their mutant operatives."

  She paused.

  'Murakami's dead, permanently,' Gao thought. 'Jay must have given the Yashida family a hint to fully kill them.'

  Mister Sinister's smile grew wider as he read the surface thoughts leaking from Gao's disciplined mind.

  The largest screen shifted to show recent footage from Latveria. Castle Doom in ruins. And at the center, broadcast to a watching world, Jay's blade descending.

  Victor Von Doom's body crumpling.

  The footage was crystal clear. Every detail was visible. The way Jay moved, perfectly controlled. The precision of the killing stroke.

  Whitehall scoffed. "That damn Gypsy never accepted the invitation to join our Cabal. Said he had no interest in our 'small-minded schemes.' He had it coming."

  "Now, now, don't discount Doom," Sinister said. "After all, doom comes for all. Eventually."

  He smiled that knowing smile that suggested secrets within secrets.

  "What do you mean by that?" Whitehall demanded.

  "Gentlemen, focus," Sublime cut in. "We need a clear-cut way to remove Jay from the board. Permanently."

  "So let's pool our resources," Sinister suggested. "Surely between the four of us, we can arrange one man's death."

  The argument started immediately.

  "Target the X-Men," Whitehall suggested. "Without their backing, Morlock's isolated."

  "The X-Men are too strong," Gao countered. "Professor Xavier alone could unravel any plot we devise."

  "Then the Fantastic Four," Sublime said. "Richards is vulnerable through his family."

  "Reed Richards is potentially the smartest man on Earth," Sinister said. "You'll forgive me if I don't underestimate him."

  "The Morlocks then..."

  "Protected by nearly every super in New York after the U-Men incident," Gao interrupted.

  "His inner circle," Whitehall tried. "The people closest to him. Kill them, and we break him psychologically."

  Sublime shook his head. "We've tried. No matter what we do, we can't find them. Telepathic probes fail. Conventional digital spying returns nothing. It's as if the internet itself is protecting them."

  "I commissioned agents to physically surveil known associates," Gao said. "They vanished as morning mist before the sun. Every single one."

  Whitehall slammed his fist on the table, making Hammer's corpse jolt slightly.

  "It's all that damn mutie's power! How convenient, ja? To take any power he wants, from anyone he wants."

  He pulled up footage from Doom's global broadcast. His finger stabbed at the screen.

  "If you watched the broadcast correctly, we saw Jay in his Power Broker persona take that Leech child's power nullification field," Whitehall continued. "And moments later, he deployed it against the X-Men. Minutes, gentlemen!"

  "At least at the base level," Sinister interjected. "Full mastery would take longer, but adaptive integration of new abilities at that speed is extraordinary."

  Madame Gao's voice cut through. "Do not forget, he took Kenuichio Harada's power to cut virtually anything. The Silver Samurai's tachyon field."

  Whitehall's fingers drummed against the table.

  Sinsiter continued. "He also took my right hand, Kim Il Sung's power scrambling ability. Left him crippled. My M-Gang, my marauders, were rooted out and maimed in Korea. Completely dismantled. I had to stop all mutant trafficking operations worldwide just to hide and let things cool down."

  Sublime raised a hand. "Let's think about this methodically. He has that damn healing power of his. That's what lets him play the bureaucrats, billionaires, and politicians around like puppets. Public healings. Private treatments for the wealthy and powerful."

  "We know he has Sage's powers," Sinister added. "That means he has a supercomputer for a mind."

  "Then he also can jumpstart dormant X-genes," Sublime said flatly.

  Whitehall's face flushed crimson. "That's great! Wunderbar! Now he can awaken their mutations AND take their powers from anyone."

  "We know he dealt with Kilgrave after reading about reports on Jessica Jones of Heroes for Hire," Gao said. "We can safely assume the mental protection his people have comes from Kilgrave's power of mind control. Turned defensive."

  Sinister scoffed. "The Purple Man, calling himself the ruler of the mind. If only he'd met any of the X-Men's psychics before Jay found him. I would have loved to see his face!"

  "We also know he saved those two children from the incident at the Roxxon oil rig," Sublime added. "Roxxon was mining to extract Darkforce energy secretly. That explains his power over shadows and darkness we saw during his fight with Doom."

  The list continued growing.

  The weight of it settled over the table. Each new revelation made Jay seem less like a man and more like an approaching apocalypse.

  Whitehall's composure finally shattered.

  "SCHEISSE!"

  He surged to his feet, knocking his chair backward. His face contorted with rage.

  "Der verdammte Mischling! That mongrel mutant thinks he can destroy everything we've built!"

  He kicked at Justin Hammer's corpse, sending the dead man's head lolling to the side. Blood splattered across the floor.

  "Inferior! Subhuman! That's what they are!" Whitehall continued, his voice rising. "Mutants are genetic pollution! A corruption of humanity's pure bloodline! They should be catalogued, experimented on, eliminated! The Führer understood this truth!"

  He kicked Hammer's body again.

  Ribs cracked audibly.

  "And this Indian dog thinks he's some kind of savior? Some kind of messiah?" Whitehall's face was purple now. "He's contaminated! Mutant filth mixed with whatever alien corruption made him! His very existence is an offense against the natural order!"

  Another kick sent Hammer's head bouncing off the metal floor.

  "Daniel."

  Sublime's voice carried a warning edge.

  "Sit down."

  "His Indian heritage, his mutant genes, his stolen powers..." Whitehall was still ranting. "It's an abomination! And we're supposed to what? Negotiate? Nein! We should have exterminated him the moment he appeared!"

  "SIT. DOWN."

  Sublime's hand rested on his pistol.

  Whitehall slowly sank back into his chair, chest heaving.

  Sublime observed the group seriously. They needed a different approach. Something unexpected.

  The room fell into frustrated silence. On the screens behind them, images of Jay continued cycling. Him laughing with Domino. Bobby saying something that made Jay shake his head with a smile.

  A soft gulp interrupted the planning session.

  Mister Sinister's ever-present smile faltered for the first time. His eyes unfocused slightly, the telltale sign of a telepath receiving a mental message.

  When his attention returned to the room, his expression had shifted from amused to genuinely concerned.

  He stood abruptly, chair scraping against metal.

  "Gentlemen, lady," Sinister said, already moving toward the exit. "Something urgent has come up. I must handle it immediately."

  "We're not finished," Whitehall started.

  "I'm aware," Sinister said without turning back. "But this cannot wait. Continue without me. I'm certain you'll accomplish precisely as much in my absence as you have in my presence."

  The insult hung in the air as his footsteps echoed through the submarine's metal corridors.

  Whitehall half-rose again. "That arrogant..."

  "Let him go," Sublime said quietly. His eyes tracked the empty doorway. "We'll deal with his insubordination later. Right now, we have more pressing concerns."

  Gao's weathered hands folded in her lap. But her eyes followed the doorway as well.

  The view pulled back, revealing the full scope of their meeting place. The room was in a submarine that sat in deep water, running dark and silent.

  Justin Hammer's body remained slumped on the floor, his blood now pooled and congealing.

  The remaining conspirators barely glanced at it.

  They continued planning into the night, voices low and intense.