003

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

The sound of harsh, metallic footsteps echoed through the training chamber as Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, stood side by side, preparing for another one of HYDRA's grueling tests. The room was massive, cold steel walls stretching on for what felt like miles. It wasn't just a laboratory—it was a prison. A place where HYDRA twisted human lives, breaking them down and reshaping them into weapons. The scent of oil and burning metal lingered, a reminder of the cruel machine they were trapped in.

But Wanda and Pietro weren't just captives. They were biding their time, waiting for the moment when they would turn HYDRA's tools against them. And, more importantly, against Tony Stark.

Wanda's mind raced, not with fear but with purpose. The presence she had felt inside herself—the growing power—was still there, pulsing faintly. It was mysterious, hard to grasp, but undeniable. She had stopped fearing it long ago. Now, she welcomed it. Every day, she could feel it growing stronger, like a fire stoked by her hatred, her need for revenge.

Volkov's voice sliced through her thoughts, cold and clinical.

"Today's session will push your abilities further than before," he said, his pale eyes gleaming as he looked at the Maximoff twins. "We expect nothing less than complete success. Your enhancements must continue to progress if you are to serve HYDRA's greater purpose."

Wanda exchanged a glance with Pietro, who was stretching his legs, pretending to be unfazed. His cocky smile was back, but Wanda knew her brother better than anyone. That smile was hiding the rage he felt just as fiercely as she did. They both remembered why they were here, why they allowed themselves to be subjected to HYDRA's endless torture.

Because they wanted Stark to pay. He had killed their parents, and destroyed their lives with his weapons of war, and now, he was worshipped as a hero. It made her blood boil. HYDRA's experiments were only sharpening the tools they needed to take him down.

Pietro glanced at her, his smirk returning. "Easy. Let's get this over with, sestra," he muttered, eyes gleaming with determination. "We've got bigger plans."

Wanda gave a faint nod. He didn't need to say more. The tests were nothing compared to what they had in mind for Stark.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the start of the exercise.

Pietro was gone in an instant, a silver blur streaking through the chamber as he blitzed through HYDRA's training course, taking out targets with surgical precision. Wanda stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and letting her power hum to life inside her. The world around her blurred as she stretched out her hands, warping reality.

A steel target crumpled under the weight of her will, twisting and compacting into a ball. Another target flew into the air, spinning out of control before smashing into the ground. Her control was sharper now, the energy more refined. But as she reached for the next target. 

Her concentration wavered for only a moment, but it was enough. The target clanged against the floor, untouched by her power. Pietro finished the course in a blur of silver light, landing in front of her with ease.

"Wanda!" Pietro's voice was sharp, his hand gripping her shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, her eyes narrowing. "Just... distracted."

Volkov's voice rang out from across the chamber. "Maximoff! Again!"

She clenched her fists, her mind already replaying what she would do to Stark when the time came. This was nothing. A means to an end. 

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

The dark laboratory was silent, save for the soft hum of machines and the rhythmic pulse of the containment unit at the center of the room. Cables snaked across the floor, attached to the sleek glass pod where a faint blue glow illuminated the tiny form inside—a single embryo, barely a month old, suspended in a viscous yet thick liquid. The embryo wasn't normal; it was something else entirely.

And it was never truly alone.

Loki's scepter, with its brilliant blue gemstone, stood in the same room, resting on a pedestal a few feet away. To HYDRA, it was merely an alien artifact—an ancient weapon capable of unlocking dormant powers. What they didn't know, what even the most brilliant among them had yet to discover, was that the gem housed something far more powerful than any of them could imagine: the Mind Stone—one of the six primal forces of creation, a source of infinite cosmic power.

For days, the scepter had stood there, basking in the dim light of the lab, its energy leaking into the very atmosphere. And now, after countless days of exposure, something was beginning to happen.

Inside the containment unit, the embryo pulsed with life, small tendrils of light flickering around it. The Mind Stone's energy, though faint, had been steadily affecting the growth of the child. HYDRA's experiments had brought this being into existence, aa being of imeanse potential and power, but it was the scepter that was reshaping its essence, infusing it with power beyond comprehension.

It was late—far past midnight—and the lab was devoid of activity. The scientists had left for the night, trusting their machines to monitor the embryo's steady development. But something was changing. The Mind Stone was awakening, responding to a force beyond this world.

The embryo, previously growing at a normal rate, suddenly began to pulse with an unnatural light. The liquid around it started to ripple, and the hum of the machines grew louder. The small form inside the pod shifted, its tiny limbs jerking ever so slightly.

Then, without warning, the containment unit began to glow brighter, the blue light from the scepter merging with the golden hue that now surrounded the embryo. The energy levels in the room spiked, alarms flashing on the nearby consoles. But there were no scientists to witness it—no one to see the impossible transformation that was about to take place.

The embryo, barely a month old, began to change.

Its cells multiplied at an alarming rate, dividing and growing exponentially, far beyond the expected parameters. The heartbeat, once faint and fragile, now thudded with a steady, rapid rhythm. The tiny limbs stretched and lengthened, bones forming, muscles expanding. In a matter of minutes, the embryo grew from a barely recognizable form to something far more developed. The baby inside the pod was now several months along in its gestation.

The lights in the lab flickered as the energy around the containment unit surged again. The embryo—now resembling a fully formed fetus—continued to age rapidly. Its body, still suspended in the glowing liquid, shifted and twitched as if responding to the overwhelming force being pumped into it.

The machines monitoring the baby's growth beeped erratically, unable to keep up with the changes. The fetus had aged from one month to nearly eight months in the span of minutes.

But it wasn't just the child's body that was changing. 

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

The soul floated aimlessly in the endless darkness. It had been there for what felt like eons, though time was meaningless in the void. Nobody, no form—just a wisp of thought, of memory. It had once lived, in a different place, in a different body. The memories of that life were fragmented and faded, but they were still there, lingering at the edges of its consciousness.

The soul had died—long ago, or maybe not so long ago. It was impossible to tell. Ever since death had claimed it, it had wandered, waiting for something, though it didn't know what. In life, it had known conflict, fear, hope, and pain. It had fought, struggled, and died. The details were hazy now, but the emotions remained, buried deep in the core of its being.

In the void, there was no light, no sound. Just an endless, weightless existence that stretched on and on. The soul had lost count of the days, of the moments if they even existed. It drifted in that timeless expanse, waiting for something, though it had no idea what that might be.

Then, suddenly, a flicker. A faint light, distant but unmistakable. It pierced the void like a beacon, faint but growing, a sliver of warmth in the cold, empty expanse.

The soul stirred for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It reached out—if such a thing was possible in this formless state—driven by a need it could not explain. The light beckoned, pulling it closer, and the soul, desperate for anything other than the eternal void, followed.

As it moved toward the light, the soul felt something it hadn't felt in so long: a sensation of movement, of gravity. The closer it got, the stronger the pull became, until the light engulfed it completely.

There was no time to think, no time to question. The light swallowed the soul whole, and for the briefest moment, there was a sensation of warmth, of life.

And then, it awoke.

 𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸

In the HYDRA lab, the baby stirred for the first time. Its tiny body shifted inside the containment unit, the faintest twitch of a hand as if responding to an unseen force. The machines beeped softly, registering the movement, though no human eyes were there to witness it.

The embryo, which had been a blank canvas, empty of thoughts or will, now housed something new. The soul, drawn to the light of life, had merged with the infant's form. Its essence flooded into the tiny body, taking root in the blank vessel.

The soul had a body once more. A body that was still incomplete, still growing, but alive nonetheless.

At first, there was confusion. The soul, now inside the body of the infant, struggled to adjust. It was disoriented, lost between the faint memories of its old life and the new sensations of this one. The body was too small, too fragile, unable to process the vastness of the soul that now inhabited it.

The soul had no understanding of what had happened, no idea where it was or why it had been drawn here. All it knew was that it had been in the void, alone and lost, and now it was... alive again. It could feel the beating of a heart—its heart—thudding steadily in its chest. It could feel the slow intake of breath, the rhythmic rise and fall of its tiny lungs.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, it had a sensation. It had form.

But this body wasn't its own—not truly. It had no memory of ever being in this form before, no recollection of being a baby. This body was new, unfamiliar. The soul had once been something else—someone else. And now it was trapped in the body of an infant, not yet born, floating in some kind of strange, glowing liquid.

It tried to move, but the body was weak, and underdeveloped. It could barely make its limbs respond, managing only the faintest twitch of a finger or a flutter of an eyelid. The soul's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but there were no answers. Only the strange, comforting rhythm of the heartbeat, and the warmth of the liquid surrounding it.

Slowly, the soul began to calm. The initial shock of being drawn from the void and thrust into this new existence began to fade. It had no control over what had happened, no way to understand why it had been brought here. But one thing was clear: it was alive again. And it would have to adapt.

𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈𖥸