American comics: Intercepting the female superhero, the symbiote is invincible

"This world is far more complicated than you imagine, Lorna." He said to her with his back to her, "As for who I am... I'll tell you everything once we're safe. But for now, we have to go."

He pointed to the ceiling: "Thirty S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are coming down, and I can already hear Fury's helicopter."

Lorna wanted to ask more questions, but a sudden, sharp headache struck. The aftereffects of overusing her abilities were beginning to appear, and her vision blurred.

I...I can't.

Ron quickly helped her up: "It was too much for you the first time. Rest, I'll take care of the rest."

He picked up Lorna and headed for the emergency exit. Behind them, within the wreckage of the Ultimate Sentinel, a surge of energy still flowed:

Mutant Threat Update: New individual Polaris added, ability level: Omega. Solution: Eliminate immediately.

Lorna's vision was covered in blood.

She felt someone carrying her and moving her, and she could hear intermittent metallic twisting sounds and distant explosions.

She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

"Don't move." Ron's voice came from very close by, with a slight panting. "Your brain has just gone through an electromagnetic storm. If you move now, you'll throw up on me."

Lorna wanted to argue, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she could only lean weakly against him. The black battle suit had a peculiar feel to it, neither like metal nor cloth, but more like something alive, rising and falling slightly with her breath.

"Put me down..." she said through gritted teeth.

Ron stopped in his tracks: Are you sure?

Sure.

She was carefully placed on a metal platform, the cool touch slightly clearing her muddled consciousness.

Lorna blinked hard, her gaze gradually focusing—it was an underground parking garage, with several modified armored vehicles parked around it, and electronic screens covering the walls, displaying surveillance footage from different locations.

"Safe house?" she asked hoarsely.

Temporary foothold. Ron walked toward the control panel, his black suit receding like the tide to reveal his original attire. S.H.I.E.L.D. was conducting a city-wide manhunt, and Strucker's mercenaries were also looking for you.

Lorna noticed that his right arm was hanging down unnaturally, and there was dark red blood seeping from the cuff: You're injured.

The sentry's last blow. Ron casually moved his shoulder; three ribs, a fractured right ulna, and a slightly ruptured spleen. Not too bad.

This injury would be fatal to an ordinary person. Lorna stared at his calm expression and suddenly realized that she knew almost nothing about this man.

How could he endure such harm? Why is he so knowledgeable about mutant affairs? And why did he specifically target her?

"What about the children?" she changed the subject.

It's safe now. Ron pulls up a surveillance video showing Flash and Bullseye distributing food to the children in a brightly lit room. Clarice has taken them to a mutant community on the Canadian border, where there are doctors and caregivers.

Lorna breathed a sigh of relief, then tensed up again: Where are John and the others?

Chapter 139 The Orphanage's Fate: Left to Its Own Hands

"Your underground comrades?" Ron typed, bringing up another screen showing a SHIELD-made prison van leaving downtown Atlanta. They'd been arrested, but were still alive. Fury wanted the intelligence; he wouldn't execute them immediately.

In the scene, John, wearing a restraint collar, is being led onto a prison van, his face bruised but his head held high. Lorna's nails dig into her palms, and a faint taste of blood spreads in her mouth.

She suddenly raised her hand, and all the metal tools in the garage floated up and vibrated in the air.

We must save them.

Of course. Ron didn't turn around, but not now.

What? The metal tool slammed against the wall with a loud bang—it was my comrade!

And now you can't even stand properly. Ron finally turned around, his eyes sharp as knives. Charge into the S.H.I.E.L.D. base to die? Is this the tactic Magneto taught you?

Lorna's pupils constricted: Don't mention him! You don't understand at all—

Eric Lansher, born in Poland in 1928, is a concentration camp survivor. Ron's voice suddenly turned cold. His ability is to control magnetic fields. He once attempted to assassinate heads of state at a United Nations summit and is the founder of the Brotherhood of Mutants.

Should I continue?

The garage fell silent. Lorna's breathing quickened, and fragmented memories began to churn in her mind again—the eyes beneath the metal helmet, the blood on the snow, and the words spoken in German: "Live on."

He...abandoned me. She finally said it, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Ron's expression shifted subtly: things are more complicated than you think.

He walked to the safe in the corner and entered the password. The door slid open, revealing an old-fashioned cassette recorder and several tapes marked with dates.

In 1973, Magneto established a mutant shelter in Alberta, Canada. He took a cassette tape labeled 1987.11.21 and put it into a tape recorder; later, the precursor to S.H.I.E.L.D. attacked the shelter.

The tape recorder hissed, followed by a man's rapid breathing and the distorting sound of metal.

The plan failed... They found a refuge... I have to draw the pursuers away... Lorna... she's too young.

The background sounds were explosions and screams. The man continued:

Romulus's men will protect her...until the time is right...tell my daughter...I never...

···Requesting flowers····· ·····

The recording abruptly stopped. Lorna found herself standing up without realizing it, her hands gripping the edge of the workbench tightly, the metal surface warped under her fingerprints.

Romulus? She repeated the unfamiliar name.

The leader of the mutant underground network, who was responsible for protecting you. Ron pressed the stop button, and later betrayed his promise, abandoning you in an orphanage to fend for yourself.

.. .... 0

Countless fragments of memories flashed through Lorna's mind—the cold winter nights, the feel of the orphanage's iron fence, and the unexpected accidents that always happened when she was emotionally agitated. It turned out that none of this was a coincidence.

Why are you telling me this now?

Because the time had come. Ron took a metal box from deep inside the safe, the one your father left you.

The box was engraved with simple patterns, and the clasp automatically popped open the moment Lorna reached out to touch it.

Inside was a pair of gloves, made of a material that resembled both metal and leather, with delicate silver rings inlaid at the fingertips.

He made it himself. Ron said it would help you precisely control your abilities.

Chapter 140 Strange Design

Lorna picked up a glove, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her. She put it on, her fingers spreading and closing, and the surrounding metal objects reacted instantly, more sensitively than ever before.

How does it feel?

Like... the missing part has returned. She looked up and stared directly at Ron, but you still haven't explained why you're in charge of this? What's your relationship with Magneto?

Ron paused for a moment, then said "240," before suddenly ripping open his shirt collar to reveal a strange brand below his collarbone—two crossed metal rods surrounded by Latin script.

This isn't my story. He straightened his collar; now we need to address more pressing issues.

The alarm on the wall suddenly flashed red, and the main screen automatically switched to external monitoring.

On screen, a dozen black armored vehicles are surrounding the block, with fully armed special agents in formation, each wielding special weapons.

Strucker's private army. Ron rapidly typed on the keyboard, bringing up the building's floor plan; they had found this place.

Lorna clenched her gloved fist: How many people?

At least fifty, equipped with mutant suppression weapons. Ron took two modified pistols from the weapon rack. The back door wasn't locked yet, I could—

No. Lorna interrupted him, the metal rings of the new gloves began to glow, and we did so together.

Ron raised an eyebrow: Are you sure?

You said you'd teach me to reach my full potential. Lorna walked toward the garage door; the building's metal structure seemed to her like an extended limb. Now was the time.

Ron suddenly laughed, a genuine smile that made him look much younger: "Then let's teach Mr. Strucker a lesson."

The garage door twisted and deformed as Lorna raised her hand, as if it had been torn open by an invisible giant hand.

Before the special agents outside could react, all the metal objects along the street had been suspended in the air—cars, streetlights, manhole covers, and even metal parts from enemy weapons.

Remember, Ron whispered in her ear, the magnetic field is not a tool, but an extension of your will.

Lorna took a deep breath and pushed her hands forward.

A metal storm swept through the entire neighborhood.

The instant the metallic storm swept through the streets, Lorna felt an unprecedented sense of control.

The lamppost pierced the hood of the armored vehicle like a javelin, and the twisted door spun in the air before striking the special agents who were trying to raise their guns.

The bullet burst from the barrel, but suddenly stopped in mid-air, hovering within Lorna's magnetic field like a frozen raindrop.

“Good control,” Ron’s voice came from behind her, tinged with approval. “But don’t stop.”

Lorna's lips curled slightly, and her five fingers suddenly clenched.

The halted bullets suddenly changed direction, whistling as they shot back at their launchers.

Screams erupted in the street as special agents scrambled for cover, but the metal riot shields were useless against Lorna—with a flick of her finger, the shields slipped from their grasp and became weapons thrown at them.

"Target confirmed! Polaris!" a commander roared into the communicator. "Activate the suppressor!"

Four special agents rushed out from the flank, carrying strangely shaped devices that looked like some kind of electromagnetic pulse transmitter.

Lorna instinctively sensed a threat, but before she could react, Ron had already moved.

Chapter 141 Eliminating the Threat

His speed was inhuman; his black battle suit left a trail of afterimages in the air as he instantly closed in on the four people.

His movements were succinct and deadly—the first man's throat was cleaved in two with a chop, the second man's knee was broken with a kick, and before the third man could even raise his weapon, Ron had already snapped his wrist, snatched the suppressor, and slammed it into the fourth man's face.

“A suppressor?” Ron sneered, stomping on the device on the ground. “Strucker’s toys are still so low-grade.”

Lorna had no time to be amazed by his fighting skills, as more enemies were surging in from the street corner.

She took a deep breath, spread her arms to the sides, and the underground water pipes and cables of the entire street burst forth from the ground under her control, coiling towards the enemy like giant pythons.

With a metallic screech, she forcefully overturned an armored vehicle, sending it crashing into enemy lines. The explosion illuminated her profile, her green hair dancing wildly in the magnetic field.

“They’ve started to retreat.” Ron walked back to her side, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

Indeed, the remaining special agents were retreating, dragging the wounded into the vehicles that hadn't yet been destroyed. Lorna didn't give chase; she simply watched them escape coldly.

"Why not solve it all?" she asked.

“Leave a few alive.” Ron picked up a communicator from the ground, pressed a frequency, and said, “Send them back to tell Strucker that his ‘purification plan’ is over.”

A static crackled from the other end of the communicator, followed by a deep male voice: "...Ron?"

“Good evening, Mr. Strucker.” Ron’s tone was casual to the point of sarcasm. “Your lab is nice, but it’s a pity the Sentinel robots aren’t very sturdy.”

After a brief silence, the other person's voice turned icy: "You think this is all you've got?"

“No,” Ron smiled, “this is just the beginning.”

He crushed the communicator and turned to Lorna: "They won't let this go."

“I know.” Lorna took off her gloves, her knuckles slightly white from the force of her grip. “So we have to make the first move.”

Ron sized her up, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes: "You're more aggressive than I thought."

“My father is Magneto,” she said coldly. “Do you think I’m a pacifist?”

Ron chuckled and walked to a computer deep in the garage, pulling up an encrypted file: "Strucker's 'Purification Plan' is just the tip of the iceberg. The real threat is in Washington."

The screen displayed a list of dozens of names, each followed by a detailed profile—politicians, high-ranking military officers, researchers, and even S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel.

“They’re hunting down mutants around the world, and not just for experiments.” Ron typed, pulling up a blurry video. “They’re making weapons.”

In the video, a man wearing a metal helmet stands on a high platform, with soldiers lined up in neat rows below. His voice is muffled by background noise, but a few words can still be made out:

"...The New Order...Eliminating the Threat...The End of the Mutant Era..."

Lorna's pupils contracted slightly: "That's...?"

“Bolivar Trask,” Ron said, turning off the recording. “The true founder of Project Sentinel.”

"I thought he was dead."

“That’s what the official records say.” A cold glint flashed in Ron’s eyes. “But for some people, death is just a cover.”

Lorna stared at the screen, her thoughts racing. If Trask were still alive, if the Sentinel program was still ongoing… then the threat facing mutants was far greater than she imagined.