Max sat on the floor of his bedroom, his eyes closed as he projected his senses across the country.
Through the quiet link to his hidden guardians, he watched the elm trees swaying in the Ohio night.
The peaceful illusion of the suburban neighborhood shattered when a dark sedan tore up the driveway of the Rowley residence.
Alexei Shostakov threw open the front door.
He carried the smell of smoke and burning chemicals.
He had detonated the S.H.I.E.L.D.
North Institute, securing the data the Red Room demanded.
“We leave now,” Alexei shouted, his voice echoing in the hallway.
Melina did not ask questions.
She grabbed a pre-packed duffel bag from the closet and hurried down the stairs.
She called out to Natasha and Yelena, her voice tight with masked panic.
The girls tumbled out of their beds.
Natasha grabbed her younger sister’s hand, pulling her toward the door.
They piled into a station wagon.
Alexei slammed his foot on the gas pedal.
The tires spun on the asphalt, leaving thick black marks as the car sped away from the house.
Max watched through the shadows as sirens began to wail in the distance.
The flashing red and blue lights of S.H.I.E.L.D.
pursuit vehicles illuminated the neighborhood behind them.
The drive to the local airfield was a blur of high-speed turns and near collisions.
Alexei crashed the station wagon through a chain-link fence, the metal wire scraping along the roof of the car.
He slammed the brakes near a small, twin-engine propeller plane waiting on the dark tarmac.
The S.H.I.E.L.D.
convoys arrived seconds later.
Black SUVs formed a barricade at the broken fence line.
Armed agents spilled out, raising their weapons.
Alexei kicked his door open.
He drew a heavy pistol from his jacket and returned fire.
Gunshots rang out across the open field.
Bullets struck the metal siding of the plane and shattered the windows of the station wagon.
“Get them inside!” Alexei yelled over the gunfire.
Melina shoved the girls toward the open door of the aircraft.
She climbed into the pilot seat, her hands flying over the instrument panel to prime the engines.
An agent fired a burst from an assault rifle.
One of the rounds pierced the thin metal of the cockpit door and struck Melina in the shoulder.
She slumped forward, blood pooling on her shirt.
Natasha saw the injury.
The young girl did not scream.
Her hands gripped the controls with trained precision.
Outside, Alexei emptied his magazine.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
vehicles rammed the station wagon, pushing it toward the plane.
Alexei dropped his empty weapon and sprinted for the moving aircraft.
Natasha pushed the throttle forward.
The plane lurched down the runway.
Alexei leaped into the air.
His hands caught the metal strut of the wing.
He dangled over the rushing tarmac as Natasha pulled back on the yoke.
The small plane lifted off the ground, ascending into the night sky just as the S.H.I.E.L.D.
agents rushed the runway.
Max maintained his connection as the plane flew south.
Hours later, the aircraft touched down on a dusty airstrip in Cuba.
Armed soldiers surrounded the plane before the propellers stopped spinning.
A black car rolled up to the hangar.
General Dreykov stepped out, his face set in a cold, calculating mask.
Alexei slid off the wing, looking exhausted but triumphant.
He reached into his pocket and handed Dreykov a small floppy disk containing the stolen S.H.I.E.L.D.
research.
“You did well, Alexei,” Dreykov said, inspecting the disk.
“You are a true patriot.”
“My family,” Alexei gestured to the plane.
“Melina needs a doctor.”
“She will be tended to,” Dreykov replied.
He motioned to his soldiers.
“Take the girls.”
Soldiers marched toward the plane, dragging Natasha and Yelena out onto the dirt.
Natasha fought back.
She kicked a soldier in the knee and grabbed a discarded pistol, aiming it at the men approaching her sister.
She demanded they let Yelena go.
Dreykov gave a subtle nod.
A soldier stepped behind Natasha and pressed a syringe into her neck.
A sedative flooded her system.
The gun slipped from her fingers.
The soldiers lifted the unconscious girls.
Instead of loading them into a ground transport, Dreykov’s men carried the girls toward a sleek, unmarked private jet idling on the far side of the airstrip.
The boarding stairs retracted, and the jet engines roared to life.
The aircraft taxied and took off, banking hard over the ocean.
Max tried to maintain his visual link, but the sheer speed and the increasing physical distance stretched his connection to the localized shadows.
He lost the feed.
Max opened his eyes in his bedroom, sitting alone in the quiet Louisiana night.
He let out a slow breath, pushing the Ohio extraction out of his mind.
He focused inward, checking the status of his magical reserves.
The constant use of his abilities had forced his core to expand over the past few weeks.
His mana capacity had grown to 60,100 points.
He visualized the calculations in his mind.
Dividing his total mana by fifty gave him the exact radius of his personal realm.
The Shadow Dimension now stretched 1,202 meters in every direction.
His domain was growing into a true sanctuary.
With his power increasing, Max turned his thoughts to the occupants already residing within that sanctuary.
He slipped into the Shadow Dimension, materializing in the center of his dark, silent realm.
He walked past the training grounds and the armory, approaching a secluded area where two shadow-woven stasis pods rested.
Inside the pods lay Howard and Maria Stark.
Max stared at the sleeping couple.
Memories of December 16, 1991, surfaced in his mind.
He just watching through the Shadow Khan as the Winter Soldier mercilessly killing the couple, consoling himself after watching the elderly Captain America.He rembered how he resolved himself.
Using the system panel, he had spent massive amounts of mana to heal the wounds of their death and scars from their Autopsied bodies.
He also remembered agreeing to system panel to retrieve their dissipated souls back using his own karma.
The calendar was approaching December 16, 1995.
Exactly four years since his indecisive behaviour back then.
Max made a decision.
Reviving them on the anniversary of their supposed deaths would serve as a permanent reminder.
He also made a firm decision about how he would approach the Stark couple upon their awakening.
He would not hide behind the terrifying visage of a blue-skinned ninja.
He would not wear a mask or use voice distortion.
When Howard and Maria Stark opened their eyes, Max determined he would appear exactly as he was.
A human child wielding immense power.
He wanted the Starks as partners in the shadows, using their genius to build a better future.
A warden breeding fear would only create resentment and rebellion.
A partner standing in the light of truth would build trust.
“A wise decision, Master,” Alpha’s voice echoed in his mind.
“Honesty will foster loyalty.
They are beings of intellect.
Presenting yourself without deception is the most logical path to securing their cooperation.
I appreciate this approach.”
Max nodded at the stasis pods.
The anniversary was coming, and the world was about to get two of its greatest minds back.