Chapter 28: Power Acquisition Strategy
The ARES Division briefing room felt different with everyone assembled.
Justin stood at the head of the table, looking at faces that had become familiar over the past two years. Frank Morrison, head of security. Yelena Belova, field commander. Five enhanced operatives who'd chosen augmentation. Three freed Widows who'd proven themselves repeatedly.
And in his mental vault, three powers resting on pedestals. Twelve more pedestals waiting to be filled.
"We need to talk about ethics," Justin said.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting way to start a briefing."
"It's necessary." Justin pulled up a presentation. "I have the ability to extract and store supernatural abilities. You all know this. Some of you have seen it. What we haven't discussed is the moral framework for how I use it."
The room went quiet.
"I've been operating on instinct," Justin continued. "Taking powers from people who were dying and chose to give them. But as threats escalate, as the invasion approaches, I'm going to need more powers. That means making hard choices about acquisition. And I need you—all of you—to understand the boundaries."
He pulled up his first slide. "Rule One: Voluntary donation from willing individuals who understand the consequences is always acceptable. If someone wants to give me their power, and they understand they'll never get it back, I'll accept."
"Rule Two: Extraction from dying individuals who consent is acceptable. Terminal cancer patients. Mortally wounded people who choose donation over losing the power when they die. This is mercy, not theft."
"Rule Three: Taking powers from unconscious defeated enemies is morally grey but acceptable in specific circumstances." Justin's voice hardened. "Mass murderers. Terrorists. People who've proven they'll use powers to harm innocents. If they're going to prison anyway, if the alternative is leaving dangerous abilities in dangerous hands, extraction serves the greater good."
"Rule Four," Justin said, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "Forced extraction from unwilling non-criminals is absolutely forbidden. I don't care how useful the power is. I don't care how much I need it. If someone hasn't done something to justify it, I don't take their abilities."
Yelena spoke up. "What if you need power to save many lives? What if extraction from innocent person prevents disaster?"
"Then I find another way. Or I fail." Justin's voice was flat. "I won't become the villain who steals powers because it's convenient. That's a line I won't cross."
"Even if it costs you the invasion?" Frank asked.
"Even then." Justin pulled up the final slide. "But here's the thing—if I ever violate these principles, if any of you see me crossing that line, you have permission to stop me. By any means necessary. Shoot me if you have to. I'm serious. I need people who will hold me accountable when the stakes get high and my judgment gets clouded."
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then Frank nodded slowly. "That's... actually the right approach. Sets clear boundaries. Gives us permission to call you on bullshit."
"Exactly." Justin closed the presentation. "Questions?"
"How many more powers do you need?" Yelena asked.
"Twelve slots remaining. I'd like to fill at least half before the invasion. But only through acceptable means."
"That's asking for a lot of dying volunteers."
"I know." Justin rubbed his face. "That's why I need AEGIS monitoring for opportunities. Failed experiments. Criminals with powers. People who want them removed. The invasion itself will probably create casualties—mutants or Inhumans who die defending the city. If they were going to die anyway, using their powers to protect others honors their sacrifice."
"Grim calculus," one of the operatives said.
"It is. But it's honest grim calculus. I'm not creating these situations. Just taking advantage of tragedy to prevent future tragedies." Justin met their eyes. "If that makes me a monster, I accept it. But I'll be a monster with rules."
The opportunity came three weeks later.
AEGIS woke Justin at 4 AM with priority alert: "Sir, SHIELD operation in progress. Enhanced criminal engaging multiple agents. Casualty projections: High."
Justin was dressed and moving within minutes. "Who's the target?"
"Justin Daniels. Enhanced with darkforce manipulation abilities. Currently using powers for armed robbery and assault. SHIELD has cornered him in an abandoned warehouse. He's injured but fighting."
"How injured?"
"Mortal. Estimated survival time: Twenty to thirty minutes without immediate medical intervention."
Justin grabbed his gear. "Get me there. Fast."
The warehouse was chaos when he arrived.
SHIELD agents had established a perimeter, but darkforce energy was pouring from the building—solid shadows that grabbed and threw anything that got close. Justin saw three agents down, two more pulling them to safety.
"I'm going in," Justin told his driver. "If I don't come out in fifteen minutes, extract."
He moved through the perimeter before SHIELD could stop him, his supernatural sense guiding him toward the enhanced individual inside. The darkforce energy wasn't hostile to him—his own void-touched nature made him compatible somehow.
He found Justin Daniels in the center of the warehouse, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds, darkforce swirling around him protectively.
"Get away!" Daniels screamed. "I'll kill you!"
"You're dying," Justin said calmly. "Those wounds are fatal. You have maybe fifteen minutes left."
"Then I'll take some of them with me!" Darkforce lashed out, but Justin dodged.
"Or," Justin said, "you can make your death mean something."
Daniels laughed bitterly. "What, repent? Find God? Fuck that."
"Not repent. Donate." Justin moved closer, hands visible and empty. "I can take your power. Store it. Use it to protect people when aliens invade next year."
"You're insane."
"Probably. But I'm offering you a choice: die with your power wasted, or give it to someone who'll use it to save lives. At least then you're not just another criminal who died meaninglessly."
Daniels stared at him, blood soaking through his shirt. The darkforce energy flickered. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I'm telling you the truth. You're bleeding out. SHIELD will either capture you or kill you. Either way, you lose. But if you give me your power, at least it serves a purpose after you're gone."
Daniels was quiet for a long moment. Then he laughed—a wet, painful sound. "Sure. Why not. At least someone gets use out of it. Come here."
Justin approached carefully. Placed his hands on Daniels's shoulders. Reached out with his power extraction ability, feeling the darkforce energy that saturated the man's cells.
"This is going to hurt," Justin warned.
"Everything hurts." Daniels closed his eyes. "Just do it."
The extraction was violent. The darkforce fought, clinging to its host, refusing to be separated. Justin pulled harder, feeling the vault's hunger, drawing the power through Daniels's dying body and into his own supernatural storage.
Daniels screamed.
The darkforce energy tore free all at once, rushing into Justin like a flood. It settled into the fourth pedestal in his mental vault, wild and dangerous and powerful. The ability to manipulate darkness itself, to create solid shadows, to move through darkforce dimension.
When it was done, Daniels collapsed. His breathing was shallow. The gunshot wounds were still there—extraction didn't heal, didn't save.
"Did it work?" Daniels whispered.
"Yes. Thank you."
"Dying meaningfully. Heh. Better than nothing." Daniels closed his eyes. "Tell me something. Are aliens really coming?"
"Yes."
"Then use it well. Don't waste it."
"I won't."
Daniels died thirty seconds later.
Justin closed his eyes and stood slowly. SHIELD agents were approaching, weapons drawn, demanding explanations he didn't owe them.
He left through a side door, carrying the weight of a dead criminal's final gift and wondering at what point pragmatism became monstrosity.
Back in his lab, Justin examined his vault mentally.
Four powers now. Pyrokinesis from Eliza, who'd begged to be freed from burning. Regeneration from Jacob, who'd chosen mortality over destructive healing. Enhanced reflexes from someone whose name he'd already forgotten—taken so long ago it felt like a different life. And now darkforce manipulation from Justin Daniels, a criminal who'd died choosing meaning over waste.
Eleven slots remained empty. Eleven more opportunities to become more than human. Or less.
The void marks on his arms had darkened further. 9% corruption now, and climbing. Every extraction accelerated it slightly. Every power use pushed him closer to the edge.
"Sir," AEGIS said quietly. "You appear troubled."
"I am troubled. I just benefited from a man's death. Didn't kill him, but waited nearby like a vulture for the opportunity."
"You gave him a choice. He accepted. His final act had meaning because of you."
"Or I exploited a dying man's desire for significance." Justin stared at his hands. "At what point does pragmatic power collection become monstrous power theft?"
"When you violate the ethical framework you established. Which you have not done."
"Yet."
"Yet," AEGIS agreed. "But sir, you have eleven months until the invasion. Eleven more opportunities to fill your vault. The question is not whether you're a monster. The question is whether the powers you acquire will save enough lives to justify the moral weight of acquisition."
Justin pulled up projections. Eight hundred to twelve hundred civilian casualties with his intervention. Four thousand to six thousand without.
Three thousand lives saved. Maybe more.
"It has to be enough," Justin said.
"Does it?"
"It has to be. Because I don't know how else to live with this."
He examined the darkforce power, feeling its weight in his vault. Dangerous. Powerful. Potentially the difference between holding a position or watching it fall during the invasion.
Worth the moral complexity? Worth standing over a dying criminal and taking his last meaningful act?
Justin didn't know. Couldn't know until the invasion came and he saw whether it mattered.
All he could do was keep preparing. Keep collecting powers through acceptable means. Keep walking the line between pragmatism and monstrosity.
And hope that when the aliens came pouring through that portal, when civilians were dying in the streets, when every power mattered—
Hope that he'd made the right choices.
Even if those choices kept him awake at night, wondering what he was becoming.
Outside, New York slept. Eleven months until the invasion. Eleven slots to fill. And Justin Hammer, wearing Justin Hammer's body, carrying void-touched powers, sat in the dark and wondered if saving the world required losing your soul.
Or if that was just the excuse monsters told themselves.
He didn't have an answer.
But he had work to do.
So he kept moving forward.
One power at a time. One life saved or lost. One step closer to either salvation or damnation.
Time would tell which.
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