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Secret Military holding facility, Eastern Seaboard, USA.

The sterile walls of the holding area were suffocating in their blandness. The sound of heavy, steel-reinforced doors clanging shut echoed through the practically empty facility, creating an oppressive atmosphere. Most of the Avengers sat in silence, the air thick with tension and frustration, kept together as they weren't truly locked up. The table in front of them was cold metal, like everything else in the room, as they waited for the inevitable - a decision that would determine how long they would remain here.

It was only a matter of what spins could be spun and what costs needed to be paid to get them out of here, lawyers already at it.

Steve paced back and forth, still in his uniform, another sign they weren't truly going to be put away, they hadn't been disarmed. His boot heels were clicking against the hard floor as he paced. His expression was tight, jaw clenched, as he wrestled with the situation they found themselves in.

"They're keeping us separated from Namor," Steve muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though the words hung heavy in the room. "I don't like it. They're splitting us up, picking us apart piece by piece."

Tony scoffed from his spot against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His legs were casually stretched out, but his knuckles were white from the force of his grip. The seemingly relaxed pose was betrayed by the tension in his muscles and the sharp edge to his voice. "Oh, I'm totally fine with keeping Namor frying all by his lonesome, thanks. They can leave King Fish Stick on his own. He's the one who actually committed genocide. I'd rather not be associated with that mess."

Natasha, perched in the corner, arms folded, cut him a sidelong glance. "Not helpful, Tony," She said in a calm, chiding tone. Her posture was perfectly still, her face giving no indication of her true feeling. Years of training allowed her to remain composed, yet even she felt the weight of their current predicament.

They'd lost. Not only badly. But publicly.

Tony let out a bitter laugh, pushing off the wall and rolling his shoulders. "Helpful? Why bother? I don't even know any of you outside of seeing your names on SHIELD files or ancient history documentaries." He turned toward Natasha with a leer, raising an eyebrow. "Though I do know of you, Romanoff. Hell, the whole world knows you - especially from that little... Video with Hammer you had floating around a few years back. Bored in here? How about a repeat performance, just to pass the time?"

Clint, who had been slumped against his chair with his arms folded, suddenly shot up. He shoved Tony with enough force to send him back a step. His face was tight with anger, eyes narrowing as he held Tony's gaze.

"Hey. Don't go there," Clint growled. His voice was low, dangerous.

Tony, for all his show of bravado, looked slightly surprised by the sudden aggression. Natasha, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. She remained still, her expression unreadable, though her green eyes flickered with a brief glint of... Something. Disdain, maybe. Indifference, more likely.

"Relax, Barton. I was only half serious, I've got Pepper already…" Tony muttered, his smirk wavering slightly. He shook Clint's hand off his shoulder as he stepped away, eyes flicking back to Natasha. "Fine. Let's drop the small talk. We have bigger problems."

The room settled into an uneasy silence. Steve continued to pace, oblivious to the exchange, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Where's Banner? Why haven't they brought him in with us?" Steve muttered, clearly agitated. His hands flexed open and closed at his sides as he walked back and forth, gaze flicking to the door, the windows, the walls - anywhere but at the others. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't focus. Ever since he'd seen Bucky again, a jittery, uncomfortable tension had settled deep into his bones. Seeing his old friend - really seeing him, not just knowing he was alive - had shaken him. Brought up too many unresolved feelings.

Fury had been right. Hammer had brainwashed him, why else would Bucky just walk away like that?

Tony looked up, offering a humorless chuckle, though his eyes were sharp. "If he's got any sense, he's far, far away from here." His voice turned hard, the bitterness unmistakable. "If he hasn't been launched into space, that is. Apocalypse wasn't exactly gentle…"

Tony's gaze shifted to Steve, watching as he continued to pace. There was something in Tony's expression - something calculating beneath the sarcasm. Something brewing. He was a man of action, just like Steve, but where Steve carried the burden of what he believed was honor and duty, Tony was brimming with barely restrained anger.

The silence in the room deepened as Tony's eyes flashed with something manic. He suddenly straightened, leaning forward with a burst of energy, his voice sharp. "You know what? Let's talk about the whole genocide thing, huh? Shall we?" Tony's voice cut through the tension like a blade, the accusation hanging in the air.

Clint frowned, but Tony wasn't done.

"Did you know?" Tony's eyes moved between them, his tone becoming more pointed. "Did you all know about Namor? About Wakanda? About the fact that we're all sitting here right now because of the guy responsible for the worst mass murder since - hell, since Hitler?"

He splayed his arms out, looking between the others, "It kind of seems like the sort of thing you tell the new guy, amirite?"

The others exchanged glances. Steve's jaw tightened. He turned, crossing his arms and facing away from Tony. His silence was an answer in itself. The two spies - Natasha and Clint - remained still, their faces revealing nothing. Cold. Detached. They were trained for this, after all. But Tony could see through it. He scoffed, disgusted.

"I fell for Fury's spiel. Hook, line, and sinker, thought I was doing my part as a hero... So yeah, I take some of the blame. But what the hell did Fury tell you guys to make this okay? What did he say that made mass murder acceptable?"

Natasha's eyes flickered, and she shook her head slowly. "Hammer is taking over the world," She said flatly. "A lot can be forgiven when we're fighting for something bigger, something important."

Steve sighed, hanging his head, his voice strained. "Democracy is dying, Tony, Fury realized this. We need to fight for it. And Namor was willing to help."

Tony's laughter exploded into the room, short and sharp. He turned, pacing with frantic energy, his hands running through his hair as he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, wait - wait - you're serious?" He stopped and looked at them, his expression incredulous. "Let me laugh harder!"

He threw his hands in the air, his laughter bouncing off the walls of the holding area. The others watched him warily, their expressions neutral, though Clint's jaw was clenched tightly, and Steve's hands were balled into fists at his sides.

Tony's laughter faded, his expression turning dark as he finally spoke again, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. "Let me get this straight. You're all using a king - a monarch - a tyrant responsible for the worst mass murder in recent history - to fight for democracy? Does no one else see the problem here? How the hell did Banner get on board with this? He at least should have had some brain cells left over…"

"Fury promised him a cure," Steve said quietly, his voice clipped, as though forcing the words out. "He wasn't happy with some of what we had to do, but he understood the necessity." Steve shook his head, "Namor was influenced by Sinister, it wasn't his fault, and we have to use everyone we got right now, Tony."

Tony's eyes widened, and he let out another short, humorless laugh. "Understood the necessity? You mean you dangled a carrot in front of him, kept pushing him forward like a dog chasing a bone. Jesus Christ." He whirled away, pulling at his hair, "Pepper was right, I am an idiot…"

Clint snapped, standing up from his chair, his voice tight with frustration. "What the hell is your problem, Stark? You, of all people, can't sit there and tell me you don't see what Hammer's doing. We're all on the same side here."

Tony's eyes flashed dangerously. "Of course I can see it. I know more about what Hammer's doing than you do." He said, voice dropping with condescension.

"Then why the antagonism, Tony?" Natasha's voice was smooth, calm as she moved closer to him. Her steps were deliberate, her eyes sharp. She laid a hand on his arm, as though trying to calm him down, to remind him they were still on the same team. "We're allies, remember?"

Tony shook her off, his voice rising as he stepped back, his face contorted in frustration. "I don't trust Hammer as far as I can throw him, but this? This isn't what I signed up for! Fury sold me some bullshit about saving the world, about being Earth's Mightiest Heroes - I've literally been part of the team for like a day! But this - this is - this is…" He broke off, his hand gesturing wildly, his frustration mounting as he struggled for words. "This is bullshit! We played right into Hammer's hands. He saved the day - he made us look like fools." Tony slammed a fist into the wall, "And at the end of the day… He wasn't wrong about anything he said!"

Clint shrugged, his voice forcibly nonchalant. "Whether you like it or not, you're one of us now, Tony. The world knows it. You need to get over yourself, or you let Hammer win."

Tony glared at him, baring his teeth like an animal, his temper flaring. "Oh, you think so? You think it's that simple?"

"Tony, calm down." Steve's voice was stern as he watched Tony pace, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

Tony spun on his heel, his voice sharp and biting. "Fuck bring calm, you need to be more upset, Cap! We were useless out there! Useless! Hammer swooped in and saved the day, and if you haven't noticed, he bent you and all of us over afterward - thanks to Fury and his little pet fish stick!" Tony chuckled, dragging a hand down his face, "The fact you think Hammer is a bigger threat than Apocalypse or the Fish Stick, really shows you've got the wrong priorities here…"

"You really don't see his threat?" Steve questioned, skeptical.

Tony sneered at him, "Yeah, world domination I get it. Bad. Except he's also doing free healthcare, fixing the criminal justice system, and together we're pushing into space. Him taking over the world is arguably bad news, and I will fight it if he goes over the line - but he's not destroying cities or nuking Wakanda!" He almost roared the last sentence out, beyond tired of these people.

"He doesn't need to, he's already halfway won, but don't think for a second he'd hesitate if he needed to." Natasha said coldly.

"Hah, like he'd ever need to, sweet cheeks," Tony told her mockingly, "He fucked us all better in one conversation than he fucked you, the Avengers are a joke!"

Clint's face twisted with annoyance. "It'll blow over. Fury and Coulson won't let us down. They've handled worse."

Tony stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, his body tensing like a spring coiled too tight. His voice dropped to a dangerous, low tone, dripping with sarcasm. "Blow over? Are you serious? You think Hammer's going to let this 'blow over'? Did you miss the part where he called us all traitors on international television?"

Before anyone could respond, the flat-screen mounted on the wall flickered to life. A smirking guard stood by the door, twirling his baton in lazy circles, as if savoring the moment. "You might want to see this," The guard said with a nasty grin, pressing a button on the panel next to him. "Highlights of the day.."

The screen cut to Justin Hammer's press conference in Cairo.

They all saw as Justin leaned into the microphone, his expression grave. Then he spoke. "We already knew Fury was a dangerous man, convicted of treason as he is, gathering together a team to fight in his name with superpowers, including a genocidal hidden kingdom. But now, with the capture of this Skrull, the curtain has been drawn back on his dark past. He became the leader of SHIELD, sponsored by aliens, using them to infiltrate, to murder, to take over the lives of his enemies for his benefit. And now, when he was on the run, his life on the verge of ruin, he 'created' a hero team and sent his Skrulls to fight, to bring their champion in what was meant to be pure theater to lift him back as the savior. Only Fury hadn't expected his heroes would be too weak to beat him. That the Skrulls might chafe under his incompetent leadership and want their promised planet now."

The news coverage of his broadcast showcased said Skrull, text flowing by on the bottom explaining what they were, how they were behind Apocalypse.

The room fell into stunned silence as Hammer's words echoed through the space. Natasha's eyes flickered with controlled emotion, Clint's expression hardened, but Steve - Steve looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. He sank down into a chair, his face drained of color as he processed the betrayal, his hands resting limply in his lap. Tony, on the other hand, stood rigid, his expression growing colder by the second.

"People can't believe this shit… Fury would never…" Clint muttered. Natasha's eyes flicked to Steve, and she shared a look with Clint, who moved to the Captain's side, laying a hand on his shoulder, whispering quietly to him.

The show was obviously not live, they'd missed something huge while they'd been in here, and the broadcast kept showing clips from different parts of his press conference, keeping their full attention. Before it switched to an interview with CNN that was more recent.

Hammer spoke loudly to the interviewer, his voice booming with charisma, manipulating the public with every syllable. "We will not let this stand. Fury has sold out humanity, offering Earth on a silver platter to an alien invasion force. His Avengers? His so-called heroes? They were nothing more than pawns in his twisted game, and the blood of millions is on their hands - including Wakanda."

They couldn't escape the headlines splashed across the screen. Nick Fury, traitor to mankind, wanted dead or alive, 5 billion dollar bounty from Hammer industries.

Tony's fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched as the footage continued to switch to different parts of the press conference and the later interview. The Skrull they had captured had stood on the stage, transforming into various people, including him, showcasing their terrifying shapeshifting abilities. And Hammer had driven the final nail in the coffin, calling for the world to rise up, to hunt down Fury and his so-called alien allies.

For Tony, this confirmed everything. He'd been had.

Did he believe Fury was behind Apocalypse? Of course not, that was just Hammer being Hammer. Tony didn't believe Fury was that stupidly evil.

But he could definitely believe Fury had used these Skrulls… How many of them were in his company? How many of these alien pieces of shit were near Pepper?

The broadcast ended, and the room remained silent, the other Avengers struggling to process what they had just seen.

Tony broke the silence first, his voice as cold as ice. "Show me."

Steve blinked, his thoughts still reeling. "What?"

Tony turned, his eyes filled with barely restrained fury. "I said, show me you bleed red."

That part of the broadcast had been very poignant.

Natasha stiffened, immediately understanding the accusation. "Tony… Don't." She warned.

But Tony wasn't listening. His voice dropped to a near growl, venom lacing every word. "You heard me. I want to see it. Skrulls can look like anyone, right? Anyone. So how do I know? How do I know you're not one of them?"

Clint stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Tony, you're losing it. We're your teammates, not your enemies."

"Teammates?" Tony barked a laugh. "You want to talk about teammates, after one day? We just got branded traitors in front of the entire world! How do I know one of you isn't a Skrull planted by Fury? You two" He gestured sharply toward Natasha and Clint. "Are spies. Lying is literally in your job description!"

Steve stood, his hands raised, trying to de-escalate the situation. "Tony, calm down. No one here is a Skrull. We've been through this together. We're all on the same side."

But Tony's eyes were wild now, his mind spiraling as the weight of everything crashed down on him. "The same side? Steve, we just fought in a battle Fury started by hiding under the sea instead of going after Sinister immediately, or revealing him to the world. A battle that nearly destroyed two cities… Millions of people are dead, and now we're the bad guys! And from what I'm seeing… They're right! This… This is insanity! And you think I should just take your word for it?"

Tony could well see that Hammer could make this all up, he had shown his abilities in making the press dance to his tune before, but this… The Skrulls, it seemed right. It tracked. It made so many things about Fury make sense.

"Tony," Natasha said slowly, her voice dangerously calm, "We're not your enemies. We've got bigger problems right now."

Tony shook his head, as if trying to shake off the madness. He turned his gaze upward. "Jarvis."

"Sir?" came the calm, familiar voice over the room's intercom. Of course he'd been there, Tony hadn't doubted it for a second.

Tony's voice was flat, emotionless. "How soon can you break into this facility?"

There was a brief pause, and then Jarvis responded smoothly, "I'm already in, sir. What do you need?"

Everyone in the room froze, the tension ratcheting up to a near-unbearable level. Steve exchanged a shocked look with Natasha and Clint, all three of them momentarily caught off-guard by how far Tony was willing to take this.

Tony's grin was sharp, predatory, as he yelled for the guard, "Get me a knife. My dear comrades here need to show me they bleed red." He then sharply snapped to Jarvis, "Get me a suit, the lawyers can clear it all up afterwards."

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?" Clint demanded, taking a step toward him, his face etched with disbelief.

Tony didn't flinch. He stared straight at Clint, his expression cold, detached. "I'm doing what I should have done the moment Fury brought me in. I'm making sure none of you are lying to me."

"Stark, stop!" Steve barked, his voice firm, trying to regain control of the situation. "This isn't you. You're letting fear cloud your judgment."

Tony's eyes flicked toward Steve, something dangerous gleaming there. "You think this is fear, Cap? You think I'm scared? I'm not scared. I'm pissed. Pissed that I got dragged into this by a man who's been lying to all of us. Pissed that we got played. And now, I'm not going to take chances anymore." His face grew colder as he glared at Steve, "I hope to god Steve that he had been lying to you… And that you all weren't in on this…"

The tension in the room was palpable, everyone poised for a confrontation that seemed inevitable. Natasha stepped forward, her hand raised, palm outward, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. "Tony, look at me. You know better, don't let Hammer do this. Don't do this to the team. We're not Skrulls. You've been with us through this fight.."

Tony's face twisted in something between anger and grief, but his resolve didn't waver. "Maybe. Or maybe this entire time I've been playing chess with an enemy I didn't even know was at the board."

There was a soft click, and the door slid open. One of the facility's guards entered, a small knife gleaming in his hand. He handed it to Tony without a word, his face a mask of compliance. Another proof of the oddity of their situation, because an inmate requesting a knife and then given it, was just not done anywhere else.

Tony held the knife up, the blade catching the cold fluorescent light, then he pricked his hand, bleeding red, before he gestured with the knife. "So, I'm good. Who wants to go first?"

Natasha's expression hardened, her voice dropping to a low, warning tone. "Tony. Don't do this."

But Tony's smile was thin, strained. "What's the matter, Romanoff? You scared? Or… You got another reason to refuse? Bleed green maybe?"

Before Natasha could respond, Steve stepped between them, his body tense with frustration. "Enough, Tony. This isn't the way."

Tony's eyes flicked to Steve, cold and accusing. "Oh? Then what's the way, Cap? Huh? Are we just going to sit here and trust that everything will work itself out? That we'll be vindicated by the powers that be? Trust each other, after all these lies?"

Steve's jaw clenched, his voice lowering. "We fight. We fight the right way. Together."

Tony shook his head slowly, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There is no together, Steve. Not anymore." He exhaled slowly, the manic energy in his eyes fading slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly weary. "Do whatever, I don't care anymore, besides I've got somewhere to be."

Steve frowned, still uncertain. "Where?"

Tony's grin was cold, humorless. "I'm going to find that bastard Fury. And when I do? I'm going to make him answer for everything." He walked to the holding area door, walking through without an issue, the guards not fighting him on it. Whether it was because his lawyers had already done their work, Jarvis had forged an order, or whether they just enjoyed his sniping at the others, he didn't know, he didn't care, he was leaving either way. "Jarvis, contact Rhodey for me, I know he's got HammerTech crap, but he can help."

His only response was silence for a few moments,

Then…

"Sir. There is something you should know."

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Cairo,

Justin stood at the center of the interrogation room, his arms crossed, his expression cold and focused. Across from him, tied securely to a metal chair, was Nathaniel Essex - Mr. Sinister. The man, or mutant, they weren't sure as of yet, sat motionless, his pale skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, dark eyes staring forward, he'd said not a word since his capture. Next to Justin, Helen Cho swayed back and forth, practically buzzing with excitement at the task before her. At being needed.

Justin's voice was low, but the threat behind his words was palpable. "You might wonder why Dr. Cho is here, Essex," He began, his eyes never leaving the unmoving figure. "You see, she's a dependable woman. When I ask her - Helen, can you tweak Extremis so it keeps someone alive indefinitely - keeps them healing from all that's done to them, but in unimaginable agony for each healed cell?'" He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "She gets to work just like that."

Helen smiled, her face lighting up with a fanatic gleam. She practically vibrated in place, clearly basking in Justin's attention. "It was easy," She chirped, her voice light with adoration. "Anything for you, Master."

Recent events had done much to set her devotion into stone.

Justin didn't even flinch at her devotion this time, his focus solely on the task at hand. He reached out for the syringe she held, the liquid inside glowing with the modified Extremis formula. The silver needle caught the harsh light of the room as he turned it over in his hand, a predator sizing up his prey.

"You're going to live for a very long time, Essex." His voice was as cold as ice. He tapped the syringe lightly with his finger, the sound sharp in the stillness of the room. "Forever, in fact. And every single second of it will be agony. I promise you that."

It would still not be enough, but Justin would make sure… Would find every historic means of torture to have ever existed - and perform it on the man. Helen would find a way to ensure his mind never broke - that he could never escape his fate.

Justin leaned in closer, his breath almost misting over Sinister's unnaturally smooth face, and raised the syringe to inject the serum.

As soon as the needle pierced the skin, and Extremis was injected, Sinister's body collapsed. It sloughed off the bones like molten wax, the flesh dissolving into a gruesome, sickly mess that oozed onto the floor. A nauseating stench filled the air, like burnt rubber and decayed meat. The silence that followed was thick, oppressive.

Justin's eyes widened in disbelief. Then his face twisted into rage. He slammed the syringe down onto the metal table nearby, the clatter ringing through the room. His skin began to glow faintly, blue energy rippling out from his skin as his power flared, uncontrollable for a moment.

"FUCK!" He roared, his voice shaking the walls. Energy crackled in the air around him, the temperature rising. Helen fell to her knees immediately, her lips parting in a blissful, delirious smile. She tilted her head back, eyes rolling in ecstasy as she basked in the intensity of Justin's power.

Domino and Yelena, who had been standing just outside of the reach of the blast of energy, instinctively took a step back, hands hovering near their weapons, instinctive fight or flight responses kicking in for a moment.

"Justin!" Domino called out, concern clear in her voice. "Get a grip!" Her hand moved away from her guns, as she got control over her reactions again.

Justin's breathing was ragged as the power flickered around him. His face was flushed with anger, but he slowly began to pull it back, reigning in the raw energy that had slipped through. After a long moment, the glow dimmed, and his fists unclenched. His jaw remained tight, but he forced himself to focus again.

"Where the hell is he?" Justin growled, voice now low and dangerous. He turned on Yelena who was watching him carefully. "He can't have left Cairo. Go!"

Yelena snapped into action, bolting out of the room in a rush, already issuing orders through her comms. How much of it was the desire to get out of his way right now, he couldn't tell, nor did he even care at that moment.

Sinister had escaped him. It was unforgivable.

Justin turned his focus on the crumbling remains of the fake Sinister, the mess pooling on the floor in a vile heap. His disgust was evident, but his anger was carefully controlled now, simmering just below the surface. He couldn't afford to lose control like that again, he needed to begin figuring this out…

"What the hell is that?" He demanded, pointing at the remains with restrained fury. He turned to Helen, who was still trembling with excitement, collapsed on the floor, toes still curling, but now beginning to pull herself together. "Tell me what we're looking at!"

Helen scrambled up, grabbing a handheld scanner from a nearby table, her fingers shaking slightly as she ran the device over the sludge. The scanner beeped as she analyzed the biological matter, her brow furrowing as she worked.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"I… I don't know," Helen said, her voice trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the disappointment in having to deliver bad news. She swallowed hard. "The scan isn't showing anything that would explain how this thing was able to mimic Sinister so perfectly. This material shouldn't be capable of that kind of duplication."

She glanced at Justin, her expression wretched, like a dog that had disappointed its master. "I'll have to run more tests. I'm sorry."

Justin closed his eyes, his breath coming in measured intervals as he calmed himself further. "Do it," He said quietly, though the tension in his voice was palpable. "This takes priority. Any resources you need, Helen, you have them."

Helen nodded fervently, already working on a more detailed analysis as Justin straightened himself, his posture still tight with frustration.

As he strode out of the room, Domino fell into step beside him. His skin still faintly glowed, small pulses of blue energy flickering at his fingertips. She eyed him cautiously, but said nothing at first, waiting for him to regain his composure.

"Nail," Justin barked into his comm, addressing the AI embedded in his systems. "How the hell did he get past you?"

Nail's voice responded promptly, though there was a clear note of contrition in her tone. "Apologies, sir. The destruction caused during the battle created too many blind spots in surveillance. I did not anticipate that he had access to a body double on such short notice, or the ability to recover so quickly from his injuries. I am already conducting a new simulation to track possible escape routes."

"Simulate everything," Justin snapped, his voice cutting. "I don't care if he's building a kite out of women's underwear to fly off this rock. Run the simulations and find out where he could be. I want every angle covered, and have security track all possible landing points if he does get off the city. He's still here right now... He has to be."

"Understood, sir."

Domino reached out and placed a hand on Justin's shoulder, slowing his pace as they moved down the hall. "Hey, boss," She said, her voice softer now. "We'll get him. He can't get off this rock. He's stuck here, same as everyone else."

Justin paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, though his anger was still simmering just beneath the surface. "He better not have escaped," He muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He had been behind it all, everything, even back to the nuking of Wakanda.

And now… Hope… It was all Sinister. He could not get away.

Domino, sensing the need to shift his focus, offered a distraction. "You've been at this non-stop since the battle. Maybe take a break. We could spar, work off some of that stress."

Justin exhaled slowly, considering her offer, but before he could respond, his neural implant pinged with a notification. He glanced at the message flashing before his eyes and smiled grimly. Sparring while I don't have control over my new power was a bad idea anyway…

"Work never ends," He said, his voice low. "The Deputy Director of the CIA, the head of Interpol, and over one hundred and twenty members of parliaments amongst others across the world have just come to my attention." He looked at Domino, his eyes cold again. "Do you know what they have in common?"

Domino grimaced, her stomach tightening. "Skrulls?"

Justin nodded, the world governments had moved quickly on demanding their people bleed. "They're only in preliminary interrogations, but they've already cracked one thing."

Domino frowned, watching his expression darken. "What?"

Justin's eyes narrowed as he read the reports, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. "They're not Fury's."

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Tanker, moving out of the Mediterranean.

Nick Fury sat alone at the bow of an old oil tanker, the night sky stretched above him like a cold, uncaring blanket. The ocean beneath him was calm, reflecting the stars in broken, shattered fragments across the water. Fury sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his single eye staring out at the black horizon. A cigar hung loosely between his lips, its ember a faint, dying glow in the oppressive dark.

Things had gone to hell. More than that - spectacularly to hell. Fury had faced down half a dozen potential world-ending threats, but this… This felt different. This felt like losing.

He rolled the cigar between his fingers, the heat barely noticeable against his calloused skin. Fury had built his career on anticipation, always being ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He'd spent his life making hard decisions to keep the world spinning. But somehow, Justin Hammer had outplayed him. And it stung.

Hammer… The name curled in his mind like a sour taste. Justin Hammer wasn't the worst enemy Fury had ever faced, not by a long shot. He wasn't some alien conqueror or a megalomaniac with godlike powers. He was just a man. A smart, conniving man. And that made it worse. That Hammer, of all people, had managed to blindside him so completely. Fury had once thought to use him, heh, look how that turned out?

Fury took a drag from the cigar, inhaling the bitter smoke deeply into his lungs, and then let it out slowly, watching it dissipate into the cold night air. He thought back to the moment it had all started, where it had come together finally, before all falling apart at the finishing line. He'd had the perfect setup - found Captain America, brought him back into the fold, convinced him of the cause. Cap had been his ideological weapon, the moral backbone he needed. A living legend, a symbol of America's greatness, and someone who could unite the country and its allies under a single banner. Cap wasn't just a hero. He was a story. The kind of story that people could rally behind.

He was supposed to be the answer to Hammer.

And it should have worked. Fury had lined everything up. He'd gotten Bruce Banner on board, albeit with a lie, one the scientist must have understood, deep down, but he'd kept at it anyway. Once Banner had managed to track the Vibranium shipments disappearing, Fury thought he'd hit the jackpot. The Avengers were going to ride in, stop the thefts, expose the terrorists that had destroyed Wakanda, save the day, and win him back public trust he could wield against Hammer and Pierce. It was supposed to be a clean victory. One that would show the world they didn't need to rely on Justin Hammer's flashy tech and hollow promises.

The memory of that moment soured his thoughts further. They'd flown Barton and Romanoff in, both of them sharp as ever, loyal as always. Together, they'd set off in the submersible Fury had kept aside for a rainy day, diving deeper than Fury ever thought possible. And what did they find? Not just a rogue operation or an enemy bunker, but an entire hidden civilization beneath the sea.

Talokan. A whole new world Fury had never anticipated, one led by Namor, an arrogant and delusional king who didn't understand the surface world at all. It had been a mess from the start - months of captivity, trapped in a kingdom that wanted nothing to do with them but also wouldn't let them go or execute them, instead studying their peculiarity, especially Banner and Cap. If it hadn't been for Banner, they'd still be down there, prisoners of a king with a vendetta against the surface world. Banner, who figured out Namor wasn't fully in control, that something was messing with his mind.

It was pure luck they'd managed to break out just long enough to find the device influencing Namor's brainwaves and even more luck that Banner knew how to disrupt it. After that, Namor had been a treasure trove of intel - especially on Nathaniel Essex. Sinister. Fury hadn't even known how deep that rabbit hole went. But Namor had. Essex was worse than Fury had imagined, and getting Namor on side against the man? That should've been the trump card.

Talokan should not get off for what they'd done, brainwashing or not, but Fury was low on options, and he had to sacrifice to get where they needed to be to prevent Hammer from taking down the world in his quest for domination.

But it wasn't enough. Nothing ever was.

Convincing Namor had been no easy feat, but somehow easier than convincing the team to let him onboard. Once Captain America was on board, it all came together. Cap was a sucker for second chances, especially when it involved turning an enemy into an ally - especially when that event was painted as a victim.

Fury had used that to his advantage, pushing Steve with stories of Bucky Barnes, painting a picture of the Winter Soldier that made Steve think he wasn't working for Hammer willingly, that he needed the protection due to his unwilling crimes of the past - that having another case proven to the world would make it easier for Bucky to go free. It was a calculated move, one that worked. Once Steve signed on, everyone else folded and Namor followed, and Fury had his team. The Avengers.

They were supposed to be his way of taking the fight to Hammer and stopping SHIELD from becoming nothing more than a footnote in history. He'd helped build SHIELD from the organization it was, to the world spanning one that was to be the sword and shield of the world. It wasn't perfect, but it had been his. And now something rotten was brewing in there, and Hammer was at the fore of it all. Fury wasn't sure how Hammer had flipped Pierce of all people, but he'd find out once he could move in the open again.

Except now moving in the open was absolutely impossible.

His fingers absently rubbed over the pager in his hand, the cold metal a familiar weight in his palm.

Fury's thoughts wandered back to Tony Stark. Iron Man. That had been another move, the last piece on the chessboard, a move he thought would pay off. Convincing Stark to join the team had been like pulling teeth, but Fury knew he needed him. Tony's resources - his technology, his influence - it was too great to ignore, a perfect foil to Hammer. Stark had been reluctant, and as always, impossible to deal with, but Fury knew how to play him. Or he thought he did.

On this very tanker he'd argued with the man for hours, bringing the team in to help convince the man, and still he'd gotten nothing more then a loose frankly lukewarm commitment. But it had been a commitment.

Then Apocalypse happened. Of all the goddamn things Fury could've predicted, an ancient mutant god or whatever he'd been, hadn't been one of them. But there it was. Apocalypse had hit like a freight train just as Fury was trying to finish negotiations with Tony. And just like that, Stark was suddenly eager to suit up and fight. Fury had thought, Finally. Something's going right. The Avengers, ready for action, with Tony Stark onboard? It was a win, right?

Wrong.

It had gone to hell. Worse than hell. Apocalypse had crushed everything Fury had built. And just like that, Hammer had swooped in, spinning the entire disaster to his advantage. Every failure the Avengers had? Every mistake? Hammer twisted it, sold it to the world, and made himself look like the savior while Fury's team came off as amateurs. No, worse - criminals.

Namor had been a risk, one he'd thought could be moved around with victory at their feet, victory cleansed many sins after all. Except they hadn't won…

He sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The Skrulls who had been his allies for so long, the hidden ace in his deck. Now? Thanks to Hammer… The Skrulls were gone. His last contact had made it clear - they were cutting ties, disappearing back into space, not to be heard from again. Fury had lost them, too. His network, his covert operations, his connections - they were unraveling.

He glanced up at the night sky, the stars overhead bright and indifferent. Far above, one of the stars seemed to flicker, a small streak of light moving through the darkness. It almost looked like it was crashing down to Earth.

He fingered the pager again, the weight of it growing heavier in his hand.

----------------------------------------

Cairo, morning,

Justin sat at his desk in the heart of his Cairo compound. His fingers flew across the interface of his desk, juggling a hundred different problems that never seemed to end. The battle with Apocalypse had left the world reeling, and while others mourned or celebrated, Justin had been working. Always working.

Nail's voice came through his implant. "Sir, an aircraft is requesting permission to land in one of the cleared zones."

Justin barely looked up from his work. "Who the hell is it?" he asked, impatient. With the sheer number of crises he was dealing with, the last thing he needed was another unexpected visit. He flicked his eyes toward the world map projected on his desk, where blinking red dots signified hot spots of unrest, economic instability, and political fallout he needed to manage.

Any aircraft landing was also a potential risk due to Sinister still not having been found. Last thing they needed was him to practically be offered a getaway vehicle. Then again..

Perhaps he'd finally show if he thought he had a way off…

"Emma Frost," Nail responded smoothly.

That name made him stop. Emma Frost. The White Queen herself. His fingers paused over the desk interface, the room falling into momentary silence as he processed the implications. Emma wasn't the type to just show up without reason, especially not at a time like this. Her arrival wasn't something he could afford to ignore. He wasn't happy about it, but she wouldn't come without a very good reason.

After a beat, he nodded to himself. "Let her land," He ordered. "Keep her there until I get to her." He pursed his lips, "Surreptitiously move Bucky, Frank and Brock into a nearby overwatch position, keep an eye on the plane for any sight of Sinister making a move."

"Yes, sir," Nail acknowledged before falling silent.

Justin leaned back in his chair, looking around the room at his most trusted people - Phantazia, Domino, and Yelena. The rest of his inner circle was already off managing the delicate operations in Hammerhaven, coordinating with international contacts, and preparing for the next moves in this volatile new world. But here, his most capable field agents remained. Their sharp eyes caught his silent contemplation as they waited for his orders.

"Thoughts?" Justin asked, folding his hands in front of him, his tone neutral.

"If it's an assassination attempt, it's a pretty shitty one," Domino said with a shrug, her tone light. "She knows you have Cairo locked down tight. She wouldn't be stupid enough to try something here."

Phantazia gave Domino a wry look before turning her attention back to Justin. "She's here because of what happened. Emma's a strategist. She saw which way the wind is blowing and decided to get ahead of the curve."

Yelena crossed her arms, a smug smirk tugging at her lips. "The bitch is here to kiss your ass." She said with surety.

Domino grinned darkly, leaning back in her seat. "Wouldn't mind seeing that. She'd look damn good on her knees." The humor in her voice was unmistakable, her smirk almost evil.

Phantazia rolled her eyes and gave her a playful slap on the arm. "Not everything is about sex, you know," She said with mock exasperation.

"That just means you've never had good enough sex," Domino shot back, still grinning.

Yelena let out a frustrated groan. "Would you two just fuck already?" She muttered, although her lips twitched with amusement.

Phantazia sputtered indignantly, while Domino gave Yelena a wicked grin, clearly unbothered by the suggestion.

Justin watched the good-natured bickering with faint amusement, though his mind was elsewhere. Emma Frost was a wild card - an ally, yes, but barely. She'd always been someone operating on her own agenda, and while he'd crossed paths with her a few times with Hellfire business, she'd never been fully within his circle. Was she truly here to submit to the inevitable? Or was this some new power play?

"Nail, keep her grounded when she lands," Justin instructed. "I want to know exactly what her intentions are before I let her anywhere near my compound."

"Yes, sir," Came the immediate response.

The trio stopped their playful banter and focused on him. They knew the stakes. Emma Frost wasn't someone you underestimated. Thankfully her biggest threat was neutralized with their neural implants. She wouldn't be able to read their minds or control them.

Justin adjusted his tie, standing up from his desk. "We're going to meet her at the landing site. I'm not inviting her into my building until I know exactly what she wants."

…

Forty-five minutes later, Justin stood with his team in the cleared landing zone, watching as the door opened. The infamous White Queen descended the steps, cool as ever, her signature ice-cold demeanor intact. Her fitted white suit stood out against the muted desert tones and heaps of rubble surrounding them.

"Justin," She said, her tone as crisp as her attire.

Justin didn't bother with pleasantries. "What do you want?" He asked bluntly, his arms crossed. There were very few reasons for Emma Frost to be here, especially now. He wasn't in the mood for games.

Emma sighed, visibly annoyed at the lack of courtesy. "Not even going to pretend to be a gracious host, I see."

Justin raised an eyebrow, unmoved by her theatrics. She could pout all she wanted, but he wasn't about to be distracted. "I'm busy, Emma. Either say what you came to say, or get back on that plane and leave my city, but first, your hand, please..."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes betraying nothing. Then, with an irritated flick of her wrist, she held out her hand. "Fine. If we're going to play it this way, let's get on with it."

Justin gave a small nod to Yelena, who stepped forward, a knife gleaming in her hand. Emma didn't flinch as Yelena approached, though she shot Justin a look of disdain. "Really? You think I'm a Skrull?"

"Hand over your hand or I'll put you down, and we'll check it the hard way," Justin said coldly. He wasn't about to take any chances, not after the Skrull infiltration was revealed to be more widespread than anyone had anticipated. Fury had Skrulls on his payroll and he'd thought that was it, yet now the world was dealing with even more of them.

And whatever minority Fury had worked with, was positively Disney like - compared to the other Skrull infiltrators they'd found. They really were looking at a full on alien threat.

Emma made a show of rolling her eyes. "If it weren't for those mind-blocking implants you and your crew have, I could show you with a thought how ridiculous this is," She said dryly.

"I'm not ruling out a Skrull being a mind rapist," Justin shot back. "Blood doesn't lie, we've found so far."

Yelena pricked Emma's finger with the tip of the knife, and a droplet of bright red blood welled up. Satisfied, Yelena nodded and stepped back.

"Happy?" Emma asked, her tone cutting.

"Not even a little," Justin replied. "Why are you here?"

Emma's icy gaze shifted to the others in his entourage. "Can we not do this in private?"

Justin's patience snapped. "Get back on your plane and get out of my city," He said, his voice steely, making it clear he wasn't going to entertain any games.

He wasn't the man he'd been just a week ago. He now understood power in a way he hadn't. And he didn't need to play pretend with people like this anymore.

Emma remained still for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh. "Fine. You win, Justin."

Justin's eyebrow quirked upward. "Win what, exactly?"

Emma's lips thinned as she met his gaze. "You know what," She replied coolly, though there was an edge to her voice. She paused, collecting herself before continuing. "I can see how the tide is turning. I can either fight it until I drown or get in early enough to come out with something worthwhile."

Justin's mind was racing. Was she really saying what he thought she was?

Emma drew in a deep breath, clearly hating every word she was about to say. "I'm here to discuss… Selling Frost Industries to you, in return for a high position in the new world order."

That caught him off guard. Justin wasn't easily surprised, but this? This was unexpected. He studied her, searching for any signs of deception. Emma Frost was a master manipulator, someone who could pivot and adapt to any situation. She was also pragmatic enough to sell her own company if it meant ensuring her survival and securing a foothold in the future. He could see her doing it if she thought the benefits were worth it.

But was she really serious? Or was this part of some larger plan he hadn't seen yet?

"I'll think about it," Justin said after a beat. He gestured to Yelena. "Escort our guest to a room. Give her access to a monitor, have her write out exactly what she wants, what she has, and what she expects from me."

Yelena nodded and moved to guide Emma away, but before she left, Emma caught Justin's gaze, her expression deadly serious. "Just so you're aware, as a freebie," She said, "Charles Xavier hired me to mind-wipe Dr. McCoy of everything he did while under your employ. That means I know a lot about Extremis, which I have been using in my own research. I'm voluntarily giving you this information to show you how serious I am."

Justin held her gaze for a moment, then nodded once. He watched her leave, his mind racing with possibilities and doubts. Fucking Xavier, couldn't do the job yourself… Not that any of it was news anymore.

Emma might have given him a freebie as she labeled it - but it had been an essentially worthless one, since Apocalypse had already revealed Xavier's folly.

"Think that was the truth?" Phantazia asked after Emma was out of earshot.

"It was definitely the truth," Justin replied, his voice low. "But the truth is also the best lie."

Phantazia nodded, her expression thoughtful. She understood. Justin had used the tactic before - tell just enough truth to make the deception believable. Emma was playing a dangerous game, and he knew better than to take her words at face value. Still, the offer was tempting.

He would vet every detail of her proposal, make sure taking her in - even in a peripheral role - wasn't inviting a snake into his midst.

This was a moment of opportunity, but with Emma Frost, every opportunity came with a price.

She'd never enter his inner circle, he'd never trust her.

But she could be useful…

----------------------------------------

An hour later,

Justin had barely settled into his office, sitting behind his desk when Nail's voice sounded crisply in his ear. "Sir, Thor and Hela are on their way to your office."

Of course they are, Justin thought, his jaw tightening slightly. He had half a dozen crises to handle, yet the Asgardians decided now was the best time to drop in for a chat. He straightened in his seat, adjusting his tie as Domino, stationed nearby, raised an eyebrow at the news. She didn't say anything, but the glint in her eye spoke volumes.

And he'd just been dealing with the aftermath of Hank Pym's sudden death too, already scheduled a meeting with Darren Cross. In the future that would never be, that idiot had managed Pym particles. They didn't have Hank or Hope anymore… So add Helen, Maya and Forge to the equation, they could likely figure it out.

Yelena had just stepped out to handle some other business, leaving him and Domino alone when the door opened, and in strolled the God of Thunder and his far more dangerous sibling. He mentally put the issue of Pym industries and it's new leader to the backburner so he could focus on the now.

Thor entered first, his expression attempting to be regal, though there was a slight tension in his shoulders. Behind him, Hela walked in with her usual mix of predatory grace and amusement. Her eyes immediately swept across the room, taking in everything like a hunter assessing her territory. She met Justin's gaze, her lips curving into a mocking smile.

"King Thor. Hela," Justin greeted coolly, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Thor stepped forward, his tone somewhat diplomatic. "Hammer, we are here to discuss the... Arrangements concerning my sister." He cast a sideways glance at Hela, his brow furrowing slightly. "There is the matter of her... Presence here, and how best it can serve both Asgard and Earth."

Justin raised an eyebrow, his voice flat. "And what exactly are you suggesting, Thor? Because I can't imagine letting the Goddess of Death freely roam my world is going to win me any points, my opinion there hasn't changed." If anything I'm more sure than ever I don't want her around.

Hela chuckled darkly, stepping closer to the desk, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Justin, you wound me. I'm not here to 'roam' as you put it. I'm offering... Assistance, to you, personally."

Thor quickly cut in, his expression tightening. "As King of Asgard, I must ensure that her presence here does not disrupt the future balance between our cultures, especially with Hela's... Unique history..." His face turned more serious as he added, "But stay on Earth she must, she can not return to Asgard."

Justin leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "So, you want me to take on Asgard's biggest problem and make it mine? That's what you're asking, I still haven't heard a single reason for why I should care."

Although it's good they're bringing it up now, instead of the actual international summit. I'd hate to have to deal with it with insipid politicians thinking they have a say. This way I can have Thor impress on his mother how serious I am about compensation.

Thor straightened, looking as regal as possible, but there was a hint of tension in his voice. "We are not asking you to shoulder the burden alone. Asgard will be... Cooperative. There will be concessions."

Justin snorted, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "Concessions? You have a hell of a lot more to offer than vague promises if you want me to entertain the idea of Hela sticking around." His gaze flicked to Hela, who watched him with a smirk. "What exactly does she bring to the table, other than a penchant for chaos and death?" He said sarcastically.

Hela smirked, her voice smooth and dark. "Oh, I bring a lot more than that, darling. You of all people should know how valuable power can be. Imagine what I could do as your... Ally."

Thor shot her a sharp look, clearly disapproving of her tone. "Hela," he warned, his voice low, but she merely waved him off. Justin had a feeling she had also not followed the script, the pause before she said ally had been telling. Thor really was foolish if he thought he'd get Hela to call herself a subordinate.

"Relax, foolish brother of mine. I'm merely stating the obvious. Justin knows what power is. He knows how to wield it. And I can offer... Guidance." Her eyes gleamed as she looked back at Justin. "And I do love a man who knows how to seize control and isn't afraid to crush his enemies."

Domino shifted slightly behind Justin, casually pulling out one of her pistols and resting it on her knee. She wasn't pointing it at Hela, but the message was clear.

Justin glanced between the two Asgardians, weighing his options. "If you think I'm going to let Hela do whatever she wants on Earth, you're mistaken. I'm not running a charity, Thor, and I sure as hell don't need Hela causing problems when I've just put down the biggest threat to the planet." You're not going to convince me with pleas, I'm not a fool Avenger, Thor…

Thor sighed, visibly frustrated, but trying to keep his composure. "Hammer, the upcoming negotiations between Earth and Asgard are of utmost importance. What I'm asking is for a measure of goodwill here. Hela is - "

Hela interrupted with a laugh. "Goodwill? Really, Thor? I see Odin and his sex slave failed to teach you politics and diplomacy. And this mortal isn't an idiot either." She turned to Justin, leaning forward slightly, her voice lowering into a dark, teasing whisper. "You know what I'm worth. I'm not here to play nice, Justin. I'm here because I can help you in ways you haven't even imagined." The sensual way she purred that out didn't promise an easy time.

Justin's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Thor cut in again, more firmly this time. "Hela's presence on Earth could be... Beneficial to you. She knows more about the ancient threats that still exist, the ones that may rise again. She has... Knowledge." His tone was somewhat pained after the dig at his mother, but he kept his cool, which was already way more than the original Thor would have managed at this time.

"That's one way of putting it," Justin replied dryly, his tone hard. "But I'm not in the market for chaos gods right now."

The tension in the room thickened as Thor tried once more. "There are the negotiations coming up. Asgard can provide Earth with resources, technology, protection -"

Justin cut him off. "You'll need to impress that on your mother, Thor. I'm not signing off on anything that involves Hela without a very good reason, and your concessions better be significant if you expect me to even entertain the idea." Like give me Uru, levels of significance…

Thor's jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded, knowing the truth of Justin's words. "I will relay that to my mother," He said, his voice tight.

Oh, how it must smart to be the King of Asgard and just be the messenger for dear mommy to make the decision, Justin had to admit he kind of enjoyed that part of dealing with Thor.

Justin let the moment hang in the air for a beat, before he leaned back, signaling the end of the discussion. "Good. I expect a very good deal from Asgard, Thor. If Hela's staying, Asgard is paying for it, and paying heavily."

Thor opened his mouth to respond, but Justin interrupted him with a sharp look. "And we'll hammer out those details in the negotiations with your mother... Anything else, King Thor?"

Thor hesitated, his frustration evident, but he shook his head. "No. That will be all."

Justin nodded. "Good. Now, before you go - "

Hela and Thor had both turned as if to leave, but Justin's next words made them pause in the doorway. "What do you know of divinity?"

Both Asgardians froze, but their reactions were vastly different. Thor looked reluctant, his brow furrowing as he glanced back at Justin. "Hammer, due to the way you've gained it... As King of Asgard, I cannot assist you." There was clear censure in his voice, no doubt knowing exactly how Justin had come into possession of certain Asgardian traits. Heimdall must've told him everything.

But Hela... Hela's smile returned, darker and more amused than before. "Oh, I'd be happy to discuss it," She purred.

Thor shot her a sharp look. "Hela, you cannot -"

She waved him off dismissively. "I'm not of Asgard anymore, or so you keep reminding me, little brother. I'll do what I like."

Thor's gaze hardened, his voice lowering into a warning. "There are limits to your behavior, Hela. Don't push them."

Justin wanted to roll his eyes, Thor kept making that threat, but never followed up, was it a wonder Hela didn't care.

Hela laughed, the sound mocking. "Run along, Thor. Cry to the sex slave if you must."

Thor's expression tightened, but he gave Justin a curt nod before leaving, though he glanced back at his sister one last time.

Once Thor was gone, Hela sauntered over to Justin's desk, casually leaning against it. Her eyes glinted with dark amusement, her lips curling into a smirk. "So, what do you want to know about divinity?"

Domino, who had been silently watching the exchange, casually brought her guns to bare, holding them ready. She sent Hela a pointed look at her close proximity to Justin.

Hela raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Cute, but useless."

Domino's grin was wicked as she raised her gun and fired it into the back wall, which had only just been repaired that morning. The blast disintegrated a large chunk of the wall, leaving behind a smoking hole, Justin only sighed, well used to shenanigans.

Hela's expression shifted slightly, her stance adjusting ever so subtly to keep Domino in her peripheral vision. "Not bad," She admitted.

Justin cleared his throat, drawing Hela's attention back to him. "Let's talk about divinity," He said. "I've noticed... Changes. Power, yes, but I need to understand it. I want to know what people's belief means for me, what domains, if any, are starting to align with me - If that is even how it works…"

It rankled admitting ignorance, but divinity had never been something he'd even spared a thought for.

Hela's smirk returned, her voice taking on a dark, teasing edge. "Ah, you've noticed it already, haven't you? The way they look at you. The whispers, the prayers... You, Justin Hammer, are a symbol now. And symbols... well, they have a habit of gaining power from those who believe in them, they're fed, and grow, until eventually you settle, at which point even lack of belief can not unseat you from the power you've gained."

Justin remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Although that explains why those Asgardian 'gods' worshiped in the past haven't lost power since then…

"And what happens if enough people believe?" Justin asked, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of something deeper behind his words.

Hela leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If enough people believe in you, Justin, you'll become... exactly what they think you are." Hela leaned in even closer, her lips barely parting as she whispered, "And with that belief comes power. Real, tangible power. You're already beginning to feel it, aren't you? The strength coursing through your veins, the way your very presence shifts the air around you. It's intoxicating, isn't it?"

Justin didn't flinch or react, but he knew she was right. There had been... Changes. Subtle, but undeniable. Ever since the fight, since the moment he had harnessed that power, something within him had shifted. He had felt it growing, thrumming beneath his skin. And it wasn't just the energy from the Power Stone - it was something deeper.

"What are you saying, exactly?" Justin asked, his voice low and measured. Because it wasn't all good news - because what exactly did people believe him to be?

Would he be forced into the actual role of a hero, because people believed him one? That… Didn't work for him.

Hela smirked, standing up straight again and casually brushing a lock of her dark hair over her shoulder. "I'm saying that belief is the most powerful force in the universe, Justin. The gods of old - those who came before Asgard and beyond - they didn't rule by divine right. They ruled because people believed in them. That belief fed them, sustained them, shaped them into what they became."

Justin tapped his fingers on the desk, considering her words with some dread. "And you think that's happening to me?"

"I know it is," Hela replied, her eyes gleaming. "You've already seen it with your own eyes. The people here... they see you as their savior. You stopped Apocalypse when no one else could. And now, with every new person who prays to you, whether out of hope or fear, you grow stronger. You may not have fully realized it yet, but you are becoming... Divine." Hela licked her lips as she stared at him with avarice.

"Domains," Justin said, narrowing his eyes. "You're the goddess of Death and War, how do domains start?" And how can I manipulate things so I get the 'right' sort…

Hela nodded, tapping her lips with a little smirk on her face, "Domains are tied to belief of course. The more people align their belief in you with specific traits, the more those traits manifest in your power. If people see you as a god of war, you'll find yourself excelling in battle. If they see you as a protector, your strength will align with that. It's malleable, and it depends on the image you project to the world." She paused momentarily, eyeing him, "Up… Until a certain point. Like I said, once you've settled, it's very difficult to change, even if people stop believing."

"So, it's a matter of perception," Justin said, his mind whirling. He had always known that public image mattered, but this took it to a whole new level. "I need to control how they see me."

"Exactly," Hela purred, clearly enjoying this conversation. "You have an unique opportunity that not many have had, you can shape it, manipulate it on a global stage, mold it to your will. And once you've solidified what you are in their eyes, you'll be almost unstoppable."

Justin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment, considering the implications. "And what if people believe different things?" He asked, still thinking about the world's fractured perception of him. "What if half the world sees me as a hero and the other half as a tyrant?"

Hela's smile widened, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Then you get to lean into which belief you nurture if it's close enough to be a choice. But Justin... I suspect you'll find that the line between hero and tyrant is thinner than you think."

The room grew quieter as Justin absorbed her words. Domino, still holding her gun in her lap, glanced between Justin and Hela. "And what's your angle in all of this?" She asked sharply, her gaze never leaving Hela. "You sound a little too excited for a lowly mortal." Domino said the last part almost mockingly, copying Hela's normal cadence.

Hela chuckled darkly. "Oh, I have no interest in interfering with Justin's divinity. I simply find it... Fascinating. Watching someone new to this game, learning how to wield power. It reminds me of the early days. Before I became what I am."

Domino smirked, raising an eyebrow. "So, you're just here to play teacher, huh? Kinky…"

Justin sent her an exasperated look, but Domino only grinned at him.

Hela's gaze flicked to Domino, her expression amused. "I'm here because I'm curious. And because I think Justin and I might... Complement each other's ambitions."

Justin glanced at Hela, his expression unreadable. "I don't need a partner, Hela. Especially not one who wants to see the world burn."

"Who said I want to see it burn?" Hela asked sweetly, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Maybe I just want to watch it... Change."

"Let's get one thing straight," Justin said coldly, his eyes locking onto hers. "I'm not interested in whatever chaos you're planning. If you think I'm going to let you run wild on Earth, you're mistaken."

Hela's smile remained, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "You may find, Justin, that chaos and order aren't so different. But fine... Have it your way, for now." She stretched languidly, "Besides, I'm perfectly fine with leaving you Midgard, just as I suspect you wouldn't mind if I was off somewhere else, like Asgard, as an ally…"

So that's your game… If only I could trust that you wouldn't attempt to conquer us… Justin thought.

The meeting broke up soon after, leaving Justin with his thoughts.

The fact he wouldn't be endlessly forced to vye for people's faith to keep his power was a relief. Somewhat dampened by the fact that he needed to ensure people didn't believe him a full on saint - and stuck him with domains which from what he gathered from Hela's words… He would be stuck with after.

No domain would make him weaker, per say. But if he was believed to be a hero, a healer and all that entailed. He'd no doubt have a harder time doing certain things…

Well, he'd been planning on chucking some of his public persona anyway.

This just meant he had more of a reason to move more openly.

----------------------------------------

China,

Xu Wenwu, also known as the Mandarin, stood at the head of the room, gazing down at the dozens of his most loyal followers, all kneeling in absolute submission before him. Their heads were pressed low, their foreheads touching the cold stone floor, the ultimate sign of deference. They were his most trusted, the inner circle of the Ten Rings, trained for decades to serve without hesitation, to carry out his will with precision and stealth. The dimly lit chamber flickered with the soft light of candles, casting shadows over the kneeling forms.

The Mandarin's expression was one of cool calculation, but beneath the surface, there was frustration. Justin Hammer. The name that now plagued his thoughts. The man who had risen far too quickly, amassing wealth, power, and influence at a terrifying pace. Hammer was becoming a thorn in his side, and he had to be dealt with before his reach became insurmountable. The power he'd wielded against Apocalypse would be his instead, and they would strike before Hammer became too powerful to resist.

He began to speak, his voice steady and cold, filled with the weight of centuries of tradition and power. "Justin Hammer," He said, almost spitting the name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "The white devil who seeks to ruin what we have built, to twist the world into his vision of progress. He is not a man who respects history, culture, or the power of the old ways. He is a disease, a threat to everything the Ten Rings have stood for, everything we have built over a thousand years."

His eyes glimmered as he paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back. He spoke deliberately, each word a knife cutting through the air. "The West always seeks to consume, to devour what they do not understand. Hammer believes he can reshape the world in his image, that he can bend it to his will with his technology, with his money. But he has made one critical mistake."

The Mandarin stopped pacing and turned to face his kneeling followers, his eyes burning with cold fury. "He believes he can overpower us. But he does not know the Ten Rings. He does not understand that our strength lies not in the tools of the modern world, but in our ability to move through the shadows. We do not need the crutches of technology. Our movements will go unseen, our plans unnoticed until it is too late." A necessity, as their electronics had been subverted.

But they, more than anyone alive, knew how to move around the world unseen, and unburdened by technology. Hammer's crutch would be his downfall.

He scanned the room, the kneeling figures not daring to move, their heads still pressed against the ground. His words held them, filled them with purpose, as if their very lives depended on carrying out his vision. Norman Osborn, almost unrecognizable now, knelt with the others, both of his personalities completely bent to the Mandarin's will.

"Hammer's empire is vast, yes. His power is strong. But you do not strike a man such as him by striking for his head first." The Mandarin's voice took on a chilling edge, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "No, you sever his limbs. You weaken him, take away his ability to fight back, one piece at a time."

As he spoke, his mind conjured images of Hammer's corporations, his business allies, his technological networks. Each piece, each limb, of the puzzle was vulnerable if approached the right way. "First, you strike at what holds him together. His companies, his affiliates, his connections. One by one, they will fall, and Hammer will feel the weight of each loss."

The Mandarin's voice lowered, taking on an almost conspiratorial tone. "Next, you strike at his heart." His eyes gleamed with malice as he thought of the people closest to Hammer, the ones who supported him, the ones who kept him strong. "His allies. His women. The ones he holds dear. We will make him watch as everything he loves is torn away, as those who stand with him are brought to ruin."

There was a pause, his words hanging in the air like a noose tightening around a neck. The tension in the room was palpable, the kneeling figures frozen in anticipation of what was to come.

"Only when he is broken," the Mandarin said, his voice soft but filled with menace, "When his limbs are gone, when his heart is shattered… Only then do you cut off the head. Only then do you deliver the final blow and remove him from this world. Only then does he receive the mercy of death."

The room remained silent, the weight of the Mandarin's words pressing down on his followers like a crushing force. Then, in unison, the men and women of the Ten Rings raised their voices in absolute obedience, their cries of loyalty echoing off the stone walls.

The Mandarin nodded once, his satisfaction carefully concealed behind his cold exterior. He knew that Hammer was a dangerous man, one who had gained far too much power too quickly. But the Ten Rings had endured for centuries.

This was only the beginning.

The Mandarin watched his loyal followers for a moment longer, his mind already moving to the next step. Hammer would not fall easily, but fall he would. And the Mandarin would ensure that every step of his downfall was slow, deliberate, and filled with suffering, with no trace of who was truly responsible.

Hammer's empire would crumble, piece by piece, limb by limb. And when the time came, the final strike would be his to deliver.

Xu Wenwu would give him the honor of doing so personally.

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