Marvel: The Infinite Crown

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{Chapter: 114 - Michael is Dead And Phill Coulson's Resurrection}

He clenched his fist, watching faint, ember-like sparks pulse through his skin. "At least twice as strong… maybe more."

There was a brief moment of satisfaction—

His phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. When he picked it up, his heart sank.

Six missed calls.

From: Quake, Phil, and Fitz.

He barely tapped the screen before a call from Quake came in again. He answered immediately.

"Where the hell are you?!" Daisy's voice exploded through the speaker, laced with panic and fury. "You've been off the grid for hours! What happened?! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daisy. I'll be back in ten. Just hang tight."

"Aiden—wait—" she started, but he was already closing the call.

No time to explain. He moved to the window, pushed it open, and leapt into the night.

---

Wind tore past his face as Aiden soared through the air like a shadow streaking across the night. The city blurred beneath him. Lights flickered by like dying stars. In less than five minutes, the S.H.I.E.L.D. mobile aircraft came into view, hovering above a darkened valley.

He landed on the ramp with a heavy metallic thud, and the second he stepped into the main briefing room, the mood turned ice-cold.

Daisy stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. May leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, stoic but tense. Jemma and Fitz looked like they hadn't slept. The air smelled of ozone and stress.

Aiden looked around. "What happened?"

Daisy's lips trembled for a second. "Phil was taken," she said in a low voice. "And Michael…"

She swallowed. "Michael is dead."

Jemma flinched at the word. Fitz lowered his eyes. Even May, ever the warrior, looked away.

For a long, agonizing moment, the room was silent.

Aiden closed his eyes.

"Figures," he said softly.

"You knew?" Daisy snapped. "You knew this would happen and you left anyway?!"

"Not exactly," Aiden replied, eyes opening. "But I've seen glimpses. Not all of it, but pieces of the puzzle."

"Don't be dejected, nothing bad will happen" Aiden said.

"Are you sure?" Quake asked.

Aiden nodded and pointed at his head "Of course I'm sure, I can clearly see it"

Remembering he had the ability to foresee the future they relaxed.

"You said nothing bad would happen," Daisy said, her voice trembling as she stepped forward. Her brown eyes shimmered with the last trace of hope. "Then what about Michael? Is he… is he really okay?"

Aiden turned to face her fully. His expression was calm, unwavering—yet there was a gravity to his gaze. "He's not dead," he said softly. "I can promise you that much."

Daisy's shoulders slumped slightly in relief. "He's still alive…" she murmured, almost to herself. "That's… that's good. That's really good. We thought—" She paused, collecting her breath. "The people who took him… they found Ace. They took his son. Held him hostage. Michael had no choice but to give up Coulson in exchange."

Fitz clenched his jaw, guilt dancing across his face. "We should've seen it coming. Should've been ready."

"They played us," Daisy continued bitterly. "We thought we had control of the situation, but the other side was already three steps ahead. Right after the trade… there was an explosion. It took out half the block. For a moment, we thought—" Her voice cracked. "We thought Michael was gone."

"If he were just a man," Aiden replied, stepping forward, "he would be. But Michael isn't just a man anymore."

May's arms remained folded, but she leaned in slightly, listening.

Aiden continued, "The Centipede serum might not be as refined as Extremis, but it still makes him remarkably unkillable. Enhanced healing, regenerative tissues—his body can withstand things normal people can't. It's the only reason he's survived this long."

"That's something at least," Fitz muttered, eyes fixed on the floor.

Jemma looked up. "Do you know where he is now? Michael, I mean. Or Coulson?"

Aiden hesitated. For the first time since arriving, doubt flickered across his features. "I have… glimpses. I can say with confidence that Phil is still alive. I've seen where they've taken him. I can get him back. But Michael…" He sighed. "He's off the grid. Wherever he is, he's not in immediate danger. That much I know. But he will… go through some things. He's going to be changed by it."

"Changed how?" Daisy asked sharply.

Aiden turned toward her. "Changed in ways that can't be undone. But not broken. He's strong. Stronger than most people give him credit for. I've seen where his path leads—and it doesn't end in a grave."

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the aircraft's engines.

"Look," Aiden said, stepping into the center of the room, "I can't see every variable. But I promise you this—Coulson's coming home. I'll make sure of it."

Daisy looked at him, her features softening. "You really believe that?"

Aiden tapped his temple. "I don't just believe it. I've just bring him back."

For the first time since they got the news, the tension in the room lifted. Shoulders loosened. Eyes softened. Even May allowed a subtle nod, the barest flicker of trust.

Aiden gave them one last glance—then turned and walked toward the exit.

---

Abandoned Factory - Nevada Desert

The facility stood like a rusting scar against the barren landscape—its once-proud structure now little more than twisted metal and faded concrete. Built in the 1940s during the height of America's nuclear ambitions, the factory had been long since forgotten, consumed by dust, heat, and the relentless silence of the desert.

No birds. No grass. Just dry wind and decay.

Deep within the subterranean levels of this ghostly relic, Phil Coulson lay strapped to a steel operating table. His breathing was shallow, his lips cracked, and bruises lined his arms like maps of pain.

A man named Edison circled him like a vulture.

"Do you know why I do this, Agent Coulson?" Edison asked, voice smooth like oil. "Because breaking the body is easy. But breaking the will? That's art."

Coulson looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and gave a strained smile. "You're not much of an artist."

Edison didn't laugh. Instead, he plunged a needle into Phil's arm and twisted it. Coulson let out a cry, his body convulsing.

But he didn't scream for long.

He chuckled. A dry, cracked sound.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Edison scowled. "Oh, I will."

But before he could continue, a voice interrupted him. Calm. Female.

"That's enough."

A woman stepped through the doorway—Raina, dressed in a simple cream-colored coat and a lavender scarf. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, calculating. Every movement she made was like a dance—graceful but precise. Dangerous.

Edison looked at her, confused. "I wasn't told we had visitors."

"You've been relieved," she said softly. "The Clairvoyant has new plans."

Edison took a step forward in protest—then froze.

A red dot appeared on his forehead. A second later, a muted thump echoed from down the hall.

He crumpled to the ground.

Raina didn't flinch. She stepped over his body without a second glance and approached Phil.

"Agent Coulson," she said kindly. "Forgive the mess. I've come to talk."

He glared at her. "You're wasting your time."

Raina smiled. "That's what everyone says at first."

She picked up a pitcher of water from a nearby table and slowly poured it into a metal bowl. With practiced gentleness, she soaked a cloth and wrung it out—then dabbed it across Phil's forehead.

He recoiled. "Don't pretend to care."

"I don't need to pretend," she replied. "I just need you to think."

He stayed silent.

She leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "Phil… you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be alive. And yet—here you are. Breathing. Thinking. Fighting. Why?"

Phil's eyes narrowed.

"I know what they told you," Raina continued. "But it wasn't the whole story. You died, Phil. Truly died. And then they brought you back. Don't you want to know how?"

Phil looked away. "I'm not playing your game."

"But it's your game," she said softly. "You've been living a lie. A perfect lie, carefully constructed to protect you… from the truth."

She stepped back and nodded to the technicians behind her. They began preparing a machine—a twisted device of wires, electrodes, and glowing panels.

"This machine can unlock the parts of your mind that S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to bury," she explained. "Memories sealed off for your protection."

Phil's heart pounded. He had spent weeks pushing back the nightmares—the beach, the lights, the pain.

He didn't want to remember.

But he needed to know.

Raina reached out a hand. "It's your choice."

Phil stared at the machine.

A part of him screamed to resist.

But another voice—buried deep, filled with doubt—asked the one question that had haunted him from the beginning.

Why am I still alive?

Slowly, he nodded.

"I want the truth."

Raina smiled. "Then you're ready."

As the machine powered up, and the world turned to static, Phil Coulson laid back and closed his eyes—ready to confront the shadows in his past.

*****

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