COMMAND CENTER – NIGHT
She stared at his image on the screen, arrayed in a new suit radiating unfamiliar energy. Her mind rewound to their last encounter—he had helped her stop the Purple Man. His resistance to the villain's control remained a mystery no psychic or analyst could crack. She intended to change that.
"Two confirmed enhanced individuals are engaging with what we're calling werewolves," an analyst announced. The room fell into stunned silence.
Misty snapped out of her thoughts and turned toward the console. She gestured sharply. New footage appeared on the center display, casting a cold glow across the command center.
The analyst began narrating. Misty scrutinized the feed—eyes narrowing, fists tightening, thoughts racing. A towering man who made even Luke Cage seem average—a young woman beside him, expression unreadable, posture too controlled.
"I've pulled highway and storefront footage," another analyst interjected. "Those two arrived with Red Hood."
Misty's voice was sharp. "Names. Affiliations."
"Got a hit. The man's a local mob boss—goes by Hammerhead—suspected cybernetic enhancement. The woman is Astrid Bloom. The patient was in a coma until a few days ago. She was legally discharged… by LexxCorp."
"Subsidiary of Armacham," the first analyst added grimly.
Misty began to pace, the pressure in her wrist flaring as she clenched and unclenched her hand. Hammerhead. She'd heard whispers of illegal enhancements, but seeing him now made it a fact. And Bloom, revived from a coma, was now calmly walking through chaos like she belonged. The pattern was undeniable.
"Armacham's playing a longer game than we realized," Misty muttered, voice cold. "They've been placing assets while we've been chasing shadows."
She turned to the team. "Initiate a total blackout around the barricaded zone. No social media, no chatter. We don't know who's listening."
"Do we know why they're here?" she asked aloud, though the theories were already forming in her mind.
"Not yet," came the reply. "But we're scanning all comms and surveillance data. Something triggered this convergence."
Misty exhaled slowly. Too many questions. Too little time. But for now, Luke was her priority.
"Keep tracking Hammerhead and Bloom. Red Hood doesn't move without a plan. Find it."
Her gaze flicked to the screens. The streets inside the barricade were nearly empty, except for the monstrous werewolves and the enhanced figures dancing through the carnage like it was choreographed.
"This isn't just a show of force," Misty said. "Red Hood's orchestrating something larger. What's the endgame?"
One analyst pulled up a digital map and overlaid data tags.
"There's a cluster of warehouses nearby. Permits and zoning indicate a research facility under construction. Not officially Armacham—but it's one of their shells."
Misty's jaw tightened. "Red Hood wouldn't show his hand unless the payoff was worth it."
Her eyes locked onto Astrid Bloom again. The once-fragile coma patient now had steel in her eyes, her posture fluid and confident—a weapon wrapped in silk.
Her wrist flared with sharp pain, but she pushed it down. Then, an alert pinged across the room.
"We've lost drone signal!"
Analysts scrambled, trying to restore the feed. One succeeded. A still image froze on the screen: Bloom, standing between Hammerhead and two charging werewolves. Her hand outstretched, her smile amused.
The creatures halted mid-charge.
"What did she just do?" someone asked.
Misty's voice was a growl. "Mind control."
A pit opened in her stomach. Bloom wasn't just another enhanced. She was a telepath—maybe even on Xavier's level.
"If she's got control of those werewolves," Misty muttered, "she's a threat we can't afford to leave unchecked."
Static burst across every monitor. The feed went black.
"They're cutting our eyes," Misty snapped.
Another voice cut through the comms. "Red Hood in sight."
The room snapped to attention. Misty looked to the analyst, adjusting the new feeds.
"Bloom and Hammerhead are breaking off," came another update. "They've got what they came for."
Her heart pounded. They couldn't afford to lose them—not with everything still unknown.
"Keep tracking them. Don't lose visual."
The room hummed with tension. Misty's hand hovered over the control panel, her wrist throbbing again with that familiar ache she'd long attributed to stress and Jason Todd. The pain always flared when he was involved.
The streets had gone viral before the blackout could take hold. Civilians had streamed footage of the chaos, pushing it into the public spotlight. Gods, aliens, mutants—the rumors were no longer. They were headlines.
Armacham again. Their name appeared far too often for this to be a coincidence.
Misty's eyes went back to the map. Luke and Jessica's markers blinked dangerously close to the east perimeter, right where Armacham's troops were now confirmed to be converging.
"Get me a line to Luke."
A tech worked the console. A soft beep confirmed the link.
"Luke, Jessica—Armacham's troops are moving fast from the east. You're in their path. Be ready."
Luke's voice came through, steady as always. "Copy that, Misty. We'll handle it."
Before she could respond, another analyst spoke up.
"We intercepted a partial comm exchange between Hammerhead and Red Hood. One phrase repeats—'Extraction imminent.'"
"They've got a way out," Misty whispered. "Do we know how?"
A scarred veteran analyst leaned forward. "Could be a secondary perimeter. Private transport. Based on recent shipping records, Armacham's setup for rapid mobilization."
Her eyes moved to the last known positions of the targets.
"Redirect units to the east perimeter. Scramble anything we've got—air support, drones, quinjets."
Her wrist pulsed with stabbing pain. She twisted it instinctively, forcing the sensation to the background.
On the screen, Bloom's frozen expression lingered in the corner of her vision—eerie and far too composed.
Whatever you're planning, Red Hood, she thought grimly, it won't work. The command center fell silent as everyone focused on the approaching storm.
Then, static cleared. The drone feeds returned, grainy but functional. One showed Luke's HUD as he scanned a distant figure.
"I got visual on the target," Luke said. "Is that… his new suit?"
"We're not sure," Misty replied. "It's scrambling readings. Coulson and the higher-ups are alarmed."
A pause. "You know I've handled worse, Misty."
She managed the smallest smile. "Be careful anyway."
Her hand slid to her gear. She couldn't stay behind any longer. This was beyond the scope of her command—this was personal.
She turned to the team. "Coordinate and contain. I'll join the field team with Daredevil."
No one protested. They knew what Misty Knight could do. As she strapped on her gear, the dull throb in her wrist faded. Adrenaline overrode pain, and purpose steadied her heart.
____________________________________
ABOVE THE BARRICADED ZONE – HELICOPTER
Inside the silent VTOL, Luke and Jessica sat opposite each other, expressions taut, emotions unspoken.
The pilot, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, cleared his throat.
The two exchanged a look—an entire conversation in one glance. Luke stood, unbuckling with practiced precision.
Jessica reached out—"I can—"
He kissed her. She froze—no more words. Then, Luke jumped. Jessica followed—not in free fall, but flying on her power for the first time in months.
The battle in Hell's Kitchen was only beginning.