The air inside the private Vought briefing room didn't just grow cold; it shattered.

Ben didn't enter the room—he invaded it, slamming the heavy mahogany door behind him with enough force to splinter the frame. His jaw was locked, his classic, sharp facial structure tense with an old-Hollywood fury as he ripped his eagle-emblazoned leather domino mask from his face.

He was sick of the suits, sick of the manufactured corporate praise, and utterly furious at the terrifying anomaly Vought had just dropped into his lap.

"What the hell are you?." his gravelly baritone roared, dropping into that menacing, heavy bass that usually made grown men drop to their knees. He marched straight into the center of the room, his dark navy tailored suit jacket straining against his broad shoulders.

She didn't flinch. She didn't even turn. Standing an imposing seven feet tall, she was a terrifyingly gorgeous monument of absolute physical perfection.

Her skin—a flawless, iridescent aquamarine that had never existed in nature—shimmered beneath the fluorescent lights like a pristine painting hung too high for mortal hands to touch. cascading mantle of spun copper and silver hair flowed down her back with an unnatural, perpetual weightlessness.

She was the youngest among them, a newly minted superhero injected with an overdose of substances that had entirely burned away her former humanity, leaving behind an immortal, eternally youthful goddess who was utterly incapable of dying—or being killed.

"I am the inevitable, Ben," she murmured. Her voice wasn't a sound; it was an atmospheric pressure that vibrated directly inside his skull.

"Don't give me that philosophical horseshit!" Ben barked, closing the distance between them until he was forced to tilt his head back, his striking green eyes locking onto hers.

Up close, her eyes were an inhuman vortex of swirling violet and gold, housing the depth of entire cosmos.

"You stood there. Out in the courtyard. You watched those rogue operatives pull the pins on those grenades. You saw it before it happened, didn't you? You have the speed to cross a continent in a heartbeat, the strength to rip a tank in two, and you just stood there and watched them blow themselves to pieces!"

"Fate is fate," she replied with a chilling, serene apathy. "I see the future, Ben. I see the supernatural tapestry of every scream, every fire, and every drop of blood. And I will never lift a finger to stop it. To save them is to insult the design."

The sheer, arrogant detachment of her words struck a match against Ben’s volatile ego. He snapped.

In a flash of absolute, blinding motion, his hand shot out, didn't care that she was a seven-foot deity; he was Soldier Boy, a man who had bought his way into a godhood of his own and refused to be looked down upon. His fingers locked around her wrist, clamping down with the absolute physical force that made him the deadliest weapon on the planet.

Crack.

The air between them ignited. The moment his skin met her untouchable, non-human flesh, a shockwave of existential manipulation rippled outward. The lights overhead shattered into a million sparks.

The concrete floor beneath their boots webbed with deep, jagged fissures. The very atmosphere of the room warped, howling like a localized hurricane as her subconscious control over nature reacted to his aggression.

Ben felt the kinetic feedback tear through his arm, a savage pressure that would have pulverized a normal man's bones. His grip tightened, his teeth bared in a fierce, chauvinistic snarl. "I don't care what Vought put in your veins. In this team, I am the captain. You look at me when I'm speaking to you, and you do your damn job."

Slowly, her violet-and-gold eyes drifted down to his hand on her wrist. The sheer, absolute strength radiating from her body was suffocating, a gravity that threatened to crush the breath from his lungs.

Yet, as his grip bruised her perfect, unearthly skin, her flesh instantaneously regenerated, a perpetual, seamless healing that defied the laws of biology. She didn't pull away.