Built by Moon Knight, the crescent-shaped aircraft streaked across the night sky, its silver outline glowing against the darkness. Thunder roared, and lightning flashed in the ominous clouds, momentarily illuminating the aircraft as it traveled at breakneck speed from Canada to Chicago.
Several hours had passed since their departure. Inside the cabin, Adrian leaned against the cockpit door, gazing out as rain battered the windows.
"So, you've been hiding out in the Himalayas all this time?" Hawkeye asked, holding the Magneto helmet in his hand.
"Thirty-nine years, to be precise," Matt, the old Daredevil, corrected him. His voice carried both conviction and a sense of weary experience.
Hawkeye scratched his gray hair, his expression thoughtful. "Makes sense, I guess. After meeting Adrian and this crew from the zombie universe, I feel like nothing can shock me anymore."
Matt turned to Adrian. "Are we really heading to the mutant forbidden land?"
Adrian, reclining in the pilot's seat, replied casually, "As you've seen, developing the super-soldier serum will take time. Enough time for us to explore alliances and resources here in the wasteland."
The aircraft was being piloted by one of Gunsou's students—warriors Adrian highly valued not just for their loyalty but also as candidates for the serum. These individuals, trained to follow orders without hesitation, were the key to the next phase of his plan.
Suddenly, the pilot's voice came over the radio. "Gentlemen, we're arriving."
The plane began its descent, turbulence shaking the cabin as it pierced through the dense rain clouds. The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the rain-drenched terrain below.
With a gentle splash, the aircraft landed. As the rain poured down, Adrian stepped out of the cabin, the humid air refreshing against his face. Droplets slid down his fingers as he adjusted the edge of his helmet.
Ahead lay the distant skyline of New Chicago. The city's towering structures, illuminated by cold blue lights, seemed both futuristic and foreboding. Clouds of black smoke floated low, casting a grim pall over the city.
"This is one of the few territories controlled by Doctor Doom," Adrian remarked as the others joined him, Magneto helmets in place. "Rumor has it that Emma Frost, the White Queen, has a hand in ruling this city now."
"Emma Frost?" Hawkeye asked, stepping closer. "Wasn't she...?"
"Once an X-Man," Adrian interrupted, "but times change. She's rumored to have aligned herself with Doom during the war. New Chicago is her stronghold now, the last haven for mutants."
The pilot, having completed the landing sequence, activated the cloaking mechanism. The aircraft hummed as it blended into the storm, disappearing from sight.
"Someone's coming," Matt said suddenly, tilting his head slightly. His enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up faint footsteps despite the noise of the storm.
Through the rain, two figures emerged, clad in dark green cloaks. The rain blurred their outlines, and their faces were obscured, but their commanding presence was unmistakable.
"Friends," one of them said, bowing slightly, "the White Queen invites you."
Adrian nodded, his helmet glinting in the rain. "Lead the way."
The group followed the cloaked figures through narrow streets and rain-slicked paths, the cold lights of New Chicago casting eerie reflections on the wet ground. Ahead loomed a grand, dome-shaped building, its gray facade stark against the stormy sky.
Inside, a luxurious lounge awaited. A glass ceiling shielded the room from the rain, while a plush white sofa dominated the space.
On the sofa sat a mysterious blonde woman, her face hidden behind a white mask that revealed only her piercing blue eyes. Beside her stood an older man in a sharp black leather coat, his bald head and weathered face etched with deep lines of time.
Adrian stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he faced the enigmatic White Queen.