Marvelous Meditations #64

The lab was bathed in the cold glow of overhead lights, the air thick with the scent of sterilized metal and chemicals. Machines hummed in the background, a steady rhythm beneath the occasional beep of monitoring equipment. As Nathan stepped inside, he found Stern standing at a terminal, his sharp eyes fixed on a monitor, fingers absently tapping against the desk.

Without turning, Stern spoke. "There you are." He finally glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Came to check on Extremis's progress?"

Nathan strode forward, hands in his pockets. "That’s right. What’ve you got for me?"

Stern gestured toward the screen. "See for yourself."

Nathan’s gaze followed the scientist’s hand to the monitor, where grainy footage played. The camera, likely drone-mounted, captured a forest clearing—dense trees, the crunch of leaves underfoot. A deer, lean but healthy, grazed peacefully, ears twitching at the faintest sounds.

Then the predator struck.

A mountain lion burst from the undergrowth, a blur of muscle and claws. The deer should have bolted. That was the natural order. Instead, its body tensed, heat rippling beneath its skin in glowing, molten streaks.

The deer turned to fight.

With a sudden, unnatural burst of speed, it lunged at the cougar, slamming its antlers into the predator’s ribs with a force that sent it skidding back. The mountain lion snarled, leaping again, claws flashing. But the deer was faster—too fast. It pivoted mid-air, kicking out with a leg that snapped the cougar’s jaw sideways.

The big cat crumpled, twitching, and then lay still.

The deer stood over its fallen adversary, steam rising from its body in waves, breath heavy. It didn’t run. It didn’t need to.

Nathan exhaled through his nose, watching the playback loop. "Impressive."

Stern chuckled, folding his arms. "We’ve even rewritten the prey instinct through the serum. Fight, not flight. And as you can see..." He gestured at the screen. "...it works."

Nathan’s gaze remained locked on the screen, his eyes narrowing. “Impressive, but would it work on humans?” He turned to Stern, arching a brow. “Without turning them into fireworks, that is.”

Stern gave a noncommittal shrug, his expression unreadable. “Theoretically… yes.”

Nathan tilted his head slightly. “Theoretically?”

Stern sighed, finally pulling his attention away from the monitor. “We didn’t have time to test it on human subjects. And a universal serum?” He shook his head. “Not happening. Not yet. But what I can do is tailor the serum to an individual’s DNA—engineer it specifically for them. No side effects. No combustion.”

Nathan folded his arms, considering the answer. “And how sure are you about that?”

Stern smirked, tapping the side of his temple. “According to my calculations? 99.9% chance of success on the first try.”

Nathan nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Then I’ll be your first test subject.”

Stern’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment, surprise flickering in his sharp eyes. But before he could say anything, Rick let out a sharp scoff.

“You’ve lost your damn mind.”

Nathan turned to him with a dry, unimpressed look. He gestured vaguely at Stern’s enhanced cranium. “Do you see this?” He pointed for emphasis. “It’s not just for show. If Stern says it’s a 99.9% chance, I’ll take his word for it.”

Stern let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. “Consider me flattered—albeit slightly taken aback.” He gestured toward a nearby chair. “Take a seat. I’ll need a blood sample. I’ll have your custom serum ready within the hour.”

Nathan sat down without hesitation, rolling up his sleeve like this was the most casual thing in the world. Stern prepped the needle with practiced efficiency, but Rick remained stiff, arms crossed, jaw tight. He muttered under his breath, voice low and filled with exasperation.

“Out of all the crazy shit…”

...

Stern adjusted his gloves, holding up the vial of glowing amber liquid to the light. The serum pulsed faintly, swirling with an almost molten consistency. “Well, I have to admit, I outdid myself,” he said, turning to Nathan. “Custom-engineered to your DNA. No combustion, no side effects—unless you count the pain, and in less then one hour...”

Nathan rolled his shoulders, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rick, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, shifted uncomfortably. “Last chance to change your mind, man.”

Nathan smirked faintly but didn’t respond. He simply extended his arm. “Do it.”

Stern didn’t hesitate. He pressed the needle against Nathan’s skin and injected the serum in one smooth motion.

At first, there was nothing. Just the cold spread of liquid under his skin, a strange, tingling warmth blooming from the injection site. Then—

Agony.

A searing heat exploded through his veins, a firestorm igniting inside him, burning him from the inside out. Nathan’s muscles locked, his breath hitched, and a raw, strangled sound escaped his throat.

The world around him blurred, twisted—

And suddenly, he was somewhere else.

The air was thick with smoke. Flames licked at the walls, consuming everything in their path. Heat pressed against his skin, suffocating, merciless. The ceiling groaned, ready to collapse. He could hear screaming—his own? Someone else’s? His lungs burned.

His vision swam. The fire curled around him like a living thing, hungry and inescapable.

He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t obey. His right arm—gone. His flesh—scorched. A pain so deep it hollowed him out from the inside.

He was in that damned place again, at that damned time, dying.

Again.

Nathan let out a guttural cry, his body convulsing as he was wrenched back to reality. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his brow as every nerve in his body screamed in protest. The pain was unbearable—like being reduced to cinders, atom by atom.

His knees buckled.

Rick was yelling something. Stern, too. But their voices were drowned out by the roaring in his ears.

The last thing Nathan saw before darkness swallowed him whole was the faint glow of the serum still pulsing beneath his skin.

And then—nothing.

...

A dull ache pulsed through Nathan’s skull as he stirred, his body sluggish, his senses slow to return. His breath came out in a quiet exhale, and he instinctively lifted a hand to rub his forehead—

Only to freeze.

His fingers brushed against his skin, warm and solid. Flesh.

Not metal.

His eyes snapped open, his mind struggling to process what he was feeling. His right arm—his real right arm—was there. Whole. Impossible.

Before he could fully register the implications, a voice cut through the haze.

“If you’re looking for your prosthetic, it’s right over there…”

Nathan’s gaze flicked toward the source. Stern sat nearby, reclined in a chair with an air of casual amusement, a small knife in one hand and an apple in the other. His fingers worked methodically, stripping the skin away in long, precise motions.

Stern caught his look and grinned. “Fell right off about an hour into your coma. Once your arm started regrowing, your spinal implants went too.”

He gestured toward the corner of the room, where a metal table held the discarded prosthetic alongside the removed implants—cold, lifeless reminders of what Nathan had been before.

Nathan didn’t say anything. His eyes lingered on Stern’s hands, watching as he finished peeling the apple and added it to a plate filled with similarly skinned fruit.

He exhaled a wry chuckle. “What are you, a bedside nurse now?”

Stern simply shrugged, picking up another apple and setting his knife against the skin. “You put a lot of faith in me.” His voice was light, but something about it carried weight. “Making sure you properly recover is the least I can do.”

Nathan sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “How long was I out?”

Stern glanced at his watch, then back at Nathan. “One day, twelve hours, thirty-four minutes, and twelve seconds exactly.” His voice was perfectly even, but there was an underlying sharpness to it—one that made it clear he’d been counting every second.

He set his watch down and met Nathan’s gaze. “You gave us quite the scare, you know.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “Did I now?”

Stern let out a short exhale, leaning back in his chair. “I did say the chances of success were 99.9%—but that was me being modest.” His lips curled into a smirk. “The truth is, there was no chance of failure.”

Nathan shook his head, amusement flashing in his tired eyes. “Humble as ever, I see.”

“One of my many charms.” Stern’s tone was dry, but there was an ease in his posture now. “Anyway, you probably want to know what happened after your lights went out.”

Nathan gave a slight nod. “That’d be nice.”

Stern exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s see… a lot of fruitless examinations, a lot of expensive machines telling us you were as healthy as a super horse.” He gestured vaguely, as if dismissing the absurdity of it all. “Your body was fine. More than fine. But you just… wouldn’t wake up.”

His voice trailed off for a beat before he continued. “Eventually, your friend Rick suggested we bring in an expert on the mind. And so he did just that—another friend of yours by the name of Charles Xavier.”

At that, Nathan let out a low hum, his expression unreadable. “That so?”

“It is.” Stern tapped the knife against the side of the chair, considering his words. “I had a brief chat with him. Brilliant man. Mind-reader, telepath, all-around psychic miracle worker.” He tilted his head. “And, according to him, your problem wasn’t physical.”

Nathan’s jaw tensed slightly. “Go on.”

Stern pointed a finger at his own head. “The professor said the issue was up here. Apparently, the transformation process triggered some sort of trauma, which in turn activated a defense mechanism that shut your consciousness down.”

Nathan didn’t respond right away. His fingers curled slightly against the bedsheet, his breathing measured.

The fire. The suffocating heat. The weight of collapsing debris. His body burning—dying.

His body rejecting reality itself.

He forced the memories down, keeping his expression neutral. “So, what, my brain decided to pull the plug on me?”

Stern gave a one-shouldered shrug. “In layman’s terms? Pretty much.”

He studied Nathan for a beat, then gave him a strange look. “Still… I didn’t take you for someone who’d carry a phobia of super-soldier serums.”

Nathan let out a quiet scoff, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. He lifted his newly regrown hand, slowly flexing his fingers, watching the way the muscles and tendons responded with perfect precision. He could already feel the difference.

His vision was sharper, his senses heightened. Strength thrummed beneath his skin, effortless, controlled. But more than that, there was heat—a constant, restless energy churning inside him. His blood felt molten, like lava surging beneath the surface. Even his breath carried a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “It’s not super-soldier serums I’m afraid of.” His voice was quieter now, more measured. “Fire and I aren’t exactly the best of friends.”

Stern raised an eyebrow. “You were pretty quick to demand an injection of the Extremis serum for someone who’s afraid of fire.”

Nathan smirked, but there was no humor in it. “I’ve been haunted by that particular fear my whole life.” He glanced down at his hand again, flexing it one last time before lowering it. “Figured now would be a good time to get over it.”

With that, he moved to push himself upright, reaching toward the side of the bed to brace himself—

Crrrkk.

The sharp creak of metal made him pause. He glanced down.

The reinforced bedframe, built to withstand far more than an average person’s weight, had bent under his grip. The steel bars twisted where his fingers had pressed into them.

Nathan sighed. “Well. That’s new.”

Stern chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna need some time to get used to your new strength.” He gestured toward the ruined bedframe. “Unless you plan on making a habit of breaking everything you touch.”

Nathan huffed, releasing his grip and carefully shifting himself upright. “Noted.” He rolled his shoulders, testing the feel of his body. It was strange—powerful, but strange.

Stern watched him for a moment, then added, “That said… Mason wanted me to pass along a message.”

Nathan looked over at him. “Yeah?”

“He said he’s keeping an eye on Tony Stark.” Stern leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “And that he’ll keep you updated.”

Nathan didn’t say anything at first, just let the words settle.

Then, he nodded. “Good.”