----------------------------------------
April 1st, 2010
The sun shone brightly over the sprawling grounds of UNICEF's new headquarters in Zimbabwe. The air was warm, carrying the scent of freshly tilled earth and blossoming flowers. A lot of effort had gone into transforming the space into a beacon of hope and progress for all of Africa's downtrodden.
Not so downtrodden anymore, perhaps, but transforming third world countries into one's with a living standard matching the first world - was not something that could be achieved in a measly year, despite Hammer Industries efforts.
The facility itself was a mix of modern design and more down to earth African architecture - mixing sleek glass buildings interspersed with green spaces - with circular enclosures with conical towers, all in a muted brown with marking of ancient times carved into its walls in geometrical patterns, showcasing the African heritage side of things.
All of the buildings bustled with activity as staff moved with purpose - former UN staff moving with pep in their step as they finally actually got to perform their mandates. Suits and fine dresses mingling with traditional robes and Burqas as the multicultural agency thrived.
The end of poverty, of water scarcity, of soil erosion devastating farm lands - it was all now within reach.
Justin strode confidently through the courtyard of the largest building - the main offices of UNICEF - the other ones relegated to satellite status and outreach offices, while the major players moved here. His tailored suit looked sharp against the vibrant backdrop of nature, and artificial waterfalls and fountains that dotted the space.
Beside him, Jean Grey walked with measured steps, trying to mask her nerves, her eyes scanning the area with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Ororo Munroe trailed behind, her posture relaxed but her keen eyes taking in every detail, her time as a leader of the organization evident in her calm appraisal.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Justin said, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice carried an edge of pride as he gestured toward the main building, its mirrored surfaces reflecting the brilliant blue sky. "This is where the magic happens - at least for Africa at this time. Southeast Asia and the Middle East are next on the list for an expansion of assistance, but this is the beating heart of it all."
He'd have preferred to draw Jean in closer than this, the Phoenix was something that made him wary, but that was also why he refused to push for more. He couldn't even be sure she held the primordial force of the universe - but he'd operate on the assumption she did.
Hence baby steps on the recruitment angle.
As usual, Xavier had been entirely full of inane talk without revealing anything pertinent, when he'd subtly probed about the woman before her confirmation as head of UNESCO.
Jean nodded, her fingers brushing nervously against the hem of her blazer. "It's… incredible. The scale of it all. I never imagined - " She cut herself off nervously, shaking her head slightly. "I'm just not sure I'm the right person for this."
"You are," Justin said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's all yours. You're the head now, I've decided."
It was already done, he wasn't about to lead Jean slip hack into something as worthless as being part of the X-Men.
If they even existed anymore in anything but name, Xavier had lost plenty of students and team members since Cairo, after all.
Jean stopped in her tracks, blinking up at him in surprise. "Just like that? Mr Hammer, I'm new to this. I can't just -"
"You can," Justin interrupted smoothly, his gaze steady. "Ororo was the head. Now you are. Simple, two fantastic women cut from the same cloth, you'll do great."
Ororo gave her a warm smile as gently touched her shoulder, showing her support.
Jean's brows knitted together as she crossed her arms, her expression a mix of frustration and doubt. "No, it's not that simple. What will people think? They'll say I'm unqualified, that I don't deserve this -"
"That you're sleeping with him," Ororo said dryly, cutting Jean off with a knowing smirk.
Jean's face turned beet red as she whirled toward Ororo. "But I'm not!" She protested, her voice almost a squeak.
"They'll think it," Justin said with a shrug, unfazed by the comment. "But one day of working under you, and they'll realize you have what it takes to do this job and didnt sleep your way to it." His voice was calm, almost casual, but the conviction in his words was unmistakable.
Now if she did end up in his bed… He wouldn't complain.
Although after he'd figured out how to shut down his swimmers - Jean Grey becoming pregnant wasn't a risk he wanted to take.
Ororo's smirk softened into a small smile as she placed a reassuring hand on Jean's shoulder, more firmly this time. "He's right. You're more capable than you give yourself credit for. And once you start, no one will question why you're here - and this is exactly what you need, what you've dreamed of."
Jean let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks," She said quietly, though her cheeks still burned. "It is… A wonderful opportunity."
Justin resumed walking, leading them toward the main building. "This will be your main office," He explained. "We've got teams working across Africa, Latin America, the Caribbean, that you'll oversee, but we're also expanding into Southeast Asia and the Middle East. There's still a lot to be done to get everyone to the same standard, and your organization will be the bridge, stabilizing things until Hammer Industries can uplift them."
Jean glanced at him curiously. "Africa isn't almost done?"
Justin chuckled, shaking his head. Ororo joined in with a soft laugh, her tone light but tinged with understanding. "Nowhere close," Justin said. "We've made significant progress, sure, but there are still areas under third-world conditions. Poverty will likely be a thing of the past here within a year, maybe a year and a half. It's been one of our biggest focuses."
"And your biggest bragging point," Ororo added with a teasing smile. Jean gave her a surprised look at how… Comfortable, she seemed with him.
Ororo gave her a look that said she'd explain later, and Jean let it go.
Justin smirked at Ororo, having caught the silent byplay. "Can you blame me? Look around. This isn't just talk - it's results. But there's still more to do, which is why you're here," He said, looking pointedly at Jean.
They entered the main building, and Justin led the way through brightly lit corridors lined with artwork and photographs of smiling children, eventually leading them to a large room where a setup for a photoshoot was visible. Cameras, lights, and backdrops were arranged with precision, while a small team of photographers and assistants bustled about.
Jean stopped in her tracks, raising an eyebrow. "What's all this?" She asked, gesturing toward the setup.
Ororo's eyes gleamed with mischief. "It's for the children," She said innocently.
Jean gave her a long-suffering look. "This isn't going to help with people thinking I slept my way to the top." She said wryly, not really against it, more exasperated than anything. She gave Justin a look.
He raised his hands, a smirk on his face, "For once, I am completely innocent."
He'd still signed off on it, but it hadn't been his idea.
Ororo's smirk widened as she crossed her arms and gave Jean a playful look. "Remember the photoshoot you all teased me for? The one I did to push a metahuman-friendly agenda and boost UNICEF's profile? Well," She said, giving Jean a playful push toward the setup, "Your turn to dazzle the masses."
Jean huffed, crossing her arms but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You know, I'm not shy. I'll do it. But," She added with a sly grin, "I bet I'll sell more calendars than you did."
Ororo's eyes narrowed, as she scoffed with a playful air. "There is no chance that you'll sell more than me, this goddess can't be defeated by a mere pupil."
Jean's smirk turned triumphant as she strutted toward the photographer, her confidence returning in full force. "Watch and learn, Ororo."
Justin watched from the sidelines, amused at how easily Ororo had gotten Jean to put her best foot forward, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a pillar. "She's a natural," He remarked, glancing at Ororo.
Ororo shrugged, though her expression betrayed a hint of amusement. "She'll be great at this job, the photoshoot is just a way to get back to her for her teasing," She said, her tone confident. "But there's no way she outsells me."
Justin chuckled, shaking his head. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."
"I am," Ororo said firmly. "I'm iconic, the face of metahumans thanks to your campaign."
The photoshoot continued, the energy in the room light and playful. Jean's laughter echoed as she bantered with the photographer and assistants, her earlier nerves all but forgotten. She turned to Ororo at one point, striking a dramatic pose and calling out, "This one's for the cover!"
Ororo rolled her eyes, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her amusement. "At least she's having fun with it," She muttered.
Halfway through the shoot, they moved away from Jean and let her have her moment, Ororo and Justin coming to stand near the large windows that overlooked the sprawling grounds.
Ororo crossed her arms, her posture relaxed but her expression thoughtful as she gazed out over the grounds. Justin stood beside her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. For a moment, neither spoke, the quiet between them comfortable.
"So," Justin began, breaking the silence, "how are you feeling?"
Ororo turned to look at him, her white, almost silvery hair, catching the light as a small smile curved her lips. "About what, exactly? The facility? The calendar contest Jean seems determined to win? Or…" Her hand drifted to her stomach, her fingers resting there lightly. "Are you asking about the baby you put in me?"
Justin's lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his gaze softened a tad. "The baby," He confirmed. "I know this probably wasn't in your plans, and… Well, I wanted to check in. Make sure you're doing okay."
He knew she'd intended to seduce him so that mutants - or metahumans as they're now called - would have a voice in the new world order.
But he doubted she'd planned on baby trapping him. That one was on him and his powerful seed.
Ororo's smile widened slightly, though her eyes held a flicker of amusement. "Are you about to apologize, Justin? I didn't think that was in your repertoire."
Justin chuckled, leaning one shoulder against the window frame. "Don't get used to it," He said dryly. "But yeah, I guess I am. I didn't exactly set out to… Defeat your birth control, but it turns out divine biology doesn't care much about human intentions."
Ororo arched an eyebrow, her tone playful. "Is that what you're calling it now? Divine biology?"
"It's accurate," Justin replied with a shrug, though his smirk returned. "Doesn't make it any less annoying, though, if it's… Unwanted." He finished delicately.
Ororo laughed softly, shaking her head. "It's not entirely your fault," She admitted. "I knew what I was getting into when I got involved with you, even if I didn't expect… This." She gestured vaguely toward her stomach, her expression turning more contemplative. "And honestly? I'm okay with it. Surprised, yes. But pleased."
Justin tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Pleased?" He repeated. "I wasn't aware you had aspirations of motherhood. If anything, I had expected some anger, or resentment."
There was a big difference between selling your body for your race, and signing on for 18 years of child rearing.
Ororo met his gaze, her eyes steady and calm. "I've always wanted children, it's why i enjoyed being a teacher so much," She said simply. "It's not something I've talked about much, but it's true. And while I might not have chosen you as the father if given the choice," She added with a teasing smile and frank honesty, "I won't deny that this child will have certain… Advantages."
Justin snorted softly. "Advantages, huh? Is that your polite way of saying you'll be mooching off my riches and my godhood?"
Ororo laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Something like that," She said, her voice tinged with amusement. "But in all seriousness, Justin, this isn't a bad thing. Unexpected, yes. Complicated, definitely. But not bad."
Justin studied her for a moment, his smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. "You're taking this a lot better than I expected," He admitted. "Of all the people, I would have thought you would be the most uncomfortable with this scenario."
Their tryst had been passionate but brief, and they hadn't yet revisited the matter, Justin too busy and surrounded by other women happily taking care of his needs.
Ororo shrugged, her gaze drifting back to the view outside. "I've learned to adapt," She said. "Life doesn't always go the way we plan, and I've had my fair share of unexpected challenges. This is just another one. And honestly?" She smiled softly, her hand still resting on her stomach. "I'm looking forward to it."
Justin nodded slowly, a hint of respect in his expression. "You're a lot more level-headed about this than I'd be," He said. "Not that I have much of a choice anymore, with thirty-eight kids on the way."
Ororo's eyes widened slightly, and she turned to him with a look of incredulity. "Thirty-eight?" She repeated. "Justin, what on Earth -"
"Divine biology and a healthy appetite," Justin interrupted, holding up a hand. "Apparently, it's incredibly effective. Trust me, I already know how crazy this is."
Ororo shook her head, though she couldn't hide the faint smile on her lips. "You're such a slut," She said, her tone half-amused, half-reproving.
"Maybe," Justin said with a smirk. "But at least I'm consistent."
The two fell into a companionable silence, the weight of their conversation balanced by the ease of their banter. After a moment, Ororo spoke again, her tone more serious.
"Justin," She said, turning to face him fully. "I want you to know that while I'm okay with this, I have certain expectations."
Justin raised an eyebrow, his expression placid, as he had a good idea what she meant. "Oh? Do tell."
Ororo's gaze was steady, her voice firm but not unkind. "This child will have a stable life. A safe life. I know you thrive on chaos, but that's not what I want for them. If you're going to be involved, I need to know that you'll prioritize their well-being, instead of setting up some sort of inheritance game, forcing them to grow up too soon."
Justin nodded, his expression serious. "I get it," He said. "And you don't have to worry. I'm not planning to raise a bunch of mini-me's running around causing chaos. They'll have everything they need - and then some. I don't need another me, I'm irreplaceable."
He hadn't wanted kids right now in the first place, so it wasn't a hardship to agree to being hands off, it was a relief if anything.
Ororo's lips quirked into a small smile. "I'll hold you to that."
"You should," Justin said with a smirk. "Keeps me honest."
----------------------------------------
2nd of April, 2010, Budapest.
The small café on the quiet streets of Budapest was unremarkable, tucked between a patisserie and a clothing boutique. Its charm lay in its simplicity - cozy wooden furniture, checkered tablecloths, and the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with hints of pastries.
The lunchtime crowd had thinned, leaving only a handful of patrons scattered at tables. Among them, at a corner table shrouded in shadow, sat Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, their postures tense despite their casual disguises, her hair dyed blonde, like his, while he'd also added a fake beard, to sell their disguise as brother and sister.
Their fake IDs were easily able to hold up to police scrutiny, if not an actual intelligence agency.
Clint adjusted his baseball cap, his eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. "She's late," He muttered, the impatience in his voice poorly hidden.
"She'll come," Natasha replied, her tone measured but tinged with uncertainty. She stared at her untouched espresso, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup. "She's got the upper hand, no reason to move on anything but her own time."
Clint sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And if she doesn't? What if she decided to turn us in instead?"
Natasha's lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn't allowed herself to voice that possibility, but now that Clint had said it out loud, it hung between them like an accusation. "Then I wouldn't blame her," She admitted quietly, her voice barely audible above the soft clinking of cutlery in the background. "Not after everything..."
They'd backed the wrong horse. right or wrong, what did it matter?
Before Clint could respond, the café's door opened, the chime above it ringing softly. Both Clint and Natasha's gazes snapped toward the entrance, their muscles taut with anticipation. Yelena stepped inside, dressed casually in jeans and a black leather jacket, several ornate rings around each forearm, her long blond hair pulled into a loose braid. Her confident stride carried her to their table with an air of purpose, but it was the figure trailing behind her that made Clint and Natasha exchange a wary glance.
Domino strolled in behind Yelena, her dark hair framing a face that was equal parts amused and watchful. She didn't sit with them, instead choosing a table a few feet away where she could see everything. She locked eyes with Natasha, pointing two fingers from her eyes to Natasha's in an unmistakable gesture of warning.
Their file on Domino by the end of their time with SHIELD had really only had one word of advice on engaging her up close.
Don't.
Yelena slid into the seat across from Natasha, her eyes cool and unreadable. She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You're both still alive," She said dryly. "At least you didn't fuck that up."
Natasha gave her a faint smile, her hands tightening around her cup. "Thanks for coming, Yelena."
Yelena didn't respond immediately, her gaze flicking over Natasha before settling on Clint. "You brought him," She said, her tone neutral but with a hint of something sharper beneath.
"Clint's family," Natasha said simply. "Just like you."
Yelena arched an eyebrow. "Family," She repeated, the word laced with irony. "Is that why you've decided to meet me here? To remind me of our - so very important - family ties?"
Natasha hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "I just… Wanted to talk, clear the air." She said finally. "To congratulate you, actually. You've done well for yourself. A top position in the new world order - it's impressive."
Some flattery wouldn't hurt. Because Natasha had a feeling she wouldn't get out of this without some pain on her end. Yelena had not been impressed with her excuses when they'd talked over the phone.
Yelena's lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. "Is this the part where you start begging?" She lightly mocked.
Clint bristled, leaning forward. "Hey, you don't have to talk to her like that."
Natasha tried to impress with her gaze that he was not being helpful, but he ignored her to glare at Yelena.
Yelena's expression didn't falter, but her smile grew sharper as she looked at Clint. "Calm down, Hawkeye," She said mockingly. "No one's forced you to kneel and bark on command, yet."
Natasha raised a hand to stop Clint from escalating. "We're not here to fight," She said gently. "We're here because… Because we were wrong. About a lot of things, and to… Apologize."
Natasha would honestly prefer to pull her teeth out with pliers, but she had no other play left but to… Bow before her little sister.
Yelena's smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. "Wrong, huh? That's putting it lightly." She tilted her head, her voice taking on a singsong quality. "Did you know there's an orbital laser aimed at this café right now? Along with five teams of operatives surrounding the building and drones stationed at every possible exit?"
Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance, alarm flashing across Clint's face. "You're bluffing," He said, though his tone lacked confidence.
Yelena held up a finger, her expression smug. "Not bluffing," She said. "I have people who care about me, who would go to the ends of the earth for me. People who protect me." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing. "All the things you two threw away to follow a nutjob, for some silly idea of democracy."
Clint opened his mouth to retort, but Natasha laid a hand on his arm, silencing him. She turned to Yelena, her expression somber. "She's right, Clint," Natasha said softly. "We played the wrong side." Her voice wavered slightly as she met Yelena's gaze. "That's why we're here. We're sorry."
Yelena's smirk remained, but her eyes were locked on Natasha's. "Is that what you call groveling and begging?" She asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "A simple sorry?"
Clint's jaw tightened, and he looked like he was about to say something sharp, but before he could, he let out a grunt of pain, grabbing for his leg under the table. Natasha had clearly kicked him, though her expression remained calm.
"We really doing this, sis?" Natasha asked Yelena, her voice tinged with long-suffering exasperation. Trying one last time to play on their connection.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Yelena raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning knowing. "Oh, yeah," She said with feeling. "We're doing this."
Natasha sighed, looking around the café before visibly swallowing her pride. "Fine. I was wrong. You were right. You're smarter, prettier, and a better fighter than me, okay?"
Yelena made a thoughtful humming sound, tapping her chin as though considering Natasha's words. She turned her head slightly, calling out to Domino. "That sound like enough, Dom? What do you think?"
Domino, who had been watching the interaction with a cold smirk, raised her voice just enough for the entire café to hear. "Make her lick your feet! She should really beg for forgiveness…"
Natasha froze, her expression incredulous, while Clint muttered, "What the fuck," Under his breath.
Yelena turned back to Natasha, her smirk now positively gleeful. She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her sister's discomfort. "Well?" She asked, her tone mockingly sweet.
Natasha let out a long sigh, resting her forehead against her arms on the table. "We really doing this, Yelena?" She asked, her voice muffled.
"Maybe not that far," Yelena acknowledged, though her tone was still light with amusement. "You are my sister after all. But a little humiliation isn't amiss."
Natasha lifted her head, her expression one of weary resignation. "How much more humiliating do you want it? Isn't it enough that I slept with Justin Hammer? That's enough humiliation on its own."
Yelena's expression darkened instantly, her smirk vanishing as storm clouds seemed to gather in her eyes.
Clint, sensing the change in atmosphere, elbowed Natasha sharply. "Uh, I'm no expert on sisterhood," He said under his breath, "but maybe don't make fun of the guy she's with?"
Natasha winced, realizing too late her mistake. "Where's your groveling, Clint?" She snapped back, though her contrite tone betrayed her regret.
Clint glared at her. "I didn't do any because you said - and I quote - 'Let me handle my sister, Clint.'"
Yelena's expression regained its sharp edge as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "So," She said coldly, her voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement. "Where were we? Licking my feet, was it?"
Natasha sighed again, rubbing her temples. "What will it take to get me out of this hole?" She asked straight-up, her tone resigned.
Yelena's grin returned, slow and dangerous, her eyes practically sparkling.
"Fuck," Natasha muttered under her breath, already dreading what was coming.
Clint leaned in slightly, his expression half-exasperated, half-annoyed. "Aren't you supposed to be good at this?" He asked her pointedly.
"Shut up Clint!"
----------------------------------------
April 2nd, late evening, Moon base one.
The moon base's robotics laboratory was a masterpiece of engineering, and now it was all his. The facility was massive, its walls of reinforced alloys reflecting the cold, sterile glow of artificial lights. In the center of it all lay the dismantled remains of several Sentinels, including what was left of Master Mold, or Calamity, if one cared about its name.
Justin stood before it all, surveying the scattered parts with a keen eye. Around him, his team of brilliant, if eccentric, scientists worked on deciphering every iota of the Sentinels, from programming down to the metallurgy components in their toes. Ivan Vanko, Forge, and Doctor Otto Octavius were all in various stages of examination and disassembly, their hands and minds working in perfect synchronicity.
For Justin, today felt different. There was an undeniable energy in the room, a seamless flow to their efforts that seemed to come from nowhere. His godhood of innovation had been subtly tapped into, and the result was extraordinary. Ideas formed and clicked into place without hesitation. Tools moved with precision, and every piece of the Sentinel seemed to reveal its secrets as if offering itself up willingly.
Justin felt such inspiration, his mind was already awhirl with ideas and possible adaptations, the dominion of innovation stronger for him then it was for those mortals he shared it out with by his presence.
Forge leaned over one of the Sentinel's core processors, his hands a blur as he dismantled its intricate circuitry. "This thing's design is insane," He muttered, his voice tinged with awe. "It's like peeling back the layers of a goddamn onion, and every layer just makes more sense than the last - even if it shouldn't make sense at all, or work, with the technology on hand."
"You sound like little boy, falling in love," Vanko teased, his thick Russian accent slurring slightly. He lifted a bottle of vodka to his lips, taking a hearty swig before setting it down next to a half-disassembled servo mechanism.
Forge didn't miss a beat, his smirk visible even as he worked. "At least my 'love' has a purpose for the betterment of the world. Unlike your obsession with drinking until your brain cells spit out an idea as a desperate bid for survival."
"Vodka good for thinking," Vanko retorted, gesturing grandly with his bottle. "Makes mind loose. Not like you, always so tight now, was better when both drinking, you want drink now?"
Forge snorted. "Yeah, I'll pass. Besides, I don't need liquid courage to deal with my work - or women, like you. You drink a lot more now that you're taken, can't handle it, huh?"
Vanko barked out a laugh. "Women? You mean your hand?" He raised an eyebrow, grinning lecherously. "Do you take out for dinner first?" He mocked.
Forge grinned back, entirely unfazed. "Unlike you, I'm an engineer. The things I can build are better than a woman in every way, pressure, vibration, suction, and most importantly, it doesn't talk."
Doctor Octavius looked disgusted, muttering under his breath, "That was more than I ever wished to know…" His mechanical arms were busy sketching for him as he worked on three different projects at once.
Justin watched the exchange with a bemused smile, even as he tinkered with Calamity's parts. "Are you two done comparing your prowess as men? Or should I order popcorn for the inevitable fight?"
Vanko waved a hand dismissively, returning his attention to the pieces he'd disassembled from the Sentinel. "Let boy talk. He know I better at everything. No need argue."
With the innovation domain spread out across them due to Justin's influence, Vanko, like the others, had already sketched out numerous blueprints based on what they'd found, shooting humanities knowledge of robotics dozens of years forward.
Doctor Octavius, standing on the other side of the room, giving himself some space from the others, let out a sigh. "Why am I even here?" He muttered, his tone exasperated. "I'm surrounded by reprobates. Science is the only language I speak, and it seems wasted in this room."
Vanko looked up from his work, narrowing his eyes at Otto. "Repro-what? You calling names, octopus?"
Otto sighed, adjusting his glasses. "It means degenerates, simpletons. And yes, I'm calling you that, you drunk."
Justin scratched his chin, not even noticing the oil he covered himself in, feeling quite odd about the fact even with the influence hyper charging their scientific abilities - it didn't stop them from putting it aside to focus on being utter asses.
Vanko's face split into a grin as he grabbed his vodka bottle and pointed it at Otto. "Well, octopus, I maybe not know what all means, still going to beat you up for being pussy."
"You're drunk," Otto replied flatly. "I could take you."
Forge, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, perked up. "Oh, I'm putting fifteen hundred dollars on Vanko," He said eagerly, grinning as he set down his tools.
Otto turned to him with an incredulous expression. "We're not actually fighting. I was simply making an observation on his readiness."
The room fell silent for a moment as Vanko stood abruptly, swaying slightly before ripping off his shirt and letting out a loud roar. "Let's fight, octopussy!" He bellowed, his chest bare and his stance unsteady.
Justin palmed his face at the - property of Zara - tattoo he could see, barely covered by the line of Vanko's lagging sweatpants. His Black Widows did really go the extra mile at times…
Otto froze, his mechanical arms halting their work as he stared at Vanko in disbelief. "This is absurd," He muttered, glancing at Justin for support. "Tell him this is beneath us."
Justin smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I believe in you, Otto." He said, not inclined to save him.
The scientist was prone to condescend to the others, so this was long overdue, he felt.
And maybe afterwards, they could go back to the science like what they were here for!
Forge grinned, folding his arms. "So, what's your bet, boss?"
Justin's expression didn't change as he replied casually, "I'm betting on Vanko, of course."
Otto gave him a withering look. "Your belief didn't last long, did it, sir?"
Justin chuckled, shaking his head. "I believe in you plenty, Otto. But when it comes to money, I only pick winners." He tilted his head toward Vanko, who was now shadowboxing clumsily. "And I believe in Vanko more - he's stronger when drunk."
Otto sighed, muttering under his breath about the futility of his situation. As Vanko lunged toward him, Otto's mechanical arms moved with precision, swiping Vanko aside effortlessly and tossed him against the nearest wall. "This is beneath me," Otto said with disdain.
Before anyone could respond, a bottle of vodka soared through the air and struck Otto squarely on the head, shattering and soaking him in the process.
Otto's eye twitched.
----------------------------------------
April 3rd, 2010, United States of America.
The old pickup truck rattled slightly as it rolled down the narrow country road, dust kicking up behind its tires. The faint smell of oil and aged leather filled the cab, mingling with the quiet hum of the engine. Bucky sat behind the wheel, one hand casually draped over the top, the other resting lightly on the stick shift.
Beside him, Steve sat hunched in the passenger seat, his ball cap pulled low over his face, and his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.
Hammer had given Bucky carte blanche to do what he wished with his old friend. As long as it didn't come back and bite Hammer Industries.
He'd been unsure for a long time about fighting for Hammer, but it seemed the best choice, now even more so. HYDRA was dead, his soul almost at piece with that knowledge, something that couldn't have happened without Hammer.
Not with how deeply HYDRA had entrenched itself in the government's and intelligence apparatuses around the world.
For Steve, the weight of everything he'd missed - and everything that had gone wrong - seemed heavier than ever. Especially after Bucky had shared his point of view, and all that Hammer had done, comparing that to what Steve's 'benefactors' had ever done for the world.
Especially once he found out from his best friend that Peggy hadn't been 'taken' by Hammer as a hostage. She'd been removed for Bucky's sake, and healed of the debilitating disease she'd had.
"Tell me again," Steve said quietly, his voice tinged with both hope and apprehension. "She's okay? She's really okay?"
Bucky glanced at him, his expression softer than usual. "Yeah, Steve. She's more than okay. Panacea works miracles like that." He flexed his metal fingers idly, on the hand he'd refused to let grow back, having kept his metal arm to remind him of his crimes, maybe he was ready now? "Hammer's got his faults, but saving Peggy and others like her? That's worth every fault in my book, Steve."
Steve nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. "It's hard to believe she'd even… Agree to it."
Bucky smirked, shifting gears as the truck climbed a small hill. "You think Peggy Carter wouldn't take the chance to kick death in the teeth? You don't know her as well as you think."
Steve's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, fear shining through. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still… I'm nervous, Buck. It's been so long. What if…?"
"She'll be glad to see you," Bucky interrupted firmly. Then, after a pause, He added with a wry grin, "After she finishes yelling at you."
Steve let out a soft laugh, but it was laced with anxiety. "Yeah, probably."
The truck hit a bump in the road, and Steve grabbed onto the door handle instinctively. As the vehicle steadied, he turned his gaze to Bucky, his brows furrowing. "So… She's okay with not working with SHIELD anymore? Not trying to save it at all?"
She'd created the organization, it had been half the reason Steve had been so quick to dance to Fury's tune. He'd been helping the organization she built.
Bucky shook his head, his expression darkening slightly. "Nope. She made it real clear she was done with them. Said she'd seen enough to know they couldn't be trusted to exist - not with how they had HYDRA crawling around inside, not after what they did… Or didn't do..."
Steve winced, guilt flickering across his face. "Because of me."
Bucky rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes on the road. "Steve, not everything's about you. SHIELD screwed up on a whole bunch of levels long before you thawed and Peggy hates it. Let's not forget they didn't figure out HYDRA was playing them from the inside for decades. They let Howard die due to that infiltration, and they never came looking for me either, which burns Peggy something fierce now." His grip on the wheel tightened for a moment before he let out a breath. "Peggy saw all that history now, saw how broken it was, and decided she wasn't gonna waste her time fighting for something that wasn't worth saving."
Peggy had been the first to applaud Hammer's complete dismantling of everything she built.
She still didn't like him.
But she respected him.
Which was fair enough. Bucky worked for him, and he didn't like him either. You didn't have time like people to work with them.
Something Steve needed to learn.
Steve slumped back in his seat, his cap shadowing his face even more. "But… Democracy," He said weakly, his voice tinged with that old idealism, coming from a time long gone.
Bucky gave him a sideways look, his expression flat. "Yeah, well, Peggy's seen what 'democracy' brought over the decades too. She's a little more open-minded now. Maybe you should try it."
SHIELD being what they were, their failures, it had really burned any empathy Peggy held for the government's of the world. They'd only succeeded in making everything worse, she'd said once her mind was returned to her.
Steve frowned, but he didn't argue. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the truck's engine. They drove on for a while, the tension thickening with every mile.
Finally, Steve broke the silence, his voice quiet and hesitant. "Is she… Is she going to hate me?"
Bucky's lips curved into a smirk, and he gave Steve a look filled with just a hint of schadenfreude.
"Oh, she is going to kick your ass," Bucky said with relish.
----------------------------------------
April 10th, 2010, Malibu.
The Malibu workshop was, as always, a playground for genius. Tony Stark's space was an eclectic mix of cutting-edge tech, half-finished experiments, and the lingering smell of ozone from a plasma welder left on as he got distracted by something else.
Holographic displays floated above the workstations, illuminating the space in a cool blue glow that reflected off the metal of the tools and machinery scattered around. Justin worked diligently at one of the workbenches, his eyes darting between Tony and the holograms as they worked on finalizing the designs for the weapons systems that would soon adorn Earth's orbital defense satellites.
With the stock of Pym Particles they had, they'd be able to build and launch a shield around the world in six months or so - if the projections held.
Soon enough, Tony and Banner would dig into solving the Pym Particles, and Justin didn't doubt it for a second that they would. Tony had made time travel work, he could do this.
Justin might even be able to if he leaned heavily into his different domains, but he didn't have the time. Tony had Pepper running his company and life - he had the time.
Justin wasn't entirely sure why Tony had invited him here to begin with. The man still didn't take him seriously as an equal, despite Justin's consistent successes in merging innovation and enterprise. He certainly didn't realize that Justin was flexing his domain over innovation itself to keep pace - because he didn't believe Justin was a god. Without that, matching Tony's rapid-fire thoughts would've been a challenge - even if Justin wasn't about to admit that out loud.
He hadn't souped Tony up on that juice, because he was honestly somewhat afraid that the man would create if he got even better at innovating tech.
Tony, oblivious to any divine intervention, was in his element of course. He was wearing a grease-stained tank top and jeans, his hands moving in a blur as he manipulated a holographic schematic of the satellite. "Alright, Hammer," Tony said without looking up, "Try to keep up."
Justin bit back a retort, focusing instead on the projection in front of him. It was a strong, modular design utilizing vibranium, outfitted with enough weaponry to make any alien invader think twice about messing with Earth. Justin frowned, tweaking a detail in the design. "You're cramming too much power into the particle cannons. They'll overheat before they get through a sustained barrage."
Even with Vibranium, there was only so much bang you could put in something. And it would be a waste to accidentally blow up that much vibranium.
Thankfully, with the world as it was, they were now, together, the sole occupants of the world's vibranium.
Well… Except for Namor, he should really do something about that blowhard soon…
Tony paused, glancing at Justin with a raised eyebrow. "Overheat? Please. This isn't amateur hour. Look -" He expanded the section Justin had adjusted, revealing an intricate cooling system. "These are superconductive heat sinks that with the power of pym particles will fit ten thousand sinks, to prevent issues. They'll keep the cannons cool enough to fire at full capacity for two hours straight."
They didn't have an alien ship to study, but one of these cannons could vaporize a navy battle cruiser in seconds, so it should do something to a spaceship.
Justin studied the design, grudgingly impressed. "Not bad. Two hours should be enough. What happens if the attack lasts longer than that? If it's a blockade?"
Tony grinned, gesturing to a secondary system embedded within the satellite. "Backup cooling. Liquid helium reservoirs, shrunk by the power of the Pym as well. It's a fail-safe in case things get hairy." And cheaper on Pym Particles too, Justin could see.
Justin nodded, conceding the point. "Alright. And what about the missile systems to compliment the other weaponry? Were you able to incorporate my thoughts, or forced to settle for more traditional weapons?"
Tony's grin widened. "Me, settle? Perish the thought. Check this out." He highlighted a series of cylindrical compartments on the satellite's underside. "These aren't just missiles - they're micro-railgun clusters. When fired, they break apart and magnetically accelerate a payload of tungsten rods, each about the size of a pencil at first thanks to - well you know what - flying away at hypersonic speeds. They hit with the force of a small nuke but without the messy fallout, just like you theorized."
Justin let out a low whistle. "That's… horrifyingly delicious, I knew I was a genius. What about power draw? Those missiles will eat through energy like crazy in each firing sequence, it's why I had hesitated over if they were worth it."
Tony waved a hand dismissively. "That's what the arc reactors are for. Each satellite gets its own reactor obviously. They're smallish, but powerful enough to keep everything running smoothly for decades."
And if they could crack Pym Particles quickly, they could afford to seed the satellites with backup arc generators by the dozens through miniaturization.
Justin frowned after a moment, pointing to another section of the schematic. "And the stabilizers? If one of those railgun missiles has a glitch and fires off-center, the satellite's rotation could go haywire."
Tony tapped a spot on the blueprint, pulling up the gyroscopic stabilization system. "Triple redundancies. Even if two stabilizers fail, the satellite will stay steady. And if all three fail? Well, that's why we're building hundreds of these bad boys. Redundancy in numbers."
Justin hummed in thought, shaking his head. "We do good work, but we'll definitely need to get on the Pym Particles immediately, the last half of the satellites could go up ten times as strong if we didn't have to ration particles."
Tony shot him a smug look. "It's me. I'll have it cracked in a week, tops."
Justin leaned closer to the hologram, his fingers dancing over the controls as he made a few minor adjustments, not dignifying Tony with an answer. Especially as he might pull it off. "Okay, let's focus on the laser defense systems? I'm assuming we're going with solid-state?"
Tony nodded, his expression turning serious. "Solid-state lasers, yeah. High-energy, continuous beam. They're perfect for precision strikes against anything fired against the satellite. But we're also integrating free-electron lasers for versatility. Those can be tuned on the fly, letting us adjust the wavelength and energy output depending on the target."
Justin's brow furrowed. "That's ambitious. Free-electron lasers require a lot of space. Can we even fit them onto the satellite before we've cracked Pyms formula?"
Tony grinned, pulling up another schematic. "Miniaturized electron accelerators without pym particles, I was bored last night. It's tight, but it works."
Justin studied the design, his mind racing. "Alright. And targeting systems? You added the backup I asked for in case Nail is somehow shut down?"
Nail could run the defense system by herself, but she'd been bypassed before, so he wasn't taking chances.
"Added a limited AI, yeah," Tony replied. "There's a manual override if we need it. And before you ask, yes, the AI is idiot-proof. I made sure of it."
The two men fell into a comfortable rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other as they refined the designs. The satellites were shaping up to be marvels of engineering - powerful, efficient, and terrifyingly effective.
As the holographic display flickered away for a moment, Justin leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Alright, Stark. Enough tech talk for a second. How's Pepper doing?"
Tony glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips. "She's good. Keeps me grounded. Keeps the company running. Honestly, she's the best thing that ever happened to me."
Justin smirked. "Smart, hot as sin, and tough as nails. You really hit the jackpot, didn't you?"
Personally, he had better women, but he wasn't going to rain on Tony's parade.
Tony's smile turned sly. "You don't even know the half of it. Let's just say that heat is even better in the bedroom, there's a reason I'm monogamous now."
Justin raised an eyebrow. "I don't need to know the details, Tony, we both know she wears the pants, you filthy bottom."
Tony laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Your loss, you're just jealous."
Justin shook his head, getting contemplative. "I couldn't do it, though. The whole 'forever' thing. I mean, I'm a god now. imagine the same woman for eternity..."
Tony groaned, rubbing his temples. "You're not a god, Hammer." He broke out two beers from a mini fridge, and tossed one to Justin, "Drink it and shut up, before I regret my life choices."
Justin looked at the beer with disdain. Without a word, he flicked his hand, creating a swirling portal in midair. He reached through, his arm disappearing into the glowing vortex, and pulled back a tropical drink in a coconut shell, complete with a colorful swirly straw.
Tony stared at the drink, then at Justin. "That's not godly. That's just you having freaky powers."
Justin shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Call it what you want."
Tony's eyes flicked back to the drink, then to Justin. "Okay, fine. Where's mine?"
Justin rolled his eyes and created another portal, reaching through to retrieve a second coconut drink. An indignant "Hey!" echoed faintly from the other side of the portal before it snapped shut.
"Don't tell Pepper you can grab alcohol from anywhere," Tony said as he grabbed the drink. "She'll totally ruin this playdate." He slurped loudly through the straw, leaning back with a satisfied sigh.
Justin smirked. "Whipped."
Tony's expression darkened comically even as his lips twitched, and then, without warning, he hurled a nearby wrench at Justin's head. The wrench struck Justin squarely on the forehead - and broke in two.
Tony stared at the broken pieces on the floor, his coconut drink frozen halfway to his lips. "You broke my favorite wrench." He complained.
From the speakers, Jarvis chimed in, his tone dry as ever. "Sir, you retrieved that wrench from a drawer filled with dozens of identical wrenches."
Tony pointed at the shattered remains. "But it was my favorite." He whined.
Jarvis warbled out a sigh. "Sir, we order a new drawer of wrenches every month." He reminded.
Justin chuckled, shaking his head. "Also, for the record, I didn't break it. You did."
Tony gestured at him with his drink, looking affronted. "It wasn't broken when it left my hand."
Justin gave him a bemused look. "Throwing things at a god means you lose them. It's a rule."
Tony slammed a hand down on the workbench, his coconut drink sloshing slightly. "You know what? Fine. I'm going to reform. Join the Church of Hammer. I could probably make high priest in a month with a few well-placed donations, if this is a thing now, I'll go all the way, how about that?."
Justin choked on his drink in horror.
----------------------------------------
The next day, Hammerhaven.
The spacious living room of Justin's penthouse was bathed in a warm, dim light, the kind meant for relaxation rather than business. The oversized screen on the far wall had just begun to scroll with the credits of a high-budget sci-fi flick, the score swelling dramatically as the audience - Justin, Domino, Yelena, and Eileen - sat in varying states of relaxation.
Domino and Eileen were comfortably curled up together on one of the couches, Domino's head resting lazily on Eileen's shoulder, her dark hair splayed against the other woman's pale neck. Eileen absently twirled a strand of Domino's hair between her fingers, her legs tucked up underneath her. Across the room, Justin and Yelena occupied the other couch, their postures less intertwined but no less comfortable. Yelena leaned back with her arms crossed, her feet tucked up on the cushions, while Justin reclined with one arm slung over the back of the couch.
The movie's dramatic final notes faded into softer, reflective tones as the credits rolled. Justin, ever the workaholic even during downtime, let out a contemplative hum that immediately put the others on edge.
"You know," He began, his tone casual but carrying the weight of one of his infamous ideas, "We really ought to rename Earth."
The room instantly tensed, though Justin didn't notice. Domino stiffened slightly in Eileen's arms, and Yelena glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her brow furrowing. Eileen's fingers froze mid-motion, her eyes darting to Domino's with a silent look that screamed, Oh no, here we go.
"What's wrong with Earth?" Yelena asked, trying to sound uninterested as she studied him.
Justin shrugged, staring up at the ceiling like the question had been bothering him for weeks. "It's just… Not dignified. A planet like this, under my leadership? It deserves something better. Something unique."
Hammertopia? HammerPrime? He'd have to workshop it.
Domino let out a nervous laugh, breaking the silence. "You're serious about this? Isn't Earth, like… Fine? Everyone knows it as Earth."
"Thor said others in the galaxy call it Terra," Eileen offered carefully, her voice measured as though she were navigating a minefield.
Justin turned that over in his head, his lips twitching in mild consideration. "Terra… It has a certain ring to it. But it doesn't sound special enough. Not for what we're building here."
The panicked looks were back, Domino shooting Eileen a quick what do we do? glance. Eileen, ever the composed one, tried again. "It might be bad luck to name it now," She said smoothly. "You know, when technically it's not all yours yet. Russia and China are still holding out, and then there's the whole Middle East situation…"
Domino latched onto the idea like a lifeline. "Exactly! You don't want to jinx it. Wait until you've got the whole thing sewn up before you start slapping your name on it."
Justin glanced between the two of them, his expression bemused, as though he couldn't quite understand why they were trying to talk him out of this. "I've already won," He said with a slight smirk. "It's fine. They'll fold eventually. I just need to think of the right name…"
"Let's go," Yelena cut in abruptly, rising from her seat and grabbing Justin's hand.
Justin blinked, caught off guard. "Go where?"
"Bedroom. Now." Yelena's tone left no room for argument.
Justin tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "What's gotten into you? We're in the middle of -"
"Now," Yelena said firmly, her eyes narrowing with determination. "I'll wear the outfit you like." She coaxed, "With the tail too…"
That stopped him in his tracks. A flicker of understanding crossed his face, followed by a slow grin. "You drive a hard bargain, Yelena," He murmured, standing and letting her lead him toward the hallway.
As they disappeared around the corner, Yelena glanced back at Domino and Eileen, her expression screaming - you owe me for this.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the two women alone in the living room. Domino exhaled loudly, her body sagging against Eileen in exaggerated relief. "Crisis averted."
Eileen snorted softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "For now."
Domino tilted her head back to look up at Eileen, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. "You know, we should really thank sex for its tireless service. Saved us all from living on Hammeropolis or something."
Eileen raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a laugh. "And how exactly do you propose we thank sex?"
Domino didn't answer with words. Instead, she leaned up and pressed her lips to Eileen's, her kiss slow and teasing, a murmur slipping through their joined mouths. "I have a few ideas."
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, San Francisco.
Darren Cross moved through the grand halls of his mansion with a storm of frustration swirling inside him. The ornate architecture, all sharp angles and gleaming surfaces, only served to irritate him further at the moment. Everything was pristine, flawless, but it felt hollow - a reflection of the control he no longer had over his life.
"Frozen out," Darren muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl as he marched toward the basement. "Stark, Banner, and Hammer think they can sideline me? Take my work? Take what I've built?" His jaw clenched, his hand tightening around the paper coffee cup he carried. The bitter liquid was lukewarm now, but he barely noticed. "I'll show them. I'll remind them why Darren Cross isn't someone to underestimate."
He reached the staircase leading down to his private vault, a spiral of polished steel. The faint hum of hidden security systems buzzed in the background, a sound Darren usually found comforting. Tonight, it felt oppressive. He paused briefly, setting the coffee cup on the ledge beside the first security checkpoint.
"Authorization: Darren Cross," He said flatly, placing his hand on the biometric scanner. A faint blue light swept over his palm, and the door clicked open with a soft hiss. He glanced at the cup as the door slid aside, intending to pick it back up once he stepped through.
But when he turned to grab it, the cup was gone.
Darren blinked, frowning. "What the…?" He scanned the ledge, but there was nothing there. For a moment, he stood frozen, confusion knitting his brow. "I must've forgotten it upstairs," He muttered, shaking his head. The thought didn't sit right - he was certain he'd brought it down - but he dismissed it, pushing through the door.
The second checkpoint required a retinal scan. Darren leaned forward, aligning his eye with the scanner. A red beam flickered across his iris, and a soft chime confirmed his identity. The door slid open, revealing a narrow corridor lined with metallic walls and glowing floor panels, doorways leading to different rooms holding his experiments with the pym particles.
He walked briskly, his footsteps muffled on the carpeted floor. As he moved, he glanced back over his shoulder, a habit born of years of paranoia. The hallway behind him was empty, he was sure of it, so why did he feel so… He quickened his pace, dismissing the uneasy feeling growing in his chest.
The third checkpoint loomed ahead: a massive, reinforced door that required a numbered code, a secondary handprint scan, and a vocal command with a separate passcode. Darren approached it with the confidence of routine, entering the code with practiced precision. His palm pressed against the scanner, the cold surface smooth beneath his touch as he spoke loudly and clearly,
"Hope Van Dyne." His voice steady despite the faint prickle of unease at the back of his neck.
The door unlocked with a mechanical thunk, the heavy bolts retracting as the circular portal slid open. Darren stepped inside his vault, exhaling slowly as the familiar sight of his sanctuary greeted him. Shelves lined the walls, meticulously organized with notes, prototypes, and fragments of his research. At the center of the room stood the safe - a gleaming behemoth of reinforced steel that housed his most valuable possession - the Ant-Man suit.
Darren moved toward the workbench, his eyes scanning the neatly arranged tools and components. He ran a hand over the cool surface, picking up a small device - a prototype he'd been tinkering with for weeks. It was light in his hand, its polished surface glinting under the overhead lights.
But when he set it down and turned away, he heard a faint clink. He froze, his brow furrowing. Turning back to the workbench, he stared at the spot where the device had been. It was gone.
"What the hell?" Darren muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting to the shelves and the floor. "Where did it go?"
Had he been mistaken?
He stepped back, scanning the room more thoroughly. His gaze lingered on the doorway for a moment, but there was nothing - no sign of intrusion, no flicker of movement. Shaking his head, he let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm overtired," He muttered, rubbing his temples. "That's all. I'm just… Tired."
As he walked toward the safe, the feeling of unease deepened. He couldn't shake the sensation that he was being watched. The air felt heavier, charged with something he couldn't identify. Darren forced himself to focus, entering the code for the safe with deliberate precision. The lock disengaged with a soft click, and the door swung open.
Inside, the Ant-Man suit gleamed under the lights, its black and red design a holdover from when Hank gave it to him, he'd have to change it of course, so it fit better with Darren's brilliance. He smiled faintly, his earlier frustration momentarily eclipsed by pride. "They think they can push me out," He murmured, reaching toward the suit. "But they don't understand the power I -"
A faint noise behind him made him freeze. It was subtle, like the whisper of fabric brushing against metal. Darren turned sharply, his heart pounding as his eyes swept the room. Nothing. The space was as still and silent as it had been moments ago.
"Get a grip," He muttered, exhaling sharply. He turned back to the safe, his hand reaching for the suit - only to find the compartment empty.
His stomach dropped. The suit was gone.
"No, no, no," Darren whispered, his voice rising with panic. He stepped back, his eyes darting around the room. "It was just here! It was right here!"
He grabbed at his belt, fumbling for the gun he always carried since Hope and Hank both died so close together. But when his hand touched the holster, it was empty. Darren's heart raced as he stared down at the bare leather strap. "What the hell is going on?" He muttered, his voice shaking.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he turned toward the workbench. The device he'd been holding earlier was back, sitting neatly where he'd left it. Darren took a step closer, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface.
Another noise - this time from the safe. Darren spun around, his pulse thundering in his ears. The Ant-Man suit was back, resting in the safe as if it had never been gone.
Darren stared at it, his chest heaving. His mind raced, desperately trying to rationalize what was happening. "I'm hallucinating," He said aloud, his voice cracking. "I've been working too hard. That's all this is."
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. When he opened them again, the suit was gone again.
"What is happening!?" Darren screamed, his voice echoing through the vault.
A soft, mocking laugh answered him.
----------------------------------------
Same night, Hammer's Space station.
The office space aboard the Hammer space station had a sprawling view of Earth framed by reinforced glass. Justin lounged in a high-backed chair, his fingers steepled under his chin as he reviewed a holographic map hovering over his desk. Next to him, Sunil Bakshi leaned forward, his sharp suit impeccable as always, as he processed Information through his mental implant.
"Reports from the western border indicate NATO has Russia boxed in nicely," Sunil said, his voice clipped and professional. "The economic sanctions are bleeding them, but they've been relying heavily on whatever resources they can trade with China. And on China's side -" He gestured at the eastern section of the map, glowing faintly with overlays of military activity, " - India, Japan, South Korea, and the U.S. are holding the line blocking them in. For now."
Justin nodded, his expression unreadable as he studied the map. "China and Russia propping each other up, huh? Like two drunks leaning on each other to stay upright." He leaned back in his chair, his tone laced with dry amusement. "It's almost poetic."
"Perhaps," Sunil allowed, adjusting his tie. "But it's effective. They're coordinating logistics and funneling resources to each other. It's keeping their regimes afloat."
Justin's lip curled into a faint smirk. "It won't last. You can only gun down so many protesters before the dam breaks. Civil unrest is a slow burn, but eventually, it'll consume them."
Sunil's brows knit together as he considered Justin's words. "We could expedite that process," He offered carefully. "Position ourselves, help the rebels succeed. Step in when things get to a head, and we'll have an easier time installing regimes that answer to us."
Justin let out a soft chuckle, the sound devoid of warmth. "Saviors? Sunil, we'll be seen as saviors no matter when we step in. The world has a short memory and a long history of bending the knee to whoever's left standing." He waved a dismissive hand. "No need to waste money and resources playing the hero here. Let the ingrates stew in their mess until they're desperate for a helping hand and beg us to take over."
Before Sunil could respond, the room's ambient lighting shifted faintly, signaling an unexpected intrusion. Justin straightened slightly, his keen eyes narrowing. In a shimmer of golden light, a figure materialized in the room. Tall and regal, Lady Freijya exuded an effortless grace, her flowing robes shifting like liquid starlight. Her smile was warm, but the sharp glint in her eyes suggested a depth of mischief that instantly put Justin on alert.
Justin rose slowly, smoothing the lapels of his suit. "Lady Freijya…" His tone was cautious but respectful.
"Relax, Mr. Hammer," Freijya said, her melodic voice tinged with amusement. She raised a hand in a placating gesture. "I'm only a projection. I haven't broken into your little fortress." She winked, the gesture almost playful.
He didn't trust a woman who came to him like this, all smiles and playfulness. Something was definitely wrong. She was even worse than she'd been at the negotiations, when they'd met in person.
He really wished Thor would pick up his balls and really be King. Then he could negotiate so much easier.
Sunil, who had frozen the moment she appeared, glanced toward Justin, silently seeking permission to excuse himself. Justin gave a small shake of his head, his attention firmly on Freijya.
"What can I do for you, Lady Freijya?" Justin asked, his voice even.
Freijya's smile widened slightly as she clasped her hands before her. "I wanted to inform you that my son, Thor, has taken possession of a rather sizable Ravager vessel. He will be bringing it to Midgard as part of our arrangement. It should arrive within a month."
Justin inclined his head. "I never doubted you would honor the deal," He said smoothly. "Thank you for the update."
Freijya's smile took on a mischievous edge, her eyes twinkling. "There's another matter I wanted to discuss," She said, her tone casual yet pointed.
Justin raised an eyebrow, his unease carefully masked. "And what would that be?"
Freijya's grin grew as she tilted her head slightly. "Your relationship with Hela."
Justin's carefully neutral expression faltered, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. "There is no relationship with Hela," He said carefully, his words measured.
Freijya chuckled, a rich, warm sound that carried a hint of amusement. "Carnal relationships often evolve into more," She said with a knowing smile.
Justin's eyebrow twitched, and his voice dipped with irritation. "What favor would I need to grant to be allowed to pluck Heimdall's eyeballs out?" He asked dryly.
Goddamn voyeur.
Freijya's laughter bubbled forth, genuine and unrestrained. "Ah, don't be upset, Heimdall can't help but see all." She didn't answer his question, taking amusement from his irritation.
Justin exhaled sharply, his shoulders stiff. "I assume Heimdall also felt the need to share any other observations."
Freijya gave a small shrug, her smile turning enigmatic. "He is thorough in his duties."
He would have to find a way around that…
Before Justin could respond again, Freijya's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "But all of that, is not why I'm here. I must admit, I'm curious about something."
Justin nodded slowly, his wariness growing. "Of course, Lady Freijya. Ask away."
Her smile was as sharp as it was serene, her gaze steady. "What part of the deal to keep Hela on Midgard entails tasking her with roaming the cosmos?"
Justin's polished demeanor slipped for the briefest of moments. Sunil, who had been doing his best to remain inconspicuous, suddenly looked like he wished he could evaporate.
Justin's lips pressed into a thin line. "Heimdall again?"
Freijya simply nodded, her eyes closing as her smile turned razor-sharp, a picture of divine amusement laced with danger.
----------------------------------------