File No. 7111998Name: UnknownAlias: IgrisGender: UnknownAbilities: Pyrokinesis, possible nuclear fission, transmutation, teleportation, flight, other unknown capabilitiesAddress: UnknownAllegiance: UnknownThreat Level: Highest
Director Nick Fury stared at the file, his one eye narrowing. "Is this all we have?"
"Yes, sir," answered Agent Maria Hill, standing at attention.
"I want a team monitoring for any appearance. We need eyes on this… Igris."
"Yes, sir." Hill turned and exited his office—on the door, the plaque read: Director Nick Fury.
Fury leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Alien mothership? Vaporized. Tactical nuke? Turned to water. Teleportation. Fire. Nuclear energy. Not just a mutant… too broad, too dangerous. Might be something else entirely."
Elsewhere, in Westchester County…
Inside the mansion, Professor Charles Xavier sat with Ororo Munroe, Scott Summers, and Jean Grey.
They watched Igris on the news—his armor blazing, sword drawn, soaring through the air on a trail of fire.
"Are we sure he's not a mutant?" Ororo asked.
Xavier shook his head. "Cerebro detected nothing. He's not one of us."
Scott frowned. "Then people will assume he is. If he slips up, it falls on our shoulders."
"That is a concern, Scott. But there's little we can do at the moment."
Jean stayed quiet. A voice had begun whispering in her mind ever since the blue flames appeared on-screen.
"Seek him… Seek the Flame…"
She shook her head. "Something's… not right."
Far above Earth, aboard an asteroid, another conversation unfolded.
"He's powerful," said a man in a red helmet, "but he's not one of us."
"Giving up on him already, Eric?" asked a blue-skinned woman beside him.
Magneto—Eric Lensherr—folded his arms. "No. If we can turn him to our cause, good. If not… we eliminate him."
Sabretooth growled. "Want me to track him?"
"Finish your mission first. Then… do as you please."
On holographic screens around them, shadows from Hydra, Hellfire, and other hidden cabals debated.
"A new variable. One we did not anticipate," said a man in a tailored suit.
"If he opposes us, he must be neutralized," said another with a monocle.
"Sitwell is watching the Specter. Our weapon development continues."
"Hail Hydra."
In Asgard, an ancient king stirred.
Odin Allfather opened his one good eye and peered into the cosmos.
"A new dimension… and a guardian has awakened. How… fascinating."
At the center of the universe, a cosmic being with three faces spoke aloud, "Another singularity. A creation of The One Above All, perhaps."
Back on Earth…
In a sanctuary hidden among icy peaks, the Ancient One opened her eyes. Her hand rested on the Eye of Agamotto.
"A protector born from ashes… but his soul burns clean."
With a wave of her hand, she opened a portal. As she stepped through—blue flames erupted before her.
Eric stood there, his greatsword crackling at his side.
"Ancient One," he greeted with a respectful nod. "To what do I owe the honor?"
She smiled gently. "I see you've already learned of me. That makes things easier."
Eric lowered his weapon. "Forgive my earlier tone. I didn't mean disrespect."
"None taken," she said, conjuring a table and two cushions. Tea appeared between them.
They sat.
"I must ask," she said as they sipped their tea, "how is it you walk this world without a tether? Dimensional entities typically require a medium."
Eric paused, brow furrowed. "I… don't fully know."
"You've merged with something ancient," she noted. "But when I look through the Eye… my vision is blocked."
"I'm still figuring it out," Eric said honestly. "But I want to help. That's why I came back."
She smiled. "Then perhaps fate is on our side."
"I do need your help with something," Eric said quietly.
"You'll receive a call tomorrow. Midtown School of Science and Technology. Teaching position."
Eric blinked. "You already arranged it?"
She sipped her tea with a knowing smile.
"In return… if you ever need me—just once—I'm at your service."
The Ancient One bowed her head. "Then I accept."