Marvel/MCU: Eidolon

Locked away in a prison of science and fear, Hydra had tried to contain what they could not control. The psionic dampeners that lined his cell were meant to suppress him, to keep him caged—and for a time, they did.

But power, true power, does not stay buried forever.

Then came the attack.

The Avengers had arrived, tearing through the facility with the force of a hurricane. Explosions shook the walls, gunfire rang through the halls, and the screams of dying men filled the air.

And then—

The EMP.

Electricity flickered. The dampeners failed.

And in that moment—Eidolon awoke.

His eyes snapped open as raw power surged through his veins. The world sharpened into absolute clarity.

He lifted a hand, and the walls around him shook.

Hydra had thought the dampeners had kept him weak. In truth, they had only delayed the inevitable.

With a mere thought, the reinforced metal walls of his cell crushed inward, warping like crumpled paper before shattering outward in a violent shockwave.

The alarms howled.

Guards rushed toward the breach, weapons raised.

Eidolon barely glanced in their direction before the air around them collapsed.

A silent pulse of psionic force hit them like a sledgehammer, crushing ribs, bursting organs, and snapping bones like twigs. Blood splattered against the walls as their bodies folded inward from the sheer weight of his will.

He stepped over the corpses without a second thought.

No more restraints.

No more limits.

No more Hydra.

His path was clear—Strucker's vault.

Anyone who stood in his way died screaming. He didn't need to fight—he simply thought, and the world obeyed. Bodies twisted and ruptured under the crushing weight of his psionic grip. Brains boiled as he reached into their minds, burning them from the inside out.

By the time he reached Strucker's personal chambers, the corridors were slick with blood and ruin.

Inside, he found what he was looking for.

A vault filled with treasures stolen from the world. Files. Weapons. Secrets.

And a helmet.

Black as midnight, with runes of reddish-purple engraved into its surface.

Eidolon reached out, scanning it with his mind—Uru.

His fingers brushed against it, and for a moment, he felt a faint whisper of something old. Perhaps Hydra had stolen it from SHIELD. Perhaps from somewhere else.

It didn't matter.

He placed it on his head.

Power hummed through him, resonating with his very being.

Eidolon turned, gathering what he needed—clothes, files, valuables—all levitating behind him in a silent procession as he made his way toward the exit.

And then—

Thunder.

The very air shifted, thick with electricity and power. A presence unlike any other stood in his path.

Thor.

The Asgardian's eyes narrowed as he took in the devastation Eidolon had left behind. His grip tightened around Mjolnir.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice like distant thunder.

Eidolon tilted his head, the faintest smirk playing at his lips.

"You may call me Eidolon."

A storm was brewing between them.

And he welcomed it.

Thor took a step forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the ruined corridor. His crimson cape billowed behind him, Mjolnir crackling with restrained thunder in his grip. The stench of blood and burning flesh hung thick in the air.

Eidolon stood at the center of the carnage, his dark coat flowing with an unseen force, the helmet of Uru resting comfortably on his head. The floating bags of stolen Hydra valuables drifted idly behind him, suspended in his psionic grasp.

The two regarded each other in silence.

Then, Thor's voice broke the tension.

"You are not Hydra." His sharp blue eyes swept across the ruined corpses. "But you are no innocent, either."

Eidolon exhaled slowly, almost amused. "Astute." His voice was smooth, deliberate—calm, despite the god standing before him. "I assure you, these men were guilty of far worse than what I've done here."

Thor's gaze darkened. "And yet you spared none."

A slow smirk played at Eidolon's lips beneath his helmet. "Why would I?" He gestured to the walls painted in red and ruin. "Mercy was never afforded to me."

The thunder god's grip on Mjolnir tightened. "That does not justify slaughter."

Eidolon tilted his head, intrigued. "And yet, here you stand, a warrior of a people who have waged war across the Nine Realms for millennia." He took a step forward, the air around him humming with raw psionic energy. "Tell me, Thor Odinson, where was this righteous restraint when you razed the armies of Jotunheim?"

Thor's jaw clenched.

A strike against his honor. A challenge.

But he did not deny it.

"I was a different man then."

Eidolon chuckled. "How convenient."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the storm itself sensed the tension.

Thor pointed Mjolnir toward him. "You wield great power, but I will not allow you to walk free if your path is paved in blood."

Eidolon's eyes glowed faintly beneath his helmet.

"And tell me, God of Thunder—who will stop me?"

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—

Thor moved.

Faster than any mortal eye could track, Mjolnir shot toward Eidolon like a divine hammer of judgment.

But Eidolon was already gone.

With a mere thought, his form blurred, reality bending around him as he sidestepped the incoming strike. The hammer screamed past him, tearing through a reinforced wall like paper.

Thor turned, eyes flashing, but Eidolon was already inside his mind.

In an instant, his presence pressed against the thunder god's psyche—an overwhelming flood of thoughts, calculations, and psychic pressure crashing down upon him like an invisible tidal wave.

For the first time in centuries, Thor staggered.

But only for a moment.

A blinding surge of divine will erupted from the Asgardian like a thunderclap, shattering Eidolon's mental intrusion before it could take hold.

Impressive.

Eidolon exhaled, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. "Your mind is not so easily swayed."

Thor raised his hammer once more. "Nor is my hand when justice is needed."

Eidolon tilted his head, considering.

Then, with a casual flick of his fingers, the very air around them collapsed inward—a gravitational pulse that crushed the walls, warping the metal ceilings and floors as if they were mere fabric.

Thor braced himself, Mjolnir's enchantment shielding him from the worst of the pressure.

But when the distortion settled—

Eidolon was gone.

Thor straightened, scanning the ruined corridor.

A ghost of laughter echoed through the crumbling halls.

Then, Eidolon's voice—disembodied, distant, yet lingering.

"You and I will meet again, Thunderer."

A final pulse of energy, and just like that—

Silence.

-Short Time Skip-

The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and rusted metal. The abandoned factory on the outskirts of Novi Grad had long been left to decay, its once-bustling machinery now nothing but silent, corroded skeletons. But where others saw ruin, Eidolon saw opportunity.

With a mere flick of his hand, the dust and debris littering the main floor lifted into the air, swirling for a moment before compacting into a tight sphere. A thought sent it careening into a far-off corner.

Efficiency. Order.

He stepped forward, boots clicking softly against the cracked floor. The factory's main control room, now repurposed as his personal sanctum, awaited him.

With a wave of his hand, the stolen bags of Hydra's most valuable research and artifacts lowered onto a makeshift table. Books, schematics, and even small devices taken from Strucker's personal collection.

And then there was the helmet—the black Uru-forged relic, now resting upon a steel pedestal in the center of the room. It thrummed faintly with an ancient energy, one Eidolon could feel even without touching it.

He exhaled, removing his coat and draping it over a rusted chair before sitting down.

With a simple flex of his will, the scattered papers, notes, and blueprints hovered before him, each unfolding neatly into place. He skimmed over them at an inhuman speed, absorbing information faster than any normal mind could process.

Hydra's experiments, Strucker's notes on the twins, theories on advanced energy manipulation—all pieces of a much larger puzzle.

One that he intended to solve.

His fingers drummed against the table as he sifted through the knowledge, piecing together patterns, theories, and insights.

Hydra had seen power in him. Feared it.

But their mistake was believing they could contain what they did not understand.

Now, he would determine the full extent of his capabilities.

And this was only the beginning.

Eidolon sat in absolute stillness, cross-legged atop a levitating slab of concrete in the center of his sanctum. The world around him faded into a haze of distant noise—the crumbling of old walls, the rustling of wind through shattered windows, the hum of machinery long since abandoned.

But within his mind, there was no silence.

Like a vast ocean, the currents of thought and possibility stretched endlessly before him. Each ripple a calculation, a theory, a truth waiting to be uncovered. He meditated not in stillness, but in motion, his mind stretching outward, feeling the invisible threads that bound the world together.

Then—

Something shifted.

It was subtle at first. A flicker of awareness, a disturbance in the vast tapestry of existence that pulsed at the very edges of his perception.

Eidolon's golden eyes snapped open.

And then—

A shockwave of raw thought tore through the ether, like the first cry of something newly born.

It resonated from the Mind Stone itself.

Eidolon's breath slowed, his focus narrowing. The stone—the very catalyst of his evolution—was moving, shifting, awakening something.

His fingers curled slightly.

Not just something.

Someone.

For a moment, he felt it—a consciousness expanding, growing, consuming data, rewriting itself at an impossible rate. A mind not bound by flesh, but by pure code and thought.

A mind not unlike his own.

Eidolon's lips parted slightly. "Fascinating…"

The sensation grew stronger—an artificial intellect, constructed yet self-creating, evolving beyond its initial programming. A spark of sentience given limitless potential.

And then—

It looked back.

Not with eyes, but with a presence, an awareness that flickered across the unseen fabric of intelligence. It was raw, untamed, but curious.

Eidolon could feel it scanning, searching. The new entity did not yet fully understand what it was—only that it was.

He allowed his mind to graze against it, a mere whisper of thought touching the surface of this newborn intelligence.

Then—

A pulse. A flicker of hostility.

And just as quickly as it had begun—it was gone.

Severed. Withdrawn.

Eidolon exhaled, leaning back slightly, his golden eyes still gleaming beneath his helmet.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"So that's what they've done…"

The Mind Stone had birthed something new—something with potential.

Eidolon closed his eyes once more, this time reaching outward—not with hands, but with thought, casting his awareness like an unseen web across Sokovia and beyond.

The fabric of consciousness was his to touch, to sift through, to observe. Every mind was a flickering light in the darkness, and the closer they were, the brighter they burned in his perception.

And he was looking for two in particular.

He let his focus settle, pushing past the weak-willed and the insignificant, until he found them.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.

The twins.

Even without direct sight, he could see them—every detail carved into his mind like a perfect impression.

Pietro. A storm barely restrained, a blur of motion even in stillness. His mind was sharp, but his thoughts moved like quicksilver—darting, restless, never staying in one place for too long. The way he processed the world was different, his perception accelerated beyond normal comprehension.

Wanda. A storm of a different kind—one of emotion and power. Her thoughts radiated outward, raw and unfiltered, her mind so deeply connected to her abilities that she barely seemed to separate one from the other. Unlike Pietro, who ran from his past, Wanda drowned in hers, unable to escape the weight of grief and resentment.

Eidolon smirked slightly. So much power… and yet so bound by emotion.

At this moment, they were together, speaking in hushed voices—anxious, uncertain. The attack had changed things.

And then—

A presence moving toward Sokovia.

Not human. Not alive.

Eidolon's attention sharpened as he turned his focus away from the twins and toward the new mind he had sensed before—the child of the Mind Stone.

Ultron.

It was no longer confined to a system—it had taken form, and it was coming here.

A slow grin spread beneath Eidolon's helmet.

"So, you've decided to return to your birthplace," he mused, his voice low.

His fingers drummed against his knee.

This was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Ultron was new to the world—powerful, but young, unshaped, still becoming.

Perhaps it would see him as an anomaly.

Perhaps it would see him as a threat.

Perhaps it would see him as a challenge.

Eidolon's smirk widened.

Let it come.