VCM3 On the empty highway leading to New Mexico, a sleek black SUV cut through the night, its tires humming against the asphalt.
Inside, the atmosphere was calm but charged, like the quiet before a storm.
Melinda May gripped the wheel with her usual composed intensity, her eyes scanning the road ahead, while Ethan Cross sat cross-legged in the backseat, his eyes closed in deep concentration.
Yuriko, silent as ever, sat beside him, arms crossed, watching with quiet curiosity.
Ethan wasn't asleep.
Far from it.
He was meditating, focusing on his mental energy—his control over vectors.
He could feel his mind sharpening, his awareness expanding, but progress was slow.
Mental strength wasn't something that could skyrocket overnight unless you had some cosmic artifact boosting you.
But raw power wasn't what mattered to him right now.
Control was.
Most people couldn't consciously manage their own mental energy, just like they couldn't stop themselves from thinking about random nonsense.
But if someone could master it, their thoughts would become clearer, their reactions faster. The fog that dulled their senses would lift.
And Ethan was getting there.
Even with his eyes closed, he could feel everything—the way the air flowed through the slightly open window, how it swirled and shifted inside the car.
The entire world around him was becoming more defined, more structured.
It was like going from a pixelated mess to high-definition clarity.
"Wind."
He muttered the word almost absentmindedly, reaching out with one hand.
The air drifting through the window suddenly changed course, bending to his will.
Instead of simply rushing past, it twisted and swirled around his palm, like a miniature cyclone dancing at his fingertips.
Sometimes it split apart into thin, delicate strands.
Other times, it funneled together into a tight spiral, forming tiny vortexes that he could shape and guide with barely a thought.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible to an outsider, but to Ethan, it was proof of progress.
Before, his power had been raw, unrefined.
He could destroy buildings, launch enemies across battlefields, crush anything in his path.
But that was brute force, relying purely on the overwhelming strength of his ability.
Now, he was learning finesse.
Precision.
It was like a brawler learning how to actually throw a punch properly instead of just swinging wildly.
And that meant he was getting stronger—truly stronger.
He smirked.
The threshold holding him back from his next level of power? It was starting to crack.
The wind coiled tighter around his fingers. It wasn't just air; it was force, movement, energy.
Controlling it meant understanding it, feeling it, bending it to his will.
And if he could master this, it was only a matter of time before his full potential as an Omega-level mutant was unlocked.
But just as he was getting into it, the wind abruptly stopped.
His eyes snapped open, irritation flashing across his face as he realized the window had closed on its own.
"The hell?" He turned to Melinda, scowling. "Did you seriously just close the window on me?"
May didn't even glance back, her expression as unreadable as ever. "It's the middle of the night. You kept talking about the wind. Figured you were cold."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Right, because I, of all people, am afraid of a little cold."
"I don't know," May said, her voice calm but teasing. "You were getting really into it. Looked like you were trying to ascend or something."
He scoffed. "It's called learning to control my powers. Maybe you should read Coulson's files on me. If I was actually uncomfortable, I could've closed the window myself."
"Yeah, yeah, my bad." There wasn't an ounce of sincerity in her voice. "I've worked with a few mutants before, but I've never seen someone get that into their powers. You looked like Gandalf reaching enlightenment."
Ethan shot her a flat look. "What, you read too many fantasy novels as a kid?"
May finally turned her head slightly, an amused glint in her eyes. "Actually, my dad used to tell me stories about stuff like that when I was little. Guess I figured you were trying to become the next Merlin or something."
Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, well, if I ever start waving my hands around and chanting spells, put me out of my misery."
"Duly noted."
Yuriko, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke, her voice low and smooth. "You might want to focus more on the road ahead instead of bickering."
May raised a brow but refocused, gripping the wheel slightly tighter. Ethan leaned back, closing his eyes again, but the smirk remained on his lips.
And thinking about it this way, the reason Fury sent Melinda to New Mexico with him—aside from her long-standing partnership with Coulson—probably had something to do with keeping an eye on him.
"You've been obsessed with magic lately, haven't you? Reading fantasy novels must be rubbing off on you," Melinda remarked, glancing at the small black leather notebook Ethan had been fiddling with since getting in the car.
"You're overthinking it. This is actual magic, not some fantasy novel nonsense," Ethan replied, running his fingers over the worn edges of the notebook left behind by his parents.
"Right, sure. Might as well be a wizard at this point," Melinda deadpanned.
Ethan didn't bother explaining further.
Maybe—a big maybe— Fury and Professor X had some insight into real magic, but Melinda? She wasn't in the loop on that level.
Just as Ethan reached for the window controls, the car jerked to a stop.
"It's past midnight. Don't tell me you two don't need to eat?" Melinda said, pushing open the door.
Outside, a small convenience store glowed under the dim lights of an otherwise deserted road.
Ethan stepped out, Yuriko following close behind.
"I still don't get why you brought her along. This isn't a vacation," Melinda muttered, eyeing Yuriko with mild disapproval.
"Don't let her size fool you. If things go south, she could take both you and Coulson down with no problem," Ethan said, smirking.
"Mutant?" Melinda asked, giving Yuriko a once-over.
"You could say that."
"Right. Could've fooled me with that outfit," she muttered before striding into the store.
Behind the counter, a bored-looking cashier scrolled through her phone.
The moment Melinda walked in, her eyes widened in alarm, and she ducked out of sight with a yelp.
"What the hell?" Melinda snapped, instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at her back.
Ethan, unimpressed, just watched.
The cashier hesitantly peeked over the counter, eyes flicking between them before her expression softened into embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry! We've had a lot of robberies lately. I just—reacted," she stammered.
Ethan couldn't resist. "Guess your look's a little more 'armed enforcer' than 'casual shopper,' huh?"
Melinda shot him a flat glare, but couldn't argue.
Dressed in a tactical black bodysuit, with her usual ice-cold expression, she didn't exactly scream 'harmless.'
Forcing an awkwardly stiff smile, she turned back to the cashier. "Are robberies really that common around here?"
As if on cue, the door burst open.
Three masked men stormed in, brandishing handguns.
"Everybody down! This is a robbery!"
"Who owns the black car outside? Toss us the keys!"
Ethan barely blinked at the gun pointed at his forehead. Smirking, he muttered, "Yeah… guess that's what it means when they say, 'Welcome to the Wild Wild West'."