Ever since the dramatic events at the Stark Expo, where Atomic's valiant intervention turned a potential disaster into a celebrated triumph, public discourse surrounding his extraordinary abilities and his role in society has surged significantly.
While the vast majority of conversations cast him in a positive light, as is often the case with media narratives, the shadows of skepticism managed to capture the most attention.
"The world has transformed since the emergence of mutants in the early nineteen hundreds," A radio host remarked, his voice imbued with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "It seems as though individuals with superpowers materialize every other week. But none quite like Atomic. A man who possesses the uncanny ability to manifest anything he desires! This unchecked power rests in the hands of someone who, for reasons unknown, conceals his face from us! I, for one, cannot place my trust in him. What if his acts of heroism are merely an elaborate charade designed to win our confidence?"
"Why does Atomic hide his identity?" A politician pressed, his brow furrowed in concern. "What secrets lie beneath that helmet? How can we place our faith in a man who is unwilling to reveal who he truly is?"
"Some researchers speculate that he has dominion over matter and atoms," Another voice chimed in, laced with alarm. "If that's accurate, then what's stopping him from erasing humanity if he ever chooses to withdraw his protection?"
"Isn't it evident that Atomic is a mutant?" A newscaster argued, her tone heated and impassioned. "Why hasn't the government detained him already? He's a catastrophe waiting to unfold!"
"Unchecked power has been shown to lead to chaos time and time again," A US government official declared, his voice resolute and unyielding. "Atomic's abilities are excessively formidable and must be regulated. He cannot be permitted to continue as a vigilante without oversight."
"What are we debating here?" A passionate New Yorker interjected, her voice rising above the honks and horns of traffic. "Atomic is out there daily, saving lives! Just the other day, my mother's car had a flat tire while she was dropping my kid brother off at school. Not a single person stopped to help her! And you know what happened next? Atomic swooped down from the sky, fixed the tire, and even upgraded my mother's car! I don't care what those clowns in the Senate or the news outlets say. He's a bona fide hero!"
"After all the good Atomic has done, why are people still criticizing him?" Another echoed in disbelief. "Is it so hard to believe that he's simply a guy trying to do what's right?"
"Hold on, Tony Stark and his friend get medals for what happened at the Stark Expo, but Atomic doesn't! What kind of sense does that make?!" A popular YouTuber said incredulously. "Shouldn't he have gotten one, too? Something smells fishy."
These sentiments and countless others filled the airwaves and newspaper columns, capturing the attention of influential government officials, ambitious politicians, seasoned journalists, leaders of influential organizations, and even criminal masterminds, all intrigued by the implications of Atomic's presence.
Yet, when it came to the individual at the center of this swirling maelstrom, Atomic/Wyatt remained unfazed. The cacophony of public opinion was a distant murmur compared to his current mission.
His focus was entirely directed towards a far more pressing matter.
The kidnapping of Serena and the murder of Luigi.
••o••o••o••
Red and blue lights flickered ominously over Luigi's Pizzeria, casting a surreal glow on the scene as police officers cordoned off the restaurant with bright yellow tape. A growing crowd of onlookers, drawn by curiosity and concern, gathered outside but were held back by several officers, their expressions a mix of confusion and dread as they stood at the perimeter of the crime scene.
Among the throng were several of Luigi's longtime friends and fellow restaurateurs, their faces etched with anguish and hopelessness. They stood, powerless witnesses, as two paramedics solemnly carried Luigi's lifeless body into the waiting ambulance on a stretcher. The blanket over him was saturated with blood, dark and chilling, staining the fabric a dark red.
"I can't believe it... who could do such a terrible thing?" One bystander lamented, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh no… not Luigi," Another whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend the tragedy unfolding before her.
"Did I hear that right? You're saying little Serena is missing?" A voice exclaimed, panic creeping into the crowd's murmurings.
In the midst of the crowds stood Wyatt, frozen in shock.
An empty stare replaced his once easy-going expression as his mind grappled with the surreal reality before him. In his right hand, he clutched a bag containing a celebration cake adorned with colorful frosting meant to mark the occasion of Luigi's restaurant's grand reopening.
Wyatt's world dulled around him; the sounds of sirens and frantic voices faded into a distant hum, eclipsed by a piercing ring that echoed in his ears. His body felt strangely heavy, rooted to the ground as he battled against the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to breach the barrier set by the police, but his limbs refused to cooperate.
W-what? Wait... I thought… but it hasn't... even been a month. The thought echoed futilely in his mind as he stared numbly, helplessly, watching the ambulance drive away with Luigi's body.
Suddenly, a fragment of a conversation caught his attention, cutting through the fog that enveloped him.
"…we're searching for a girl named Serena Lombardi. Witness reports indicate that she was forcibly taken into a gray 1998 Chevrolet Express. We have issued an APB for the vehicle. Yeah, this may be connected to the recent wave of kidnappings," said NYPD Detective Jackson Peralta, his brow furrowing as he adjusted his earpiece, clearly distressed by the severity of the situation. "I hope this isn't linked to the Russian human trafficking ring we have been monitoring. If it is, we only have around three hours to find her before she disappears forever."
A jolt of urgency surged through Wyatt as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. Ignoring the cake he had dropped on the sidewalk, he pushed through the crowd.
Once he found an alleyway away from prying eyes, he paused for a moment to take a deep, steady breath to calm his mind. With a swift motion, he summoned his suit, and in an instant, he took to the sky.
Atomic tapped the side of his helmet and initiated a call.
"Wyatt? I'm surprised to hear from you. What can I-" came Phil Coulson's voice.
"Coulson. I need… I need your help." Atomic's voice was urgent, a mixture of desperation and determination as he scanned the streets below.
"What do you need?" Coulson responded, his voice steady and focused.
••o••o••o••
"Time's up, fat man. Where's the money?"
"What?! You said I had a month! I still have time!"
"So you don't have the money then? Whatever, Reznov, take the girl."
"You're not taking my daughter! You hear me? Get away—"
Serena slowly blinked as the echoes of gunfire replayed in her mind. Her thoughts were clouded by the events that had transpired not even half an hour ago.
The memories looped endlessly.
She recalled the moment when the group of armed men entered her father's restaurant. Each of their faces was vivid in her memory, their thick Russian accents cutting through her mind as they made their demands. The men advanced toward her father, their postures intimidating as they wielded bats and firearms.
But her father remained steadfast and fearless. He insisted he still had more time to collect the money he owed, arguing that they were ten days too early. Yet the Russians didn't care. They wanted what they came for—money. And when that became impossible, they came for her.
Serena was petrified. She couldn't move, talk, or run. All she could do was watch as her father attempted to protect her.
How she wished he hadn't. If he hadn't stood up to them, perhaps he would still be alive.
She would have to live with the haunting memory of watching her father being beaten and gunned down right in front of her. She hadn't even been allowed to hug him one last time before the men grabbed her and bound her hands. With little concern for her well-being, they tossed her into a van and drove off to who knew where leaving behind the lifeless body of the man who had raised and loved her.
Serena didn't move. She didn't talk. All she could do was stare blankly as the men took her somewhere that wasn't home.
Feeling the van come to a stop, Serena watched as the doors opened to reveal two of the men from earlier speaking to a well-dressed old man. The old man looked her up and down, nodding as if satisfied.
"Good. She's got good hips and well-developed breasts. Pretty face, too. She'll fetch a good price. Reznov, put her with the rest and then meet me at my car. We have another stop to make tonight," An old man dressed in an expensive suit said before walking away.
"Come here. I said, come here!" Reznov yelled, grabbing her by the ankle and dragged her out of the van. Serena cried out as he grasped a handful of her hair, forcing her to look at him.
In that moment, she doubted she would ever forget the face of the man who shot her father like an animal.
"Behave, girl. We don't like to harm the product. But we will," Reznov said, beginning to drag her through a dark loading dock.
Serena followed behind him without any resistance. Any fight she had in her died alongside her father. Even so, she allowed herself one last thought.
Somebody… save me.
••o••o••o••
Ted let out a loud yawn as he turned the corner. It had been a long day of work, and he was ready to call it a night.
"I need to find a new job. My back feels like it's going to snap," He muttered as the tools in the back of his old Chevrolet Express rattled during another turn. He was now only two blocks away from home.
Suddenly, a large pair of glowing hands swooped down from above and grabbed the van. Ted let out a shriek as he and his vehicle were lifted into the air. His world went sideways as he was pulled out of the van and slammed against the side of a building. A rope quickly tied itself around him, a black cloth was wrapped around his eyes, and a gag was shoved into his mouth.
Atomic placed the van on the roof of a nearby building and ripped off the back doors. He illuminated the inside of the van, only to find it filled with old tools and dirty PVC pipes.
"No! Damn it!" Atomic growled as he clutched his helmet.
He had been searching the city for over an hour, stopping any van that vaguely matched the detective's description but finding nothing. Time was running out, and his anxiety was growing with each passing minute.
"Where are you, Serena? Where did they take you?" he said, his hands clenched tightly in frustration. "Where!?"
Just then, a soft ringtone played from within his helmet, breaking his rising panic.
"Wyatt, my team has identified seven vans in the city that match your description—all observed around 9:45 PM. We ran a background check on six of the vans and found them to be clean. The seventh was unregistered and is now located in a docking bay in Bayonne, New Jersey. There's a lot of movement going on there. I'm sending you the coordinates now. I apologize for the delay... I hope this lead is the one you need," Coulson said.
"Got it. Thank you, Coulson," Atomic replied before ending the call. He quickly placed the van back on the ground and fixed the damage he had caused, also undoing Ted's bindings while putting him in his van.
In a burst of power, Atomic launched himself into the night sky.
Ripping the cloth from his eyes, Ted stepped out of his van and looked around the empty, dark street with wide eyes. "What the hell just happened?!"
••o••o••o••
"Move your asses! We need to get these on board in twenty minutes!" Ludmil, a member of the Russian mob, said as he rushed a group of men leading four scared girls into a green Conex shipping container. "Move it!"
"Please! Please, just let me go," The young college girl begged, her voice trembling with fear as her brown hair fell around her anxious face. Her wide eyes searched the faces of her captors, desperate for any sign of mercy. "I won't tell anyone about this. Just—" Her plea was abruptly cut off as one of the men, a bald man with a tattoo on his face gripping a stun baton, flicked the device to life. A crackling burst of electricity surged through her, and she convulsed in shock and collapsed to her knees.
"Shut the hell up and get in there. We don't have all night,"
The group of terrified girls hurried into the conex, not willing to be electrocuted as well. The brown-haired girl who had been shocked was then roughly kicked inside as well. Her soft crying gained no sympathy from the cold-hearted men. Only annoyance at how she was slowing down their tight schedule.
"Alright! That's the last of them!" Ludmil shouted, his voice rising above the sound of clanging metal as the final conex was secured shut.
The crew sprang into action, their movements a well-rehearsed choreography of urgency and teamwork. Deckhands scurried across the expanse of the ship, finishing last-minute preparations with the precision of seasoned sailors eager to set sail.
"Cast off all lines!" one crew member called out, deftly untying the ropes that tethered them to the dock.
"Shove off!"
"Weigh anchor!" came the command from the helm, and the heavy chain clanked as it lifted from the sea.
Inside the dim confines of one of the shipping containers, a group of terrified girls struggled to hear the distant shouts of the crew. The harsh jolt of the ship disembarking from port sent them into a frenzy, their cries mingling in a chorus of desperation that filled the cramped space.
"No, no, no, no!" wailed an 18-year-old girl, her voice trembling with fear. She pressed herself tightly against the cold metal wall, her mascara streaking down her cheeks like dark rivers of despair. "I want to go home! Daddy! Mommy!" The words tumbled out in a desperate plea.
"Someone's coming, right?" another girl, a 21-year-old blonde with wide, frantic eyes, clutched at the edges of her shirt. "We're going to get saved, right?!" Her words came in rapid bursts, a frantic attempt to keep hope alive amid the encroaching darkness.
"Help! Somebody! HELP ME!" cried yet another girl, her fists pounding against the sides of the container, each strike a mix of anger and fear.
In the far corner, shrouded in shadows, Serena sat quietly, her head resting on her drawn-up knees. Her dull eyes, void of the light of hope, surveyed the chaos surrounding her. With a heavy heart, she watched the panicking girls, their pleas falling into an abyss of despair, while she felt an overwhelming sense of defeat wash over her.
"No one's coming…" Serena whispered.
Everyone inside the conex jolted as a thunderous explosion reverberated through the ship, shaking the walls around them.
The air was thick with an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant crack of gunfire and the piercing screams that echoed like banshees in their ears. A sudden, bone-rattling splash sounded nearby, causing the conex to sway alarmingly from side to side. Terror-stricken shrieks filled the cramped space, and Serena, now fully alert, gripped the wall with all her strength, her heart racing.
"There! He's there! Shoot him!" a voice yelled, panic lacing every syllable.
"Die, you bastard!" another shouted, desperation woven into the frantic tone.
"No! Don't drop me!" came a plea, heavy with fear. A scream quickly followed.
For several agonizing minutes, the chaos unfolded, a cacophony of madness that seemed unending. But then, as if the world had suddenly pressed a mute button, a suffocating silence enveloped the ship.
No one dared to utter a word, the air thick with dread. Out of nowhere, the sounds of metallic bangs echoed one after another. Each clang reverberating through the walls and growing ever closer.
With each resounding thud, a wave of fear washed over the trapped girls, gripping their hearts in a merciless hold.
At last, the formidable steel doors of their shipping container swung open with a resonant clang, revealing a silhouette shrouded in the dim, flickering light cast by the overhead lights of the ship. Seeing the mysterious figure, all the girls screamed.
The figure stepped forward, raising a hand that shimmered with an ethereal glow, conjuring a radiant orb that chased away the oppressive darkness of the once pitch-black interior, illuminating the container's cold, metal walls.
"You're all safe now," Atomic said as his cape bellowed behind him. "Come on. You can all go home."
"I-It's Atomic! New York's hero!" The blonde-haired girl said with a smile as relief washed over them all. "We're saved! We can go home!" One by one, they all exited the container. Leaving Serena behind.
"Serena…" Atomic murmured at the sight of her, his voice barely above a whisper as his shoulders sagged under the weight of an enormous burden that had finally been lifted.
"How… how do you know my name?" Serena asked tentatively, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and uncertainty. The flicker of gratitude for being saved ignited a small flame within her, but the heavy shadow of her father's death still loomed over her, suffocating her spirit.
As Atomic stepped into the conex, a brilliant flash of light enveloped his helmet, revealing Wyatt, drenched in sweat and visibly shaken. His eyes, wide and filled with a kaleidoscope of relief and deep sorrow, locked onto hers.
The sight of Wyatt sent a jolt through Serena, and she blinked in disbelief at what she was seeing. "W-Wyatt… you—you're …"
Without letting her finish, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her with a desperate urgency that spoke volumes. "Serena… I'm so, so sorry. Luigi… I-I… I'm so sorry."
With the warmth of her friend's embrace surrounding her, the dam that had held her emotions at bay finally broke. Tears welled in Serena's eyes, thick and unstoppable, as heartache washed over her like a torrential downpour. The reality of her loss crashed into her as if a floodgate had opened, releasing all the anguish she had fought to contain.
"Wyatt… my Papa is… he's dead. They killed him. He's gone… he's gone…" The words poured out in broken gasps, each syllable weighing heavily in the air between them.
"I know… I'm so, so sorry." Wyatt whispered, the pain in his voice mirroring the torment in her heart.
Within him, a thunderous wave of guilt surged. This is my fault. Luigi died because of me—because of my inaction. I'm so sorry, Serena. As he rematerialized his helmet, he lifted Serena in his arms and carried her out of the conex.
What happened after that was a blur to the hero. Atomic did his best to fulfill his duties as the hero that all the kidnapped girls on board saw him as despite his internal distress, and he successfully directed the now-damaged ship back to port, where a legion of police and ambulances awaited.
One by one, the girls were attended to by the paramedics while the police moved onboard to arrest the men that Atomic had apprehended, each of whom sported severe injuries.
"Good work, Atomic. Thanks to you, many of these girls will be able to go home tonight," Detective Peralta said as he observed the police and paramedics working. "Still… I recommend you get out of here now. Not everyone here appreciates the work you do for this city." He glanced over at several police officers, who were eyeing Atomic suspiciously with their hands resting on their sidearms.
Atomic didn't reply but nodded. He began to float into the air and paused, turning to look at Serena, who a female paramedic was treating. Serena looked up at Atomic and gave him a slight nod.
I'll be okay now. Go on. She thought with a forced smile.
Atomic nodded back, as if hearing her, and soared away deeper into the city.
He descended and landed on the Central Park Tower, where he removed his helmet. The wind at that height caused his hair and cape to flow in the air as he stared blankly at the city below.
Tears streamed down his tired face as he cried silently.
Even with his extraordinary powers, he had failed to save Luigi and prevent Serena from being kidnapped. He had failed them.
Nothing had changed since his parents were killed when he was young and powerless. Wyatt couldn't protect those who mattered most despite all he had accomplished.
All this power… and I couldn't even save him. He thought with clenched fists.
"New York's hero... what a fucking joke." Wyatt hissed.