The celebrations of Max’s birthday and the Christmas holiday faded.
The Rambeau household rested in the quiet lull before the new millennium.
The television in the living room played a constant stream of news reports.
The global buzz centered around a massive, upcoming scientific exposition: the Bern Technical Conference in Switzerland, scheduled for New Year’s Eve.
Max sat on the rug, his eyes locked onto the screen as a reporter detailed the guest list of leading scientists and billionaires.
The mention of Bern triggered a cascade of memories from his prophetic knowledge.
He knew what would transpire in Switzerland.
That specific conference served as a nexus point in the history of Tony Stark.
On that snowy night, Tony would meet a brilliant surgeon named Ho Yinsen.
He would also shatter the mind of an ambitious, awkward scientist named Aldrich Killian by abandoning him on a freezing rooftop.
While Killian waited in the cold, contemplating suicide, Tony would engage a one-night stand with botanist Maya Hansen, leaving behind a scribbled equation on a botanical plant that would unlock the secrets of the Extremis virus.
That single night of arrogance would birth Advanced Idea Mechanics.
Killian and Hansen would team up, weaponizing Extremis and using desperate, amputated war veterans as their human guinea pigs under the false promise of limb regeneration.
Max watched the news anchor transition to another story.
He pondered his next move.
He decided he would not travel to Bern to stop Killian from turning into a villain.
The timeline required Killian to push Tony Stark to his limits in the years to come.
Intervening on that rooftop would erase the trials that forged Iron Man’s resilience.
However, Max refused to accept the fate of the disabled veterans.
They were innocent casualties caught in the crossfire of billionaire egos and mad science.
He possessed the power of absolute limb regeneration and a sanctuary free from the reach of the government.
He could reach those wounded soldiers before Killian ever approached them with his explosive virus.
Later that night, Max stood in the center of his personal realm.
He looked out over the vast, ten-kilometer expanse of forests, mountains, and training grounds.
He heard the wind rustling through the maple leaves.
He felt a profound sense of emptiness.
The Shadowkhan were perfect soldiers.
They followed orders without hesitation, they felt no pain, and they operated with lethal efficiency.
But they were constructs of magic and shadow.
They possessed no human warmth, no laughter, and no dreams.
His domain was massive, yet it held only three living souls.
Max walked toward the laboratory.
The automatic doors slid open.
He found Howard sitting at a workbench, staring at a blank blueprint.
Maria sat nearby on a plush sofa, a book resting unread in her lap.
The air in the room felt heavy.
Max realized the isolation weighed on them just as much as it weighed on him.
They had Alpha to converse with, and Max visited every night, but the simulated daylight and the vast, empty forests offered no substitute for a living, breathing community.
The Starks were social creatures, accustomed to the bustle of the world.
Now, they lived as ghosts in a golden cage.
“It is too quiet in here,” Howard said, breaking the silence.
He set his pen down.
“Alpha is wonderful company, and we appreciate everything you do, Max.
But building weapons for a war with no soldiers to wield them takes a toll on the mind.”
Maria offered a sad smile.
“We miss the sound of people, Max.
The unpredictable nature of life.
We are grateful for our sanctuary, but we are so very alone.”
Max nodded.
He understood.
They needed human subordinates, people to populate this world and build a community capable of standing against the incoming cosmic storms.
Recruiting the veterans was a solid foundation, but Max wanted to expand his vision.
He considered the mutants and the Inhumans.
In the regular world, manifesting an X-gene or undergoing Terrigenesis carried massive risks.
Mutations often brought grotesque physical deformities, unstable energy fluctuations, and psychological torment.
Max raised his hands, summoning the violet, arcane threads of Cid Kagenou’s magic.
He watched the pure energy dance between his fingers.
He understood the biological and magical pathways of the human body on an atomic level.
He possessed the ability to manipulate the mana circuits and genetic codes of any living being.
He could awaken latent powers without the need for dangerous mists or traumatic stress.
He could reduce the risk of unforeseen, harmful mutations.
If a physical deformity or a biological defect occurred during the awakening process, his mastery over Disease Removal and cellular regeneration would cure it in seconds.
He could offer the mutants and Inhumans a sanctuary free from prejudice, where they could master their gifts without fear of persecution.
The plan solidified in his mind.
He would build an army of superhumans, loyal not to a government or a madman, but to the shadows.
Max let the violet energy fade and called upon his connection to the dark.
He did not summon a mere handful of scouts.
He reached into the sprawling network covering the American continents and pulled.
Hundreds of Razor Khan and standard Shadowkhan materialized in the clearing, their glowing red eyes piercing the gloom.
They dropped to their knees in unison, a sea of silent assassins awaiting their master’s command.
“Expand your search parameters across the globe,” Max ordered, his voice carrying over the kneeling ranks.
“I need you to locate two specific individuals.
Find a man in a wheelchair named Professor Charles Xavier.
And find an older man who controls magnetism, known as Erik Lehnsherr, or Magneto.”
The Shadowkhan bowed their heads, sinking into the ground.
They dissolved into pools of ink, spreading out across the world to hunt for the leaders of the mutant race.
Max stood alone in the dark, preparing to bring the outcasts of humanity into his domain.