To Each Their Own

( 3rd POV )

"What was that about?" Ken asked while furrowing his brows.

The command room was eerily quiet after the chaos that had erupted only moments before. The scattered papers and debris were evidence of the disruption caused by Anna's unexpected outburst. 

After Anna sudden outburst of power, Ken who was the one who knocked her out of commission asked his reliable kouhai to take care of the poor girl.

With their bond as Master and Servant, she quickly understood her senpai means before she grabs Anna and sending her out toward her room.

Daisy who are also concern about her friend condition immediately start to help Mash to carry Anna, leaving the messy command's room behind.

Ken stood near his seat, his arms crossed, his brows deeply furrowed. His eyes remained fixed on the two women in the room with him—Sion and Da Vinci.

"She went berserk, her emotions slipping out of her control and things happen." Da Vinci who are busy at the back, tidying up things while using some kind of spell answered.

Ken exhaled slowly, dropping into his chair and running a hand through his dark hair. "I get that much. What I don't understand is how it even happened. Isn't the CAD you designed supposed to prevent these kinds of incidents? Or did I misunderstand its function, Sion?"

Sion stiffened at the directness of his tone, her pride as a genius momentarily bristling. But she could hardly blame Ken for his frustration—he had been the one to subdue Anna before things escalated further.

Closing her eyes, she massaged her temples again and took a calming breath before responding. "The CAD is still a prototype, Ken. In standard scenarios, it should be more than sufficient to suppress her powers temporarily. However…"

She trailed off, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. "This is the first time we've dealt with a Meta whose genetic makeup is this… volatile. You can't expect every scenario to go smoothly, especially when a berserk Meta is involved."

Da Vinci who just finished tidy things up, walked back to her chair. "Give Sion a break, master. She has been too busy with a lot of things, she barely even has a time to take rest." She said, backing up her fellow researcher. "And we need to talk to you about something important."

With all the research about the Meta's going on, add with how chaotic the current Chaldea management is, everyone in the mansion is very busy. Even Waver got dragged by Olga to help her managed the paperwork for their company plan.

Ken sighed, his irritation giving way to guilt. "You're right. Sorry if I came off too harsh, Sion."

Sion offered him a small, appreciative smile. "It's fine. I understand your concerns." She straightened in her seat, some of her professional composure returning. "But we have bigger issues to discuss."

Da Vinci leaned forward, folding her hands under her chin. "Exactly. And Master, this one's big." Her cheerful demeanor dimmed, a rare seriousness overtaking her. "Sion, you should go ahead and tell him."

"Right," Sion nodded, her fingers flying across her tablet. "It's about the Azazel's tail that you brought back, Ken."

"Huh? What's wrong about it?" Ken asked with a puzzled expression.

The holographic screen on the middle of the table flickered once more, displaying various data streams of a certain red devil DNA structure. The display showed strands of genetic code—an intricate tapestry of crimson and black—glitching and dissolving before their eyes.

"After days of attempting to analyze its DNA structure," she began, her violet eyes fixed on the disintegrating patterns, "I've come to no result. The strands collapse under scrutiny, destabilizing faster the deeper I go."

Ken frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the chaotic data. While he wasn't an expert in genetics, he could tell this wasn't normal. If someone as brilliant as Sion—and by extension, Da Vinci—was this concerned, it meant something far more dangerous than he could fathom was at play.

"Initially, everything seemed normal, but as I delved deeper, the DNA began collapsing on its own as time passed by. It's as if the genetic material is unstable, disintegrating under scrutiny." She paused for a moment. "I thought we could delve deeper to their Origin, but it seems impossible now."

Ken's eyes widened slightly, his mind racing to understand the implications. "Are you saying that Azazel's DNA is inherently flawed?"

Da Vinci leaned back in her chair, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I already saw the report. While I might be not a professional in this field, but it's not unheard of for DNA to degrade, but for it to happen so rapidly and consistently..." She deliberately paused, thinking of other possibilities.

Ken's thoughts raced with more question after hearing both of their explanation. He is trying to remember if there is such a plot happen in the movies he has ever watch in his past live.

Sion continued, her expression grim. "That's what I'm beginning to suspect. The way the DNA collapses suggests that it was artificially constructed. It's almost as if it was designed to fall apart under analysis..."

"Which means that Azazel might be a clone... Our plan to trace back the Origin of the X-Meta's is thwarted once again." Da Vinci finished, picking up where Sion said.

"A clone... How is this even possible...?" Ken murmured in a disbelieve tone.

If one thing he know about the Marvel universe, is that everything related to clones is very troublesome. Those people in the shadow could just enjoy backseating while their clones sow chaos to this world, just waiting for the harvest season to come.

"The work of someone with the knowledge and resources to manipulate genetic material at such a level, even I would call that person a rare talent." Coming from someone like Sion, it's a very high compliment.

"I agree, even in our world to create clone with a superpower is considered almost impossible for most magus. Just imagine if the whole Brotherhood that night was just a clones created by someone?" Da Vinci said with a solemn face before she eased her expression.

Da Vinci chuckled softly, breaking the tension for a moment. "Fufufu, I might be letting my imagination run too wild." Sion even shaking her head with wry smile after hearing Da Vinci joke.

But one person didn't think it was just a joke, he thinks such a scenario is most likely what happen that night. Ken's stomach twisted at the thought. This kind of thought even sent a shiver right through his bone.

"Anyways Master, the director told me to inform you that she'll take the gamble." Da Vinci said, changing the topic.

Hearing Da Vinci word, Ken is wakened up from his reverie. "Gamble? What gamble?" He even more puzzled now, wondering if the director is sick.

"It's a kind of gamble you usually do in Headquarter." Sion replied with an amused smile. Even Da Vinci beside her nodded in agreement before continuing her words.

"We are about to launch our next plan, so it's time to go back."

.....

The bustling streets of New York City were alive with the sounds of honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional street performer.

Amidst this urban symphony, there is an open-air restaurant nestled in a quieter corner of the city. However, the restaurant has already been booked. It was under the watchful eye of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, discreetly positioned to ensure the safety of their operatives.

A man in his thirties wearing a neat suit sat at a corner table, his demeanor calm and composed as he sipped his coffee. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the scene as he glanced at his watch.

When the man was busy with his watch, a figure of a beautiful woman arrived. She has a striking red hair color, she wear a casual clothes and dripped with her black leather jacket that allowed her to blend in with the crowd.

As she approached the table, the man glanced up from his watch before he stood to greet her, a genuine smile breaking through his otherwise serious expression.

"Natasha," he said warmly, extending a hand.

"Phil," she replied, shaking his hand before taking a seat across from him. "It's good to see you."

Coulson nodded, his eyes scanning the area briefly before settling back on her. "Likewise, I didn't expect the call honestly. How have you been holding up?"

Natasha shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know me, always keeping busy. Especially with the boss order. How about you? I thought you would be busy with other thing."

Coulson chuckled softly. "In fact, I am. After The Brotherhood incident, the boss wants me to supervise Mr. Stark, making sure that everything is alright."

"That playboy?" She paused, "Is he worth the investment?" Feeling weird as to why the bald boss need to keep an eye of him.

Sure, he is a genius and a rich guy, but there is a lot of similar people in this world. Why would the organization pay special attention toward that guy?

"You know, it's not about that." Phil shaking his head, denying Natasha word. "But let's get down to business. You mentioned you had something important to discuss with me."

Noticing that the son of Coul will not open up his lip about the guy, Natasha merely shrugged before her expression grew serious, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned forward. "I presume you already know the detail of my mission from Agent Hill?"

The son of Coul nodded his head, acknowledging it. "So, I have been following this little guy for a week, but beside from the previous contact with our target, he has never been in contact with them ever again." Natasha briefly explains.

Since she got the mission to track down the Chaldea people, Natasha has been busy with this task. For weeks, Natasha had pored over fragmented reports. Chaldea was a name that defied easy categorization. No internet records, no digital footprints—nothing. It's like feels like looking for a needle in a haystack.

When Natasha was investigating in Queens—specifically the 15th Street area—She overheard locals talking about the Chaldea group. Apparently, after their fight went viral, some people recognized them as the ones who helped carry an injured boy back home.

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "A boy? Who?"

"Peter Parker," Natasha said flatly. "Just a high school kid from Queens. According to his aunt—May—Chaldea only interacted with them that one time, and it was purely incidental. They found him injured, carried him home, and disappeared."

"I've been tailing Parker for weeks, trying to find any connection. But so far, I've come up empty. No signs of contact, no unusual behavior. He's just a normal kid." Natasha said, finishing her explanation.

Coulson frowned, his mind racing through the possibilities. "That's weird, accidentally help him?" He asked with doubt. "There has to be something we're missing. Are you sure there's no trace of them after all that?"

Natasha shook her head, frustration evident in her eyes. "I've checked everything. His school, his home, his usual hangouts. Nothing."

Coulson leaned back, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the table. "If even the Black Widow herself unable to solve it, then what can I do? The Chaldea is beyond our usual scope."

Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That's why we need to work together, Phil. I can't do this alone. We need more resources, more eyes on the ground. The boss is hellbent on this matter. I also already have his permission to use your resources."

The son of Coul nodded, his expression become resolute after hearing the boss permission. "Well, if the director already given you the green light, then you have my support, Nat. I'll allocate more agents to assist you. As long as I'm still in New York."

"Thanks, Phil. I knew I could count on you." She exhaled in relief, at least she is not alone in this troublesome case.

As the two delved into the minutiae of the investigation, the world around them buzzed with life. Outside, the streets of Queens were alive with the sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and people walking in the fading sunlight.

But just a few meters away from the restaurant, in an alleyway shrouded in shadow, something far darker stirred. A figure, draped in a cloak of darkness and wearing a stark white mask etched with a skeletal design, lingered unseen.

The figure observes the restaurant with their enhanced senses, their silhouette blending seamlessly into the oppressive shadow of the alley.

The faint sound of agents patrolling nearby was nothing more than background noise and none of them even noticed the intruder. The masked figure tilted their head, before the figure melted back into the shadows. The darkness seemed to swallow them whole, leaving no trace of their presence.

Even the Black Widow, as an elite spy and assassins, didn't sense the masked figure that lurked mere meters from her. She remained focused on the task at hand, unaware that the masked figure in the alley might already know more about her target than she did.

.....

In one of the hidden locations, unknown to the world. The air inside the secret facility was heavy with sterilized chill, humming with the faint, mechanical life of machines that burrowed into the heart of this underground stronghold.

In a long dark hallway, filled with several cells contained with human figures in it, several figures could be seen walking together as they are talking with each other. Their faces obscured by shadows, each exuding a different aura of menace and mystery.

"She's uncontrollable," One of the men began, his voice a mechanical rasp amplified by some sort of device. "The feral instincts, while promising, are proving more difficult to suppress than anticipated, just like its predecessor. The Weapon X's regeneration abilities are formidable, but her aggression—borderline animalistic—is becoming a liability."

"Isn't that the point?" The only woman in the entourage smirked, her tone dripped with a mix of mockery and fascination. "We didn't create her to be docile, did we? She's a weapon. A blade honed for its master."

"But even a blade must be wielded properly," interjected another figure, an old man wearing a military feature and a deep scar across his cheek. "If she turns on us, we may as well sign our death warrants. Have you seen the carnage she left in Test Chamber Seven? The cleanup alone—"

As they continue their conversation, inside one of these cells, a girl with emerald-green hair stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing brilliant, glowing eyes. Her head throbbed, a dull ache punctuated by disjointed memories of her capture—an ambush, restraints, then darkness. 

In another cell beside her, sat another prisoner—a girl with alabaster skin and an eerie tattoo: a black circle encircling her left eye, stark against her otherwise porcelain complexion. "You're awake," the tattooed girl said, her voice a low, melodic hum that carried a hint of amusement.

She tilted her head slightly, causing the single lock of black hair that framed her face to sway. "I was wondering how long you'd stay unconscious. Welcome to the club."

The green-haired girl hesitated, her fingers curling instinctively into fists. "Where… are we?"

"Don't know," the tattooed girl replied cryptically, her lips curling into a sly smile. "They call it Facility Zero. The mutants' graveyard, or so the whispers say. But I doubt you're here for a burial. They seem... interested with you."

Ignoring the comment, the green-haired girl pressed on, her voice more insistent. "How did you get here?"

The other girl shrugged nonchalantly. "Captured, same as you. My luck is quite bad that day. But that's not the question you should be asking."

"What should I be asking, then?" the green-haired girl shot back, irritation creeping into her tone.

The tattooed girl leaned forward, her expression shifting from teasing to deadly serious. "You should be asking why they're keeping us alive."

But as they were about to continue their conversation, the same several mysterious figures from before walked past their cells. Both girls stay silenced while trying to eavesdropping them. As they finally pass them, both of girls sighed in relieved.

"They're talking about someone," the green-haired girl murmured. 

The tattooed girl's smirk returned, but her eyes were wary. "Ah, yes. The golden child. Their masterpiece. She's their pet project—a killing machine so perfect it scares even them. Funny isn't it?"

The green-haired girl stiffened before she murmured in panic tone. "What kind of shit I'm getting into...?"

.....

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A/N: Please donate your power stones and leave more reviews for my story, I appreciate it and thank you for your support!