In a hidden military facility buried beneath the Rocky Mountains, a large laboratory buzzed with sterile activity. Beeping machines lined the walls, and in the center of the room floated a man inside a cylindrical tank filled with strange, glowing pink liquid. His muscular body was suspended in the fluid, twitching slightly as streams of data flowed across nearby monitors.
General Hawthorne entered the lab with his boots echoing against the metallic floor, his face stern and composed.
"Status report," the general demanded.
"General Silas' condition is stabilizing," said Scientist 1, who looked up from his monitor with nervous confidence. "The experimental serum is working. The regeneration markers are off the charts. He's stronger than ever."
General Hawthorne walked toward a pinboard where the faces of Cassie, Bobby, Adrian, and several unnamed escapees were pinned.
"Good. We need him ready. Those escaped mutants caused more damage than anyone predicted," he said, his eyes narrowing at Adrian's photo. "Especially that boy Adrian."
As the name was uttered, the man inside the tank—Warden Silas—twitched violently.
"Adrenaline spike!" Scientist 2 exclaimed. "He's waking up!"
General Hawthorne smirked.
"Wake up, Silas," he said, stepping closer to the tank. "Let's make you into something new."
The tank hissed as bubbles rose violently to the top. The rebirth had begun.
Deep within the Brotherhood of Mutants' base, Magneto stood beside Mystique as she laid a file on the table.
"Intel from the Xavier School," she said. "There's a new mutant—Adrian. No full details yet, but some records were traced back to the New Haven facility. Escaped during a breakout."
Magneto's piercing eyes locked onto a grainy image of Adrian training. "He's young."
"Yes. And interesting," Mystique added. "Reports mention a strange energy signature, adaptable abilities. He's not like the others."
Magneto placed the file down with care.
"Charles shelters many. But some aren't meant for shelter. They're meant to lead. Keep an eye on him, Mystique. Don't approach—observe."
"Understood."
The concrete walls of the underground facility shuddered under a low, rhythmic thump... thump... thump.
Then — silence.
A soldier near the security monitors wiped the sweat from his brow. "What the hell was that?"
Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered once, then died.
"Switch to backup!" barked the commander. But the room remained black — until something moved through the dark like smoke. No footsteps. No breathing.
Just the sound of a body hitting the floor — then another.
A scream.
And then… silence again.
Somewhere in the gloom, a shape unfurled from the ceiling shadows and dropped like a falling blade.
A bloodcurdling shriek rang out. A soldier stumbled out into a hallway, clutching at his throat — already sliced — before collapsing with a wet gurgle.
Down the corridor, a single overhead light buzzed weakly to life. It flickered just enough to illuminate the figure emerging from the darkness. A long coat, soaked in blood. Clawed fingers, sharp and inhuman. A face hidden by shadow — only glowing red eyes visible beneath a jagged hood.
Shadow Wolf.
Without a word, he stepped over the corpses, making his way into the heart of the base. Screams echoed from deeper inside. Metal doors buckled as if torn by monstrous hands.
He reached the lab.
A single scientist huddled behind an overturned table, whispering to himself. The door was already half ripped off its hinges.
Then — a hand.
Gripping the scientist by the throat, Shadow Wolf lifted him like a toy and slammed him into the steel wall, cracking it with the force.
"P-please! I don't know anything!" the man sobbed.
Wrong answer.
There was a schhhk — the sharp, wet sound of a blade cutting through flesh.
The man's arm hit the floor.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
"I'll ask once more," Shadow Wolf growled, his voice low and rough like gravel dragged across metal. "Where's the central hub?"
The scientist screamed, blood dripping down the walls, but this time his lips moved quickly.
"In the lower levels! Two floors down, red vault — I swear!"
Shadow Wolf let the man fall. Not out of mercy, but indifference.
The wounded man crawled, gasping, leaving a trail of blood as the vigilante melted into the shadows once more — vanishing before alarms even had a chance to scream.
A final whisper echoed in the dark hallway as another soldier peeked out too late.
"Who was that?"
A corpse dropped at his feet.
Scratched into its chest:
S. W.
In a smoky bar in Queens, a group of criminals huddled around a flickering projector. Photos of Red Nova—Adrian's hero alias—flashed on screen.
"Kid's a threat," one of them muttered. "Took out one of ours in broad daylight. Not even subtle."
A scar-faced hitman spoke up. "Word is, he's got powers and ties to the mutants. We take him out now before he gets too big."
"That's suicide," another warned. "The mutants are protected. You want to piss off Xavier? Or worse—Magneto?"
The room fell silent until a deep voice interrupted.
"You try anything, you'll be the ones buried," Frank Castle growled, stepping into the room.
The Punisher's silhouette was unmistakable.
The criminals shifted nervously.
"I don't give a damn who the kid is," Frank said, leveling his pistol. "He saved my family. And that means he's under my protection. Try anything—anything—and you'll answer to me."
At a S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost, Director Nick Fury stood before a holographic map filled with cross-referenced surveillance.
A new report blinked into his peripheral vision. He tapped it, and Adrian's face popped up beside a list of unverified mutant events.
"Red Nova, huh?" Fury said, raising an eyebrow. "Kid's popping up in a lot of places."
Agent Hill stepped forward. "You want a team to monitor him?"
Fury shook his head.
"Not yet. Just curious, is all. Keep an eye on him. But don't spook Xavier. Not unless the kid starts breathing fire."
Fury's gaze lingered on Adrian's photo a moment longer before he walked off into the shadows of the carrier's command deck.