The digital clock on the nightstand glowed a soft 2:00 AM. In the master bedroom, Felicia lay in a deep, exhausted sleep, her breathing even and slow. Aaron stood by the window, silhouetted against the city's perpetual twilight, feeling not fatigue but a humming, vibrant energy. The biological and technological assimilations had settled, and his body thrummed with potential.
He glanced back at the sleeping form. The encounter had been… educational. For her. Her stamina, while commendable for a baseline human, was woefully inadequate against the relentless, precisely controlled physicality of his enhanced physiology.
A single, sustained application of Molecular Agitation at a carefully modulated frequency had proven decisive. He hadn't even needed to deploy more… specialized tools like his augmented lingual dexterity or the full spectrum of Precise Musculoskeletal Control. The thought of combining those with Supersonic Velocity was almost absurd in its overkill. It would be less a contest and more a force of nature.
Human limitations are so… defining, he mused, not unkindly. He pulled the duvet higher over her shoulder before turning away.
(Yes, they had sex)
The living room bore silent witness to the evening's earlier, less metaphysical activities. Aaron navigated past the evidence with detached focus, his attention locking onto the glass terrariums and sleek laboratory equipment now arranged like an altar to progress.
"Second course," he murmured, his voice a whisper in the quiet.
He moved with the blurring speed of his Extreme Velocity augmentation, his right hand a dark vortex. One by one, the genetically modified spiders vanished into the Primal Furnace. There were no new, flashy abilities this time—no dramatic shifts.
Instead, he felt a profound deepening, a honing. His existing Precognitive Sensory Array sharpened, its warnings gaining more specificity, its range subtly expanding. The Biochemical Silk Generation glands felt more efficient, the webbing potentially stronger, the production less taxing. It was evolution through refinement, the same concepts reaching a higher grade of potency.
Then, he turned to the machines.
The optical microscope dissolved first. The influx was subtle, a calibration of light and focus directly into his optic nerves.
[Visual Magnification & Resolution (Optical Principles): Ability merged with Hyper-Spectrum Vision. Can consciously manipulate ocular refraction to achieve microscopic magnification up to 2,000x, resolving cellular structures and minute particulate matter in exquisite detail. No external lens required.]**
Next, the hulking electron microscope yielded its secrets, a more complex stream of data involving electromagnetic manipulation and particle detection.
[Sub-Atomic Scale Perception (Electromagnetic Focal Principles): Ability merged. Can generate and control internalized electromagnetic fields to focus perception beyond the wavelength of light. Can visualize structures at the nanoscale, up to 10,000,000x magnification, perceiving molecular and near-atomic arrangements.]**
The ice maker from a lab's sample preparation station was next, its simple function offering a surprisingly versatile concept.
[Cryokinetic Hydro-Control: Can directly manipulate the kinetic energy of water molecules in the immediate environment (approx. 10-meter radius), drawing them together and forcing a rapid, crystalline phase transition to create ice of desired shapes and density.]**
A multi-function electronic balance, designed for measuring minute mass, contributed a hyper-specialized form of awareness.
[Tactile Mass Discernment: Tactile sensitivity refined to an extreme degree. Upon physical contact with an object, can instinctively determine its mass with a precision of ±0.001 milligrams.]**
Finally, a precision environmental chamber used for temperature-stressing samples gave up its principle.
[Localized Thermodynamic Manipulation: Can directly influence the thermal energy within a defined volume of space (approx. 5 cubic meters). Can raise ambient temperature to a maximum of 500°C (932°F) or lower it to -30°C (-22°F). Synergizes with Cryokinetic ability.]**
Aaron exhaled slowly, feeling the new systems interlock with his existing framework. The enhancements were esoteric but profound. His eyes were now literal microscopes. His touch, a precision scale. He could sculpt ice from humidity and cook or freeze the air around him.
He extended a palm upward. From the moist air of the room, a complex, fractal snowflake crystallized into being above his hand, perfect in its geometry. "Interesting."
He pointed a finger at the floor. A pillar of milky-white ice, roughly ten centimeters thick, erupted from the polished hardwood with a sharp crack, reaching to the ceiling. He rapped it with a knuckle. It was solid, cold.
"Flashy," he conceded. "But structurally naive. Against a peer, it's a parlor trick." The true utility, he realized, wasn't in creating barriers. It was in manipulation. Freezing the moisture in an opponent's airways or eyes. Instantly flash-boiling the fluids in a localized area of their body. Or, more elegantly, using Localized Thermodynamic Manipulation internally—superheating a precise point within a foe's brain or heart. A surgical, invisible strike.
Most metahumans are tough on the outside, he thought coldly. But the brain is still custard. Is 100°C enough? 500°C should suffice for even the most resilient biologies. For now.
He dismissed the ice pillar with a thought, letting the water vapor disperse. Earthly technology had its limits. For truly cosmic applications, he would need to look beyond labs and into the realm of artifacts, alien alloys, and embodied concepts.
****
Across the city, in a sleek, soundproofed office at the Triskelion, a different kind of assessment was underway.
"Director, I have established a firm rapport with both Katherine and Eleanor Bishop. I am now officially engaged as Miss Bishop's private combat tutor."
Over a secure line, Barbara Morse's voice was all business.
On the monitor, Nick Fury gave a single, grim nod. "Good work, Agent Morse. After Romanoff's… abrupt exit, you're our primary conduit. Maintain the cover. Your objective is to gather any and all intelligence on the subject, Aaron. Origins, capabilities, endgame. I want a psychological profile so deep we know what brand of toothpaste he uses."
"I'll do my best, sir."
"And Morse? Don't underestimate the Bishop girl. She's sharp. And loyal to him."
"I'm aware, sir."
The call ended. Barbara, now 'Adeline,' looked out the window of the Bishop's guest suite at the manicured garden below. The afternoon had been a masterclass in friendly interrogation that yielded nothing. Kate was a vault when it came to Aaron. Every question was met with enthusiastic deflections that sounded like they were pulled from bad pulp novels or Saturday morning cartoons.
Kung Fu? Jackie Chan? Bruce Lee? Barbara had spent an hour on encrypted networks trying to find references, only to discover they were pulled from action films.
His teacher? Master Roshi? That one had taken her down a rabbit hole of anime before she realized Kate was referencing Dragon Ball.
The moment she'd tried for concrete, current intel—"He runs Osborn now? What's his next move?"—Kate's wide-eyed, genuine shock had been the most convincing answer of all. The girl simply didn't know. She was a fan, a devotee, not a confidante.
Somehow, the conversation had pivoted, and Barbara found herself agreeing to tutor Kate not just in combat, but in algebra and European history. The bitter fruit of my own cover, she thought with a sigh. A polymath tutor has to tutor. The weight of being S.H.I.E.L.D.'s "only hope" for this particular intelligence black hole was a heavy one.
****
Back in the townhouse, Aaron was conducting a different kind of assessment. Felicia, now awake and dressed in a simple athletic outfit, stood nervously in the center of the cleared living room.
"A practical demonstration," Aaron had said. "To gauge my control. Defend yourself as best you can."
He didn't elaborate. He simply moved.
It was not a fight. It was a dissection.
He didn't use his overwhelming strength or durability. He employed a synthesized, terrifying precision. A flicker of Supersonic Velocity closed the distance before her neurons could fire. A whisper of Localized Thermodynamic Manipulation superheated the air inches from her skin, causing her to flinch back without being touched. A subtle, targeted Molecular Agitation transmitted through the floorboards unbalanced her stance. A thread of webbing, shot not to bind but to tap her shoulder from an impossible angle, signaled a theoretical kill.
It was over in three seconds.
Felicia stood, swaying slightly, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe, frustration, and dawning terror. She hadn't landed a blow, hadn't even properly defended. She had been manipulated, read, and neutralized by forces she couldn't perceive or comprehend. A hot sting of humiliation pricked at her eyes.
Aaron stopped, his expression one of clinical analysis. "Adequate reaction time for your baseline. Your spatial awareness needs work."
He was already cataloging the data—the efficiency of the combined abilities, the minimal energy expenditure.
To Felicia, it felt like a universe of difference had been demonstrated in the space of a heartbeat. She had been playacted into irrelevance. The gulf between them wasn't a gap; it was a chasm where physics went to die.
As Aaron turned to contemplate his next experiment, Felicia sank onto a stool, the fight utterly gone from her. The title that flashed, unbidden and despairing, in her mind was both utterly ridiculous and felt devastatingly true: The Three-Second Woman.