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November, 2009, India.
General Amarjit Singh paced back and forth in the command post, his normally composed demeanor shattered by the chaos outside. The small concrete bunker they were holed up in shook with every artillery blast, dust and plaster falling in thin streams from the ceiling, coating everything in a fine white powder. The sound of explosions and gunfire echoed through the air, mixed with the incessant crackle of the radios that surrounded him. His men, huddled over their stations, frantically relayed messages, shouting orders, and coordinating what little reinforcements they could muster.
"Where are my reports?!" General Singh roared, his voice barely cutting through the din. He slammed his fist on the table, scattering maps and notes. "I want an update on every single unit on the front line! Now!"
His staff scrambled, trying to organize the chaos into something resembling useful intelligence. Outside, the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire rattled on, accompanied by the deep, rhythmic booms of Chinese artillery. The general could hear the screams of mortar shells flying through the air, each one a reminder of the inevitable destruction raining down on their position.
In his other hand, General Singh clutched a satellite phone, his knuckles white from gripping it too hard. His voice was strained as he shouted into the receiver, the sound of desperation seeping into his usual air of command.
"Where is the support you promised me, Major Rao?!" He barked at the logistics officer back at headquarters, spitting the words as though each one burned on the way out. "We are being torn apart here! My line is being overrun! If we don't get reinforcements in the next hour, we'll be pushed back to the base of the mountains!"
On the other end of the line, Major Santosh Rao's voice crackled back, grim and apologetic. "Sir, we're doing the best we can, the Americans are already responding to the situation in Taiwan. They've acknowledged our call for assistance against this unwarranted aggression, but they don't have enough forces nearby to assist immediately. We're stretched thin with battles at every point of the border and beyond."
Somehow, the Chinese had managed to get Tens of thousands of men behind the lines, and together with the pounding of the Chinese Air Force against Indian military bases, they were preventing reinforcements from easily accessing the front. Singh knew all this, but he still had to try, for his soldiers. They were all dead if they didn't receive reinforcements now.
General Singh's face twisted into a mask of barely controlled fury at what was happening, his jaw clenching as he forced himself not to smash the phone against the wall. "Stretched thin?" He growled, his voice low and venomous. "The Chinese are throwing men away for every inch of ground, here! They're pouring over the pass like a damned flood! We can't hold like this!" His voice rose as another explosion rocked the building, sending more debris raining down onto the general's already dust-covered uniform.
"We're doing what we can, General," Major Rao replied, the weight of the situation heavy in his tone. "Reserves are being called up, and the nearest garrison is en route even through the bombing. You just have to hold for a little longer."
General Singh sank into his chair, defeated for a moment, the sounds of war pounding relentlessly outside. He looked over at his men, who were frantically working their own lines, shouting into headsets, calling for support, trying to coordinate an increasingly chaotic battlefield. They all looked as exhausted as he felt.
"We can't hold..." Singh muttered under his breath, though the phone caught it. "There's too many of them, for every soldier we kill, there's ten more flooding over our lines."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a brief moment before Major Rao spoke again, his voice thick with regret. "We weren't prepared for this, General. No one was. But do what you can. They won't get away with this. We will push them back."
Small comfort to all the dead, Singh thought bitterly.
The general let out a harsh, bitter laugh in the end. "Push them back?" His eyes were wild with frustration. "Just nuke the bastards. Let them feel what it means to cross India!"
The suggestion wasn't truly serious - more an expression of his exhaustion and frustration than anything else. But the desperation was real. How had it come to this? China was risking everything. Was it madness? A Skrull infiltration? None of it made any sense.
They had to know they couldn't win this! India and the international community would fight back! Even with the UN dead, no one would accept China conquering India.
"We can't," Major Rao's voice cut through his thoughts, hard and definitive. "No one can."
Singh frowned, his spine straightening, alarm bells ringing in his head. He barked into the phone, "What the hell do you mean, 'no one can'?"
On the other end, Major Rao paused, the sound of rustling papers filtering through the speaker. When he finally spoke again, his tone was far more subdued, almost disbelieving. "Justin Hammer sent a video to all world leaders right after the attack on Taiwan. He promised total annihilation to any nation that deployed nuclear weapons in the coming conflicts."
Singh scoffed loudly, momentarily forgetting the chaos outside. "Hammer? He's just a businessman, no matter how powerful! Sure, he can throw his weight around against some alien freaks, but does he really think he can make demands like that?"
That was patently absurd. There were always allowances made for big corporations, that's how capitalism worked nowadays, but did the man really think he could just make commands like that to the world? To world powers even?
The silence on the other end stretched out, making Singh feel the gravity of what had just been said. Finally, Major Rao responded, his voice weak, almost reluctant. "In the video, he showed a simulation... Of what he could do with that glowing stone he used against the invaders. If he's not bluffing... General, he could wipe out India or China at will, he's worse than a nuclear deterrent, on his own!"
General Singh gaped, momentarily speechless. He shook his head, refusing to believe it. "That's a bluff!" He shouted into the phone. "No man is that powerful!"
"Maybe," Major Rao conceded quietly, sounding like he didn't believe it. "But no one's willing to be the first to call it, not even China. Good luck, General. Just hold. Reinforcements are on the way. I've got other fronts to handle."
The line went dead, and for a moment, General Singh just sat there, the phone still clutched in his hand. He could hear the chaos around him - men shouting, artillery roaring, and the terrifying, ever-present hum of battle closing in - but his mind was elsewhere, racing through the implications of what he'd just learned.
Finally, he snapped back to the present, gesturing toward one of his aides. "How long until they break through?" He asked, his voice low, almost resigned.
The aide, a young officer with a pale face and wide, fearful eyes, looked up from his station. "Less than half an hour is likely, sir," He reported, his voice trembling slightly. "Maybe less if the Chinese Air Force returns to this front for another bombing run."
General Singh exhaled slowly, a grim smile forming on his face as he reached for the gun holstered at his side. "Men," He said, standing up and addressing the room, his voice regaining its steel. "It's been a pleasure commanding you. I won't order any of you to stand with me, but I'm getting out there, and I'm making the bastards pay with blood for every inch of Indian soil they take."
There was no hesitation. No one spoke, but the look on every face told him that they would follow him, no matter the odds. There was no chance of survival, but they would not go down without a fight. The general adjusted his helmet, feeling the weight of his decisions bear down on him as he left the bunker.
It made him proud that every man under his command followed him out. His thoughts went briefly to his wife and kids, as he lamented leaving them, not being able to see his kids grow up.
Just then, a strange sound filled the air - a distant whooshing sound, like something cutting through the sky. The men looked up instinctively, expecting another barrage of Chinese bombs or artillery to fall on them. But instead, they saw hundreds of black and silver shapes descending from the sky - hundreds of power armors flying in formation, blotting out the sun.
One of the armors broke from formation, landing in a textbook superhero stance in front of the bunker. The armor's eyes gleamed in the dim light as it stood up, turning to face General Singh with machine-like precision.
"General," The drone intoned, its voice modulated but clear, "Hammer Industries is here to assist. The Iron Legion will push the enemy back. Please ensure your men do not engage; our targeting systems will interpret the fire as enemy action."
The general stared in disbelief as the drone took off into the air once again, joining the swarm of power armors heading directly toward the advancing Chinese forces. For a moment, he could do nothing but gape.
"Maybe..." He muttered, shaking his head as the reality set in. "Maybe Hammer really can do more than I thought..."
Then, with renewed energy, he spun on his heel, roaring at his staff. "What are you looking at, you layabouts?! Back inside! Get on the line and spread the news! I don't want our boys getting chewed up by those things!"
As he rushed back inside, General Amarjit Singh felt something he hadn't felt in hours - hope. China's attack had caught them all off guard, but now, there was someone responding. And if anyone could push back the tide, it was the man who seemed to be capable of anything: Justin Hammer.
He sent a little prayer to the man, thanking him for saving them where his government couldn't, praying it would be enough.
He wouldn't lose all his men today after all.
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Same time, Cairo.
Justin stood on the wall of his Cairo compound, his gaze fixed on the sprawling flying city in front of him. It was a scene of organized chaos, a testament to the relentless efficiency of Hammer Industries. The city's rebuilding had commenced at a breakneck pace, and all around him, he could see the evidence of his vision taking shape.
Construction workers swarmed over half-built structures like ants over a sugar trail. Autonomous drones and vehicles cleared the last remnants of rubble, their sleek forms moving with mechanical precision. Human workers followed in their wake, meticulously setting to work on the foundation, redoing electrical systems and plumbing as they went.
Not only redoing, but improving things. Cairo would be unrecognizable, but a truly modern city, truly his. Although it was a bit annoying that his entire team and his AI had teamed up and vetoed him renaming the city to something more… Hammer.
He could have forced the issue, but if he did that for every minor thing, he'd eventually erode their loyalty, so best to leave it be.
Well, at least he still had Hammerhaven, so it wasn't too bad…
From where he stood, Justin could see entire blocks of the floating city transforming. Buildings sprouted from the ground in a matter of hours, the shattered remnants of old Cairo giving way to gleaming new structures, each more advanced than the last. It was the future he had promised, a future built not just on ambition but on raw, untapped potential. And yet, even as he watched his city being rebuilt at an astonishing pace, Justin's mind was elsewhere.
He could feel it if he tried - the prayers. It was always there, humming softly in the back of his consciousness. A constant buzz of millions of voices, some quiet, others desperate, calling out to him for everything from salvation to trivial desires. Hundreds of millions of prayers, maybe more. He wasn't even sure how he knew that; it was just instinctual now. Sorting through them, picking out one voice among the masses, was nearly impossible unless it was someone he knew. Those he had personal connections with had a unique resonance - an echo, of sorts - one that he could pick out almost immediately.
Hela hadn't been much help in understanding this new facet of his divinity. She had explained that Asgardians hadn't relied on prayer in the way other gods might for a very long time. Their domains and godlike status had been set millennia ago, passed down hereditarily from parent to child. Lack of prayers didn't weaken them; they existed as gods purely by virtue of their lineage and mythos, all of it already set in stone to some extent.
Thousands upon thousands of years ago, the first Kings and Queens of Asgard, had become gods in truth, and spread it amongst their people to an extent. Back then prayers had assisted, but eventually, after a millenia, the divinity had settled. Now, even if no one believed in Asgard ever again, they would never grow weaker from that lack of faith.
That explained why Odin and the likes of Thor and Tyr, were so powerful, coming from the original lines of true gods, remaining as such, while the average Asgardian wasn't much more than an enhanced human by comparison, even if they still held that spark of divinity that had originally been spread.
For Justin, it would be different he assumed, at least for now. He still needed the prayers, though they were more of a tool than a crutch. In time, he wouldn't require them either. But for now, they had an undeniable strengthening effect. He knew that if people began praying to the Asgardians again in large enough numbers, they too would grow stronger, though none of them had ever truly needed it.
The effect still existed for them, it just couldn't bring them below their baseline. But it could heighten them. Another reason, Hela had explained, why her wish for conquest only made sense. In her belief, they needed worshippers again, and the best way to achieve that was by the sword. Then Asgardians would rule the universe.
That last part he'd intuited from what she was saying, she hadn't actually said that part out loud, correctly assuming this was one of the reasons Justin was loath to risk empowering her in any way.
His eyes scanned over the city, taking in the steady pulse of progress, the hum of industry. His city. He could feel his own power radiating outward, suffusing everything beneath him. It was why he was here - standing on this wall, lost in thought. It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever known, and it gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of what he had become.
Yesterday, he had witnessed something that still took his breath away. A stretch of one of Cairo's busiest streets had been leveled, demolished down to its very foundation. But within hours, the entire area had been rebuilt. Buildings had risen, the electrical grid, sewer, and plumbing systems had been replaced, all in a single day. One day.
His divinity spread out over the city, his domain… One day!
Granted, he had an army of drones, autonomous vehicles, and highly skilled workers to assist, but even by his standards, the speed of the rebuilding was staggering. The power he now commanded - whether it was Progress, Innovation, Humanity, or Civilization, or some combination of all of them - was manifesting in ways he hadn't anticipated. And it thrilled him.
His hands gripped the wall tightly as he contemplated the implications. If he could accomplish this with just one city, what would happen when the entire planet was under his control? Would his domains spread, suffusing every corner of the globe with his influence? Would the world transform as rapidly as Cairo had?
Justin had initially scoffed at some of his domains, thinking they were superfluous. Power and Might were all well and good, but Civilization? And Progress? He had considered them unnecessary additions - until now. Now, he could see the true extent of what he had inherited. The potential was limitless, and it made him dangerous in ways he hadn't fully appreciated before.
He felt a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The world had no idea what was coming.
No… The universe had no idea how powerful this planet was about to become under his aegis. Thanos would come one day, and break himself on Fortress Earth…
As he stood there, absorbed in his thoughts, he became aware of a familiar presence approaching. He could sense Yelena long before she made it up the wall, her energy familiar and teasing. She was doing it again - praying to him for the most ridiculous things, just to catch his attention. It was a game of hers lately, and while it should have annoyed him, it only served to make him smirk in amusement.
When Yelena finally reached him, dressed in a sinfully tight outfit that was no doubt intended to provoke, Justin didn't turn to face her immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the city below, though his eyes flicked sideways to catch her exaggerated pout.
"No," He said dryly, "I'm not going to give you Russia." A familiar argument the last few days, when word domination became less of a future plan, and more of a goal within sight.
Yelena leaned against the wall beside him, her expression exaggerated in mock disappointment. "Not even if I do that thing you like?" She teased, her voice lilting as she gave him an exaggerated puppy-dog look.
Justin snorted, turning to face her fully with a look of bemusement. "Literally a sex god here. I can feel that you enjoy it even more than I do." His tone was sardonic, though there was an undercurrent of humor there.
It wasn't a domain he had particularly wanted, as the gods who held such things seemed gods of excess and vices more than anything, something he would not want to fall into, but it had become a part of him regardless. Rumors about his… Proclivities… Had circulated long enough for it to set apparently, helped along by Yelena and Helen Cho spreading gossip - and the infamous sex tape that had gone viral, it had been almost inevitable. The mythos of Justin Hammer had grown, and with it, his domains.
Perhaps the large number of domains came down to the fact that several billion people in different parts of the world all had wildly different ideas about him…
Being a god of Sex and Lust should have been fantastic, and in some ways, it certainly was. He had tested that aspect of his divinity quite thoroughly. But it wasn't without its drawbacks. Just like the constant stream of prayers, he could now sense whenever anyone within a wide radius engaged in any form of sexual activity - that included masturbation. It was a sensory overload he was still working to push into the background, just like the prayers.
He really didn't need to know that much about the people around him. Especially not Cho. Who apparently was worse, by herself, then she was with a partner.
Some things he can't unsee.
Yelena's smirk widened as she joined him at the wall, her arms crossed in a display of casual confidence. "Can you feel my devotion then, my god?" She teased, her tone playful, though the glint in her eyes was all mischief.
Justin flicked her on the nose, making her scrunch up her face in an adorably exaggerated reaction. "None of that," He said, his tone firm but not unkind. "My name, or sir, will suffice."
"Yes, sir," Yelena responded smartly, though the smirk didn't leave her lips. She had always enjoyed calling him 'sir' and he knew it.
"You're taking after Domino too much," He warned lightly, his lips quirking in amusement. His ascension to godhood had put his inner circle into something of a frenzy. They had all tried, in their own ways, to probe, test, and see if he had changed.
Especially Domino. That woman had practically made it her mission to figure out if he was any different now, constantly pushing at the boundaries to see where they were.
He was fairly certain he hadn't changed much - at least not yet. And that made sense. His ascension had been built on the foundations of who he already was, on the beliefs and tendencies he already possessed even if seen by billions of others. His divinity had merely amplified those aspects of him. He was still Justin Hammer, just more.
And well… What was better than Justin Hammer? More of Justin Hammer of course.
"I assume, since you're here, she's ready to begin?" He asked, his thoughts shifting back to the task at hand. He turned away from the city and focused fully on Yelena now, his expression sharpening.
Yelena nodded, her face losing some of its playful edge as she grew serious. "She's ready. We've gone through the interrogation fully, concluding with a session from Domino."
Justin hummed softly, considering the information. Domino's involvement was something he'd personally requested - her methods, while unorthodox, were often highly effective due to her luck. He turned, stepping away from the wall as he prepared to face what was next. "Let's see what's in Sinister's head then, shall we? Lead me to Miss Frost."
Yelena nodded again, and together, they walked away from the wall, leaving the city behind as they descended into the heart of the compound.
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A few minutes later, Cairo.
Justin and Yelena made their way down the hallways of his compound, heading toward the reinforced holding cells where Nathaniel Essex - better known as Sinister - was waiting, having been moved here from Hammerhaven.
Waiting for them outside Sinister's holding cell was Emma Frost, who was attempting to maintain her usual aura of regal poise despite the strain of the past few days. It wasn't easy to make someone like Emma Frost look out of sorts, but the recent days of interrogation - however soft they had been - had taken their toll. Her clothes were still impeccable, a tailored white outfit that hugged her figure, but her once-lustrous hair lacked its usual shine, and there was a slight tightness around her eyes. Small imperfections, but enough for Justin to notice.
Emma Frost had come to him with a deal, and Justin had been all too happy to accept. Frost Industries was now officially a subsidiary of Hammer Industries. While her weapons division had proven to be competent - her power armor models were a step up from the goblin armors at least - they still fell short of what Justin and Tony Stark could produce.
There had been no competition there. But Frost Industries wasn't valuable to him for its weapons - it was its grip on the public transportation sector across Europe, the Balkans, and even parts of the Middle East that made it worth folding into his empire. It gave Justin the foothold he needed to dominate yet another industry on a global scale.
Now, she stood before him, trying to keep that familiar cold air of superiority intact. How cute.
At least her information on the Hellfire club that she had previously held back was useful. He'd have to do something there soon… Shaw was kept happy and fat so far, by the many business deals he kept making with Hellfire club members, but it wouldn't last forever. And Shaw more than anyone, was able to coax Selene Gallio to act.
If he didn't have two situations to deal with already, he would have moved on that one. But for now, the Hellfire Club would have to sit.
"Emma, you look radiant as always," Justin said with a pleasant smile, his voice dripping with just the right amount of smugness to let her know he wasn't fooled by her attempts to appear unruffled.
Emma didn't return the smile. Instead, she sniffed lightly, turning her head away from him in a haughty display of indifference. But Justin didn't miss the signs. Her hair wasn't as perfectly coiffed, and there was a slight dullness to her skin. She was trying to keep up appearances, but she hadn't had time nor access to put herself back to her best yet.
He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her face. Without warning, he let his aura of domination unfurl, not with any real intent but as a reminder of the power he held. The effect was immediate - Emma stiffened, her body freezing as if she had been caught in the gaze of a predator. She was someone who prided herself on control, and Justin could see the tension rippling through her as he moved even closer, her control escaping her in front of a true power.
Reaching out, he gently placed his hand on her chin, turning her face to look directly at him. "Now, that's not how we respond to the boss, is it?" His voice remained pleasant, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath the words, a hint of a threat wrapped in velvet.
For a moment, Emma's expression flickered. She looked like she was struggling with something, perhaps her pride, before she finally lowered her head slightly, bowing in submission. "…Nice to see you as well, sir," She managed to get out, her voice tight with barely concealed resentment.
"Now was that so hard?" Justin murmured, releasing her chin and pulling back. The pressure of his aura vanished as quickly as it had come. "You came to me for a reason, Emma - my power. Don't start getting shy about your position now when you're finally on the ground floor of a global power."
Emma remained silent for a moment, her body language still rigid, but when she looked back up at him, the resentment in her eyes had faded somewhat. There was still some defiance there, of course, but not nearly as much as he might have expected. She had chosen this, after all - chosen to align herself with him without needing any significant prompting. It was that ambition, that cold, calculated desire for power, that had made her approach him in the first place.
"I am here to be useful, sir," She said after a long pause, her voice more composed now.
Justin hummed in response, eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. He could work with this.
"Sir, Sinister is prepped and ready," Yelena said from behind him, her voice a sharp reminder of the task at hand. Her eyes flicked to Emma with a superior glance, clearly unimpressed by the White Queen of the Hellfire Club.
Justin raised a hand, stopping her. "I want to try something first," He said, his tone taking on a curious edge. He turned to Emma, his eyes gleaming with something close to challenge. "Try to break into my mind." With a thought, he set his implant on passive, removing the normal obstacle.
Yelena's head snapped toward him, her expression immediately hardening into one of disapproval. "You're joking, right?" Her voice was sharp with incredulity, though she made no move to stop him, her hand hovering over her weapons just in case.
But Justin wasn't joking. His newfound godhood had left him curious, wondering if someone with Emma's level of telepathic power could even scratch the surface of his mind now. He had developed faster regeneration, stronger mental defenses, and his control over his own abilities had only grown. Even if she did manage to slip through, his powers would protect him from any lasting damage.
If she was stupid enough to try anything, which he doubted.
Emma, for her part, looked visibly uncomfortable with the request. Her eyes flicked to Yelena, then back to Justin, before she swallowed visibly, her poise slipping just slightly. "I'd… Prefer not to," She said, her voice chilly and still carrying that regal edge, but it didn't fully mask her apprehension. She was used to being the one in control, the one who could assert her dominance through sheer willpower and mental prowess. Now, she stood before someone who might be beyond her reach, and that uncertainty was clearly unsettling.
She was also obviously worried about any punishment should she succeed and anything happened. Yelena was hardly making it difficult to see that she'd kill her for one wrong move.
Justin's smile didn't falter. "It's an order," He said, his tone mild but the authority behind it unmistakable.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
For a moment, Emma's expression flickered again. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world, but after a long, tense pause, she nodded reluctantly, her gaze focusing on his. The tension between them crackled as she concentrated, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to penetrate his mind.
For the first minute, nothing happened. Then, without warning, Emma winced, a hand coming up to rest on her forehead. She looked away, her eyes momentarily closing as if in pain. "I can't," She admitted, her voice strained. "It's like… There's a chasm between us. One I can't cross."
Justin's implant buzzed back to life as he turned it on with a thought. Nail's voice came through almost immediately, whispering that based on everything known about Emma Frost - her powers, her mannerisms, vocal tone, facial tics - she was telling the truth.
Pleased with the result, Justin smiled. "After you then, my lady," He said, his voice cheerful as he gestured toward Sinister's cell.
Emma composed herself once more, straightening her posture and smoothing her expression as she led the way into the holding cell. Inside, the room was built state-of-the-art, every inch of it designed to hold anything - and anyone. Sinister was strapped down in the center of the room, his body locked into position by a complex array of restraints. His eyes were wide, his face contorted in pain as the specialized version of Extremis coursed through him, intensifying his suffering.
He could do nothing but blink and scream.
Emma ignored the screaming entirely, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she approached him. She placed a single fingertip on his forehead, her focus intense as she began to probe his mind.
"The pain is not making this easier," She commented coolly, her voice cutting through Sinister's shrieks.
Justin shrugged, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. "Can't turn it off," He said with a nonchalant tone, though the smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn't in any hurry to ease Sinister's suffering.
He should consider himself lucky that Justin hadn't begun to get creative yet. He'd lost him Hope…
Sinister would live for a very long time… He might even outlive every other human being out there, all of it in immense pain.
Emma shot him a glance over her shoulder, her expression one of mild annoyance. "Can't or won't?"
Justin's smile widened, but he didn't bother answering. The question wasn't worth responding to.
Emma grumbled something under her breath, something that didn't sound quite as ladylike as her usual demeanor, before turning her attention fully back to Sinister. "He has defenses, it seems," She murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration. "But the pain has eroded them. I can get through, even if his muddled thoughts will make it take longer to parse anything useful."
And so, the secrets locked inside Nathaniel Essex's twisted mind began to unravel.
To Justin's pleasure. It seemed it was a process that was quite painful.
Or perhaps Emma was fishing for brownie points.
Either way, he was very pleased.
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Later that night, Cairo.
Justin leaned back in his chair, the soft hum of Cairo's war room surrounding him. The dark, sleek table in front of him gleamed under the recessed lighting, and the walls were alive with large holographic displays flashing status reports from around the globe.
Yelena sat at his side, calm and composed, though the slight narrowing of her eyes betrayed her frustration at the day's developments. Emma Frost, however, was anything but calm. She sat stiffly across from Justin, clearly doing her best to project her usual icy composure. Still, her fingers twitched occasionally against her immaculate white outfit, and she kept stealing cautious glances at the surrounding screens. The subtle tension in her posture revealed her uncertainty, and it was clear she was carefully walking a line, unsure of how far she could push in her new position.
Justin tapped his fingers against the edge of the table, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed Emma. Her discomfort amused him, and he had no plans to alleviate it. It was good for her to know exactly where she stood - especially after everything she'd pulled with Frost Industries and her little games with him. Folding her company into Hammer Industries had been a strategic win, but Emma herself was still untested in this new role, and he liked watching her squirm.
He tapped the desk a final time and straightened, the smirk fading from his face. It was time to get to business.
Storm and Bucky were both leading his assets in the field - Storm in Africa, overseeing the protection of his resources there, while Bucky and Kaecilius managed the situation in the States. Electro, newly recovered and assisting again after Emma had unlocked his mind, was with Bucky's group. It turned out that Electro's mental block wasn't the result of an Apocalypse resurgence, as they'd feared. Emma had unlocked his mind with scorn in her voice, noting that there was no way Xavier hadn't noticed the block when it first happened, considering he had been on-site.
Apocalypse had simply locked Electro inside his own mind.
Justin hadn't been surprised by that revelation. It had only reaffirmed his belief that Xavier, like Magneto, was an old man clinging to power. Magneto was already rotting in one of his cells, and Xavier, while still technically free, was essentially inconsequential now. His team was falling apart, his public reputation shredded after recent revelations. Justin had no immediate plans to deal with Xavier, but it was something he kept in the back of his mind. The professor was less trustworthy than even Justin had originally believed.
Magneto would only live long enough for Maya and Helen to figure out how to transfer his powers… Then he too would pay for having had a hand in the fight that had taken Hope in the end.
The large screen in front of Justin flickered to life as Sunil Bakshi appeared, his face sharp and serious. Doctor Octavius followed shortly after, his mechanical arms whirring faintly in the background as he adjusted something off-screen - thankfully properly built ones this time... Vanko was deployed with the H.A.M.M.E.R team, and Forge was occupied with engineering things for the Moon assault, so Octavius was the one reporting on the current state of the Iron Legion.
Justin steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the two men on the screen. "Make it quick, gentlemen," He said, his voice clipped. "I can't afford to spend too much time on the Mandarin. He's the lesser threat right now."
The cold truth hung in the air. It would cost him - both in public perception and lives - to not be able to stop all the attacks that would come. But Justin couldn't afford to let the Sentinel program run its course on the Moon. It was too dangerous to humanity.
The Mandarin was an annoyance, a painful one, like a swarm of mosquitos giving him a thousand little pricks slowly, one by one.
The Sentinel program had the possibility of becoming an extinction event, especially with Skrulls in charge of it, looking to take over the planet for their race. The Sentinels, if the program was completed before he could stop it, would be a force that would cost him a thousand times more than the Mandarin.
The choice was easy in the end with such calculations.
Sunil was the first to speak, his tone as efficient as always. "Sir, Nail has managed to intercept and prevent eleven sabotage attempts so far. However, we've missed six bombings in locations that were less well-covered. These incidents took place in low-priority nations - Peru, Zimbabwe, etc - but the casualties are still significant."
Justin grimaced, resting his chin on his tented hands. "Nail, how are they avoiding you? And what can we do to fix it?" Not that much of the answer was likely anything they could do at the moment…
Nail's holographic avatar materialized near the table, her presence causing Emma to flinch slightly. It was obvious Emma was still uncomfortable with Justin's global AI, having not known beforehand, but she wisely kept her mouth shut, though her eyes betrayed her unease.
"Sir," Nail began, her voice calm and precise, "In well-developed countries, we've been able to catch the Mandarin's operatives in the act. The use of their so-called 'ninja' has been identified, but there simply isn't enough surveillance infrastructure in less-developed nations to cover every possible target. The lack of CCTV and satellite coverage in these areas creates blind spots."
Justin grunted in reluctant agreement. The 'uplift' of these nations was still far from complete. It would take years to bring countries like Zimbabwe up to par with the surveillance and infrastructure of America or Europe. The Mandarin's operatives, those damned ninjas, also managed to avoid using any technology that would make them easier to track, further complicating matters.
He cast a sideways glance at Yelena. "Your Black Widows having any luck?"
Yelena's expression darkened. She hated failure. "They're too spread out," She admitted, not bothering to hide her frustration. "By the time they receive the warnings, they can't respond fast enough. We've already lost three agents."
The weight of that loss settled over the room for a moment before Emma spoke up, her voice calculating and calm. "If you can capture someone from their organization, I can work them over," She suggested, her eyes glinting with the possibility of getting her hands on one of the Mandarin's operatives.
Sunil immediately nodded but looked doubtful. "They commit suicide at the slightest sign of any risk of capture," He explained grimly. "It's unlikely we'll be able to get our hands on one alive."
Justin rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritation spiking. "Enough of this, then. We continue to upgrade our security. Spread Nail's awareness wherever possible and defend ourselves as best we can. As frustrating as it is, we can lose a hundred factories and not technically lose anything that sets us back." His tone turned sharp. "Public perception is another issue. Nail, steer the media as best you can, control social media, remove as much bad news as possible."
Nail nodded, her digital form flickering in acknowledgment. "Yes, sir. I will prioritize shifting narratives and ensuring minimal public fallout."
Justin turned his attention back to Sunil. "China's invasion of Taiwan and India - any other nations in Asia following suit?"
It was a clever move by the Mandarin. The chaos was tying up a vast amount of Justin's resources and time. With the man's grip over much of Asia, China wasn't the only concern. He could force a conflict elsewhere too.
It would cost him, but the man was obviously willing to risk losing a few countries to take Justin down, safe in his immortality to return to power eventually for all he'd lost.
Doctor Octavius cleared his throat before speaking. "The Iron Legion has successfully blunted the Chinese advance into India. We've also assisted U.S. naval forces in establishing air superiority over Chinese waters near Taiwan as the U.S. prepares for its liberation of Taiwan, though that's still likely a month away at best with the Americans as they are.." He tapped at a tablet off-screen before continuing. "American soldiers are also assisting South Korea as North Korean forces have crossed the DMZ with Chinese support. Japan has remained quiet, but there are rumblings in Indonesia, and saber-rattling is escalating across the region."
"We can only assist and hold for now," Justin said, his tone cold and dismissive. "Let the U.S. handle what they do best - well, as best as they can." He shook his head, a sardonic look on his face, the US for all its vaunted military didn't exactly have that great of a record for actually solving any problems.
Emma, who had remained silent until now, raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Thousands will die," She said simply, as if testing him.
Justin's gaze flicked to her, his expression hard. "And?"
People tended to forget he was no hero. What did a few thousand or even hundreds of thousands of lives matter in the great calculus of things? Justin would bring the survivors utopia, that's what mattered.
HYDRA was right about one thing. Humans didn't desire freedom, they were afraid of it - their real desire was safety, security, letting someone else make the decisions.
Emma's lips curved into a faint smirk. Yelena rolled her eyes at the other woman's attempt to test him. Emma's smirk faded slightly as Justin's cold demeanor didn't waver. Yelena, sitting next to him, gave Emma a small shake of her head, as if to say - you really don't know him yet, do you?
Doctor Octavius, oblivious to the tension between the women, cleared his throat. "Sir, the Iron Legion is stretched thin across Asia. If any more countries erupt into conflict, we'll struggle to cover all fronts. The U.S. is prioritizing Taiwan, but if the entire region collapses into chaos…"
Justin waved his hand dismissively. "If Asia erupts in flames, it erupts. We can't be everywhere at once. We're not gods." He paused, allowing a small smirk to return. "Well, most of us aren't." He threw a glance at Yelena, who hid her smile. Emma, however, simply raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment of his newfound divinity.
Doctor Octavius shifted uneasily, continuing his report. "Riots have broken out in several Chinese cities, but the government is suppressing them with brutal efficiency. There's speculation that the Chinese leadership may be compromised, possibly Skrull involvement, due to the nature of the attacks."
"Well, that will only help the narrative, I suppose." Justin murmured, "And what of the US, I know they're holding meetings worried about 'my meteoric rise'." He said with some amusement. "Nail, anything else on why the Americans are poised to drag their feet?"
Nail's hologram appeared again, answering him. "Sir, there are rumblings of impeachment proceedings against President Ellis in Congress. American support for our efforts may wane if their government becomes consumed with internal conflict, and it appears it's this conflict which is delaying matters."
Justin let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Impeachment, huh? For what, exactly?"
Nail tilted her head, her holographic eyes scanning through data. "The allegations center around Ellis' connections to you, sir, and the fact that he permitted the use of the Iron Legion without congressional approval."
Of course he'd done no such thing. Justin hadn't bothered getting permission… Oh well. Ellis could handle it on his own, or not… Chaos in this helped him, even as it also gave him some headaches in the short term due to the US not being as quick as usual to jump into the conflict.
Emma cut in smoothly, her gaze sharpening. "They can't touch you directly, so they're going after your perceived puppet. It's politics as usual."
Sunil leaned forward on the screen, his expression carefully neutral. "Do you want us to intervene, sir? Push back?"
Justin shook his head, waving the suggestion away. "Let it play out. If they want to tear their own government apart while we're busy, all the better. Chaos has its uses, after all." He glanced at Yelena, who nodded in agreement. "Let them flounder. We'll capitalize on it later."
Yelena cocked her head slightly, curious. "Won't that set back U.S. military efforts?"
Justin shrugged. "Possibly. But more likely, it'll just be another example of their incompetence and indecision. The longer they waffle, the better we look in comparison when we start cleaning up their messes. People will see the truth in time."
Emma studied him carefully, her icy exterior cracking just a bit as she realized the depth of his long-term strategy. The more the governments of the world failed - the sooner Hammer Industries could step in and take over.
Doctor Octavius, his arms whirring behind him, shifted his focus. "Sir, if we pull too much of the Iron Legion to manage the chaos in Asia, it will leave other regions vulnerable, including our upcoming project." He reminded him.
Justin steepled his fingers again, his gaze intent. "Which brings us to the Moon."
Emma blinked in surprise, confusion finally crossing her carefully controlled expression. "The Moon?" She asked, trying to regain her composure.
Yelena smirked, her amusement clear. "Oh, Emma, you didn't know? Aliens are building an army of robots called Sentinels on the Moon - their goal, to wipe out humanity."
Emma's perfect posture faltered for the first time, her eyes widening slightly. "What!?"
Justin chuckled darkly, enjoying the shock on her face. "Welcome to the big leagues, Emma. The world you knew is a small slice of a much bigger, much more dangerous universe. The Skrulls… They've been playing with Earth, and now we're getting involved to put a stop to it finally. The Sentinel program on the Moon is their latest project - designed to wipe us out."
Emma's expression hardened as she processed the information. She was no stranger to large-scale threats, but the idea of alien forces building a weapon of that magnitude unsettled even her. "And I assume we're planning to stop it soon?" She clarified, stressing the word soon.
"Of course," Justin replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "The question is how to best approach it. We've made great strides in developing countermeasures, but it's a delicate situation. We can't exactly announce to the world that we're about to go to war with aliens."
What if they failed the first strike? It would be humiliating. Better to wait to announce it after they've won.
So they could tell the world, while you squabbled, we ended an extinction event. Hammer industries is your only way forward. Every instance of competence would make the eventual takeover smoother.
Justin turned to Doctor Octavius. "What's the status on our Moon mission?"
Doctor Octavius glanced at his tablet again. "Preparations are nearly complete. Vanko has finalized the prototype armor for extraterrestrial deployment, and we're ready to begin assembling the team. However, the Sentinel bases on the Moon are vast according to the recent Intel from Sinister, and we don't have a complete picture of their strength. It will be a difficult battle."
"Nothing worth doing is easy, Doc," Justin said with a smirk. "We'll have to make do with what we have. Speed is key - before the Sentinels become fully operational."
Worst case, there was the power stone, but that was not ideal. Blowing up the Moon hardly won him any points, not to mention the other issues with such a thing.
Emma, having regained her composure, leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze locked on Justin. "And what happens if we fail?"
Justin frowned at her. "We won't fail. That's not an option. If we lose to the Sentinels, we lose everything."
Yelena leaned back in her chair, her confidence radiating. "Then we better make sure the Moon becomes ours."
Justin's eyes gleamed with determination. "We will. The Sentinels are just one more obstacle in our way, and we've dealt with worse. Once we take control of the Moon, Earth's space will be secure within a year."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their mission hanging in the air. They were on the brink of something monumental. The Mandarin's chaos on Earth was nothing compared to the threat of the Sentinels lurking on the Moon.
Justin stood, his hands planted firmly on the table. "We move forward. Finalize the team for the Moon operation. Everyone else, keep the Mandarin in check as best as you can while we'll be gone. We can't afford any distractions. Understood?"
The group nodded, their focus unwavering.
Justin glanced one last time at Emma, who still looked unsure of her place, but the gleam in her eyes said she liked what she saw. "Welcome to the real game, Emma."
She held his gaze, her expression sharp and resolute. "I'm ready."
The meeting ended, but the sense of impending action lingered. The war on Earth was just the beginning. The battle for the Moon - and the fate of humanity - was next.
And Justin was ready for whatever came next.
This was his planet!
----------------------------------------
The next day, early morning, India.
Justin stepped through the shimmering portal, the landscape of the border between China and India unfolding before him. The air was thick with the acrid stench of artillery fire and gunfire, smoke lingering over the battlefield.
The terrain was littered with remnants of war - abandoned tanks, craters from artillery shells, and debris scattered across the ground. But the most prominent feature, unmistakable even from a distance, was the mountain of bodies, stacked haphazardly in a grotesque display of carnage. Atop this grisly throne lounged Hela, the Goddess of Death, looking entirely at ease.
Is this how I'm going to find her every time? He thought, knowing she had a use, but disliking how much of a blunt tool she was. For as much as the idea of wielding a hammer, as a Hammer was - he preferred to utilize more multi-purpose tools, instead of a single solution one.
He walked closer, inspecting her as he did.
Her black armor glistened in the dim light of an early morning, the sun barely poking over the horizon, and her dark, blood-streaked hair hung loose over her shoulders. She sat with one leg draped over the edge of the macabre pile, idly tracing a finger across the edge of her necrosword as if it were the most casual of pastimes.
Justin walked toward her slowly, his face impassive, his boots crunching over the gravel and debris beneath him. The bodies, the destruction - it was all irrelevant to him. His focus was on Hela, and the task at hand. He came to a stop just at the base of the pile, looking up at the goddess as she glanced down at him with an amused smile.
"Hela," He greeted her with a small nod, his voice cutting through the stillness.
Hela stretched languidly, as if she had just woken from a peaceful nap. "You send me to the nicest places, Justin," She purred, sounding pleased. Relaxed.
Like she'd just went for a nice bath. Not a slaughter.
Justin's expression remained neutral. "When you can only do one thing..." He pointed out dryly, letting the implication hang in the air. What else was he supposed to do with her, after all?
Hela pouted playfully, pretending to be offended by his words. "Oh, come now. I can do many things. You just prefer to keep me in my natural element." She shifted slightly on the pile, the sound of bodies shifting beneath her a grisly reminder of her work.
Before Justin could respond, Hela's head cocked to the side, her sharp ears picking up something in the distance. Her eyes gleamed with predatory delight as she crafted a massive necrosword from thin air. With a quick flick of her wrist, she hurled it skyward, and seconds later, there was a brilliant explosion in the sky, far off in the distance. Justin, with his heightened senses, barely caught the explosion with a flicker of energy dissipating.
"They keep trying to bomb me," Hela said with a bored tone, inspecting her nails as if the effort had been beneath her. "Silly mortals. You don't learn lessons very easily, do you?"
"To be fair," Justin replied, his tone dry, "Most militaries aren't used to facing someone who can just look at missiles and fighter jets and then say - No."
Hela chuckled darkly, her lips curving into a sinister grin. "Mortals and their toys," She mused, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "They never quite grasp the futility of it all."
Justin's eyes remained steady on her, not giving her the satisfaction of amusement. He knew Hela loved the theatrics, loved to play her role to the hilt, but there was work to be done. "Are you ready to be useful again? Or do you plan to lounge around here all day?"
Hela's eyes lit up with excitement, her bloodthirsty grin widening. "You're here to finally let me off the leash, aren't you?" She leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting with malevolent anticipation. "These Chinese... They'd bow to me if they lost a hundred million or two of their citizens."
Justin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I already forced the world to put their nukes away. I'm not about to let you enact your own version of Armageddon." He rolled his eyes at her exaggerated pout. "There's plenty of death for you yet. We're going after the Skrulls next."
Hela's pout deepened as she crossed her arms. "The Skrulls?" She scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Those shapeshifting pests. You expect me to get excited about fighting them? Where's the fun in that?"
"They'll have giant robots designed to exterminate humanity," Justin offered, his voice still carrying that note of dry detachment.
Hela's response was a dismissive wave of her hand. "Robots, you say? Killing machines without souls, without fear?" She sighed dramatically, flipping her hair. "Where's the joy in that? No screams, no terror. Just cold metal falling to pieces. You really are depriving me, Justin." She gave him an exaggeratedly disappointed look. "And here I thought you, of all people, would understand my tastes. After all, with that domain of yours..." Her voice dropped to a suggestive purr as she gave him a teasing glance.
Justin's eyes narrowed. Without a word, he tapped into his domination domain, letting the weight of his power press down on Hela. It was a subtle yet overwhelming force, suffocating, bending reality to his will. Hela froze for a moment, feeling the weight of his authority wash over her. Her breath caught in her throat, and a slow, delighted grin spread across her face.
…Perhaps I've misstepped… Justin thought.
"Oh, that's more like it," She crooned, tilting her head slightly, exposing her neck in a gesture of fake submission. "Do it harder," She whispered, a gleam of something dangerous flickering in her eyes.
Justin released the pressure with a sigh, shaking his head. "Every day I wonder if you were worth the hassle of the payment we're going to receive," He muttered under his breath, still not entirely sure he had made the right decision in bringing her into the fold.
Hela giggled, her laughter low and dark. "Oh, darling, I'm worth every bit of trouble. You just don't see it yet." She hopped off the pile of bodies with a graceful leap, landing effortlessly beside him. "One day, you'll realize I'm right, and you'll set your sights on the stars, on conquest. You'll see." She gave him a wide, crazed grin, her eyes alight with ambition. "I know you will."
Justin ignored her ramblings, focusing on the task at hand. "Are you done playing now? We're preparing for the attack, and your experience in war could be... Useful. I could use your input." His tone was begrudging but practical.
Hela sauntered past him toward the still-open portal, her hips swaying as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Oh, sweet of you to admit you need me," She purred, delighted.
Justin let out another sigh, thankful he could no longer get headaches.
Was it too late to get a refund?
----------------------------------------
A day later, New York City.
The safehouse was a small, nondescript apartment tucked away in the quiet corners of New York, the kind of place no one would ever look for them. In the dimly lit living room, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Namor sat, watching the news broadcast on a large television.
On the screen, a grim-faced news anchor reported on the escalating situation across the globe, her voice calm but filled with an underlying current of urgency.
"We turn now to the worsening crisis in Asia," the anchor began, her face framed by a graphic showing the Chinese and Indian flags clashing. "In the last seventy-two hours, China has launched a full-scale offensive against the Indian border, overwhelming Indian defenses in the Himalayan region. Reports indicate thousands of casualties on both sides, with the Chinese military deploying overwhelming force, including mechanized infantry and air support, to secure the region."
The screen cut to shaky footage of artillery fire echoing through the mountain passes, the snow-capped peaks lit up by the explosions, as Indian soldiers scrambled to hold their position. The camera zoomed in on distant plumes of smoke rising from the valley below.
"In addition to the conflict with India," the anchor continued, "China has also overwhelmed Taiwan's defenses, leading to the island's military collapse in several key locations. Sources indicate that the Chinese navy is now establishing blockades around the island, preventing any outside assistance from reaching Taiwanese forces."
A map of the region appeared on the screen, showing the positions of Chinese and Taiwanese forces, red arrows showing the direction of the Chinese advance as the situation deteriorated by the hour.
The broadcast didn't stop there. "Meanwhile, in a coordinated move, North Korea, with suspected Chinese assistance, has launched a series of assaults across the demilitarized zone, striking against South Korea. Seoul has mobilized its full military force, but there are reports of overwhelming numbers coming from the north. American forces have already seen battle to defend their allies in South Korea."
Footage switched to South Korean soldiers, as well as Americans, rushing into action, tanks rumbling down highways, fighter jets streaking through the skies as sirens blared in the background.
The anchor's voice became grave, "The United States has issued a strong condemnation of China's actions, but with their forces already committed to aiding Taiwan and defending South Korea, there are growing concerns over the ability of international forces to respond to multiple flashpoints. The world holds its breath, wondering where this will all lead."
The broadcast switched to the sight of the Iron Legion, "Thankfully, Hammer industries were able to blunt the advance by Chinese forces into India, due to a new proje-"
Steve had seen enough. His jaw tightened, and with a look of disgust, he reached for the remote and shut off the television.
"People never learn," He muttered, the frustration in his voice evident. His blue eyes glared at the now-blank screen, as if daring it to challenge his disgust. Showcasing more examples of war and stupidity.
Natasha leaned back on the worn couch, her gaze still fixed on the TV screen, even though it was now dark. She had that look, the one where she was seeing more than the rest of them. The wheels were turning in her mind, and she wasn't just watching the news; she was analyzing it, connecting dots the others weren't even aware of.
"That's kind of our thing, Cap," She drawled in the end, a sarcastic edge to her voice. "Although this one could likely be laid at Hammer's feet, he's stirred the world up too much.."
Across the room, Namor, who had been pacing with a furious energy, paused. The King of Talokan had been in a constant state of agitation ever since he had been forced into a series of humiliating concessions by the U.S. government, and Hammer's influence had been central to that outcome. His black hair, slicked back in its usual fashion, as his whole body bristled with agitation, his muscular frame seemed coiled, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
"Hammer is behind this?" Namor asked sharply, his tone filled with contempt. "We should stop it then. End this madness before it spreads further." Rebuild their reputation, was left unsaid, but easily picked up on by the spies.
Clint exchanged a look with Natasha, the two of them holding a silent conversation in a way only seasoned operatives could. It lasted a second before Clint shrugged and addressed Namor directly.
"Look, I'm not a fan of the guy either," Clint admitted, his voice calm but firm. "But we're laying low right now, remember? This -" He gestured to the television, " - this situation is the opposite of low."
Steve stood up suddenly, his presence commanding as ever, and walked toward the center of the room. His frustration boiled just beneath the surface, his fists clenching and unclenching as he spoke. "No, Clint's wrong. Namor's right." His voice was filled with conviction. "This is where we can prove we can still be trusted. We need to stop this war. All this chaos, all these invasions - it's Hammer's fault. His reckless technology. His Iron Legion, his disregard for people's will. He's thrown the world into chaos, and we're the ones who can put a stop to it."
Natasha's brow furrowed as she looked at Steve, the tone of his voice setting off alarms in her head. "Steve, that's not really -" She began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"We can stop this, Nat," Steve continued, his voice rising with conviction. "This is the right thing to do. Just like I fought the Germans, just like I fought HYDRA, we'll fight this invasion, and we'll stop Hammer's influence from spreading." He spread his hands out with a winning smile, "And just like then, they'll thank us for it!"
Natasha shared another look with Clint, both of them clearly unsettled by Steve's sudden fervor. This was risky. Too risky.
Namor, of course, was all too eager to seize the opportunity. "The Captain speaks truly!" He declared, stepping forward, his voice echoing with the authority of a king. "We can liberate this… Taiwan, from these invaders. Once we do, the world will know we are the ones they should turn to. They will recognize us as their saviors!"
Clint sighed, crossing his arms. "There's four of us," He said, his tone dry, but the tension in his body was clear. "We can't fight an army. Not China's, not North Korea's, and definitely not whatever Hammer's got up his sleeve."
Steve's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of reality sinking in. "There must be a way…" He murmured, his voice trailing off as he ran a hand through his hair.
Natasha closed her eyes and muttered a curse under her breath. She had known things were bad, but now it felt like they were spiraling out of control faster than she could keep up. Just as she was about to speak, Namor lit up with a smug, triumphant smirk.
"We can use my soldiers," Namor announced, as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. "With my forces at the forefront, we will sweep through their ranks, rise up from the sea to liberate Taiwan, and claim the victory for ourselves. No one will dare question our strength."
Steve's face brightened almost immediately. "That's right," He said, his voice filled with renewed determination. "And no one can criticize us for protecting people's freedom from invaders. No one."
Natasha opened her mouth to protest that, but the words died on her lips. Instead, she sighed heavily, standing up from the couch. "Steve, we need to lay low right now," She said, trying to keep her voice level. "Going after China - one of the world's largest armies - is not laying low. It's the exact opposite of laying low, Clint was right on that."
Clint nodded in agreement, pushing himself up from the chair. "Namor, Steve - look, we need to think this through. We need to wait for the right moment, find the best spot to jump in. We can't just rush into this headfirst. Not after last time." His voice was strained, the memory of their last failed mission hanging in the air like a dark cloud.
But Steve and Namor weren't listening. They were standing shoulder to shoulder now, going over the logistics of an attack on Taiwan as if they were planning a simple raid, not a war. Namor's excitement was palpable, while Steve's sense of righteousness burned brightly in his eyes.
Clint and Natasha exchanged yet another look, both of them clearly frustrated. This is madness! They both thought.
"Every other side sucks," Clint muttered under his breath, glancing at the two men in front of them. "But this isn't the best position either." He admitted.
Natasha's face tightened, her mind racing through the possible outcomes of this reckless plan. "We're persona non grata. We can only hope this plan works out." She paused, her voice dropping into a more uncertain tone. "It's... Possible a win here could help us."
Clint grimaced. "If we win."
Natasha nodded, her gaze lingering on Namor, who was practically glowing with self-importance. "If we win," She muttered, more to herself than to Clint.
Deep down, she had a feeling that even if they succeeded in this crazy plan, the world wouldn't be any more grateful than they were now. Namor might relish the idea of a triumphant victory, but there was a reason they were laying low in the first place.
And dragging the people of Talokan into this mess might just make things worse.
Should she try to reach out? Maybe… Maybe Yelena could…
No. She clenched her fists at her sides, her resolve hardening. Calling Yelena was too much like admitting defeat. She was THE Black Widow, and she'd find a way to make this work.
Natasha stood up, rubbing her temples before addressing the room. "Boys, if we're doing this, we're doing it right. So listen up."
Steve and Namor turned toward her, still buzzing with energy, but there was a hint of acknowledgment in Steve's eyes. He respected her enough to know that if Natasha Romanoff had something to say, it was worth listening to. Namor, however, looked less enthused, but even he quieted down when Natasha raised a hand.
Clint, sitting back with his head in his hands, peeked through his fingers, groaning softly. "I guess we're really doing this, huh?" He muttered, his tone half resigned, half exasperated.
This could only end well, he thought.
----------------------------------------
Johannesburg, same time.
Storm stood above the smoking ruins of Johannesburg's once-thriving industrial complex built by Hammer industries, her eyes filled with fury as she took in the devastation. Flames roared beneath the thick, acrid smoke rising into the sky, and the chaos on the ground was immense. Rescue teams scrambled to save what they could, but the sheer scale of destruction left little hope. Bodies lay scattered, covered in makeshift tarps, while survivors, bloodied and dust-covered, wandered aimlessly, their faces frozen in shock.
Taking a deep breath, Storm called upon her power, raising her arms toward the heavens. The wind responded instantly, whipping around her, and the already darkened skies swirled violently. Her white hair floated in the air as if it had a life of its own. The air above began to shift, growing thick and humid as she summoned her element. Thunder rumbled overhead as she formed massive storm clouds, and soon, fat raindrops began to fall in torrents.
The downpour intensified with every passing second, rain cascading over the burning buildings below, sending up clouds of steam as it met the roaring flames. Storm concentrated, guiding the rain precisely where it was needed. She could feel the fire fighting her back, but she would win. She had to. For all the innocents caught in the middle of the Mandarin's reign of terror, for all the progress that was slipping away under a tide of blood and flames, she had to succeed.
"Tell me we got any of them!" She growled into her communicator, her voice strained with barely contained rage.
From his position in the sky beside her, Brock, piloting the Vulture armor, scanned the ground. His helmeted head swiveled back and forth, searching through the wreckage. His mechanical voice came through her earpiece, filled with disgust. "Suicide attack, Storm. They took themselves out. Nothing left to trace, no evidence to find. It's all gone."
Storm's fists clenched tightly at his words, and for a brief moment, she lost control. The winds howled around her as a burst of anger flared through her, the deluge intensifying to the point that even the firefighters had to step back. Realizing what she had done, she forced herself to calm, reining in her powers with a slow exhale. The winds lessened, the rain slowing to a more manageable torrent, just enough to continue smothering the flames.
"So many dead," She whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm she had created. Her heart broke as her gaze shifted back to the rows of bodies covered in tarps. "Africa was finally going somewhere, Rumlow... We were building a future. Hammer's work was bringing us hope. And now..." She trailed off, her voice thick with emotion as she swallowed hard.
Brock's voice crackled in her ear again. "Yeah, I know. It's hard to look at this and not feel like we've failed." There was a pause as his armor hovered beside her. "Suicide bombers are almost impossible to defend against. They erased all the evidence by their actions. We have nothing."
Storm clenched her fists, the rain shifting as her emotions warred within her. "We have too many targets to protect," She admitted, her voice low and pained. "Nail gave us the warning, but it wasn't enough. Not in time. Not to stop this." She looked down at the burning complex and then at the grieving families left behind, sobbing and clutching each other in disbelief. "We disarmed two bombs, but the rest... And then those trucks full of explosives." She shook her head, the frustration boiling over.
"We need to strike back," She muttered, her voice laced with venom. "We need to stop this before it happens again."
Brock agreed, his voice carrying a tone of helpless anger. "Yeah. If we knew where the bastard was hiding, I'd be the first to volunteer. But as it is..." He trailed off, letting the silence fill the air between them.
Storm knew what he was thinking, and she hated that he was right. "The Sentinels," She said, her tone bitter. "We can't leave that threat unchecked." She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her shoulders. The lives lost today were nothing compared to the devastation the Sentinel program could cause if they didn't deal with it now. But it didn't make this any easier to accept.
"We should be here, Rumlow," She said softly. "Helping them. These are my people, dying because of that monster, and all we can do is..." She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.
"All we can do is finish this fight as fast as we can," Brock replied, his voice quiet but firm. "Take care of the Sentinels. Then we come back, and we deal with the Mandarin."
Storm bit her lip, her frustration bubbling to the surface again. "This is the right call, isn't it?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. "It has to be. I just... I can't stand that it feels like we're abandoning them."
Brock didn't respond for a moment, and when he did, his voice was quieter. "Yeah. I get that. But this is bigger than us, bigger than Johannesburg, Africa or anywhere else that's gotten hit." His voice hardened. "We have to stop the Sentinels before they wipe us all out. And then we can make the Mandarin pay."
The rain continued to pour as Storm hovered above the wreckage, her heart heavy with grief and rage. She hated this. Hated the choices she had to make, the lives she couldn't save. But Rumlow was right. The Sentinel program was too great a threat to ignore. If they didn't stop it, the cost would be far higher than what they were seeing now.
"We have until Justin picks us up, correct?" She asked, her voice flat, the tears mixing with the rain streaming down her face.
"Yeah." Brock's reply was simple, but there was an understanding between them that went deeper than words.
Without another word, Storm descended slowly to the ground, landing near a group of first responders working desperately to pull survivors from the rubble. Her cape billowed behind her as the rain soaked her to the bone, but she didn't care. She couldn't leave without helping them, even if only for a little while.
"I will assist the emergency services," She said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of a promise. She was still a leader, a protector. And she wouldn't abandon these people in their hour of need.
Brock descended as well, landing beside her. His voice came through his helmet, but it was softer now, more human. "I know enough first aid. I'll lend a hand too."
Storm nodded, her face set with determination as she knelt beside a firefighter who was struggling to free a trapped civilian. She wasn't the hero she used to be, the one who believed that good always triumphed over evil. But she was something else now - something that the Mandarin and those who threatened her people would come to fear.
Because when they found him, the one responsible for all this death and destruction... When they finally tracked down the Mandarin...
She was going to show him the fury of Gaia.
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