(AN: Greetings! I have recovered! Here's the first chapter I have cooked after recovery today. Enjoy!)
The lobby of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters had already transformed into a controlled standoff, its wide, sterile space filled with armed agents positioned in a tightening circle around Wanda Maximoff and Kristen, their weapons raised, their fingers tense, their orders clear, while at the center of it all stood Tyler Hayward, calm on the surface, but already calculating the next move.
Then, something dropped.
A metallic impact cracked sharply against the polished floor, followed instantly by the familiar hum of advanced systems coming online as Iron Man landed beside them, his nanotech armor fully formed, glowing faintly as he straightened and looked around.
"Alright," Tony said, glancing at the crowd of armed agents.
"This feels a little excessive."
Hayward's composure snapped back into place immediately.
"Stand down, Stark," he ordered, his voice firm, authoritative.
"This is S.W.O.R.D. jurisdiction. You interfere, and I can have you arrested."
Tony tilted his helmet slightly, unimpressed.
"Yeah, about that," he replied casually, gesturing faintly toward Wanda.
"She's an Avenger. And last I checked, Avenger business is also my business—because, you know…" he tapped his chest plate lightly, "I am also an Avenger."
For a brief moment, Hayward said nothing, his mind moving quickly through consequences, calculations, and the reality of who stood in front of him—not just Iron Man, but Tony Stark, a name that still carried weight far beyond the armor, embedded deeply within the same government Hayward himself answered to.
Then Tony added, almost as an afterthought—
"Oh, and I locked the place down," he said. "No signals out, no signals in. Whatever happens here…" a small shrug followed, "…stays here."
That did it.
Hayward's expression hardened, something darker surfacing beneath his restraint as the implications settled in fully, his mind shifting not toward de-escalation—but opportunity.
"No one would know if he can't talk…" he murmured under his breath.
If that was the case, then there were no consequences.
And Iron Man—no matter how advanced—was still just a man inside a machine.
"Last chance, Stark, stand down!" Hayward said, his tone sharpening as his hand lowered slightly, a subtle signal already being relayed through internal comms.
Somewhere beyond the lobby, reinforcements were being mobilized—heavier weapons, specialized units, technology designed specifically to counter threats like Ironman himself.
Tony didn't respond; his silence was already loud enough as the answer.
"Since you insist on interfering," Hayward continued, louder now, his authority returning in full, "I don't have much choice."
His hand lifted.
"Subdue the machine," he ordered, his eyes flicking briefly to Kristen. "And eliminate the rest."
The agents didn't hesitate.
They moved, or tried to.
Because before the first shot could even be fired, something dropped from the ceiling.
Then another. And another.
They were small, fast, and unidentifiable for them.
Facehuggers.
They hit the floor in a chaotic cascade before launching themselves forward with terrifying speed, latching onto the nearest targets before most of the agents could even react, their limbs wrapping tightly, tails coiling, muffled screams cutting through the room as bodies were forced down, pinned, suffocated.
"Get them off—!"
Gunfire erupted instantly. Too fast and too panicked.
Some agents managed to react in time, shoving the creatures away or firing at close range, but that only made things worse, as bursts of acidic blood sprayed outward on impact, sizzling against skin and armor alike, burning through fabric, flesh, and anything unfortunate enough to be nearby.
Screams followed. Louder now and more desperate.
The formation collapsed in seconds.
Order turned into chaos as some agents fired wildly, hitting not just the creatures, but each other. In contrast, others stumbled back, trying to tear the Facehuggers away as their movements grew more frantic, more uncontrolled.
And in the middle of it all, Tony just stared.
"…Holy shit," he muttered. "What the f*ck are those?"
"Reinforcements," Kristen replied calmly.
Tony slowly turned his helmet toward her.
"Yeah, no f*cking sh*t, those are clearly more than just f*cking reinforcements!" his mouth sounded so perfectly aligned with what's happening, yet you'd probably be asking if the one speaking was Tony Stark himself. Still, if Steve were here, he would probably be hearing another 'language' from the old man.
"Hayward is mine," Wanda said, cutting through the noise with quiet certainty.
Kristen inclined her head slightly.
"Of course, Mistress," she replied. "They won't interfere."
"Good."
Wanda stepped forward.
Around them, the agents were far too occupied—fighting, screaming, surviving—to even remember they had been surrounding the three of them just moments ago, their attention consumed entirely by the nightmare that had descended from above.
Hayward, however—
Had not been spared.
He stumbled back, panic finally breaking through his composure as he watched the scene unravel, his breathing quickening as he retreated step by step until his back hit something solid.
He froze.
A wet, gluttering sound echoed above him.
Then—
Something dripped.
A thick, transparent fluid landed on his shoulder before sliding slowly down, and when he instinctively brushed it away, his hand came back coated in something sticky, viscous—
But it wasn't the substance that made him shudder.
It was the presence.
Slowly—
He turned.
And saw it.
Towering above him was something monstrous, something far beyond the creatures already tearing through his men—a massive, evolved Xenomorph, its body reinforced with protruding bone-like structures, its head crowned with horn-like ridges reminiscent of something prehistoric, something primal, while its long, powerful tail swayed behind it with quiet menace as its mouth vibrated with a low, unsettling sound.
Hayward's legs gave out.
He fell hard onto the floor, scrambling backward in terror as the creature stepped forward, each movement slow, deliberate, inevitable.
"No—no—stay back—!"
It didn't listen.
And just as it loomed over him—
A familiar voice broke through the chaos.
"Please tell me that's still part of the reinforcement?"
Tony stood beside Wanda and Kristen as they walked forward, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant acceptance as he stared at the towering creature ahead.
Because whatever this situation had just become—
It had gone way past anything he had planned for.
Tony didn't take his eyes off the towering creature in front of Hayward, the thing's sheer presence pressing against every instinct he had, even through layers of armor and logic, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried a thin edge of disbelief.
Beside him, Kristen didn't hesitate.
"Yes," she answered calmly. "Nothing to worry about."
Tony let out a slow breath.
"…Right. Sure. That helps."
But while the chaos in the lobby had already spiraled into something nightmarish, it wasn't over—not even close—because beyond the immediate carnage, another unit had already been mobilized under Hayward's earlier command, armed not with standard issue weapons, but with S.W.O.R.D.'s latest developments, the kind designed specifically to counter threats like Iron Man, the kind Hayward had trusted would secure control.
What he hadn't accounted for was this.
With no follow-up orders coming through, no signal, no command, the team advanced anyway, trained enough to act even without direct instruction, and the moment they reached the lobby, whatever composure they had carried with them nearly shattered.
The scene in front of them wasn't something they were prepared for. Sure, they experience the Chitauri invasion, Ultron's uprising in Sokovia, Thanos' forces in Wakanda and that last fight in the Avengers compound.
But this? It was something else entirely.
Agents screamed as they struggled against creatures that clung to their faces, their limbs tightening, tails coiling around throats as bodies thrashed helplessly, while others lay on the ground convulsing violently, their eyes rolled back, their forms twitching as something unseen was forced into them.
Acidic blood still hissed across the floor, eating through surfaces and flesh alike, the aftermath of panicked gunfire that had turned allies into casualties.
For a brief moment, the newcomers froze.
Then, the remaining Facehuggers, those without hosts or victims, turned.
It was immediate. Collective.
As if sensing opportunity all at once.
The lead soldier inhaled sharply, forcing control back into his voice.
"Form up!" he shouted. "Line formation—now!"
Training took over.
Fear didn't vanish—but it was pushed aside.
They moved quickly, forming a defensive line just as the creatures rushed them, and this time, there was no hesitation, no confusion—only reaction, precise and controlled, as energy weapons fired in coordinated bursts, cutting down the Facehuggers before they could close the distance.
One after another, they dropped, burned, destroyed, and turned to ash.
The advance stopped. Silence didn't return as some soldiers were still screaming, some even shouted help, but none of the new agents moved. Their leader was firm in his decision and saw that they could not help them; they still had something else to do.
His vision shifted to where their commander was.
Back in the center of the lobby, the sound reached them.
Tony turned slightly, his HUD already picking up the new unit and their equipment, but it was the reaction beside him that drew his attention.
The massive Xenomorph stirred, its body tensing, a low, guttural sound vibrating from deep within its chest as it reacted to the loss of its kind, instinct driving it forward.
Kristen raised a single hand.
The creature stopped instantly.
No hesitation. No resistance.
However, if the Xenomorph's reaction had been anger, then Kristen's was something far worse.
She stood still, yet something about her shifted, something beneath the surface tightening as her thoughts raced, the sight of fallen creatures imprinting itself into her mind with a weight she had not anticipated.
She had held back—only slightly, only enough to avoid excess—and now the cost of that restraint lay scattered across the floor.
Failure. That was the only remark that registered in her mind. How could she? Lord Elias' left hand, accept failure?
Her breath deepened. The sensation was unfamiliar yet undeniable as these emotions were the very thing she had been granted to feel in exchange for her loyalty and servitude.
The feelings coiled and wrapped around in her mechanical chest. Shame, Self-blame, and regret.
Tony noticed. And for once, he didn't say quip.
His male instincts practically screamed at him that this was not the moment for sarcasm, not the moment for commentary, not the moment to push his luck with someone who could summon creatures that latched onto your face and did… whatever the hell that was.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the fallen agents, then away again.
Yeah. Nope. His lips are zipped.
Meanwhile, Wanda had already finished with Hayward.
Whatever she needed to hear—she had heard.
She released him without ceremony, letting his body drop back onto the floor as though he no longer mattered, her attention shifting completely.
"Do you need help?" she asked Kristen, her tone calm, as though the chaos around them was nothing more than background noise.
Kristen didn't look away from the soldiers.
"No, Mistress," she replied, voice obviously shaky.
"You may proceed with your business. No one will interfere with you, that I assure you."
Wanda nodded once. That was enough.
"I'm getting Vision," she said.
Tony glanced between them, then toward the soldiers, then back again.
"Yeah," he muttered, already stepping after her. "I'm gonna go with that option."
Without another word, he followed Wanda out of the lobby, their figures disappearing down the corridor, leaving behind the aftermath—and whatever was about to come next.
The moment they were gone—
The focus shifted.
Kristen stepped forward slightly, her gaze locking onto the armed unit now standing across from her, their weapons raised, their posture steady, defiant despite everything they had just witnessed.
Kristen lifted her hand.
And the air changed.
In a single breath, space behind her was immediately filled with silhouettes.
One after another, forms emerged—sleek, lethal, unmistakable—as two hundred Xenomorphs materialized in perfect formation behind her and the towering evolved Xenomorph, their mouths glittering, their presence overwhelming the agents as the hair in their entire body stood on end.
Then, a second wave filled the xenomorphs.
Two hundred Facehuggers dropped beside them, their limbs twitching, their awareness immediate, their numbers turning the tide from confrontation to inevitability.
Either death by xenomorphs or death for being a host. It would all depend on the choices of the aliens themselves.
Kristen didn't speak; only her hand was raised, waiting for that perfect moment to signal the attack.
The soldiers froze in horror at the sight of the xenomorphs' numbers and the Facehuggers.
Their weapons, which were raised, slowly shook.
Their resolve was wavering.
This wasn't a fight anymore; that much was obvious.
As if that wasn't enough, something else took their attention as the agents earlier who had their faces hugged by crawling aliens started to toss and turn.
First, they groaned from being unconscious as each of them slowly woke up. The Facehuggers were no longer attached to their faces.
Then pain hit their chest as each of them groaned harder in pain. Then it further escalated as the pain didn't go away; instead, it intensified. As if something was trying to get out of their chest.
They were now screaming.
The agents who were already shaking earlier watched in horror.
"W-what's happening to them?" an agent asked, his voice terrified.
Everyone who was screaming and even those totally unconscious, one by one, their chest burst open as Chestbursters emerged from it.
Weapons slowly dropped as the agents lost their will to fight. Some fell on their butts, clearly shaking with fear. Some even pissed their pants.
While the leader who seemed to have a bit of reason immediately ran! No shout could be heard, for he knew shouting would just attract those creatures toward him.
Purely by instinct, some crawled away as fast as they could while shouting or crying for their mothers. Only a few were able to follow and ran as fast as the leader did.
Kristen wasn't even worried that they could get away. She took that as the perfect timing and lowered her hand.
The SWORD building was filled with cries from professional men who were trained to face anything without fear. Yet all their training couldn't have possibly prepared them for something like this.
End Chapter