The private training facility was reinforced concrete and steel, designed to survive explosions, energy discharges, and gravity manipulation.
Frank Castle stood across from me in full Extremis enhancement, orange glow visible beneath his skin. Behind the observation window, Christine monitored my vitals while Yelena watched with clinical interest.
"Ready?" Frank asked.
"As I'll ever be."
He attacked.
Frank moved with enhanced speed and strength, strikes that would have killed a normal human landing with brutal efficiency. I activated Enhanced Reflexes—the world slowed slightly, combat instincts sharpening to preternatural levels. His fist came toward my face; I slipped sideways, countered with an elbow that would have broken ribs pre-enhancement.
He shrugged it off and kept coming.
"Regeneration active," I grunted, feeling his next punch crack my ribs. The pain was immediate and excruciating. Then the void marks pulsed, and my torso restructured itself. Bones knitted back together. Tissue repaired. Three minutes later, I was functional again.
We fought for forty minutes. Frank hitting harder than anyone should be able to survive. Me healing through damage that would have killed normal humans. By the end, we were both exhausted and covered in blood—his from minor cuts that healed slowly, mine from major wounds that healed fast.
"Time," Christine called through the intercom. "Corruption increase: point one percent. Acceptable for forty-minute engagement."
I collapsed against the wall. "Regeneration works. Reflexes work. What about Gravity Control?"
"Tomorrow," Frank said. "You need rest."
"I need mastery before the next crisis hits."
"The next crisis can wait twelve hours."
Week two began with dual power integration.
Regeneration plus Enhanced Reflexes first—Frank attacking at full strength while I healed through hits and countered with preternatural timing. The combination was devastatingly effective. I could take risks normal fighters couldn't, trading damage for positioning, surviving wounds that should have ended fights.
"Corruption increase: point two percent," Christine reported after thirty minutes. "Still within acceptable parameters."
Next came Reflexes plus Gravity Control.
The moment I activated both powers simultaneously, the world shifted. My enhanced awareness combined with gravitational manipulation created combat capabilities that bordered on surreal. I reduced my own weight by eighty percent, then used Reflexes to navigate three-dimensional space like it was a playground.
Frank attacked. I jumped, reduced gravity on myself, and sailed over his head. Increased his weight to three hundred percent—he crashed to his knees under the sudden strain. Reduced it back to normal, landed behind him, swept his legs using Enhanced Reflexes to time the strike perfectly.
"Jesus," Yelena said through the intercom. "That's not fair."
"That's tactical advantage." I grinned. "What's the corruption reading?"
"Point two percent after twenty minutes," Christine said. "Dual activation is sustainable for extended combat."
The most effective combination was Gravity Control and raw combat training. I could make opponents float helplessly, attack from any angle, use their own weight against them. Frank adapted quickly—his Extremis enhancement provided enough strength to resist gravity manipulation partially—but even he struggled.
"If you fought like this during Manhattan, the Chitauri wouldn't have stood a chance," he said after our third round.
"I was at six percent corruption then. Couldn't risk dual activation." I caught my breath. "Now I'm at eleven percent with better management protocols. I can push harder."
"Don't push too hard. You've got three years. No point burning through them in training."
Friday marked the triple power attempt.
"Are you certain about this?" Christine asked over the intercom. "AEGIS projects indicate significant risk."
"I need to know my limits." I looked at Frank. "Hit me. Full strength. I'm activating all three."
Regeneration flared to life—healing factor humming beneath my skin. Enhanced Reflexes sharpened awareness to razor's edge. Then I activated Gravity Control.
The void marks exploded with light.
Pain seared through my body like touching a live wire. The geometric patterns spread visibly—creeping down my arms, up my neck, across my face. Reality felt thin here, like I was existing in three dimensions and some fourth space simultaneously.
Frank's punch came in slow motion. I reduced his weight, redirected his trajectory, countered with a strike that should have broken his jaw. My Regeneration healed the stress fractures in my hand immediately. The combination was incredible—unstoppable.
Then the corruption spiked.
"Point seven percent in thirty seconds!" Christine's voice was panicked. "Shut down now!"
I dropped Gravity Control. The void marks dimmed slightly. The pain faded from searing to merely agonizing.
"Timer?" I gasped.
"Eight seconds of triple activation," AEGIS reported. "Corruption increase point seven percent. Extrapolating: you have approximately ninety seconds maximum triple power usage before reaching critical threshold."
I slumped against the wall. "So dual activation for extended combat. Triple for emergency bursts only."
"Correct. Additionally, four power simultaneous activation would likely trigger immediate transformation event. Do not attempt."
"Noted."
Frank helped me to the medical bay where Christine ran comprehensive scans.
"Your cellular structure is destabilizing faster during multi-power activation," she said, reviewing results. "Each additional power increases corruption exponentially, not linearly. Two powers is manageable. Three is dangerous. Four would be suicidal."
"Then I use two normally, three in emergencies, and never attempt four."
"That's the smart approach." She closed her equipment. "But I've known you long enough to predict you'll break that rule the moment someone's life depends on it."
"Only if absolutely necessary."
"Your definition of absolutely necessary is disturbingly broad."
"Perspective."
Frank found me in the observation deck that evening.
"You're becoming something beyond human," he said quietly. "Makes me wonder if Extremis was necessary when I could've just asked you to turn me into something better."
I pulled up my sleeve. The void marks glowed faintly—geometric patterns spreading like frost across glass, covering my forearm completely now.
"The difference is you chose enhancement and remained Frank. I didn't choose void corruption—it's consuming me whether I like it or not." I met his eyes. "Extremis gave you power. Void corruption is erasing me piece by piece and replacing what it removes with something else."
"You seem like yourself still."
"For now. But Christine's scans show my neural patterns changing. The way I process emotion, make decisions, calculate risk—all of it's shifting toward something colder. More efficient. Less human."
"Is that bad?"
"Ask me in three years when the transformation completes. If I'm still capable of caring about the answer."
Frank was quiet for a moment. Then: "If you start losing yourself—really losing yourself—what do you want us to do?"
I thought about that. "Remind me what matters. Why I'm doing this. Who I'm trying to save." I looked at him. "And if I've lost too much to remember? If I become something that threatens what I built instead of protecting it?"
"Then what?"
"Then you stop me. Whatever that takes."
"Justin—"
"Promise me, Frank. If I transform into something that endangers the mission, you end it. Permanently."
He studied my face for a long moment. "I promise. But I don't think it'll come to that."
"Hope you're right."
We stood together watching Manhattan glitter below. Two enhanced individuals—one by choice, one by circumstance—preparing for threats that would make the Chitauri invasion look like the opening act.
The void marks pulsed steadily. Eleven percent corruption.
Three years. Maybe less.
Better make them count.
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