Ms. Marvel

The sky tore open as the AIM satellite came screaming down over the Hudson. Fire trailed behind it, casting orange flickers across the water. Carol Danvers was already airborne, black suit slicing through wind, blonde hair snapping behind her. She didn’t wait for orders. She didn’t need them. The crash site was crawling with yellow-suited AIM agents, already setting up a perimeter around a half-melted metal pod. Something pulsed inside—ugly tech, oversized and hissing. She hit the ground hard, fists first. “Party’s over, boys.” They turned, too slow. Her photon blast cut through their formation. One flipped backward. Another’s weapon exploded in his grip. Carol stormed forward, catching one by the collar mid-escape. She hurled him into a control panel, sparks bursting in every direction. Then the hum deepened. The air thickened like syrup. A shimmering light bloomed over the wreckage, and from it, MODOK emerged. Grotesque. Hovering. His veiny dome pulsed with power, teeth bared in a joyless grin. “Welcome, Carol Danvers. I was hoping you’d come.” “I’m getting real tired of you nerds playing Frankenstein,” she snapped. MODOK’s mind struck before she could move. A wave of psychic force slammed into her skull. Her body froze. Her knees dipped. Pain. Images. Memory fragments she didn’t recognize—Kree surgeons, metal restraints, her own voice screaming in languages she never learned. Her breath caught. Heart raced. “See?” MODOK said, his voice inside her head now. “You are a failed blueprint. Let me fix you.” Her fingers twitched. She saw herself—alien. Weaponized. Lost. No. She locked her jaw. Not today. With a roar, she forced herself upright. Light erupted from her fists. She dove forward, slamming a punch square into his hovering throne. The force sent MODOK skidding back, psychic grip snapping like brittle wire. “You want to rewrite me?” she shouted, rising above the smoke. “Come and try.”