Nathan and Gwen reached Milwaukee in less than ten minutes. He'd slowed down for her sake, one arm steady around her waist as they flew — but even at reduced speed, the trip was a blur of wind and light.
Gwen stayed quiet as they landed. Her feet touched the rooftop, but the memory of his hands around her lingered. She brushed her hair back, deliberately looking away.
Nathan glanced at her sidelong but didn't comment.
[There are multiple irregular signals in the vicinity,] Raphael reported. [Using Cyborg as a medium I can detect at least one Technomancer, along with at least three other clusters. One appears to be mutant-based.]
Nathan's expression shifted subtly, focus snapping back. No time for daydreaming.
As they approached the meeting site, they spotted several distinct groups, all spaced apart with the wariness of criminals at a black-market auction. In the center of it all stood something strange—thin like a spider, but fluid and oozy, with twitching limbs and a metallic sheen. It pulsed faintly, as if alive and glitching.
"Ahh… another customer," it hissed, voice distorted. "What is it you wish to buy?"
Nathan didn't answer immediately. His eyes tracked the twitchy creature, calculating. Gwen stood beside him, quiet but alert.
[Scanning,] Raphael said. [Identity confirmed. Self-designated 'Mr. Fract'. Originally Galvanic Mechamorph. Now partially fused with a Cyberiad fragment. Corrupted. Technology on offer is a mutating virus — target evolves into a Cybermen variant over time.]
Before Nathan could react, the creature twitched violently, voice sharpening.
"You… what are you doing? Trying to hack my systems?!"
A few heads turned toward them — mutant, armored, alien. The air grew tense.
Nathan raised an eyebrow, adjusting his tone to something lazy and disinterested. "Probing, not hacking. If your tech falls over from a ping, I'd rather not waste time buying it."
He gave a small shrug, as if that settled the matter.
Gwen leaned slightly toward him, voice low. "That group's the mutants. Strong ones. The others look like Forever Knights."
Nathan gave her a faint nod.
"I require something resistant to psychic intrusion," a man from the mutant group spoke suddenly. He stepped forward in a crimson bodysuit and a gleaming helmet. "If your systems are this vulnerable, I'm not interested."
Mr. Fract rippled, his ooze-like limbs clacking. "As if the Cybermen could be hacked by you. Arrogance—nothing more."
His voice cracked and buzzed, the tone sliding deeper into hostility.
[He's unstable,] Raphael noted. [If this escalates, the entire gathering will fracture. Recommend observation until further provocation.]
Nathan didn't move. His eyes stayed on Fract, but his stance was loose — casual.
"No need for theatrics," he murmured. "We're just here to window-shop."
POV change:
Gwen Cooper crouched low behind a rusted ventilation unit, her coat fluttering slightly in the rooftop breeze. Milwaukee's skyline flickered with faint, unnatural pulses — like the city itself was holding its breath.
Beside her, Esther Drummond adjusted her tactical earpiece. "We're in position. Visual on the signal source confirmed. It's… bad, Gwen."
"I can see that," Gwen murmured, eyes narrowing at the open lot below. "What is that thing?"
The center of the clearing was dominated by a twitching, oily creature — part-metal, part-fluid, its limbs stuttering like corrupted animation. It oozed and clacked, speaking in glitched hisses to the motley groups standing warily apart. A black-market auction, alien-tech style.
Esther squinted. "According to Torchwood's filters, the tech in its body's partially Cyberiad. Fragmented. There's Galvanic energy too, like from a Mechamorph."
Gwen didn't answer right away. She was scanning the crowd. Several groups loitered with purpose — armored men with ancient sigils on their shoulders, robed mutants radiating power, a few unidentifiables. "Tell me SHIELD's here."
"They are. Just not showing themselves yet. That's standard for them. We also have Brotherhood presence — mutants, probably Magneto's faction." Esther tapped her screen again. "And that group with the medieval plate armor? Those are Forever Knights."
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"
"I was CIA," Esther said with a shrug. "They like calling themselves righteous defenders. In reality — smuggling, tech trafficking, extremist ideals. Not far off from terrorists with a branding team."
Gwen gave a low whistle. "And this is supposed to be containable?"
Esther hesitated, then said, "SHIELD might be the better bet. They know mutant protocol. If we make contact—"
"Hold," Gwen said suddenly, lifting a hand. Two new figures were descending fast — not in a jet, not by zipline. Flight. One of them had glowing tech integrated across his limbs, strange and sleek. The girl beside him… young, focused, clearly superpowered too.
They landed near the crowd, and the air shifted. The glitching creature twisted toward them immediately.
"Ahh… another customer," it hissed. "What is it you wish to buy?"
The boy — older teen, late teens maybe — didn't answer. His eyes studied the creature with unsettling calm. The girl stayed beside him, silent and ready.
"Who are they?" Esther whispered. "That tech looks alien, but it's not like anything in Torchwood's files."
"No clue," Gwen said under her breath. "But that boy's too calm. Either stupid or dangerous."
Then something shifted. The creature froze for half a second — spasmed — then shrieked, "You… what are you doing? Trying to hack my systems?!"
The Brotherhood, the Knights, even a few lone bidders turned toward the new arrivals. Tension coiled in the air.
The boy raised a brow. "Probing, not hacking. If your tech falls over from a ping, I'd rather not waste time buying it." He shrugged, relaxed and dismissive.
Esther leaned toward Gwen. "He's not Cybermen. If anything, he's disrupting them."
"Or drawing attention," Gwen muttered. "But that thing felt it. He touched something."
The girl beside him spoke quietly. "That group's the mutants. Strong ones. The others look like Forever Knights." They heard it from voice enhancement devices.
Their interactions also showed that the girl might be an old player and the boy has come to know of these now.
He nodded slightly.
A new voice joined — from the mutants' side. A man stepped forward in crimson armor and a polished helmet.
"I require something resistant to psychic intrusion. If your systems are this vulnerable, I'm not interested."
The twitching figure recoiled. "As if the Cybermen could be hacked by you. Arrogance—nothing more."
Gwen exhaled. "So it is Cybermen. At least in part."
"Half of it, anyway," Esther said, watching closely. "But he's fused with something else. Mechamorphs don't act like that. And that boy — he hacked it, or something close."
The glitching entity bristled, limbs stretching unnaturally. Gwen's hand brushed her sidearm — a classic revolver, not electronic, Torchwood-issued for exactly this kind of enemy.
"He's unstable," Gwen muttered. "If this breaks bad, we may need to pick sides."
Esther looked at her. "Do we intervene now?"
Gwen watched the boy. His stance was loose, calm — not a threat, not yet.
"No," she said finally. "Let's see what window-shoppers do."
POV change back
While every faction was waiting for the other to take action, only Mr Fract and Forever Knights remained unknown to the changes. After all, only the Brotherhood and Forever Knights had any intentions of buying and every other group here was either to steal, take care of the threats of Mr Fract or just as an observer.
Just as Magneto was about to act, another person entered the scene, a man with purple skin wearing a suit.
Gwen(Torchwood) for a moment even thought it was the doctor but realised it can't be because of his facial expressions, he looked rather disgusting. He was followed a by a girl that seemed to be in brutal condition, ss if she was trying to fight the urge…
Magneto immediately realised the expression on the girl, she was being mind controlled. Eric was obviously someone who was extremely experienced with Psychics.
"Ahh, what a great lineup. I knew coming here wouldn't be a waste."
No one answered.
But as he stood there—simply stood—something began to change. An unease that wasn't tied to the environment. A shift in posture. Breathing patterns. Sweaty palms and dilated pupils. His pheromones, invisible and insidious, seeped into the gathering. No dramatic gesture. No glowing eyes. Just... influence.
Magneto's fingers twitched subtly.
He narrowed his eyes, watching Kilgrave carefully. There was nothing overt—no psychic surge, no hostile energy—but something in the man's presence felt wrong. He held back, unsure, not realizing that his body had begun to resist without conscious thought. His will, refined through decades of mental combat, was enough to keep him grounded.
The others weren't so lucky.
Kilgrave's smile grew ever so slightly. He turned his head to the Brotherhood—not to all of them. Just enough.
"You know, I always liked ambitious types," he said casually. "Tell you what. Why don't you lot take over this little gathering for me?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the shift was immediate.
Pyro flared to life, conjuring flames in each palm as he strode forward. Toad leapt high, tongue twitching, limbs tensed for combat. Mystique's eyes sharpened, shifting subtly toward readiness—her motions too smooth, too practiced. Shocker powered up with a low hum. Vanisher blinked from one position to another like a coiled serpent ready to strike.
Only Magneto remained still, muscles locked. Not controlled—but not free to act either.
Regan Wyngarde—Lady Mastermind—froze.
Her breath hitched as she saw the others moving too quickly, too obediently. Mystique wasn't following protocol. Pyro wasn't cracking his usual jokes. There was no coordination, just submission.
Her mind, sharp and trained in the layered defenses of psychic warfare, caught the edges of something chemical, something that bypassed the conscious mind. She bit her lip, hard. No time for fear.
Mystique first, she thought, projecting a sliver of herself into the blue-skinned mutant's psyche, even as chaos erupted.
Because chaos did erupt.
Mr. Fract twitched and spasmed. "You dare—you dare approach me like that?!"
A surge of alien tech burst from his body, forming weapons like living metal—tendrils lashing out, blasters forming along the ooze-coated arms, projectiles laced with nanotech, heat, pulse, and code. Pyro answered with flames. Toad bounded forward. Shocker let loose a wide blast of concussive energy, which Fract absorbed with a shimmering field of repurposed Cybermen plating.
The rooftop battle ignited.
Across the perimeter, the Forever Knights chose that moment to reveal their intentions. Without preamble, their leader bellowed through a vocoder-enhanced voice:
"Everything here belongs to the righteous! In the name of our forefathers—take it all!"
Gunfire and energy bolts rained out. Blades extended. Several minor groups scattered, ducking behind cover, while the more militant factions returned fire.
Lady Mastermind knelt beside a fallen girder, forcing herself to focus.
She reached deeper into Mystique's mind, threading her own resistance like a lifeline into the cracks of the control. The feedback burned—pheromonal influence wasn't psychic in nature, but its effects mimicked it enough that Regan could try to anchor her comrades.
"You're not a puppet," she whispered fiercely under her breath. "Come on, Raven—fight it."
Kilgrave watched it all unfold like a man enjoying a well-prepared meal. His hands remained clean. His smile never wavered.
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
As chaos erupted across the rooftop, fractured by gunfire, shouts, and energy blasts, Killgrave remained oddly still—his smirk stretching like a thin cut across his face.
Jessica stood slightly in front of him, posture tense, muscles straining like she wanted to turn back but couldn't. Gwen Tennyson noticed it immediately—she'd seen enough mind control cases to recognize the signs. This wasn't full obedience. It was a war.
"She's fighting it," Gwen muttered, shifting into a loose stance as pink energy gathered around her fists. "That might be our opening."
Nathan didn't nod, didn't speak. He simply moved, vanishing in a blur of momentum. One second he was beside Gwen, the next he was in front of Jessica, intercepting her punch with one open palm. She was strong—her strikes could level buildings—but his shield flared to life, absorbing the blow without flinching.
[Target physically enhanced. Neural activity suggests mental conflict. She is compromised but not lost,] Raphael intoned.
Nathan didn't hit back. He pivoted, redirected her force, and pushed—hard—toward Gwen.
"Handle her."
Gwen's eyes flickered with light. "Gladly."
Jessica stumbled forward, only to meet a wall of Anodite energy. Gwen didn't attack with brute force. She wrapped energy tendrils around Jessica's limbs, not to hurt, but to bind—to hold her still, give her a moment to breathe.
"You don't want to do this," Gwen said, voice calm, firm. "I can feel it. Fight him."
Jessica's hands trembled. Her jaw clenched.
Meanwhile, Nathan turned to his true target—Killgrave. The smug man barely blinked as the cyborg advanced.
"You're not panicking. That's a mistake."
Killgrave tilted his head. "I don't need to panic. I just need to talk."
His voice was velvet and venom.
"Pyro," he called lazily. "Protect me."
A streak of flame burst across the rooftop. Pyro descended like a devil in flight, his flamethrowers already igniting the air. "With pleasure."
Nathan activated Cyborg's armor systems—panels shifted across his body, the shield blooming into place. Pyro unleashed a torrent of searing fire—but it curved around Nathan harmlessly.
[Thermal resistance optimal. Enemy attack insufficient. Initiating counter-pattern,] Raphael stated, even-toned.
Cyborg was a transformation that gave Raphael the extra edge as she could let Nathan handle what he was comfortable with but could also help him against his blind spots.
Nathan dashed forward, shield up, absorbing another blast. Pyro grinned madly, launching a barrage of molten arcs—but Nathan moved through it like a ghost in a storm.
"You're not the only one with toys," Nathan muttered. His left hand snapped up—mini-missiles launched, guided not by eyes but by Raphael's targeting systems.
Pyro veered, ducking behind a vent—but the missiles twisted mid-air and struck, knocking him off balance. Nathan followed up with a brutal shoulder bash that cracked the rooftop beneath them.
At the edge of the chaos, Gwen (Tennyson) ducked Jessica's wild swing. Pink energy flared as she caught the other woman's arm and twisted, pinning her gently but firmly.
"I'm not your enemy," Gwen said, louder now, hoping it would punch through whatever haze Kilgrave had layered over Jessica's mind.
Jessica blinked rapidly. Her breathing hitched.
Then, across the battlefield, Killgrave's voice turned sharp. "Jessica! I said protect me!"