The streets of Manhattan were no longer just busy; they were on edge. The NYPD had officially established the "Meteorite Task Force," led by Captain Miller—a man who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last week. Squad cars sat on every street corner, and helicopters buzzed overhead like giant dragonflies.
"The police are everywhere, Sloane," Rebecca whispered into the comms. She was parked in a crowded parking garage, her van disguised as a florist’s delivery truck. "They’ve issued an 'Avoid and Report' order for anyone showing 'unusual physical properties.' That means you, too."
Sloane was currently perched on a gargoyle atop a skyscraper, her obsidian suit blended perfectly with the shadows of the stone. She looked down at the swarm of blue lights below.
"I know," Sloane muttered. "But they don't know what they're walking into. They think they can handcuff people who can walk through walls or shatter glass with a whisper."
"Just stay out of their spotlights," Rebecca warned. "I’ve tracked the seismic pings. Someone is moving through the subway maintenance tunnels near Grand Central. The vibrations are heavy—denser than Artie. Like someone is dragging a literal tank through the mud."
Human Metal: Victor Steel.
The Maintenance Tunnels: 12:45 AM
The tunnels were a labyrinth of dripping pipes and humming electrical wires. Sloane moved through them like a ghost, her limbs stretching to let her walk along the ceiling to avoid the puddles.
Suddenly, the tunnel erupted in a symphony of shouting and metallic clashing.
"NYPD! DROP THE CARGO AND GET ON THE GROUND!"
Sloane peered around a massive support pillar. A dozen officers from the Task Force had a man cornered. He was towering—not as tall as Artie, but his skin didn't look like rock. It looked like polished, industrial chrome.
Victor Steel wasn't fighting back. He was just trying to walk away, but every time an officer grabbed him, their hands slid off his metallic skin as if he were oiled.
"I’m not hurting anyone!" Victor’s voice was deep, echoing with a metallic ring. "I just need to get to the shipyard! I can’t stay in the city! I’m too heavy!"
"Final warning!" the Lead Officer shouted. "Deploy the high-tension nets!"
Four officers fired launchers. Weighted, electrified nets flew through the air, entangling Victor. The electricity hissed against his metal skin, but he didn't even flinch. He just looked annoyed.
"Stop!" Sloane yelled, dropping from the ceiling.
She landed between the police and Victor, her body expanding into a wide, black shield to block the officers' line of sight.
"Identify yourself!" the Captain shouted, his hand on his holster.
"I'm the one trying to prevent a massacre!" Sloane countered. Her arms elongated, gently but firmly pushing the officers back. "You can't contain him with nets! You’re just going to make him angry!"
"Move aside, 'Stretch-Girl'!" an officer yelled. "He’s one of the Eight! He’s a threat!"
Before Sloane could argue, a cold, familiar wind whistled through the tunnel. The temperature plummeted. The puddles on the floor froze instantly, trapping the officers' boots in ice.
"The police are so... tiring," a voice echoed.
Desmond Thorne stepped out of a side tunnel. Beside him stood Human Ice and Human Clone, their eyes rolled back in that haunting, milky white.
"Victor," Desmond said, his voice humming with that hypnotic frequency. "Look at them. They hunt you like an animal. They want to put you in a cage and study you. But I... I can give you a home. I can make you the shield that protects us all."
"Don't listen to him, Victor!" Sloane shouted, her voice amplified by the tunnel’s acoustics. "He’s not giving you a home! He’s taking your soul!"
Desmond smiled. "Crystal. Freeze the meddler. Silas. Take the Metal."
The Ice-Woman exhaled a frost-blast. Sloane, remembering her warehouse training, didn't try to block it. She turned her body into a giant, concave mirror, catching the frost and redirecting it toward the ceiling, causing a massive cluster of icicles to fall between her and Desmond.
"Victor, run!" Sloane yelled.
But it was too late. Desmond was already close. He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against Victor’s chrome shoulder.
"Obey," Desmond whispered.
Victor’s metallic eyes flickered. The silver shine dimmed, replaced by a dull, dead grey. Slowly, his eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. He turned toward the police, his heavy metal fists clenching.
"No!" Sloane screamed.
The police opened fire. Bullets pinged off Victor’s chest like hail on a tin roof. He didn't even feel them. He began to march forward, a mindless engine of destruction.
"Rebecca! The J-Pop! Blast it!" Sloane cried into her comms.
The music exploded in Sloane’s ears, shielding her from Desmond’s voice, but it did nothing for the police or Victor.
Sloane had to make a choice. If she fought Victor, she’d break her hands. If she let him go, the police would die.
Using her elasticity, she didn't punch. She slung. She wrapped her arms around two massive support pillars and launched herself like a human catapult, not at Victor, but at Desmond.
"If I take out the signal, the puppets fall!" Sloane yelled.
Desmond’s eyes went wide as the black-suited blur flew toward him. At the last second, the Human Clone stepped in front of him, taking the hit. Sloane slammed into the clone, the force sending them both tumbling into the dark waters of the maintenance canal.
With the physical contact broken, Desmond hissed in frustration. Victor stopped mid-stride, his metal head shaking as if he were waking from a dream.
"Fall back! Everyone fall back!" the Police Captain shouted, seeing the sheer scale of the power on display.
Desmond gestured to the Ice-Woman. A wall of ice slammed down, sealing the side tunnel and allowing them to retreat into the darkness.
The Aftermath: 2:00 AM
Victor Steel sat on a crate in the tunnels, the ice around him melting. Sloane stood nearby, her suit receding, her glasses fogged up. The police had cordoned off the area, but they were keeping their distance, watching Sloane with a mix of fear and reluctant respect.
"He was... in my head," Victor rumbled, his voice shaking. "It was like being a passenger in my own body. I saw myself moving to hurt those men, and I couldn't stop my hands."
"I know," Sloane said softly. "But you’re back now."
The Police Captain approached slowly, his gun holstered but his hand near his belt. He looked at Sloane, then at the chrome-skinned giant.
"You saved my men," the Captain said. "But this... this isn't over. We have orders to bring you all in."
"Then your orders are going to get people killed," Sloane said, her voice firm. "Desmond Thorne is building an army. He has the Ice, the Clone, and he almost had the Metal. If you want to stop him, you stop hunting us. You let us do what we have to do."
The Captain looked at the shattered tunnel, the ice, and the bullet-riddled walls. He sighed and turned to his officers. "Clear the area. We’ve got nothing but a gas leak here. Move!"
He looked back at Sloane. "Next time, 'Stretch,' don't expect a thank you. Just get him off our streets."
Sloane nodded. She looked at Victor. "We have a place. A warehouse. You’ll be safe there."
Victor stood up, the ground groaning under his weight. "I’ll go. But if that man comes back... I want to be the one who breaks him."
Sloane looked toward the dark end of the tunnel. "He will be back. He still needs the Fire. And once he has the Fire... New York is going to burn."
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