{Chapter: 025 - Camilla And Her Crew On Their Right Place}
Aiden was training.
His expression was focused, eyes scanning the treeline, debris, and collapsed ruins for any sign of Camilla. Dozens of rebel fighters had opened fire the moment they caught sight of him, forcing him to duck, dive, and twist through the barrage. He could feel the Extremis flowing through him—hot, alive, reactive. It pulsed like liquid fire in his veins, pushing his reflexes and perception far beyond human limits.
"You should surrender!" one of the rebels bellowed from behind cover. "Resistance is futile!"
Aiden simply tilted his head and smiled, amused. "So is your aim," he muttered under his breath, rolling beneath a burst of gunfire and kicking up a cloud of dust to mask his movements.
Minute after minute passed. As he danced through bullets, the rhythm of battle seemed to slow around him. The once frantic dodging became instinctive. Natural. Predictable. His body moved before the enemy fired, weaving through their crosshairs like a ghost.
Finally, he exhaled, his confidence absolute.
"Alright. That's enough practice."
His right hand ignited, fire springing to life in his palm. The flame crackled and coiled like a living serpent, and with a flourish of his fingers, it slithered upward into the sky. It grew—no, evolved—twisting and expanding into a colossal construct. A beast born of fire and fury.
The fire writhed and extended, coiling around itself in smooth, elegant arcs. It shimmered with orange-blue hues, dancing as if guided by ancient grace. Then, it rose into the sky and shifted.
From that single strand of fire, a massive figure formed—long, sinuous, and radiant.
An Eastern dragon of flame took shape.
It glided through the air with the fluid motion of a river, its whiskers trailing embered sparks, a long serpentine body twisting through the sky. Unlike the bulky western dragons of legend, this one was sleek, spiritual—more serpent than dragon. Its eyes glowed like twin suns, filled with quiet wisdom and burning wrath.
The rebels stared upward, their weapons lowering in awe and terror.
The dragon turned its head.
Aiden raised a hand, his command unspoken—but absolute.
With a flash of light and a sudden roar of flame, the fire dragon descended.
The heat rolled in waves across the battlefield, distorting the air, igniting dry brush and melting metal. The dragon swept over the rebels in a graceful, spiraling dive, and wherever its body passed, it left only scorched earth and silence.
When it vanished in a final swirl of flame, only smoke remained. The battlefield was still.
Aiden exhaled slowly, watching the embers float like fireflies.
Aiden nodded in satisfaction, the lighter in his hand cooling slightly. "Not bad," he said to himself. "Definitely good for wide-area suppression. And long-range offense? Excellent."
A rustle of movement drew his attention. A figure stumbled out from behind a half-collapsed wall, her face streaked with dirt, eyes wide with shock and fear.
It was Camilla.
She stared at him like she was seeing something that shouldn't exist.
"You… what are you?" she asked, voice trembling. "How did you do that? Are you… a mutant?"
Aiden stepped toward her, flicking the lighter closed with a snap. His tone was cool, but not unkind. "Mutants aren't the only ones who can bend the rules of reality."
He reached out and seized her arm—not roughly, but firmly. She flinched.
"What do you want from me?!" she demanded, panic lacing her words.
"Phil wants a proper talk. The plane should be fueled and ready by now."
Then, in one fluid motion, Aiden flicked the lighter open again and thrust his hand forward. The flame exploded outward—not in a chaotic burst, but in a calculated dance of power. Fire swirled around them, spinning in a perfect spiral as it shaped itself into a platform beneath his feet.
Like molten glass shaped by an unseen artisan, the fire spiraled beneath his feet, condensing and hardening into a broad, sleek platform. The surface shimmered with hard fire—like veins of lava sealed in crystal. Thin streams of flame arched out from the sides like stabilizers, flaring for balance, while the bottom hummed with contained propulsion.
The heat was intense—but it didn't burn. It radiated a controlled force, bound by will alone.
Aiden stepped onto it, and it held—solid as wood beneath his boots. The flames flexed with his weight, adjusting and anchoring him.
Then he turned to Camilla.
With a smirk, Aiden stepped onto it effortlessly, hoisting Camilla into his arms.
"Hold on tight. First-time flyers tend to scream."
Before she could argue, the fire-surfboard pulsed with power and launched into the air, leaving behind a glowing trail of burning light.
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" Camilla wailed, clinging to him for dear life. The wind tore at her hair, and the heat from the board below was intense—too intense. She could feel the scorching warmth licking at her legs, not enough to burn, but enough to make her fear it would if she moved even an inch. It was like being suspended just above the surface of the lava with safety gears.
She yelped, clinging to him with wide eyes. "W-Wait! Wait! I'm going to fall! It's fire! You're standing on fire!"
"It's fine," he said, almost bored. "I molded the flame's molecular structure to solidify under kinetic pressure. Think of it like flying lava glass. But, y'know—hotter."
Aiden was utterly relaxed. One hand on his back, leaning back slightly with a grin on his face, like a surfer riding the perfect wave.
"Man… they should really consider marketing this tech," he quipped, as the wind whistled around them.
Soon, the black silhouette of the Bus came into view, its rear hatch open, ramp extended. The agents standing outside squinted into the sky.
And then they saw it.
Aiden, riding a streaking comet of flame, descending from the sky like The Human Torch. Camilla in his arms, windblown, wide-eyed, and utterly terrified.
Daisy's jaw dropped. Jemma blinked twice. Phil Coulson raised a single brow.
"I… don't even know what to write in the mission report for this," One agent muttered.
The fireboard hovered a few feet off the ramp, and Aiden stepped down with a casual grace, setting Camilla on her feet. She promptly collapsed to her knees, gasping and patting herself down to make sure she wasn't on fire.
Aiden gave the others a two-fingered salute, the fireboard behind him dissipating into drifting embers.
"Well," he said with a satisfied grin, "found her."
Looking at their stunned expressions—Daisy's widened eyes, Fitz's mouth slightly agape, and Jemma's shocked whisper of "Impossible"— Aiden allowed himself a small, satisfied grin.
Aiden didn't even break stride as he stepped forward. "Make sure she doesn't try anything stupid," he said calmly, brushing a few jungle leaves from his shoulder.
Phil approached, brows furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, directing the question toward Camilla, who seemed to be coming to—her eyes flickering open in a daze.
She looked around, lips moving in a dry murmur, her head turning slowly from side to side as if waking from a half-remembered nightmare. Her hands trembled, and she didn't resist the agents restraining her. In fact, she seemed… confused. Her betrayal hadn't gone to plan, and it showed on her disoriented face.
Phil hesitated for a second before turning his gaze to Aiden.
"Thanks for bringing her back."
"No problem," Aiden said without even looking at him, already halfway to the hallway. "Just another day."
The plane slowly ascended into the sky, its engines humming as the dense Peruvian jungle shrank beneath them. Inside, the air was filled with a lingering tension. The agents were silent. Daisy sat against the wall near the window, arms wrapped around her knees, stealing glances at Aiden every now and then.
Once in his room, Aiden peeled off his slightly singed jacket, changed into a fresh black hoodie, and let out a tired sigh.
Knock knock.
Aiden turned to the door. He didn't need to check. He already knew who it was.
Opening it revealed Phil, arms crossed and a tired, wary look on his face.
"Need something?" Aiden asked, his tone casual but guarded.
Phil took a moment before answering. "You told me earlier to leave Camilla behind… and you said we'd run into trouble if we brought her. How did you know that? That wasn't a guess."
Aiden paused, then tilted his head slightly. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"No." Phil stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It does matter. Maybe not for this mission, but for the future. If I'm going to have you as part of my team, I need to know what you're capable of. And more importantly… how you know things you shouldn't."
There was a long silence between them.
Aiden finally exhaled and leaned against the doorframe. "Fine. I'll tell you one thing."
Phil listened closely.
"I can see glimpses of the future. Not always. Not clearly. It's like watching broken film reels. Fragments… out of context. Sometimes it's something stupid—like knowing what someone's going to eat. Other times, it's things that matter. Like Camilla betraying us."
Phil blinked. "You're saying you saw that?"
"I saw her holding everyone hostage," Aiden said, eyes darkening slightly. "Saw her take over the plane. A gun to your head. Daisy in handcuffs. And a hole in the side of the aircraft after someone tried to stop her.
She had been planning on getting 084 and for that she would take all of you as hostages, although it would be safely solved with no casualties, but the plane would be damaged and have a hole."
He turned and walked back toward his bed, grabbing a half-empty bottle of water and taking a sip.
"But none of that happened," he continued, voice now quieter. "Because I changed it."
Phil stood in silence. Processing. Debating whether to believe him. But deep down… he knew. The look in Aiden's eyes wasn't one of arrogance or delusion. It was an experience.
"Why didn't you just tell us everything in advance?" Phil finally asked.
"Because most people don't listen until it's already too late." Aiden gave a half-smile, then walked past him. "And besides… I didn't see the whole picture. Just enough to make a choice."
He walked out, the hallway light casting a long shadow behind him.
As he passed by the main cabin, Daisy looked up again. Their eyes met for a brief second—hers questioning, his distant.
He gave her a faint nod.
She smiled weakly in return.
In another room, Camilla lay restrained but conscious now, staring at the ceiling of the SHIELD plane, her jaw clenched. Her plan had failed. And the boy with flames in his hands had seen through her mask.
This changes everything, she thought bitterly.
******
Important Update Regarding Subscribestar
A Small Creator's Dilemma… I Need Your Thoughts
Hey everyone,
I honestly didn't want to make a post like this, but I've hit a wall—and I could really use your help.
Subscribestar has been nothing short of a nightmare. I deleted my old account when it failed to verify, hoping a fresh start would solve the issue… but the new one is stuck in the same limbo. No progress. No support. Just silence.
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