Marvelous Meditations #76

Nathan exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning his gaze back to Irene.

"I’m not interested in riddles," he said flatly. "And I sure as hell don’t want to know the future."

His tone was sharp, but not angry—more tired, as if the weight of the conversation was already pressing down on him. Without waiting for a response, he turned away from her, his eyes drifting back to the memorial. The cold stone stood unchanged, unfeeling.

"Still..." he murmured, his voice quieter now. "I’ll ask you this much. In the future where she survived—Lily, I mean—how did she turn out?"

There was a long pause, the kind that stretched and deepened, as if Irene was considering her answer very carefully.

Then, at last, she spoke.

"It’s strange," she said, almost to herself. "How similar you two are."

Nathan’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

"In another future," Irene continued, "Lilian would be standing where you are now. And she would ask me the same question."

Nathan’s expression tightened. He turned to her fully now, his posture rigid.

Irene, however, remained composed, her pale eyes unfocused, but somehow seeing right through him.

"I did not choose this location by chance," she went on. "This is where you would have been buried—where your name would have been carved into stone—if Lilian had survived instead of you."

Nathan’s jaw tensed, but Irene didn’t stop.

"She would have been a haunted woman. Resilient. Determined. But always looking over her shoulder."

Nathan let out a quiet, bitter scoff, shaking his head.

"So she either dies or ends up like me." He looked back at the memorial. "Guess there’s no such thing as a happy ending."

Irene’s expression softened, but her words didn’t.

"I’m afraid not," she admitted. "Not for her."

She turned, looking between him and the empty gravestone.

"Lilian was born with a heavy destiny," she said. "She would have either perished or become something more—a third path into the future for mutantkind."

Nathan’s gaze remained on the stone, unreadable.

Irene took a small step forward, her voice softer now.

"This is the only timeline where she gets to choose her death." She tilted her head, eyes distant, but her voice held an undeniable certainty. "If nothing else… that is the one thing that was truly hers."

Nathan let out a slow breath, his fingers flexing at his sides before curling into loose fists.

“That’s not nearly as comforting as you think.”

His voice was dry, edged with something too exhausted to be anger. He turned back toward the memorial, the bitter curve of a smile playing on his lips.

“At least I know she wouldn’t disapprove of my methods.”

Irene tilted her head slightly, observing him with an unreadable expression.

“That might not be the case,” she said after a pause. “Lilian never wished the path she walked on anyone—not even her worst enemies.”

Nathan’s smile faded.

“Much like you wanted more for her,” Irene continued, “she wanted more for you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nathan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Do as I say, not as I do, huh?” he mused.

His eyes flickered back to Irene, studying her.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He shrugged, the movement effortless, but something in his posture had shifted—a weight settling into place, rather than lifting. “Maybe there’s more for me out there. Maybe there isn’t.

Either way, I’ll only start thinking about that when the job’s done.”

Irene’s lips curved just slightly, something between amusement and understanding.

“She said the exact same thing once.”

Nathan’s brow furrowed, but Irene continued before he could speak.

“You and Lilian,” she said, “are like two sides of the same coin. More similar than you’re willing to admit—both seeing only the good in each other and the darkness within you while blinding yourselves to all else.”

Nathan’s expression tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to consider her words. But just as quickly, he brushed them aside with a small shake of his head.

“Alright, enough fortune-cookie wisdom,” he said, voice gruff. “Why are you here, anyway? What do you want?”

Irene’s expression remained calm, unreadable. Her white, unfocused eyes seemed to stare past him, through him, as if measuring something unseen.

“I came to offer a word of warning.”

Nathan exhaled sharply through his nose, already half-turning away, but Irene’s voice carried a weight that made him pause.

“You are about to forge an entirely new path to the future—one even I can barely foresee.”

She let that linger in the cold air between them before adding, softly, “And it will not be easy. Hardships unlike any you’ve faced await you.”

Nathan scoffed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off her words.

“Yeah? Sounds like a Tuesday to me.”

Without another glance at her, he started walking, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got places to be.”

Irene didn’t try to stop him. She merely nodded, stepping aside, her flowing cape shifting in the breeze.

Nathan didn’t look back.

...

Nathan stood in the dimly lit underground facility, rolling his shoulders as the fabric of his coat shifted around him like liquid shadow. It was strange—familiar, yet entirely new. What had once been remnants of his old vibranium prosthetic had been reforged into something far more advanced, something alive.

Across the room, Elihas Starr stood with his arms crossed, watching intently. Samuel Sterns, on the other hand, was grinning like a man who had just solved a puzzle the world said was impossible.

“Well?” Sterns asked, gesturing. “Do something.”

Nathan flexed his fingers. The coat responded instantly, rippling like ink in water before solidifying into a sleek, armored form. The plating was matte black, almost absorbing the light, yet when he moved, faint energy currents pulsed beneath the surface like veins of molten metal.

“Gotta admit,” Nathan said, running a gloved hand down his forearm, “it feels good. Lighter than I expected.”

Starr adjusted his glasses. “Vibranium’s useful that way. Stronger than anything you’ve worn before, yet flexible enough to shift on command.”

Sterns smirked. “You’re welcome, by the way. It took some serious work to reverse-engineer Stark’s tech without making a glorified knockoff.”

Nathan chuckled. “Yeah, I heard. Didn’t think salvaging those Iron Man suits from Norco would pay off this well.”

It hadn't been long since the Norco incident concluded. Nathan’s people had recovered several wrecks, bringing them to the one man who could do something with them in such a short time.

Elihas Starr, a scientist too smart for his own good, had worked alongside Sterns, improving on Stark’s designs rather than just replicating them.

The result? A suit that wasn’t just Iron Man-adjacent—it was something else entirely.

“Try the thrusters,” Starr instructed.

Nathan tilted his head, then bent his knees slightly. A quiet hum filled the air as micro-thrusters engaged along his boots and back. He lifted off the ground, hovering effortlessly.

Unlike Stark’s earlier suits, there was no jarring kickback, no struggle for balance. The vibranium absorbed and redistributed energy seamlessly, making flight feel as natural as breathing.

He landed smoothly. “Not bad.”

Sterns clapped his hands together. “Now for the fun part.”

Nathan didn’t need to ask. He already felt it—the energy pulsing beneath the armor, waiting to be unleashed. Raising his palm, he willed the suit to respond.

The plating shifted, opening like blooming petals, and in an instant, a crackling energy blast surged forward, slamming into the reinforced wall ahead. The impact left a glowing dent.

Nathan let out a slow whistle. “Not bad at all.”

“It’s not just for offense,” Sterns added. “The vibranium absorbs kinetic energy, just like your old arm did. The more damage you take, the more power you can release.”

Nathan flexed his fingers again, watching as the armor retracted seamlessly, returning to its coat-like state. The transformation was nearly instant.

“And it’s immune to magnetism?”

Starr nodded. “That was a pain in the ass to figure out, but yes. We modified the vibranium structure to create energy pathways that are even more efficient than copper wiring... there is no ferrous metal in the suit...”

Nathan turned to him. “And the Extremis function?”

Sterns grinned. “Ah, now that’s where it gets interesting.”

Nathan had ingested a perfected, improved version of Extremis, and while it granted him rapid healing and superhuman strength, its full potential had always remained untapped.

This suit, however, changed that.

“Extremis works by interfacing with technology at a neural level. Your suit is now linked directly to you—it reacts to thought, adapts on instinct.”

Nathan smirked. “So it’s not just armor. It’s an extension of me.”

Sterns nodded. “Exactly.”

Nathan clenched his fist, feeling the suit respond, shifting, waiting. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly prepared.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’m gonna need it.”

Nathan flexed his fingers, watching as the suit responded with fluid precision. The fabric-like material of his coat rippled, shifting back into its armored form as if it were alive, moving in sync with his every thought. He tested the thrusters again, hovering just above the ground before landing soundlessly.

The energy absorption system worked flawlessly, dispersing the kinetic force without strain.

He was just about to test the suit’s stealth functions when heavy boots echoed through the chamber. He turned, finding Rick Flag striding toward him with his usual no-nonsense expression. The man had seen enough warzones to read a situation fast, and judging by his look, something had gone south.

“Got something for me?” Nathan asked, rolling his shoulders.

Flag nodded, arms crossed. “Warborn Cohorts found Bullseye.”

Nathan stilled. “And?”

Flag exhaled sharply. “They had him cornered, but then things went sideways. Soon as he realized he was trapped, he pulled out some weird-ass sword. Next thing we knew, he got a hell of a lot stronger—broke two guys like they were made of paper before anyone knew what was happening. The squad had to fall back, but they’ve got the area locked down. He’s pinned.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Stronger how?”

“Fast. Durable. Way more dangerous than he should be. Whatever that sword is, it’s juicing him up.”

Nathan considered that. Bullseye was already one of the most dangerous killers alive—give him an edge, and things got ugly fast. But a weapon capable of enhancing his strength and speed? That was new.

Still, a slow smirk tugged at Nathan’s lips. “Perfect timing.”

Flag raised a brow. “You’re happy about this?”

Nathan glanced down at his hands, flexing them as the armor rippled seamlessly back into his coat. He could feel it now, the way the suit was adapting to him, waiting to be tested under real combat conditions.

“I need to see how this thing performs in the field,” he said simply.

Flag sighed, rubbing his temple. “Figured you’d say that.”

Nathan stepped forward, rolling his neck. “Where’s the location?”

“Warehouse district, outskirts of the city. We got snipers in position, drones keeping watch, but no one’s getting close until we know what the hell we’re dealing with.”

Nathan nodded, already running through the possibilities. A sword that enhanced physical capabilities? Maybe mystic, maybe something else. Either way, Bullseye wasn’t getting out of there alive.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice calm, almost eager. “I want to see what this thing can really do.”