The office was quiet except for holographic displays humming with data.
I sat at my desk reviewing the year's accomplishments while Manhattan celebrated outside—fireworks distant against windows, countdown to 2013 already passed hours ago. AEGIS had compiled comprehensive organizational assessment, and the numbers told a story of transformation I'd barely believed possible two years ago.
"Begin report," I said.
"Organizational status as of January 1, 2013," AEGIS announced. "Hammer Industries valuation: four-point-two billion dollars, up from two-point-eight billion in January 2012. Revenue sources: defense contracts forty-two percent, civilian technology thirty-eight percent, research and development twenty percent. Market position: top-three defense contractor with expanding presence in medical technology, clean energy, and disaster response equipment."
Not bad for a company that had been joke two years ago.
"ARES Division?"
"Personnel: thirty-five enhanced operatives including twenty-four Extremis-enhanced soldiers, eleven other enhancement types. Two hundred twenty support personnel across logistics, intelligence, medical, and command functions. Operational capabilities: assess as equivalent to small nation's elite special forces. Recent casualties: zero in past six months. Training completion rate: ninety-seven percent across all programs."
I pulled up individual profiles. Frank Castle leading enhanced division. Yelena commanding Widow specialists. Teams who'd fought in Manhattan, trained for Red Room assault, prepared for threats nobody else saw coming.
"Ghost Network status?"
"Seven hundred twenty active assets globally. Compromised by Leviathan observation protocols but countermeasures implemented successfully. Coverage spans six continents with focus on: HYDRA cell tracking, enhanced individual monitoring, Infinity Stone intelligence, and corporate espionage targeting AIM, Roxxon, and Oscorp. Network generates approximately eighty intelligence reports weekly."
"Technology base?"
"Prometheus armor 4.0 entering mass production—fifty units delivered to ARES Division, twenty allocated for emergency response. Extremis 2.0 refinement complete with nine successful human integrations. Chitauri weapons technology integrated into standard loadouts. Neural interface prototypes functional pending expanded trials. Transmutation capabilities advanced to twenty-five-foot circle diameter with two-to-five second complex material conversion."
The list continued. Arc reactor alternatives in development. Dimensional sensor technology. Enhanced medical protocols. Everything built toward preparing for threats years away.
"Personal capabilities," I said.
AEGIS shifted displays. "Void corruption: thirteen percent. Management protocols maintaining point-five percent monthly increase rate. Current projection: twenty-four to thirty months until fifty percent critical threshold."
Two years. Maybe less if I pushed hard during upcoming operations.
"Vault contents: five powers total. Pyrokinesis remains unstable in storage, not recommended for active use. Regeneration Factor active, provides near-instant healing for minor wounds, hours for major trauma. Enhanced Reflexes active, grants super-soldier level combat awareness. Gravity Control trained, fifteen-foot radius with eighty percent weight reduction or three hundred percent increase. Kinetic Absorption training phase, sixty-second storage with vehicle-impact level capacity."
"Combat assessment?"
"Enhanced-human tier. Can engage super-soldier level threats with tactical preparation. Synergy between powers creates capabilities approaching Avengers peripheral members. Limitations: triple-power activation dangerous beyond ten seconds, quadruple activation likely triggers premature transformation. Recommend dual-power maximum for sustained operations."
I reviewed my own stats like analyzing stranger. Marcus Chen who died in car crash. Justin Hammer whose body I'd stolen. The person I'd become through void corruption and impossible choices.
Still me enough to care. Still human enough to hesitate. But changing. Always changing.
"Threat timeline," I said, shifting focus forward.
AEGIS pulled up projections. "Next eighteen months present multiple critical events. Aldrich Killian's Extremis crisis projected six-to-eight months—we've already stabilized formula, creating strategic advantage. Thor's return concurrent with Dark Elves invasion projected twelve-to-fourteen months based on astronomical cycles. SHIELD collapse and HYDRA revelation projected sixteen-to-eighteen months based on political tensions and Insight project timeline."
"Longer term?"
"Sokovia and Ultron crisis twenty-four to thirty months. Requires preventing Tony Stark from creating murderous AI while addressing legitimate security concerns that motivate creation. Thanos arrival five to six years distant. Each milestone requires specific preparation already underway."
The void marks pulsed beneath my shirt. Thirteen percent and climbing. Two years until transformation. Five to six until Thanos.
Which meant I'd likely die—or worse, become something else—before seeing if all this preparation mattered.
"Assessment question," I said. "Can we actually survive all this?"
AEGIS processed for several seconds. "Current survival probability to Thanos confrontation: forty-one percent. Significant improvement from initial twelve percent calculated at transmigration. Each successful intervention has incrementally increased odds—Battle of New York survival, Red Room disruption, Extremis stabilization, enhanced operative recruitment, alliance building with Avengers peripheral members."
"Forty-one percent."
"Statistically poor but dramatically better than baseline. Additionally, probability calculation assumes your personal survival. Organizational survival probability is sixty-three percent—you've built systems capable of functioning without you."
That was the goal. Build something that outlasted me. Create organization that continued mission after I was gone.
"Final assessment recommendation?"
"Continue current trajectory. Red Room assault in two weeks creates operational advantage and recruits enhanced individuals. Stark Expo in three months establishes public legitimacy and networking opportunities. Ongoing preparations for Extremis crisis, HYDRA revelation, and Ultron prevention position us optimally for each event." The AI paused. "You're doing everything possible with available resources and knowledge. Whether that's sufficient remains uncertain until tested."
Yelena arrived an hour later for operational briefing.
"You look exhausted," she observed.
"Been reviewing year's progress. Trying to calculate if we're actually ready."
"For Red Room assault?"
"For everything. Assault, Thanos, all the disasters between now and then." I pulled up Operation Scarlet Dawn files. "Are we ready?"
"Tactically? Yes. We've trained for three months, gathered intelligence, coordinated with Avengers, positioned assets globally." She sat across from me. "Emotionally? Ask me after we've rescued the Widows and seen the casualty count."
"Expected casualties?"
"AEGIS projects two-to-four ARES operatives wounded seriously, zero-to-two fatalities depending on resistance levels. Acceptable ratio for forty-plus Widow recoveries." Her jaw clenched. "But numbers don't make deaths easier."
"No. They don't."
Maya appeared in the doorway. "Technical report ready. Should I come back?"
"Stay. You need to hear operational status." I gestured her in. "Extremis 2.0 performance analysis?"
She pulled up data on her tablet. "Nine enhanced operatives showing excellent integration. Strength levels consistent at three-twenty percent baseline. Healing factors functioning perfectly—we tested with controlled injuries, regeneration averaged four minutes for severe lacerations. Thermal generation controllable and stable. Zero rejection episodes post-initial integration."
"Combat readiness?"
"All nine certified for Operation Scarlet Dawn. Frank leads enhanced team. They're as ready as enhanced humans can be for simultaneous global assault on terrorist organization."
"Prometheus armor 4.0?"
"Fifty units deployed. Chitauri energy weapons integrated. Neural interface responsive. Armor can survive small arms fire and enhance strength sufficiently for operatives to engage enhanced targets. Not Iron Man level, but functionally effective for our needs."
I reviewed everything. Enhanced operatives. Advanced technology. Global intelligence network. Avengers allies. Preparation spanning fifteen months since I'd first learned about Red Room's survival.
"We're as ready as we'll ever be," I said finally.
"Then let's finish this," Yelena said quietly. "Dreykov dies. Widows go free. Red Room ends."
"Two weeks," I confirmed. "Operation Scarlet Dawn launches January fifteenth."
Late that night, I stood on the Tower balcony watching Manhattan sleep.
Two years since transmigration. Two years of building, recruiting, preparing. And it had worked—I'd transformed joke villain into legitimate force capable of challenging threats most people didn't know existed.
But forty-one percent survival odds were barely better than coin flip.
"Sir," AEGIS said gently. "You're experiencing anxiety patterns."
"I'm calculating acceptable losses for operation where people I've recruited will probably die. Anxiety seems appropriate."
"It is. But dwelling on statistical probabilities doesn't improve outcomes. You've prepared optimally. Now execution determines success."
"And if execution goes wrong?"
"Then we adapt. That's what you've done for two years—adapt to circumstances, adjust plans, survive despite unfavorable odds." The AI's voice carried something like confidence. "You've beaten twelve percent odds to reach forty-one percent. Trust that trend continues."
I thought about that. About every intervention that had improved survival probability. About Frank's enhancement, Yelena's loyalty, Christine's support, the community I'd built from nothing.
"Thanks, AEGIS."
"You're welcome. Also, recommendation: sleep. You're deploying in fourteen days. Rest now while possible."
Sound advice.
I went inside, crawled into bed beside Christine—she'd stayed over, recognizing I needed company tonight. She stirred as I settled.
"Finished reviewing?"
"Yeah. We're ready."
"Good." She pulled me close. "Then sleep. Tomorrow's soon enough for worrying."
I closed my eyes, feeling void marks pulse steadily.
Thirteen percent corruption. Two years until transformation. Fourteen days until assault that would test everything I'd built.
But tonight? Tonight I'd rest.
Tomorrow the countdown began.
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