Chapter 16: Echoes Beneath the Green
The storm over New York raged for two days.
The lightning never stopped — green and black flashes that cracked through the clouds like a war between gods.
The rain tasted metallic, leaving a faint shimmer wherever it touched the streets. Plants grew wild through the cracks, twisting around light poles and cars, breathing with something that wasn't quite life.
At the center of it all stood Billy Rowe — Ironroot — soaked to the bone, standing on the ledge of an old bridge overlooking the East River. The water below pulsed faintly green, like veins under glass.
His reflection wasn't human anymore.
The glow in his eyes wasn't fading — it was burning deeper. His veins, once a gentle hue, were now electric emerald streaks that pulsed like living circuitry.
He clenched his fists, breathing hard.
Every inhale came with a whisper, every exhale with the weight of the Green trying to pull him under.
Contain it, Billy… Control the balance…
Solara's fading voice lingered like a ghost, but it felt further away than ever.
Billy slammed his fist into the bridge railing. The concrete cracked and vines grew instantly to seal it — as if the world itself refused to let him break something without mending it again.
"Balance," he muttered bitterly. "That word's gonna kill me."
Lower Manhattan – 2 Miles Away
In the basement of an abandoned cathedral, the air hummed with black light.
The masked scientist stood before a large circular device — part machine, part living organism. The walls were crawling with biomechanical tendrils that pulsed in rhythm with his breathing.
He ran his hand over the device's surface. The mask on his face shimmered, reacting to his touch.
We are close, it whispered — a voice that wasn't his own. The boy's power destabilizes the lattice. His existence opens the door.
The scientist — Dr. Marek Voss, once one of Stark's brightest protégés — smiled thinly.
"When I first wore you, you promised enlightenment," he said softly. "But now I see what you really are — a hunger pretending to be purpose."
Purpose is hunger, Marek. Progress devours. Evolution feeds.
He tightened his grip. "And if I resist?"
Then you become prey.
The black matter slithered up his arm, fusing with his skin. Voss didn't resist this time. His eyes dimmed, replaced by two pinpoints of crimson.
When he spoke again, his voice carried two tones — human and machine.
"Then let's evolve."
The machine behind him roared to life, a vortex of black energy swirling at its core. Holographic lines and molecular patterns flashed through the air, all orbiting one central image: Ironroot's DNA.
Voss looked at it like an artist staring at his unfinished masterpiece.
"He's the missing strand. The Green will stabilize the Black. Together, they become a god."
The mask smiled for him.
Then let's make a god.
The Rooftop – Midnight
Billy crouched on the edge of a skyscraper, watching the city breathe in unnatural rhythm.
Every block had signs of infection — ivy crawling up glass towers, metallic roots wrapping subway entrances, strange luminescent spores drifting through the night air.
The city was alive. Too alive.
He pulled out his phone — cracked, half-dead — and tried to call home again.
No service. No signal. Just static.
For a moment, he thought he heard a voice inside it.
They'll come for you, Billy. They always do.
He tossed the phone aside. "They already have."
Then, from behind him, a faint hum.
He turned — and a small drone hovered in the air, projecting a flickering blue light.
"Billy Rowe," came a familiar voice. "Long time."
His jaw tightened. "Director Fury."
The hologram sharpened — Fury's image appeared, arms folded, the weight of a dozen wars behind his stare.
"I see you've been busy redecorating my planet," Fury said dryly. "Any chance you can explain why Times Square looks like a jungle on acid?"
Billy crossed his arms. "It wasn't me. The Black Root's back — and someone's using it."
Fury's hologram frowned. "We know. His name's Marek Voss. Ex-Stark engineer. Genius. Obsessed with molecular adaptation. He disappeared six years ago after a containment experiment went south."
Billy's eyes narrowed. "What kind of experiment?"
Fury's tone turned grim. "A fusion experiment. Synthetic evolution using alien matter — Chitauri fragments mixed with symbiote tissue."
Billy exhaled. "You're saying he built that mask?"
"He built it… but it built him back," Fury said. "We think the mask's alive — some hybrid parasite that feeds on consciousness. It's using Voss as a host."
Billy clenched his jaw. "Then it's spreading through him."
"Worse," Fury replied. "It's learning through him. You stopped the Black Root once, but this time? It's using human intelligence as its new soil."
Billy looked away, the wind pulling at his jacket. "Then I'll burn the soil."
Fury's hologram flickered. "You can't fight it alone, kid. Not anymore. That mask's tapping into something we've seen before — energy signatures matching the Mind Stone's residue. You remember what that means."
Billy turned, voice cold. "It means the stones left scars."
Fury nodded. "And some scars don't fade."
The hologram glitched — interference rippled across it. Fury's face distorted.
"Billy—listen—if you—"
Static. The image broke apart.
Billy looked up.
The drone was melting.
A black tendril shot from the shadows, skewering the drone midair, and yanked it into darkness.
Billy turned, vines already rising from the rooftop around him. "Come out."
A voice echoed from the dark — smooth, calm, almost amused.
"You talk to ghosts, Ironroot. But ghosts can't save you."
Voss stepped out from the shadow, his metallic mask pulsing faintly with crimson lines. The rain hissed on contact with him, turning to steam.
"You found me faster than I expected," Billy said.
"I didn't find you," Voss replied. "You called me. Every surge of your power feeds the network. You're the brightest signal in the world."
Billy took a step forward. "Then come and turn it off."
Voss tilted his head. "You still don't understand. You're not meant to fight me. You're meant to merge with me."
Billy's eyes burned green. "Not happening."
Voss extended his hand — the tendrils snapped outward, slicing through the air like black lightning.
Billy countered, vines bursting from the concrete, colliding with the tendrils midair. The impact sent shockwaves across the rooftop, glass shattering in nearby buildings. The rain turned to mist, swirling between them as the two forces struggled for dominance — life versus machine.
Voss smiled beneath the mask. "Do you feel it? The pull? The symmetry? You and I are the same equation written in different alphabets."
Billy gritted his teeth, forcing his power higher. "You're a virus."
"I'm evolution!" Voss roared, his voice doubling as the mask took over completely. "And evolution doesn't need permission."
He slammed his palms into the ground — and the city answered.
Black veins erupted from the streets below, spreading through buildings, lights, even power lines. Within seconds, half of Manhattan pulsed with dark energy.
Billy staggered as the Green inside him convulsed.
He could feel the city dying.
"No!" he shouted, pressing his hands to the ground.
Emerald energy spread from him, clashing against the infection — buildings cracked, roots tore free, glass exploded outward as two living forces collided through the streets.
From above, it looked like veins of light and darkness snaking across the city — two living systems locked in war.
Voss stood in the center of it all, laughing. "You can't win, boy! You are the infection!"
Billy's body trembled, energy leaking from every pore. His voice was a growl. "Then I'll cut it out myself."
He raised his hands — and unleashed everything.
The explosion of green light tore through the night like a nuclear sunrise. The storm clouds split open. Every vine, every tendril, every streetlight flared as the city went white for one blinding second.
Then silence.
When the light faded, Voss was gone.
Only his mask remained — cracked, lying in the center of a crater. Billy stumbled forward, breathing hard, eyes dimming. He picked it up slowly.
The mask whispered faintly, its voice weak.
You can't kill what you are…
Billy stared at it. "Watch me."
He clenched his fist — the mask crumbled to dust.
But as the ashes fell, they shimmered — not fading, but sinking into the cracks of the rooftop, absorbed by the rain.
Billy didn't see it. He was already on his knees, exhausted, the Green inside him flickering like a dying flame.
Hours Later – Aboard the Helicarrier
Maria Hill stood before the digital map.
The readings were insane — spikes of energy, massive growth patterns, and then… nothing.
Fury walked up beside her, coffee in hand. "He did it?"
Hill nodded slowly. "Looks like it. The infection readings dropped to zero. The Green's stabilizing again."
Fury stared at the screen, unconvinced. "No one kills a god that easy."
Hill glanced at him. "Then what's next?"
He looked out the window at the dark horizon. "Next? We prepare for round two."
Somewhere Beneath the Earth
A deep, ancient place — roots thicker than trees, pulsing with both green and black light.
And at the center… a heartbeat.
From the soil, something began to form — the remnants of the mask, melting into organic matter, merging with roots and metal alike. A new face began to take shape.
A new consciousness opened its eyes.
They glowed neither green nor red — but both.
And it whispered through the dark earth:
"He thinks he buried me… but I am the soil."