In an apartment somewhere in Washington, D.C., a tall, broad-shouldered blond man was jolted awake by the sharp ringing of a phone.
For a moment, he looked around in confusion, as if unsure where the sound was coming from. Then realization struck. He reached over to the table and picked up the device—a piece of technology he had only recently learned how to use after considerable effort.
But the moment he read the message on the screen, his expression changed.
His upright, heroic face tightened, brows knitting deeply together.
-----
Meanwhile, in New York City…
High above the skyline, inside a luxurious penthouse atop Stark Tower, a certain self-absorbed genius had just woken up—only to be interrupted by an uninvited guest.
The door burst open, and a familiar S.H.I.E.L.D. agent strode in, her face grave.
Tony Stark frowned immediately, irritation flashing across his eyes. He was seconds away from throwing her out—
Until she spoke.
He froze.
Then, without a word, he snatched the file from her hands.
As his eyes scanned the contents, the anger in his gaze surged… accompanied by something deeper.
Grief.
-----
Far away, in a remote village in South America…
After an overnight flight, Natasha Romanoff had shed her office attire and now stood face-to-face with a man.
A man known for his unparalleled intellect—a genius with seven doctorates.
And when things went wrong…
A force of unstoppable destruction.
…
Four hours later…
A Quinjet descended through the clouds, carrying its passengers toward a massive aircraft carrier hidden in the Atlantic Ocean.
But the moment they arrived, they were met with a scene so absurd it nearly broke their perception of reality.
On the deck—
Amidst the tension, the urgency, the constant movement of agents and soldiers preparing for war—
Someone was lying leisurely on a recliner, basking in the sunlight, enjoying the sea breeze.
Beside him, a stunning woman played a soft melody on a small instrument, her presence as eye-catching as the ocean itself.
"Uh… what is that?"
The blond, broad-built man—dressed in a style that wasn't just outdated, but practically antique—looked around at the tense, bustling environment. Then he glanced back at the relaxed figure on the deck, utterly out of place.
Confusion was written all over his face.
"Hey… who's that?"
Another voice spoke up from beside him.
The man turned—and recognition flashed in his mind.
Bruce Banner.
He had seen that name in the files.
Standing next to Banner, Natasha spoke calmly.
"That's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s consultant… and the CEO of Umbrella—Mr. Peter Parker."
Leaning back in his chair, completely at ease, Peter looked like he was on vacation rather than standing at the center of an impending global crisis.
With the ocean breeze brushing past him and the beautiful musician at his side, his comfort level was almost offensive.
"Natasha," he said lazily, not even opening his eyes, "if I remember correctly, this is working hours. You ran off without asking for leave."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Your bonus this month is gone."
Natasha immediately moved closer, her tone turning playful.
"Sir, I'm your assistant. Wherever you go, I go. Besides, my birthday's next month—I was planning to buy myself a nice dress. You can't dock my pay now, can you?"
She leaned in slightly, her expression light—but beneath it lay something deeper.
She already knew everything.
Nick Fury… was dead.
Killed in a sneak attack by Corvus Glaive.
And Corvus Glaive… had been killed by Peter.
To Natasha, that changed everything.
Peter wasn't just a superior now—he was someone she owed.
Someone who had avenged the man who had pulled her out of darkness.
Nick Fury had been more than a director to her.
He had been a mentor. A friend. Almost… family.
And now—
That place in her heart had shifted.
…
Her unusual behavior didn't go unnoticed.
Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner exchanged subtle glances.
The files they had received contained no mention of Peter Parker. After all, he wasn't part of Fury's original Avengers Initiative—only a consultant.
And yet here was Natasha Romanoff—
Acting… almost deferential toward another man.
Neither of them had any personal feelings for her, but the scene still felt… off.
"Agent Romanoff," Steve finally said, his tone firm, "shouldn't we begin our work?"
They weren't here to chat.
They were here to prepare for war.
And Peter Parker… didn't look like a soldier at all.
But Natasha knew better.
If there was anyone who could resolve this crisis—
It wasn't Captain America.
It wasn't even the combined strength of everyone present.
It was Peter.
Still…
The Avengers Initiative had been Fury's final plan.
And she had no intention of going against his last will.
"Alright," Natasha said, straightening slightly. "Gentlemen… Boss… Miss Sona—let's head inside."
She paused, glancing upward.
"We won't be able to stay here much longer."
Almost the instant her words fell—
A deep rumble echoed across the deck.
Then came the grinding roar of massive machinery coming to life.
Steve and Banner instinctively stepped to the edge, looking down.
What they saw…
Was unbelievable.
Four enormous turbine engines were rising from beneath the ocean's surface.
Blades began to spin.
Water was violently displaced as immense power surged to life.
And then—
A powerful gust of wind swept across the deck.
"…This thing is going to fly?" Steve exclaimed, eyes wide.
A ship this size… taking to the sky?
To him, it was nothing short of miraculous.
Peter, however, merely scoffed.
"Outdated technology."
He stretched lazily, barely sparing it a glance.
"If I upgraded it, this thing wouldn't need to sit in the water at all. It could stay airborne indefinitely."
After all—
His ongoing deals already included anti-gravity engine technology.
It wouldn't be long before carriers like this… truly ruled the skies.
And knowing certain people—
Once they started building, they wouldn't stop at one.
Bigger.
More.
Stronger.
That was always the philosophy.
And Peter?
He was more than ready to watch the world change.
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T/N:
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