Marvel : Endless Power

Drizzling like silk, the rain soaked the cemetery, adding to the somber atmosphere. Figures dressed in black and white stood solemnly, watching as a casket was lowered into the ground, grief etched onto their faces.

A teenage boy stood at a distance, his gaze hollow. Today, his parents were being buried. Rody Stark, a mixed-race teenager, had lost them in a car accident just three days ago. His mother was from the United States, while his father was of Chinese descent. The tragedy had left him utterly alone.

The funeral concluded. Rody numbly declined the condolences of relatives and friends, retreating to his now-empty home. But solitude offered no comfort—the silence pressed in on him like an oppressive force.

Desperate for solace, he began searching through his parents' belongings. His father had been a renowned scientist at Stark Industries, and his mother, a researcher specializing in experimental energy sources at S.H.I.E.L.D. Rody had gone through their things before, but this time, he found something unexpected—a letter hidden beneath an old arc reactor prototype.

> "Rody, my dearest son, if you're reading this, it means our experiment was a success. Your father and I did not die—we had to stage the accident for reasons we cannot yet explain. There is something for you in the safe. The password is your birthday. If you are ever in danger, open it. Love, Mom."

Rody's breath caught in his throat. He recognized his mother's handwriting without a doubt. But what experiment? His parents were just university professors—or so he had thought.

Before he could process this revelation, a loud crash shattered the quiet.

The front door had been kicked open.

A wave of instinctual fear shot through Rody as he heard heavy boots storming inside. Without hesitation, he sprinted to the bedroom, throwing himself toward the safe. The thudding footsteps behind him multiplied—whoever they were, they weren't alone.

Fumbling, he punched in his birthday, yanking open the safe just as the bedroom door exploded inward.

Three tall men in black suits barged in, their tactical gear unmistakably S.W.O.R.D.-issued. The leader, a pale-skinned agent, leveled a silenced Beretta M9 at Rody's head.

> "Don't move, kid. Drop whatever's in your hand, slowly."

Rody gritted his teeth. His pulse pounded in his ears, but he forced himself to stay calm. Buying time was his only chance.

> "Make up your mind," he quipped. "Do you want me to drop it, or stay still? You're contradicting yourself."

The agent's eyes narrowed. "Cute. Now drop the bag and step back."

Rody glanced at the backpack he had just pulled from the safe. He hadn't even checked what was inside.

> "Are you sure?" he asked. "My mom was a scientist. Her experiments weren't exactly safe."

His words hit a nerve. The lead agent hesitated, exchanging glances with his men.

> "Open it. No tricks. And keep your hands where I can see them."

Rody unzipped the backpack slowly, revealing two objects: a crystal sphere, seemingly a piece of advanced technology, and an old leather-bound notebook covered in cryptic markings.

The agent's attention snapped to the sphere.

> "What the hell is that? Hand it over. No funny business."

Rody hesitated, glancing down at the sphere. His eyes widened as he spotted an engraved message in micro-text:

"CRUSH IT."

The agent's gaze sharpened. "Kid—"

Too late.

Rody squeezed the sphere in his palm.

The crystal shattered, releasing an explosion of pure energy. Blue-white lightning surged outward, crackling like a storm, shattering the bedroom windows and vaporizing the agents' bullets mid-air.

Rody braced himself, expecting to be fried alive—but the energy didn't harm him. Instead, it engulfed him, wrapping around his body like a protective shield.

The storm intensified, sucking objects into the air—papers, furniture, even the heavy safe was torn from the floor. The notebook from the backpack ripped apart, but Rody managed to snatch a few pages before everything disintegrated.

Then—

A roaring explosion tore through the house.

Rody's body was yanked through space, his bones feeling like they were being pulverized and reassembled in an instant.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his bedroom.

He stood in the middle of a busy Manhattan street, surrounded by towering skyscrapers, the Oscorp building looming in the distance. The crystal sphere had vanished, and only a handful of torn pages remained in his grasp.

Disoriented, Rody's heart pounded as he flipped through the pages.

The first thing he saw stole the breath from his lungs.

It was a comic book illustration. But it wasn't just any comic—it depicted him. A dark-haired, blue-eyed teenager, wearing his exact outfit, standing in the same spot he was now.

> "What the hell…? This is me!"

His fingers trembled as he turned the page.

The next panel shifted perspectives—to a high-rise rooftop.

A sniper was positioned there, his red-tinted scope locked onto Rody. The gun was unmistakable—a Batley Sniper Rifle.

Rody's blood ran cold. His instincts screamed at him to move.

He dove forward, just as the sniper pulled the trigger.

A deafening crack split the air.

A fist-sized hole punched through the pavement exactly where he had just stood.

Someone was trying to kill him.

Without looking back, Rody bolted into the crowd, pushing past startled pedestrians. His mind raced—who was targeting him? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Hydra? Stark Industries?

It didn't matter. Right now, the only thing he could do was run.

With the comic pages clutched tightly in his grip, Rody vanished into the Manhattan chaos, determined to survive.

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