M102- World's Enemy

Nero picked up the call and didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Stark.”

A sigh. “You know, I hate that this thing is still in my system.”

“You could always destroy Jarvis and rebuild him from scratch,” Nero offered.

Tony clicked his tongue. “I tried. I’ve thrown everything at this bug short of summoning a damn demon, and nothing works.”

Nero leaned back, stretching his legs onto the table. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Yeah, well, your problem is that Captain America and Charles Xavier both think the Seven Masked Vigilante needs to be brought back,” Tony muttered. “I got roped into this because Cap guilt-tripped me about ‘responsibility’ and ‘protecting the people’ and all that.”

Nero raised an eyebrow. “Xavier?”

“Yep. And he convinced Rogers. And Rogers doesn’t let things go once he believes in something.”

Nero already had a pretty good idea of what this was about. Months ago, he had spoken to Richards as Sky, before the Seven ever made their move. Richards had failed to see through him, but the Illuminati had clearly decided it was time to pry deeper.

“So, what? You want me to swing by and hold hands with the boy scouts?”

Tony scoffed. “I want you to disappear and never make me have this conversation again, but that’s clearly not happening.”

“Lucky me.”

Nero hung up.

Nero put on the mask. If Charles Xavier wanted to dig into his head, then the least he could do was make it interesting.

A moment later, he was inside the room.

Some of the most influential men on Earth were seated around a long table, their expressions ranging from neutral to mildly irritated. Charles Xavier, Reed Richards, Captain America, Nick Fury, and Lawliet. None of them looked surprised. They had been waiting.

Xavier was the first to speak. “You don’t make a habit of answering summons.”

Nero took a seat at the far end, stretching his legs. “Must’ve been a slow day if you’re calling me.”

Nick Fury exhaled sharply, hands clasped in front of him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Captain America leaned forward, elbows on the table. “We need to talk about the Seven.”

Nero tilted his head slightly. “Talk about what? That we’re better at getting results than SHIELD?”

Fury’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t take the bait.

Reed steepled his fingers. “You act like unchecked vigilantes don’t have consequences.”

Nero shrugged. “You act like bureaucracy doesn’t get people killed.”

Xavier tapped his fingers against the table. “We’re not here to argue philosophies. We’re here because your methods are dangerous. You disrupt order, you create instability—”

“Instability?” Nero cut in. “You’re acting like the world was a balanced utopia before we showed up.”

“You don’t fix problems, you create new ones,” Reed said.

Nero chuckled. “For villains, for sure.” He let that sit for a moment before glancing at each of them. “So let’s make it clear—are we talking about the interests of your owners, or the good of the people? Because if it’s the first, I couldn’t care less. If it’s the second, I doubt we did anything wrong.”

Captain America leaned forward. “You’re saying what? That no one else is qualified to make those decisions? That only you and your people get to decide what’s right?”

Nero tilted his head. “Funny hearing that from a guy who put on a mask and did the exact same thing.”

Steve didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened. “That’s different.”

“Yeah? How?”

Xavier interjected, his voice even. “The difference is structure. Accountability. Captain Rogers operated with a known identity, under a system that, flawed or not, allowed for oversight.”

Nero raised a brow. “And that worked out great for him. What was it? Government betrayal? Wrongfully arrested? Labeled a fugitive?” He gestured lazily. “Remind me how much oversight helped.”

Fury exhaled sharply. “We’re not here to debate history.”

“Sure you are,” Nero said. “Because history’s what’s got you nervous.”

Reed adjusted his posture. “The point remains—vigilantes acting without consequence set a dangerous precedent.”

Nero leaned back. “Dangerous to who?”

Lawliet, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “To the world. To stability.”

Nero glanced at him. “And what kind of stability are we talking about? The kind that lets warlords buy elections? The kind that has corporations building private armies? The kind where mutants, enhanced individuals, and anyone inconvenient just—disappears?” He tapped the table. “Or is it the kind where people like you get to sit around and decide what’s best?”

Xavier met his gaze. “You think we sit in this room because we want power?”

“I think you sit in this room because you have power,” Nero corrected. “And I think you don’t like the idea of someone else using it differently.”

Captain America exhaled, measured. “We’re not saying things don’t need to change. We’re saying that what you’re doing makes it worse.”

“Worse for who?”

“For the people caught in the middle,” Steve said.

Nero laughed, short and sharp. “Last I checked, whenever my group took action, a hell of a lot of people got saved from ‘villainous organizations.’ And let’s not forget the World Security Council was ready to drop a nuke right on top of New York during the Chitauri invasion—until we stopped it.”

Fury’s expression didn’t change, but the room’s silence stretched a second too long.

Richards leaned forward slightly. “Although you did stop the bomb, we all had our fair share of fights during the invasion.”

“Sure,” Nero said, waving a hand. “You had your fights. But let’s be real, the Council wasn’t exactly scrambling to help the people in that city, were they? They saw a problem, and their first instinct was to wipe it off the map. If my people hadn’t stepped in, the official casualty count would have been a hell of a lot higher.”

Xavier laced his fingers together. “The actions of the World Security Council don’t justify unchecked vigilantism.”

“Unchecked?” Nero scoffed. “That’s cute. And what exactly do you call the Illuminati? A friendly neighborhood book club?”

Captain America leaned forward. “This isn’t about us.”

“It kind of is,” Nero said. “Because you’re sitting here acting like we’re the ones creating instability when all we’ve done is expose what’s already there. You don’t like our methods? Too bad. Your ‘structure’ is the reason we exist in the first place.”

Reed exhaled. “The difference is oversight.”

Nero smirked. “That’s funny coming from you. The guy who keeps his own private world-ending projects locked up until they backfire.”

Reed’s jaw tightened.

Nero pressed, “Let’s cut to the chase. This is about Shitstein Island and the rich bastards funding your projects, isn’t it? I’ll admit, I was underprepared for that one. Didn’t expect them to have access to clone tech, let alone consciousness transfers.”

Silence. A short one, but telling.

Reed Richards steepled his fingers. “So you are aware of the full extent of what you walked into.”

Nero scoffed. “I walked into a room expecting a group of corrupt elites trying to outlive their own crimes. Instead, I got a front-row seat to whatever the hell that was.” He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table. “And now you’re worried. Because if I know, that means I can do something about it.”

Fury’s expression didn’t shift. “You’re assuming we didn’t already know.”

Nero tilted his head. “And?”

Xavier exhaled. “And you don’t seem to grasp the weight of what you’ve uncovered.”

“Oh, I grasp it just fine,” Nero said. “I get that people with infinite money and no real consequences don’t play by normal rules. What I don’t get is why you’re pretending this is a problem you just realized existed.”

Steve Rogers leaned forward, arms crossed. “Because your way of dealing with it isn’t solving anything.”

Nero smirked. “No? Pretty sure we cut through their entire operation.”

Steve shook his head. “You burned through it. But what did it actually change? You think you scared them? They’re already rebuilding. They expected it. You didn’t break them, you just gave them an excuse to renew."

Nero lowered his feet from the table, sitting up. “You know, Cap. Of all people, I thought you would understand. So you’re saying to prevent new people from suffering, I should’ve let the old ones keep suffering?”

Steve didn’t answer immediately.

“They were kids, man,” Nero continued. “Children. Innocent, suffering on that island. You get excused—you were on ice. But SHIELD? The X-Men? The Fantastic Four? You all watched it happen. And now you’re here, telling me I should’ve left them there?”

Xavier steepled his fingers. “You assume we knew the full extent of what was happening.”

Nero scoffed. “Oh, my bad. Next time, I’ll write a report and get your approval before saving tortured children.”

Steve exhaled. “That’s not what we’re saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Nero leaned back. “That it wasn’t your call, so now it’s a problem?”

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You keep acting like you’re the only one trying to do good in the world.”

“No,” Nero said. “I act like I’m the only one doing it without playing twenty rounds of politics first.”

Reed leaned forward. “You didn’t just rescue people. You dismantled an entire system overnight. That kind of disruption doesn’t just fix things—it creates instability. Power vacuums—”

Nero waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. 'Instability.' I keep hearing that word like it’s supposed to mean something to me. Oh no, the billionaires and war criminals are scrambling to figure out who’s in charge now. How terrible.”

Reed exhaled sharply. “Mocking the reality doesn’t change it.”

“Reality?” Nero tilted his head. “The reality is, none of you moved until someone else forced your hand. I bet if I hadn’t stepped in, that island would still be running, and you’d all still be pretending you ‘didn’t have the full picture.’”

Xavier didn’t react. “The bigger picture matters. You don’t change the world by setting fire to everything in your way.”

Nero grinned. “I don’t know, seemed to work pretty well for your mutant revolutionaries.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but Xavier remained still. “There is a difference between fighting for a future and tearing apart the present without a plan.”

Nero leaned forward. “You don’t think I have a plan?”

Lawliet finally spoke. “That’s what they’re trying to figure out.”

Everyone looked at him.

He met Nero’s gaze. “You didn’t go public. You didn’t take credit. You didn’t use it as leverage. That means you do have a plan.”

Nero’s lips twitched. “Look at you, actually paying attention.”

Fury drummed his fingers against the table. “So, tell me. What’s the endgame?”

Nero tilted his head. “You don’t actually expect me to tell you, do you?”

Reed’s expression was unreadable. “We need to know whether you’re a threat to the world or just to the people at the top.”

Nero got up, walking to the door. “Let’s make one thing clear. I’m not a hero. I do what I want. Accountability? Pass. I don’t care. I’ll raze the ground to save one child, destroy a city to save a family, burn the world to stop those at the top. If you think my path is wrong, then you’re welcome to try and stop me.”

Silence. Not shock, not outrage—just calculation.

Captain America sat back, arms crossed, watching him carefully. “And what happens when your way of doing things turns you into the same kind of monster you’re fighting?”

Nero glanced at him. “Then someone should stop me.”

As Nero left, the room stayed quiet for a few seconds before Reed exhaled through his nose, glancing at Charles.

Charles shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s the mask, something else, or something entirely beyond my understanding, but I cannot read anything from him.”

Reed leaned back, fingers tapping against the table. “That’s a problem.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Fury muttered.

Captain America exhaled, arms crossed. “That was a waste of time.”

Lawliet, who had been quiet, spoke up. “No, it wasn’t.”

Reed glanced at him. “You think we learned something?”

Lawliet’s eyes flickered toward the door Nero had left through. “He wanted to see how much we knew. He was testing us just as much as we were testing him.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “And?”

“He was playing,” Lawliet said simply.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Playing?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Lawliet clarified. “He wasn’t nervous, wasn’t worried, wasn’t trying to prove anything. He wasn’t here to defend himself—he was here because he was curious about how we’d react.”

Captain looked at him. “About what?”

Lawliet didn’t hesitate. “If we’re part of the corruption on that island.” He glanced around the room. “He came here for one reason—to see if we’re his enemies too.”

Silence. A few shifted in their seats, some thoughtful, some visibly irritated.

Reed stood. “He’s already an enemy of the world. He’ll figure that out soon enough.”

–

The chaos spread fast.

Governments scrambled, media outlets lit up, and within hours, the World Council had called an emergency summit. The Seven weren’t just a problem anymore—they were the problem. Officially declared the most dangerous threat on the planet.

SHIELD, intelligence agencies, world militaries—every major power braced for action. Operation Guillotine was greenlit. Capture or kill. No room for negotiation.

Not that it mattered.

Inside their base, a massive underground complex hidden beneath layers of security and tech, the group sat around, watching the news play out. It wasn’t a surprise. If anything, it was late.

Diego leaned against the back of the couch, an easy smirk on his face. “We made it, guys. Top of the world’s shit list.”

Donald, slouched across from him, swirled a glass in his hand. “Took them long enough.”

Sofia flicked through different news channels on the screen, skipping past the usual outrage. Terrorists. Dangerous extremists. The greatest threat to global stability. All the expected bullshit. “Public opinion’s split.”

Maria sat on the table next to Nero. “Split how?”

Sofia pulled up social feeds, threads, comment sections flooded with arguments. “Half the world thinks we’re heroes. The other half wants us executed.”

Anthony leaned back. “That’s better odds than I expected.”

Nigel scanned the feeds, his expression unreadable. “Countries are reacting differently. Some are backing us quietly. Others are already preparing to hunt us down.”

Nero exhaled through his nose, stretching his arms behind his head. “They can try.”

Sofia smirked, still scrolling. “Yeah, I don’t think they want to try. SHIELD’s pissed, but half their agents are dragging their feet because they agree with us. The U.N. can’t even get all their members to sign off on this properly.”

Donald snorted. “That’s what happens when you make enemies and friends in high places.”

Diego clicked his tongue. “Still, they’ll send people after us. SHIELD, black ops teams, probably a couple of those government-sponsored ‘heroes’ who don’t ask questions.”

Maria raised a brow. “You mean the ones who get paid to throw a fit on live TV?”

Anthony glanced at Nero. “What’s the move?”

Nero rolled his neck, then picked up the remote, flipping the screen to a live World Council broadcast. A man in a suit, one of those types who spoke in polished, empty statements, was reading from a carefully prepared speech.

“The individuals known as the Seven Masked Vigilantes have destabilized global security through reckless and unauthorized actions. We have officially declared them an international threat, and effective immediately, all nations under this Council’s governance will treat them as enemies of the world.”

The reporter didn’t hesitate. “Weren’t they the same group who stopped the World Council from destroying New York and killing millions of people?”

The reaction was immediate. Others on the floor shifted, some whispering urgently into comms, others outright glaring at her like she’d just set off a bomb in the middle of the summit. Someone in the back tried to cut her mic, but she was already standing, refusing to be silenced.

The World Council speaker barely faltered, but there was a flicker of irritation in his expression before he smoothed it over. “The actions of the past do not excuse the threat they pose today.”

“They saved the city,” she pressed. “And now you’re labeling them as terrorists?”

“Miss, this is not a discussion,” he said, his voice clipped. “The Seven Masked Vigilantes have repeatedly acted outside the law, destabilizing global security. This is not a debate about past events—it is a matter of ongoing danger.”

She wasn’t backing down. “So the people they saved don’t matter? The lives they protected don’t count?”

Another reporter cut in, this one on the Council’s side. “Miss Lee, are you suggesting we ignore the destruction they’ve caused? The threats they pose?”

“I’m suggesting we don’t pretend history started yesterday,” she shot back.

Security began moving toward her.

Diego grinned at the screen. “She’s got balls.”

Nero turned to Nigel. “Have our people pull her out. And make sure the message is delivered. Freedom of speech can’t be suppressed by the tyranny of the strong.”

Nigel gave a short nod and pulled out his phone, already sending the necessary instructions.

On the screen, the reporter, Miss Lee, was still standing her ground, the tension in the summit hall thick. Security was closing in on her, but she wasn’t backing down. She was calling them out, in front of the entire world, and the Council hated it.

Diego smirked. “She’s got a death wish.”

“She’s got integrity,” Maria corrected.

Donald glanced at Nigel. “How fast can we get her out?”

“Already moving,” Nigel said. “If they try anything, it won’t be quiet.”

On the screen, one of the guards reached for her arm. Before he could touch her, there was a sudden commotion—lights flickered, static ran through the live feed, and then, in a blur, Miss Lee was gone.

The Council’s speaker faltered mid-sentence. The reporters in the room erupted into chaos, cameras swiveling, some shouting, others scrambling to piece together what just happened.

Sofia flicked through surveillance feeds on her laptop. “Clean exit. She’s in safe hands.”

Nero leaned back. “Let’s see how they spin that.”

The World Council speaker barely hesitated before regaining composure. “It seems we have just witnessed an act of terrorism—proof of the dangerous network these criminals have built. This blatant attack on global stability will not go unanswered.”

The others at the table immediately followed suit, throwing out words like extremists, radicals, insurgents. The narrative was already shifting, twisting, trying to make the Seven look like the villains.

Anthony scoffed. “Didn’t take long.”

“They were ready for this,” Nigel muttered. “Had the speech locked and loaded.”

Diego tossed his apple core into the trash. “And yet, they’re still rattled.”

Maria crossed one leg over the other. “Of course they are. We just stole a journalist out of their own damn conference without breaking a sweat.”

Sofia smirked. “And now, half the world is going to be asking why the hell they were trying to silence her in the first place.”

The broadcast continued, cutting to different world leaders giving their statements. Some denounced the Seven outright, some took a more neutral stance, and a few—though careful with their words—made it clear they weren’t entirely against them.

Donald scanned the updates on his phone. “Most countries are officially condemning us. Unofficially? Half of them are dragging their feet on enforcement. The U.N. wants full global cooperation, but they’re not getting it.”

Nero exhaled through his nose. “They won’t. Too many people are watching. Too many governments have their own skeletons.”