Chapter 282: Chitauri (1)
Nine hundred and fifty Enhanced Response Operators stood in a massive semi circle. They wore matte black tactical armor, their visors polarized against the artificial twilight.
They held heavy Stark tech plasma rifles, the power cells humming with a continuous vibration.
Behind the infantry line, twenty automated Jericho artillery arrays sat on heavy treads. The missile pods were elevated at a forty five degree angle, tracking systems whirring as they locked onto the empty space above the center of the plain.
At the very front of the formation, Bucky Barnes stood with his vibranium arm resting on the grip of a heavy repeater rifle.
To his right, Natasha Romanoff checked the charge on her Widow's Bite gauntlets, the blue electricity sparking across the conductive mesh. She slid two high capacity magazines into her thigh holsters, her green eyes scanning the barren ground.
Maria Hill and Phil Coulson stood ten paces to Natasha's left, taking cover behind a barricade of reinforced vibranium alloy crates.
Coulson held a modified plasma rifle, his finger resting lightly above the trigger guard. Hill adjusted the tactical headset over her ear, tapping the side to confirm the encrypted channel.
Tony Stark knelt in the center of the kill box, fifty yards ahead of the infantry line. The black and gold plating of the Mark XII armor shifted and clicked as he adjusted his position.
In front of him sat the heavy lead suitcase, open, exposing the Tesseract. The blue light from the cosmic cube cast long shadows across the gray floor.
Tony pulled a braided cable from the containment cradle and locked it into the port on the side of the Tesseract's housing.
"Bypass engaged," Tony said, his voice amplified by the suit's external speakers. "I am routing the Arc Reactor's output directly into the housing to agitate the spatial matrix."
T'Challa stood thirty feet to Tony's left. The vibranium mesh of the Black Panther habit absorbed the blue light of the Tesseract.
Namor stood to T'Challa's left. At his feet rested a massive Stark tech reservoir, holding ten thousand gallons of hyper pressurized water. Namor gripped his vibranium spear, his eyes fixed on the empty sky.
Wanda Maximoff stood to Tony's right, her hands resting at her sides.
Thor Odinson stood at the far edge of the vanguard, gripping the leather wrapped handle of Mjolnir. He stared upward, the muscles in his jaw tight.
Pietro Maximoff leaned against one of the artillery arrays in the back, tapping his foot at a speed that created a continuous hum against the stone.
"JARVIS," Tony said, standing up and taking three steps backward. "Initiate the power surge."
"Initiating, sir," JARVIS replied in Tony's earpiece.
The containment cradle screamed. A high pitched whine pierced the silence of the dimension. The Tesseract reacted instantly. The steady blue glow flared into a blinding blue singularity.
A beam of pure spatial energy erupted from the cube, shooting straight up into the dark purple sky. It struck the upper boundary of the dimension, spreading out in a rippling pool of light.
The air above the center of the plain snapped.
A swirling vortex of blue and black energy ripped open, a violent hole in the fabric of the sky. The portal expanded rapidly, the edges churning with cosmic storms, growing to a diameter of two hundred feet.
Through the portal, the blackness of deep space was visible, dotted with distant stars.
Then, a screeching howl spilled through the wormhole. Dozens of metallic chariots, sleek and insectoid, dived through the portal. They were piloted by cybernetically enhanced creatures wearing bronze armor.
The Chitauri.
They poured through the opening, dropping toward the gray stone floor, their energy rifles already firing random bolts of blue plasma into the empty space.
"Fire," Tony commanded.
The twenty Jericho arrays behind the ERO lines detonated simultaneously.
The sound was deafening, a continuous thunder of heavy ordnance leaving the launch tubes. Hundreds of micro missiles streaked through the air, leaving trails of white smoke against the purple sky.
The missiles intersected with the first wave of Chitauri chariots a hundred feet above the ground.
The sky ignited.
Overlapping spheres of orange and red plasma swallowed the chariots.
Metal shredded.
Alien bodies were vaporized in the localized fusion blasts. Flaming debris rained down onto the gray stone, shattering upon impact.
More chariots poured through the portal, hundreds replacing the dozens that had just been destroyed. They banked sharply, dodging the falling wreckage, their pilots spotting the massive infantry line below.
The Chitauri chariots opened fire. Blue plasma bolts rained down, striking the stone floor, melting the rock and sending plumes of superheated dust into the air.
"Engage!" Bucky shouted, raising his heavy repeater rifle.
Nine hundred and fifty plasma rifles fired in unison.
A solid wall of superheated energy shot upward. The ERO soldiers fired with absolute precision. They tracked the fast moving chariots, leading their targets and squeezed their triggers.
Chitauri pilots were ripped from their vehicles, their bodies punctured by concentrated plasma fire. Unmanned chariots spiraled out of control, crashing into the stone plain with heavy crunches.
Natasha Romanoff stepped out from behind the vibranium crate. She raised her modified rifle, her green eyes tracking a chariot swooping low toward the right flank.
She fired three rapid bursts. The first shot took out the steering vane; the second and third punched through the pilot's chest plate. The chariot nose dived, skidding across the stone and erupting into a ball of fire fifty yards away.
"Keep your arcs overlapping!" Hill yelled over the roar of the battle, firing her own weapon at a cluster of Chitauri infantry who had dropped from a disabled transport.
Coulson stood his ground, the butt of his rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder. He fired methodically, dropping an alien soldier with a clean shot to the head, then smoothly transitioning to the next target. "They're trying to establish a perimeter around the drop zone!" Coulson shouted.
Pietro blurred.
He engaged his Molecular Acceleration, pushing his body to Mach 3. To Pietro, the falling plasma bolts hung in the air like glowing raindrops. The explosions from the Jericho missiles expanded at an agonizingly slow crawl.
He sprinted across the gray stone, closing the distance to the center of the kill box in a fraction of a second. A dozen Chitauri infantry had survived a chariot crash and were raising their heavy rifles toward the ERO line.
Pietro ran up the side of a burning chariot piece, launching himself into the air. He moved through the cluster of aliens.
He grabbed the barrel of the first Chitauri's rifle, twisting it backward, snapping the metal. He drove his fist into the second alien's throat, the hyper accelerated kinetic impact crushing the cybernetic implants and severing the spine. He swept the legs of the third, grabbing a dropped energy dagger from the air and driving it into the chest of the fourth.
Pietro stopped on the far side of the group.
Normal time resumed.
The twelve Chitauri soldiers collapsed simultaneously, their weapons broken, their bodies shattered by strikes they never even saw.
Pietro took a bite of an energy bar, tossed the wrapper aside and blurred again, moving to intercept a low flying chariot.
The Mark XII thrusters flared, launching Tony vertically. He shot toward the massive swarm of chariots pouring through the wormhole.
A squadron of five chariots banked hard, locking their weapons onto the armored human.
Tony activated his Boy Eye vision. The world shifted into a multi spectral overlay. He saw the electromagnetic signatures of the Chitauri engines, the heat blooms of their plasma rifles and the precise mechanical stress points of their armor.
He triggered his Cognitive Multitasking, his Gamma level processing power instantly tracking the speed, trajectory and weapon status of all five chariots simultaneously.
The chariots closed the distance, their weapons glowing blue as they prepared to fire.
Fifty meters.
Thirty meters.
Fifteen meters.
Ten meters.
The five chariots crossed the invisible threshold of Tony's Alpha level Magnetism range.
Tony clenched both his fists.
The magnetic fields surrounding the chariots violently inverted. The metallic chassis of the alien vehicles crumpled inward, crushed by an invisible pressure. The steering columns snapped. The engine housings imploded.
The five chariots crumpled into tmetallic balls of scrap, crushing the pilots inside. The heavy spheres of junk dropped from the sky, plummeting to the stone floor below.
Tony spun in mid air. Another chariot screamed past him, eight meters away.
Tony reached out with his mind, engaging his Alpha level Technopathy. He bypassed the alien encryption in a microsecond, seizing control of the chariot's drive by wire steering system.
The Chitauri pilot yanked on the controls, but the vehicle refused to obey.
Tony forced the chariot into a hard ninety degree barrel roll, driving it at maximum acceleration directly into a cluster of three other incoming vehicles.
The resulting mid air collision showered the area with flaming debris.
On the ground, a heavy Chitauri transport ship, larger than the chariots, crashed through the portal. It hit the stone plain hard, the ramp dropping instantly.
Chapter 283: Chitauri (2)
Fifty heavily armored Chitauri shock troops charged down the ramp, wielding two handed energy cannons. They fired a synchronized volley at the center of the Illuminati vanguard.
T'Challa stepped forward, positioning himself directly in the path of the incoming plasma barrage.
He activated his Bullet Time. He watched the superheated plasma bolts crawl toward him. He adjusted his stance, planting his feet firmly on the stone, presenting his chest and arms to the incoming fire.
The plasma bolts struck him.
The impact was deafening, but T'Challa did not move. The vibranium mesh of his habit absorbed the kinetic and thermal energy. The suit lit up, glowing with pulsing purple lines.
200 kJ.
450 kJ.
680 kJ.
He approached his 700 kilojoule limit. He stepped out of the line of fire, the world snapping back to normal speed. He lunged forward, closing the distance to the front line of the Chitauri shock troops.
He drove both of his palms flat against the chest plate of the lead alien.
T'Challa discharged the stored energy.
A concussive shockwave of purple kinetic force erupted from his hands. The blast shattered the front row of Chitauri soldiers, launching their broken bodies backward with enough force to bowl over the soldiers behind them.
The shockwave rippled through the transport ship, buckling the metal ramp and shattering the frontal armor plating.
T'Challa dropped into a crouch, drawing a vibranium dagger from his belt and engaged the survivors in close quarters, moving with a lethal grace that left a trail of dismembered aliens in his wake.
Namor turned to the ten thousand gallon Stark tech water reservoir resting on the stone. He thrust his trident forward.
Activating his Alpha level Hydrokinesis, Namor seized the massive volume of water within his 100 meter range. The steel top of the reservoir peeled back, torn open by the sheer pressure of the rising liquid.
A massive serpent of high pressure water erupted from the tank.
Namor swept his trident in a wide arc. The water serpent lashed out, extending eighty meters across the battlefield.
The water was pressurized to industrial cutter levels. It sliced through a squadron of low flying chariots, cutting the metal chassis in half and bisecting the pilots before they could register the impact.
A squad of thirty Chitauri infantry charged toward Namor, firing their rifles.
Namor twisted his wrist. The water serpent collapsed into a rapidly rotating sphere, eighty meters in diameter, hovering just above the ground. He thrust his hand forward, driving the sphere into the charging infantry.
The Chitauri were swept up in the churning vortex of water. The sheer velocity and pressure within the sphere crushed their armor and snapped their bones.
Namor activated his Cellular Hydration. He drew microscopic amounts of moisture from the massive sphere he controlled, pulling it into his own pores. His skin took on a healthy sheen. His muscles bulged, the fatigue of the heavy lifting instantly vanishing. He maintained his absolute physical peak strength from the weapon he wielded.
The water within the sphere began to turn a dark purple, tainted by the blood of the crushed Chitauri.
Wanda Maximoff stood near the Tesseract cradle. The sky above her was thick with falling debris and incoming aliens.
Three Chitauri chariots broke through the ERO suppression fire, diving directly toward her position, their weapons charging.
Wanda raised her hands.
The crimson mist of her Chaos Magic erupted from her palms. She grasped the very fabric of reality surrounding the chariots.
She twisted her hands in opposite directions.
The metallic armor plating peeled back, dissolving into red ash. The cybernetic wiring within the Chitauri pilots snapped and curled, tearing out of their flesh.
The energy cores of the chariots were forcibly disassembled, the plasma venting harmlessly into the vacuum of her magic. Within three seconds, the three chariots and their pilots were reduced to a cloud of fine dust that drifted down onto the gray stone.
Wanda pushed her hands forward, sending a wave of chaotic energy rippling through a column of advancing infantry, turning their weapons into heavy blocks of solid lead and warping the joints of their armor so they collapsed under their own weight.
"FOR ASGARD!"
Thor's voice thundered across the battlefield, drowning out the screech of the alien engines.
He leaped into the air, spinning Mjolnir by its leather strap. He shot upward, intercepting a cluster of a hundred chariots descending from the portal.
Thor held Mjolnir high.
Dark clouds suddenly manifested within the upper limits of the pocket dimension. The air pressure dropped drastically.
A massive bolt of lightning tore down from the artificial clouds, striking Mjolnir. Thor channeled the elemental power, swinging the hammer downward.
A web of blinding white electricity expanded outward, a localized storm of destruction. The lightning arced from chariot to chariot, overloading their energy cores and frying the biological systems of the pilots.
Dozens of chariots exploded in a chain reaction of fire and electricity, raining flaming wreckage across the dimension.
Thor landed heavily on the stone, crushing a Chitauri soldier beneath his boots. He swung Mjolnir in a brutal arc, shattering the armor and ribs of three more aliens, clearing a path through the infantry.
"Reload Artillery!" Bucky yelled into his comms, firing a sustained burst from his repeater rifle, cutting down a line of advancing aliens.
The twenty Jericho arrays hissed, the empty missile pods rotating out as fresh magazines locked into place from the automated loaders.
The nine hundred and fifty ERO soldiers maintained their relentless rate of fire. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, burnt alien flesh and superheated metal.
For twenty minutes, the Illuminati and the ERO turned the center of the pocket dimension into an unbroken meat grinder. Everything that dropped through the wormhole was systematically dismantled, crushed, burned, or vaporized.
The gray stone floor was already piled high with the twisted wreckage of chariots and the purple blooded corpses of the Chitauri.
Tony Stark hovered near the portal, utilizing his 10 meter magnetic field to rip the weapons from the hands of the aliens as they dropped through, then blasting them point blank with repulsors.
"We are maintaining a 98% kill rate within the drop zone," Tony reported, his breathing steady despite the continuous exertion.
Then, the screeching howl of the chariots was drowned out by a new sound.
It was a biomechanical roar that vibrated through the gray stone floor, shaking the dust from the fallen debris.
T'Challa, having just discharged a 600 kilojoule kinetic blast into a squad of shock troops, looked up toward the portal.
The stream of chariots suddenly halted.
The blue black vortex of the wormhole seemed to bulge inward, pushed from the other side by something impossibly large.
The nose of a massive beast breached the portal.
It was a Leviathan.
The flying whale like creature swam through the vacuum of the wormhole, its thick armor plating gleaming in the light of the Tesseract. It was hundreds of feet long, covered in spikes and weapons platforms. Chitauri infantry clung to its sides, firing their rifles indiscriminately.
The Leviathan roared again, dropping slowly toward the gray stone floor.
"Target the big one!" Bucky ordered.
The Jericho arrays fired.
A swarm of micro missiles struck the side of the Leviathan. The explosions blossomed against the armor, but when the smoke cleared, the creature was entirely unphased, its thick plating absorbing the blasts.
The ERO soldiers concentrated their plasma fire on its underbelly, but the energy bolts splashed harmlessly against the thick scales.
"Conventional fire is ineffective!" Coulson yelled, taking cover behind a crate as a stray plasma bolt melted the stone near his boots.
Before Tony could maneuver toward the beast, a second roar echoed from the portal.
A second Leviathan breached the wormhole, swimming gracefully through the air, diving toward the right flank of the ERO line.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
"They are pushing the heavies through," Hill reported, her voice tight with urgency. "I count six... no, eight Leviathans breaching the portal. And the infantry density behind them is increasing."
The sky behind the Leviathans filled with a massive swarm of chariots. The numbers multiplied. Where there had been hundreds, there were now thousands. The dark purple sky was being obscured by the sheer volume of metallic bodies pouring through the portal.
The Chitauri were flooding it, using the massive bodies of the Leviathans as moving shields to protect the smaller chariots from the artillery fire.
One of the Leviathans banked sharply, flying low over the gray stone. It opened its massive jaws, scraping the ground and tearing up the stone, aiming directly for the center of the ERO infantry line.
"Vanguard!" T'Challa shouted, sprinting toward the path of the incoming behemoth, activating his Bullet Time to track the massive creature's trajectory.
Tony engaged his thrusters, shooting toward the head of the closest beast.
Namor drew a fresh geyser of water from his reservoir, shaping it into a pressurized spear.
Wanda stepped forward, her hands glowing with intense, brilliant red energy, staring down the colossal monsters.
Thor spun Mjolnir, summoning another cluster of dark clouds above the portal.
The numbers pouring from the sky showed no signs of stopping.
Chapter 284: Chitauri (3)
The Leviathan breached the lower atmosphere of the artificial space, its massive bulk eclipsing the dark purple sky. The biomechanical beast let out a screeching roar that forced Phil Coulson to grit his teeth and press the side of his tactical headset tighter against his ear.
"It's dropping right on top of the center line!" Coulson yelled, firing three sharp bursts from his plasma rifle into the swarm of Chitauri infantry diving from the beast's flanks. "If that thing lands, it's going to crush the primary artillery array!"
"It will not land," Thor's voice boomed, carrying effortlessly over the din of screeching metal and discharging plasma.
Thor stood fifty yards ahead of the ERO line. He spun Mjolnir by its leather strap, the heavy Uru metal blurring into a solid disc of silver. The air pressure around him plummeted. White hot electricity arced from the ground, crawling up his boots and wrapping around his red cape.
"Stark! Keep the lesser vermin off my back!" Thor shouted, bending his knees.
"I am not your sidekick, Point Break!" Tony Stark's voice snapped back over the open comms channel.
He hovered twenty feet above the Tesseract cradle, his repulsors flaring bright blue. "But I'll clear the airspace. JARVIS, deploy the 'Swarm'."
"Deploying proprietary munitions, sir," JARVIS replied smoothly in Tony's ear. "Warning: These protocols are strictly prohibited under current Federation mandates."
"We aren't on Earth, JARVIS. Federation has no jurisdiction in my purchased kill box," Tony said, a grim smile hidden behind the Mark XII faceplate.
Two panels on the shoulders of the Mark XII armor slid open. A high pitched hum filled the immediate airspace.
Thousands of microscopic drones poured out of the housings. The cloud expanded rapidly, sweeping upward toward the swarm of incoming Chitauri chariots.
Tony watched through his multi spectral overlay as the nanobots intercepted the first wave of alien vehicles.
The silver cloud washed over a dozen chariots. The Chitauri pilots didn't even have time to scream.
The microscopic drones began to disassemble the alien armor, the plasma engines and the biological tissue of the pilots at an atomic level, using the harvested carbon and metal to replicate themselves.
Within three seconds, the chariots simply dissolved into gray ash that drifted down onto the stone floor. The silver cloud doubled in size, sweeping toward the next wave.
"Airspace is clearing, Asgardian!" Tony yelled, his Gamma level Cognitive Multitasking tracking the trajectory of seventy different Chitauri targets simultaneously.
Thor launched himself upward. The sonic boom of his acceleration cracked the air. He shot straight toward the descending Leviathan, a localized thunderstorm trailing behind him.
"For the Asgard!" Thor roared.
He slammed Mjolnir directly into the gold plated snout of the massive beast. The impact shattered the heavy armor plating, driving the Leviathan's massive head upward.
He channeled the storm, unleashing a continuous stream of lightning directly into the exposed circuitry and flesh of the creature's open mouth.
The Leviathan thrashed violently, its metallic screams deafening. The sheer voltage fried its internal navigation systems. The beast arched backward, completely losing its forward momentum and crashed heavily into the gray stone two hundred yards to the right of the ERO line, tearing a deep trench into the indestructible floor.
"One down!" Natasha Romanoff yelled, dropping a Chitauri foot soldier with a point blank shot to the knee, followed instantly by a kinetic strike from her Widow's Bite to its temple.
"Hold the perimeter!" Bucky Barnes ordered over the tactical channel, his vibranium arm slamming a fresh power cell into his heavy repeater rifle. He stepped up beside Natasha, his weapon tracking a cluster of aliens dropping from a secondary transport ship.
T'Challa stood thirty yards ahead of Bucky's position.
A squad of twenty heavily armored Chitauri shock troops landed in a tight circle around him, their two handed plasma cannons charging.
T'Challa engaged his Bullet Time.
The glowing blue plasma building in the muzzles of the alien cannons looked like slowly expanding balloons of light. T'Challa tracked the micro movements of their trigger fingers.
He stepped directly into the crossfire.
Twenty plasma bolts struck him simultaneously.
The kinetic and thermal energy slammed into the vibranium mesh. The purple veins of light running along the Black Panther habit flared with blinding intensity.
T'Challa spun, snapping back into normal time. He drove his glowing palms into the stone floor at his feet.
He discharged the stored 650 kilojoules in a perfectly circular shockwave.
The kinetic blast ripped outward. The twenty Chitauri shock troops were lifted off their feet, their heavy armor buckling and shattering under the concussive force. They were thrown backward through the air like discarded toys, their bodies pulverized before they hit the ground.
T'Challa stood up, the purple glow fading from his suit. He drew his vibranium daggers, spinning them in his hands.
"They are attempting to establish a beachhead on the left flank!" Maria Hill shouted over the comms, kneeling behind a barricade and firing her rifle in control.
Namor twisted his wrist. The water column compressed, narrowing into a razor highly pressurized whip that stretched ninety meters across the battlefield.
He swept the trident horizontally.
The water whip lashed out at supersonic speed. It struck the heavily shielded Chitauri infantry forming on the left flank. The high pressure water cut through their energy shields and metallic armor with zero resistance.
Dozens of aliens were bisected in a single motion, their purple blood instantly washing away in the spray of the water whip.
Namor pulled the water back, morphing it into a rotating sphere fifty meters in diameter. He drove the sphere forward like a massive bowling ball, crushing a cluster of newly landed chariots and sweeping up a hundred Chitauri soldiers in a drowning vortex.
He flexed his left hand, activating his Cellular Hydration. He pulled microscopic drops of moisture from the massive sphere, drawing them into his own skin. The exhaustion in his shoulders vanished. His muscles surged with absolute peak strength.
"The water grows thick with their blood," Namor noted, observing the dark purple hue of his rotating sphere. "It lacks the purity of the ocean, but it serves."
"Focus, Namor," Aryan's voice cut through the comms from the command center thousands of miles away. "The flow of hostiles is increasing by a factor of four. They are pushing the infantry through indiscriminately."
Wanda Maximoff stood twenty paces to Tony's right. The sky above her was entirely blotted out by the descending horde. The dark purple void of the pocket dimension was obscured by thousands of metallic chariots, dropping like a swarm of enraged hornets.
"There are too many of them!" Coulson yelled, his rifle overheating and venting steam. He dropped the empty weapon and drew a specialized sidearm. "The ERO line is taking heavy pressure!"
Chapter 285: Chitauri (4)
"Do not break formation!" Bucky roared, firing a continuous beam of plasma into the encroaching crowd. "Lock your shields! Hold the line!"
The nine hundred and fifty super soldiers stepped forward as one, slamming their rectangular energy shields into the stone, creating an unbroken wall of hard light. They braced their shoulders against the shields, firing their rifles over the top lips.
The Chitauri infantry slammed into the shield wall, a tidal wave of metallic armor and gnashing teeth. The ERO line held, the super soldiers leveraging their enhanced strength to push back against the crushing weight of the alien swarm.
Wanda raised her hands. The crimson mist of her Chaos Magic billowed outward, expanding to cover a massive section of the battlefield right in front of the ERO shield wall.
The metallic armor of hundreds of Chitauri soldiers began to rust and decay in seconds, turning to brittle orange flakes. The plasma cells in their heavy cannons simultaneously destabilized and detonated, ripping through the alien ranks in a chain reaction of localized explosions.
Wanda pushed her hands upward.
A massive wedge of kinetic force slammed into a descending Leviathan, violently altering its trajectory and sending it crashing into the far wall of the dimension, miles away from the infantry line.
"Heart rate is elevating, Wanda," Aryan's voice murmured privately in her earpiece. "Pace yourself."
"I am fine, Aryan," Wanda replied, her breathing heavy. "It is an endless stream."
"Brother in law is right," Pietro's voice chimed in.
A silver blur tore across the battlefield. Pietro engaged his Mach 3 speed.
He ran along the top of the energy shields, treating the hard light like a solid pathway. He moved down the line, grabbing the two handed energy cannons from the frozen grips of the alien shock troops. He stripped fifty weapons in a fraction of a second, tossing them backward behind the ERO line.
He stopped beside Natasha, dropping back into normal time.
The fifty disarmed Chitauri blinked in confusion, looking at their empty hands before the ERO soldiers gunned them down.
"You need to conserve energy," Pietro said, grabbing a discarded alien rifle and handing it to Natasha. "We cannot kill them all if they keep replacing the dead ones."
"He's right," Tony Stark yelled. He was hovering just above the Tesseract cradle. Three Chitauri chariots managed to slip past his molecular drone swarm and dived directly at him.
He waited until the chariots crossed the ten meter threshold of his Alpha level Magnetism.
He closed his eyes, his Gamma level cognitive processing isolating the specific magnetic fields of the three alien engines. He violently crossed his arms over his chest.
The three chariots slammed together in mid air, magnetically fused into a single ball of twisted metal and crushed alien flesh. The heavy sphere dropped, crashing onto the stone inches from Tony's boots.
"Aryan," Tony said over the comms, looking up at the portal. "My Jericho arrays are down to thirty percent ammunition. They are bringing a command ship through."
Through the swirling blue and black vortex of the wormhole, the massive silhouette of a Chitauri mothership became visible. It was the size of a small city, slowly eclipsing the stars on the other side of the tear in space.
"I see it, Stark," Aryan's voice replied.
In the command center, Aryan stood up from his chair.
Red watched him, her optical sensors tracking the minute tightening of the muscles in his jaw.
The entire central plain of the pocket dimension was carpeted with wreckage and bodies and the airspace was completely saturated with hostile targets.
"We have achieved maximum density," Aryan continued, his voice broadcasting to every headset in the dimension. "It is time to close the trap."
"Evacuation orders, sir?" Bucky asked, slamming his heavy rifle into the chest of a Chitauri soldier who crested the shield wall, then shooting it point blank.
"Yes," Aryan said. "T'Challa, prepare the extraction protocols."
"Understood," T'Challa's voice replied amidst the sounds of crushing metal.
"All units," T'Challa roared over the open frequency. "Form the circle! Converge on my position!"
"ERO! Collapse the line! Fighting retreat! Move!" Bucky yelled, keying his external speakers to maximum volume.
The nine hundred and fifty super soldiers executed the maneuver with flawless precision. They stepped backward in perfect unison, keeping their energy shields locked together, continuing to pour plasma fire into the advancing horde.
They moved toward the center of the battlefield, where T'Challa stood waiting.
"Coulson, Hill, fall back!" Natasha shouted, firing dual bursts from her pistols as she covered their retreat.
Pietro blurred across the field, grabbing Coulson by the harness and depositing him directly next to T'Challa in a fraction of a second. He blurred again, repeating the process for Hill, then Natasha.
"I can walk, kid!" Natasha grumbled, adjusting her vest as she stabilized herself next to the Wakandan King.
"Walking is inefficient," Pietro smirked, cracking his knuckles.
Namor let out a furious roar. He pulled his rotating sphere of bloody water back toward him, contracting it tightly around his own body. He launched himself through the air, a torpedo of hyper pressurized liquid, crashing down next to T'Challa. He dispersed the water, gripping his spear tightly.
"They are swarming," Namor noted, looking at the closing circle of Chitauri.
The aliens, realizing the prey was retreating, abandoned all caution and charged the collapsing perimeter in a frenzied mob.
"Hold them off!" T'Challa ordered, pulling the small device from his belt.
The ERO soldiers locked their shields into a circular formation around the Illuminati chiefs and the former SHIELD agents.
Thor dropped from the sky, landing heavily inside the circle. Lightning crackled off his armor, his chest heaving with exertion. "The sky is thick with them, Stark! If we leave, they will simply wait for the portal to close and claim this realm!"
"They aren't claiming anything, Point Break," Tony's voice came over the comms.
Tony remained hovering over the Tesseract cradle, fifty yards outside the protective circle. He was completely surrounded by the advancing Chitauri horde.
"Tony, fall back!" Wanda yelled, her hands glowing red as she reinforced the ERO shield wall with a dome of chaotic energy, holding back a wave of heavy plasma fire.
"I need thirty seconds, Wanda!" Tony replied, his voice strained.
Tony diverted all power from his flight stabilizers to his chest piece. He dropped to the gray stone, his heavy boots locking magnetically to the floor.
"JARVIS," Tony said, his eyes fixed on the massive silhouette of the mothership slowly pushing through the wormhole above. "Authorize the 'Sun Drop' protocol."
"Sir," JARVIS replied, a hint of simulated hesitation in the AI's voice. "Detonation at this proximity will compromise the structural integrity of the Mark XII armor and result in absolute vaporization of the surrounding area."
Chapter 286: Chitauri (5)
"That's the point, JARVIS," Tony said, his faceplate reflecting the blue light of the Tesseract. "Just prep the payload. I'm not sticking around for the fireworks."
The heavy plating on the back of the Mark XII shifted and locked open. A single missile emerged from the housing. It pulsed with a contained golden light.
"Tony!" Aryan's voice snapped over the comms. "Aim for the mothership's central drive."
"You read my mind, boss," Tony grinned fiercely.
A squad of twenty Chitauri shock troops charged Tony from behind, their energy spears raised.
Alpha level Magnetism, 10 meters.
He gripped the magnetic fields of their weapons and violently repelled them outward. The energy spears were ripped from the aliens' hands, flying backward and impaling the Chitauri soldiers behind them.
Tony moved, landed heavily next to the containment cradle, his gauntlets clicking as a hidden compartment in his chest plate slid open. He pulled out a small sized bypass stabilizer.
He reached into the flickering blue light, his magnetic grip stabilizing the Tesseract as he yanked it from its mount. He shoved the Cube into the reinforced housing within his own armor and snapped the bypass stabilizer onto the empty cradle to keep the portal's energy signature active for the countdown.
Tony aimed his right gauntlet directly at the center of the massive wormhole, tracking the silhouette of the mothership.
"Target locked," Tony said.
The Sun Drop missile fired.
It moved on a frictionless magnetic rail, accelerating instantly to Mach 10. It was a streak of golden light that shot straight up, bypassing the descending chariots, bypassing the Leviathans and punching directly into the center of the blue black vortex of the wormhole.
He engaged the maximum output of his boot thrusters in a horizontal burst, skimming mere inches above the gray stone floor. He shot toward the defensive circle like a bullet.
"Open the line!" Bucky roared.
Two ERO soldiers dropped their shields for a fraction of a second. Tony slammed through the gap, crashing heavily into the stone beside T'Challa, the metal of his armor screeching against the floor.
The ERO shields snapped back into place instantly, deflecting a heavy volley of alien plasma.
"It hits the mothership in three... two... one!" Tony yelled from the floor, pushing himself up onto his knees.
High above them, beyond the portal, in the cold vacuum of space where the Chitauri armada waited, the Sun Drop missile struck the central drive core of the mothership.
The unshielded plasma fusion warhead detonated.
There was no sound in the vacuum of space, but the visual impact was catastrophic.
A blindingly bright sun ignited on the other side of the wormhole. The sheer thermal and concussive force instantly vaporized the mothership, sending a shockwave of localized nuclear fire rippling through the dense cluster of the alien fleet.
The backlash of the explosion surged back through the open wormhole.
A wave of golden fire and superheated plasma poured into the pocket dimension, instantly incinerating the descending chariots and igniting the dark purple sky.
"T'Challa! Now!" Aryan's voice roared over the comms.
T'Challa pressed his thumb firmly against the central rune of the Sefirah device.
The gray stone beneath their feet flashed with a blinding white light.
The roar of the Chitauri, the screeching of the Leviathans, the incoming wave of golden nuclear fire… it all vanished instantly.
[LOCATION: Project PEGASUS, Exterior Perimeter, Mojave Desert]
The white light snapped out of existence.
Nine hundred and fifty ERO soldiers, the four Illuminati Chiefs, Thor Odinson and the four former SHIELD agents materialized simultaneously on the beige sands of the Nevada desert.
The dry heat of the desert sun washed over them, a shocking contrast to the controlled air of the pocket dimension.
Tony Stark collapsed onto his back in the sand, the faceplate of the Mark XII retracting. He gasped for air, staring up at the bright blue sky of Earth.
"I really hate teleporting," Tony groaned, rubbing his temples.
Natasha stumbled slightly, catching her balance against Bucky's shoulder. She looked around at the open desert, her breathing heavy. "We are back at the staging ground."
Thor looked around, Mjolnir gripped loosely in his hand. He stared at the empty air where the portal had been. "They are trapped in that realm?"
"They are trapped in a box," T'Challa said, stepping forward. He looked up at the sky. "And now, we dispose of the box."
In the subterranean command center in New York, Aryan Spencer watched the telemetry data confirm the successful extraction of all friendly units.
He leaned forward in his leather chair. His blue eyes were fixed on the secondary monitor displaying the metaphysical status of the pocket dimension.
The sensors indicated extreme thermal volatility inside the dimension due to Tony's fusion bomb, but the Chitauri army was still largely intact, swarming the empty space, realizing their prey had vanished.
He reached into his mind, he gripped it.
The impenetrable barriers forming the "walls" of the dimension instantly folded inward. The space itself shrank from the size of Rhode Island down to the size of a city, then a building, then a single room, entirely crushing the physical matter inside it.
The thousands of Chitauri soldiers. The massive Leviathans. The twisted wreckage of the chariots.
They were all subjected to an absolute pressure as the space they occupied ceased to exist.
In a fraction of a millisecond, the entire alien invasion force, along with the gray stone floor and the dark purple sky, was compressed into a microscopic point of infinite density.
And then, the dimension became a speck of dust and then it was nothing. Erased from reality.
In the Mojave Desert, Tony Stark sat up, brushing sand from his chest plate. He looked at T'Challa.
T'Challa checked the Sefirah device in his hand. The runic markers that tethered them to the pocket dimension were dark.
"Space no longer exists," T'Challa said, his voice quiet.
Phil Coulson stood near the back of the group, staring at the empty air. He looked at Maria Hill, who was pale, her professional demeanor entirely shattered by the realization of what the Illuminati had just accomplished.
"Command to Vanguard," Aryan's calm voice crackled over their headsets, breaking the silence in the desert. "Excellent work, everyone. Operation is a success."
Aryan paused.
"Pack up the gear. It's time to come home."
Chapter 287: Party (1)
The heavy repulsor engines of the Federation stealth transports whined, pitching down from a deafening shriek to a low bass as they descended toward the landing pads of the Sentinel Complex.
The heavy ramps ground against the reinforced permacrete.
The smell of superheated plasma and the metallic tang of alien blood washed out of the cargo bays, meeting the sterile air of the New York headquarters.
The infantry lines of the Enhanced Response Operators marched down the ramps in perfect columns, their heavy boots slamming against the floor. They dispersed into the lower levels for decontamination and debriefing.
The Illuminati Chiefs and their newly acquired probationary agents walked toward the heavy glass doors of the primary command center.
Tony Stark pressed a recessed button on his collar. The black and gold plating of the Mark XII armor unlatched with a series of metallic clicks, folding backward and retracting into the compact housing unit between his shoulder blades. He rolled his shoulders, exhaling a long breath, his undersuit damp with sweat.
T'Challa walked beside him, the purple kinetic veins of his vibranium habit fading into the matte black weave.
Namor followed, his ceremonial armor unmarred, his jaw set in a hard line.
Behind the kings, Thor Odinson walked with slow steps, Mjolnir swinging loosely at his side.
Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill and Phil Coulson trailed the group. They kept their hands away from their weapons, their eyes scanning the pristine obsidian walls and the glowing holographic displays of the complex.
The heavy doors of the command center slid apart.
Aryan Spencer stood at the center of the room. He wore a sharply tailored charcoal suit, his hands resting easily in his pockets.
Red stood a half step behind his right shoulder, a datapad resting against her hip. Her blue eyes snapped from face to face, the mechanical apertures of her irises contracting as she registered the thermal and biometric data of the returning strike force.
Aryan stepped forward. He looked at Tony, at T'Challa, at Namor and finally at Wanda, who walked in slightly behind the others, her hands still carrying the faint charge of her chaos magic.
"You executed the strategy flawlessly," Aryan said, his voice calm, carrying effortlessly across the large room.
He offered a genuine smile.
"Congratulations. You preserved the Earth, once more."
Thor's heavy boots stopped moving. The scraping sound of leather against obsidian ceased.
He tilted his head, his blonde brows furrowing deeply. He looked at Aryan, then at Tony.
"Once more?" Thor repeated, his deep voice bouncing off the high ceiling.
Natasha Romanoff shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her tactical vest. She traded a quick look with Maria Hill.
Phil Coulson stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral. "We monitored global threat matrices for decades at SHIELD. An invasion of this scale... there is no precedent. What did we miss?"
Tony Stark walked over to the mahogany bar cart situated near the window. He picked up a crystal decanter, the amber liquid inside sloshing against the glass.
"You missed Tuesday, Agent Coulson," Tony said, pouring a generous measure of scotch into a tumbler.
"Stark," T'Challa warned gently, his tone carrying a note of caution.
"No, no, it's fine," Tony said, waving his free hand. He took a long sip of the scotch, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. He leaned his hip against the bar cart and looked at Thor and the former SHIELD agents.
"Yes, this is the second time we prevented the destruction of the Earth," Tony said, his voice dripping with casual arrogance. "But honestly? This alien swarm thing was the minor leagues. The first time was way worse."
Thor gripped the handle of Mjolnir tighter. "Worse than a Chitauri armada led by a Leviathan fleet?"
"Much worse," Tony nodded, pointing his glass at the Asgardian. "The first time, the entire universe was literally pulling itself apart. Two parallel realities were colliding. We were looking at multiversal collapse."
Hill stared at Tony, her mouth parting slightly. "Two realities colliding? That violates every known law of quantum mechanics."
"We isolated the temporal anomaly causing the friction, built a localized containment field and permanently averted the incursion before breakfast." Tony lied smoothly, taking another sip.
Coulson blinked, processing the scale of the claim. "You saved the universe. And you didn't tell anyone."
"We don't do press conferences for the apocalypse, Phil," Tony said, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. "Bad for the stock market."
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Natasha looked at Aryan, trying to read the man who orchestrated this group, but his face remained a mask of polite composure.
Thor stared at the floor, re-evaluating the mortals standing before him for the third time in as many weeks.
"Never mind the temporal mechanics," Tony announced, clapping his hands together. The sharp sound broke the tension. "I smell like alien blood. I need a shower, I need eighty year old scotch and I need a very large plate of roasted lamb."
Tony pointed a finger toward the center of the room.
"I am throwing a party. Three hours."
Tony looked at T'Challa and Namor. "Get cleaned up. Bring your partners, if you tolerate them."
Tony shifted his gaze, leveling a pointed look at Aryan, then at Wanda and finally at Red.
"If you have multiple partners, bring them too," Tony said, a smirk spreading across his face. "I ordered extra shrimp."
Wanda laughed, a bright sound. Red tilted her head, her blue eyes narrowing.
"Your caloric intake is already exceeding optimal parameters, Stark," Red noted aloud. "I would advise against the shrimp."
"Three hours!" Tony yelled over her, walking toward the exit. "Dress code is 'I just saved the world, look at my shoes.' Do not be late."
…
Spencer Estate was a sanctuary of dark wood and warm light.
Aryan stood in the massive walk in closet, adjusting the cuffs of a midnight blue suit. The fabric was a lightweight wool blend, perfect for the oppressive New York humidity, cut to allow absolute freedom of movement.
The collar of his white shirt rested open, striking a balance between the boardroom and the evening out.
The door to the master suite clicked open.
Red walked into the closet. She was wearing a floor length, emerald green silk dress. The fabric draped over her synthetic frame like liquid, exposing her shoulders and clinging to the curve of her hips.
A slit ran up the left leg, stopping midway up her thigh. She had pinned her crimson hair to one side with a silver comb.
Aryan turned. He looked at her, letting his eyes travel from the silver heels she wore to the expectant blue of her irises.
"You look stunning, Red," Aryan said, his voice dropping slightly.
"Stunning," Red repeated, tasting the word. She looked down at the silk, running her hands over the fabric. "The friction coefficient of this material is extraordinarily low. It feels like... sliding over ice. It is highly inefficient for combat, but the sensory input is highly agreeable."
"You aren't going to combat," Sharon Carter said, walking into the closet behind her.
Sharon wore a black jumpsuit, the fabric structured and paired with a silver belt that caught the light. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She stepped past Red, moving toward the vanity mirror to adjust a pair of diamond stud earrings.
"We are going to drink Tony's expensive liquor and eat his expensive food," Sharon continued, catching Aryan's eye in the mirror and offering a sly smile. "Combat is strictly prohibited tonight."
Wanda emerged from the adjoining bathroom. The humid air from her shower curled out into the closet. She wore a deep burgundy dress with a plunging neckline, the fabric woven with subtle threads of gold.
She raised her hands, her fingers glowing with a faint red mist. The damp ends of her hair instantly dried, curling perfectly into place as the chaotic energy manipulated the moisture in the air.
Chapter 288: Party (2)
"I am holding you to that, Sharon," Wanda said, dropping her hands. The red mist faded.
Aryan smiled, walking over to Wanda and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He moved to Sharon, kissing the side of her neck and finally stopped in front of Red, kissing her forehead.
Red adjusted the lapel of his suit jacket. "My databases indicate parties involve small talk. I have prepared thirty two conversation starters regarding weather patterns and the history of metallurgy."
"Please delete those immediately," Sharon laughed, grabbing a small clutch purse.
"Just smile and tell Tony his penthouse is nice," Wanda advised, taking Aryan's left arm.
"I cannot lie," Red stated. "If the structural integrity of his penthouse is compromised by poor architectural planning, I must inform him."
"Just don't tell him unless the roof is actively falling," Aryan said, offering his right arm to Red.
The four of them walked down the wide oak staircase of the estate. The waiting black sedan sat idling in the circular driveway, the headlights cutting through the muggy New York night.
The top two floors of Stark Tower were a monument to excess.
Floor to ceiling windows offered a 360 degree view of the Manhattan skyline, a sea of glittering lights stretching out toward the dark expanse of the rivers. The music, a rhythmic jazz bassline… thumped softly from high fidelity speakers integrated directly into the walls.
The air smelled of roasted garlic, seared fat and the botanical notes of expensive gin.
Aryan, Wanda, Sharon and Red stepped out of the private elevator.
The room was already buzzing.
A massive dining table carved from a single piece of reclaimed redwood dominated the left side of the room. It was loaded with a staggering array of food.
Silver platters held sizzling lamb skewers dripping with herb oil. Deep porcelain bowls offered spicy tuna tartare over crushed ice. Planks of slate were piled high with artisan cheeses, truffled honey and roasted root vegetables.
Pietro Maximoff stood at the edge of the table, holding a plate in each hand. He moved at normal speed, but his jaw chewed at a frantic pace. He swallowed a lamb skewer whole, tossed the wooden stick into a waste bin and immediately picked up a cluster of spicy tuna rolls.
"This is incredible," Pietro mumbled around a mouthful of rice. He looked at Coulson, who stood nearby holding a modest plate of cheese and crackers. "You need to try the lamb, Phil. It's ridiculous."
Coulson offered a polite smile. "I'm pacing myself, Mr. Maximoff."
"Pacing is for the slow," Pietro grinned, grabbing a wedge of smoked gouda.
Near the massive glass windows, T'Challa and Thor stood in quiet conversation.
T'Challa wore a tailored black suit with a traditional Wakandan collar woven with silver thread. Thor wore a dark green shirt that stretched tightly across his massive shoulders, a heavy leather belt cinched at his waist.
Thor held a cut-crystal glass filled to the brim with amber liquid. He tipped his head back, draining the glass in a single swallow. He set the empty glass down on a passing server drone's tray with a heavy thunk.
"The beverages of Midgard lack the fire of Asgardian mead," Thor declared, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But they possess a certain… quality."
"You are drinking sixty year old Macallan, Thor," Tony Stark said, walking up to them. Tony wore a fitted burgundy shirt and dark jeans, looking completely at ease in his fortress. "Try not to treat it like tap water. It costs more than most cars."
"A worthy tribute, Stark," Thor smiled, clapping a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder.
Namor sat in a plush armchair near the center of the room. He wore a dark silk shirt, his legs crossed. He held a small glass of clear tequila, swirling it slowly.
"The surface world excels in exactly one area," Namor stated, catching Aryan's eye as he walked into the room. Namor raised his glass. "Distillation. The rest of your architecture is fragile."
"We build to adapt, Namor," Aryan said, walking past the Atlantean King. "Not everything needs to survive a crushing tide."
Wanda and Sharon peeled away toward the bar, intercepting Natasha and Maria Hill.
Red stayed by Aryan's side. Her blue eyes scanned the room, locking onto a specific object resting on a reinforced glass coffee table in the center of the seating area.
Mjolnir.
The heavy head of the hammer was forged of dull gray Uru metal, intricately carved with Norse runes. The leather wrapped handle looked worn, carrying the indentations of Thor's grip.
It sat perfectly still on the glass surface.
"That object possesses a localized gravitational field that makes absolutely no sense," Red murmured, pointing at the hammer. "The glass table should shatter under the mass required to generate that level of kinetic output in combat. The math is contradictory."
"It's magic, Red," Aryan said, picking up a glass of sparkling water from a tray.
"Magic is just physics we have not yet quantified," Red retorted, her eyes narrowing as she ran a structural analysis on the table.
"Try telling that to the hammer," Tony said, walking over to them. He handed Aryan a small plate of lamb skewers.
Aryan took a skewer.
Tony turned his attention to the glass table. He kicked the side of the table gently with his shoe.
Tony looked across the room at Thor.
"Hey, Point Break," Tony called out.
The low hum of conversation in the room died down. Everyone turned to look at the billionaire.
Tony gestured to the hammer. "It's a biometric lock, right? Like a fingerprint scanner, but encoded into the handle. Or maybe a DNA sequencer built into the leather. You grip it, it reads your genetic profile and it turns off the localized gravity field."
Thor chuckled. He walked over to the seating area, his hands resting on his hips.
"It is not a machine, Stark," Thor said, smiling at the mortal's attempt to categorize the divine. "Mjolnir was forged in the heart of a dying star. Its power has no equal, as a weapon to destroy or as a tool to build."
Thor looked around the room, his eyes sweeping over T'Challa, Namor and Aryan.
"Only one who is worthy may wield it," Thor stated. "The enchantment judges the soul, not the blood."
Tony crossed his arms, his competitive streak flaring instantly. "Right. So if I lift it, I rule Asgard?"
"Yes, of course," Thor laughed, gesturing broadly to the hammer. "The throne is yours."
"I will hold you to that," Tony said.
He stepped up to the glass table.
Natasha leaned against the bar, a smirk playing on her lips. "This is going to be embarrassing."
"For him, or for the table?" Hill asked quietly.
Tony rolled his shoulders. He reached out and wrapped his right hand firmly around the leather grip of Mjolnir.
He pulled.
The hammer didn't move. It remained absolutely locked to the glass surface.
Tony frowned. He planted his feet wider, gripping the handle with both hands. He gritted his teeth, his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt. He pulled upward with all his physical strength.
Nothing.
Tony exhaled sharply, letting go of the handle. He cracked his knuckles. "Okay."
Tony closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
Alpha Level Magnetism.
He focused a highly localized magnetic pull directly upward, locking onto the dense core of the Uru hammer. He applied enough magnetic torque to lift a commercial airliner.
The air around the hammer shimmered slightly.
But Mjolnir did not budge.
The magic of Odin completely rejected the physical manipulation. The magnetic field broke around the hammer like water hitting a stone, failing to gain any purchase on the enchanted metal.
Chapter 289: Party (3)
Tony opened his eyes, letting out a frustrated breath. He stepped back, rubbing his wrist. "It ignores the magnetic field completely."
"It ignores you, Stark," Namor mocked from his armchair. "You rely too heavily on your invisible forces. True strength comes from the blood."
"By all means, Aquaman," Tony gestured to the table. "Take a swing."
Namor stood up. He set his tequila glass down on a coaster. He walked to the glass table with slow steps, exuding absolute confidence.
He reached down and grabbed the leather handle with his right hand.
He pulled.
The muscles in his forearm instantly bulged, the veins rising against his skin. He frowned. He wrapped his left hand over his right, widening his stance.
He pulled upward.
The floorboards beneath Namor's feet let out a groaning creak as he drove his immense physical strength down into the floor to generate leverage. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. The sheer power of the Atlantean King was focused entirely on lifting the weapon.
The hammer stayed perfectly still.
Namor wrenched his hands away, his chest heaving slightly. He glared at the hammer as if it had personally insulted him.
"A parlor trick," Namor scowled, turning his back on the table and walking back to his chair. "A stubborn piece of rock tied to a stubborn spell."
Thor laughed, taking another sip from a new glass of scotch. "The rock judges, King of Talokan. And it finds you... wanting."
"Bucky," Tony called out, looking at the ERO commander standing quietly near the kitchen island. "You've got a hydraulic press attached to your shoulder. Give it a pull."
Bucky looked at the hammer, then at Thor. He set his plate of food down. He walked over to the table.
He reached out with his left arm, the vibranium plates shifting and locking. He wrapped the metal fingers around the leather grip.
Bucky pulled.
The hydraulic servos inside his arm let out a high pitched whine. The metal groaned under the extreme tension. The friction between his vibranium palm and the leather grip created a sharp squeak. Bucky drove his boots into the floor, leaning his entire body weight backward.
The servos whined louder, reaching maximum output.
The hammer remained locked.
Bucky released the grip, the servos hissing as they decompressed. He looked at his metal hand, flexing the fingers, then looked at Thor. "Strong spell."
"Very," Thor agreed proudly.
Pietro blurred.
A sonic crack echoed in the room. Pietro stood next to the table, his hand wrapped around the handle of Mjolnir. He had attempted to snatch the hammer at Mach 3, hoping sheer velocity would break the lock.
Instead, the unyielding inertia of the enchanted hammer caught him. The kinetic shock traveled violently up his arm, rejecting his speed.
Pietro was thrown backward off his feet, flying through the air and crashing back first onto a plush velvet sofa. He groaned, rubbing his shoulder.
"Ow," Pietro mumbled.
T'Challa stepped out from the window, walking calmly toward the center of the room. The room quieted again. The King of Wakanda approached the table.
He reached out, placing his right hand on the grip. He applied a steady balanced kinetic force, lifting upward with the grace of a predator.
He held the tension for three seconds. He felt the immovable refusal of the enchantment.
T'Challa released the handle smoothly. He took a step back, offering a small nod to Thor.
"It is not my throne to take," T'Challa said simply.
Thor returned the nod, a look of mutual respect passing between the two kings.
Tony looked around the room. He looked at Natasha.
"Romanoff?" Tony offered.
Natasha took a sip of her vodka. She shook her head, a cool smile on her face. "Oh, no. That's not a question I need answered."
Tony turned his gaze to Aryan. Aryan was leaning against the back of a sofa, quietly eating a piece of roasted chicken from a skewer. Red stood beside him, still running visual analytics on the hammer.
"Boss?" Tony called out, pointing at the table. "You want to try the paperweight? Or are you afraid of a little rejection?"
Thor turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto Aryan. T'Challa clasped his hands behind his back, watching closely. Namor leaned forward in his armchair. Wanda stopped talking to Sharon, turning her attention to the center of the room.
Aryan finished chewing. He swallowed, tossing the empty wooden skewer onto a nearby tray.
He walked slowly toward the glass table. His hands remained casually by his sides. His tailored suit jacket shifted slightly with his movements.
He stopped in front of the table.
He looked down at Mjolnir.
He reached out with his right hand.
He wrapped his fingers loosely around the leather grip.
He lifted his arm.
The hammer came off the glass table.
There was no crack of lightning, no rumble of thunder, no shift in the atmospheric pressure.
He simply lifted the hammer off the table as if he were picking up a wooden mallet from a workbench.
He brought it up to his chest level. The dark gray Uru head rested easily in the air.
He flicked his wrist.
Mjolnir spun in the air, performing a perfect flip. The heavy metal head rotated over the leather handle.
Aryan caught it by the grip on the way down with a soft smack of leather against his palm.
He examined the runic carvings on the side of the metal head for a brief second, his expression entirely neutral.
Then, Aryan extended his arm, holding the hammer out toward Thor, handle first.
"Heavy," Aryan said mildly.
The silence in the penthouse was absolute.
It was a silence so profound that the soft jazz playing from the hidden speakers sounded deafening. The clink of ice melting in a glass across the room rang out like a gunshot.
Thor's jaw was entirely slack. He stared at the hammer suspended in Aryan's casual grip, his blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock, awe and a deep confusion.
Tony Stark had just raised his glass to take a sip of scotch. The glass slipped from his fingers. He caught it blindly with his other hand, sloshing amber liquid onto the floor, his eyes never leaving Aryan.
Namor gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white, his posture rigid.
T'Challa's eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath the only sound he made.
Pietro sat straight up on the sofa, forgetting his sore shoulder.
Red Queen tilted her head, her blue eyes flashing as she processed the impossible physics occurring before her. She smiled, a knowing expression of absolute pride.
Thor took a slow step forward. He reached out with a trembling hand and grasped the handle of Mjolnir, taking it back from Aryan. As soon as the leather touched Thor's palm, the weight of the universe seemed to settle back into the weapon.
He looked at Aryan. He looked at the man in the blue suit, searching for the crackling aura of a god, searching for the roaring thunder of a conqueror. He found only the unbothered stillness of a quiet ocean.
"You..." Thor whispered, his booming voice reduced to a rasping breath. He looked down at his hammer, then back up at Aryan.
"The enchantment..." Thor said, struggling to find the words. He swallowed hard.
Aryan put his hands back into his pockets. He looked around the frozen room, meeting the shocked stares of his allies.
"It's a nice hammer, Thor," Aryan said smoothly, completely ignoring the cosmic implication of what he had just done. "Just don't drop it on the glass."
He turned and walked back toward Red and Wanda, leaving the Illuminati Council and the God of Thunder standing in stunned silence.
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