Exterior — Stuttgart Museum — Night
The grand facade of the Stuttgart Museum glittered under spotlights, its stately marble columns rising into the darkness like sentinels. A string of luxury cars lined the entrance, spilling tuxedoed men and bejeweled women onto the red carpet.
Loki stood across the street, leaning lightly on his cane — a striking figure even dressed in an impeccably cut black suit. The faintest smirk curved his lips as his sharp green eyes swept the building.
His cane — the scepter in clever disguise — tapped against the pavement as he began his slow walk toward the entrance. He moved like a man who owned the place already.
—
Interior — Stuttgart Museum Gala — Continuous
The gala was in full swing — crystal chandeliers casting golden light over the crowd. A string orchestra played an airy waltz as waiters weaved through with trays of champagne. Laughter and polite applause rippled across the polished floors.
At the podium on the small stage, the head doctor of the museum, a balding man in his sixties, smiled at the assembled elite.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, tapping the mic gently. "Thank you for joining us tonight…"
His words trailed into the murmur of the crowd as a dark presence at the balcony above caught his eye.
Loki was watching.
—
Exterior — Science Annex Rooftop — Same Time
The guards around the annex stood alert, rifles at their sides. On the roof, one of them crouched by a spotlight, scanning the grounds below.
He frowned, hearing a faint thwip in the wind.
Then another.
He looked down — just in time to see one of his comrades slump with an arrow in his chest.
"Was ist das—" he began, raising his rifle — but another arrow punched clean through his shoulder, spinning him down into silence.
Clint Barton climbed smoothly onto the roofline, bow already nocked, his expression calm and businesslike. He didn't bother looking at the man he'd just dropped.
Below him, three SHIELD turncoats moved to the annex door, keeping low. Clint dropped beside them with feline grace, twirling a compact scanner in one hand.
He quirked a dry smile as he crouched before the retinal scanner.
"Never met a door I couldn't talk to," he muttered.
One of his team chuckled.
Clint powered on the SHIELD device — it hummed to life, projecting a faint blue light.
—
Interior — Stuttgart Museum — Main Hall — Same Time
Loki descended from the balcony, his shoes echoing softly against the marble. His smirk had grown wider now, darker.
A security guard at the stage noticed him, his hand drifting to his sidearm.
Loki's cane swept up in a blur — crack — and the guard crumpled to the floor without a sound.
The music screeched to a halt as screams and shouts erupted.
"Everyone, stay calm," the head doctor called out in vain as the guests panicked, scattering toward the exits.
Loki didn't even spare them a glance. He reached the stage, his presence commanding, and with one hand he grabbed the doctor by his lapels, flipping him effortlessly onto his back atop a marble table carved with mythical beasts.
Loki's smile widened into something cruel as he produced a gleaming optical device from his jacket.
"Hold still," he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing — which somehow made it worse.
"No — please—!" the doctor gasped, twisting as Loki clamped the device over his eye.
A sharp whir of light and blades.
The doctor screamed, writhing in agony as Loki's grin deepened, his green eyes alight with quiet glee.
"Such fragile little creatures," he said under his breath.
—
Exterior — Science Annex Entrance — Same Time
The scanner beeped, projecting a perfect holographic replica of the doctor's eye.
Clint's tablet screen flickered, bringing up the doctor's vitals and ID.
"Gotcha," Clint muttered with satisfaction, glancing at one of his team. "And they say archers don't multitask."
The heavy doors hissed open.
He rose smoothly, tucking the scanner back into his belt, and strode in.
Inside, the room was sterile and humming, filled with secure cabinets and sealed crates. Clint made his way to the one he wanted like he'd built the place himself.
He crouched, opened the cabinet, and withdrew a glass thermos containing a faintly glowing cylinder.
Iridium.
He turned it over in his hands, smirking faintly.
"Well," he drawled, "mission accomplished. You can keep your fancy medals."
Behind him, one of his crew muttered, "Never doubted you for a second."
"Liar," Clint said absently, tucking the iridium under his arm.
—
Interior — Stuttgart Museum — Back to Loki — Same Time
The doctor collapsed to the floor, clutching his face and whimpering as Loki pocketed the optical device, straightened his jacket, and surveyed the chaos.
The guests were gone.
The guards were incapacitated.
And he stood there in the wreckage, the very picture of composed malice.
"Now," Loki murmured to himself, adjusting his tie and tapping his cane against the marble.
"On to the next act."
His smirk curled wider as he turned toward the door, his shadow stretching long and sharp behind him.
---
Exterior — Stuttgart Museum Plaza — Night
The crowd outside the museum had barely begun to regroup from the chaos within when a ripple of cold power swept through the square.
Loki strode out of the museum doors at a measured pace, his cane striking stone with each step. As he moved, his mundane black suit shimmered into gold-plated Asgardian armor, green cape unfurling behind him like a banner of conquest. His helmet materialized next, the long, curved horns glinting wickedly under the streetlights.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
The shriek of sirens followed — three police cruisers screeching to a halt at the edge of the square. Officers spilled out, weapons raised.
Loki didn't even slow his stride.
He flicked his wrist lazily.
A blast of blue energy arced from his scepter, striking one car dead-center. The vehicle flipped like a toy, slamming into the others, sending metal and glass raining down.
The crowd screamed and tried to scatter.
But Loki simply… multiplied.
Three illusory duplicates of himself shimmered into being around the perimeter, all perfectly identical, all wearing the same smug expression.
"Kneel before me," he said, his voice smooth but commanding — like a king announcing himself to his new subjects.
No one listened. They bolted for the side streets, skirts and suits fluttering, shoes clattering against stone.
His green eyes narrowed, his smirk sharpened.
He threw his arms wide, his tone now edged with danger.
"I said… KNEEL!"
The three doubles moved as one, blocking the fleeing people at every exit. Herding them. Closing them in.
One by one, the crowd dropped to their knees, shivering and terrified, their gazes locked to the ground.
Loki's arms stayed wide, a brilliant smile spreading across his face as if this was the moment he lived for.
"Ah… is not this simpler?" he purred. His voice carried easily over the quiet sobs of the crowd, silk and steel in equal measure.
"Is this not your natural state? It is the unspoken truth of humanity… that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your joy — a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end…"
He walked slowly through them now, gaze sweeping over the bowed heads.
"…you will always kneel."
But then — a single voice cut through the silence.
"No."
Loki stopped mid-step. Turned.
An elderly German man stood near the front of the crowd, his thin frame straight, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at Loki with all the defiance his worn body could muster.
"Not to men like you," the man said, his accent thick but his voice steady.
Loki tilted his head, his smirk returning, a glint of malice in his eyes.
"There are no men like me," he replied, every word dripping with smug certainty.
The old man's lips twitched, just faintly, into something that was almost a smile.
"There are always… men like you."
That wiped the smile clean from Loki's face. He strode toward the man now, every inch of him radiating cold fury.
"Look to your elder, people," Loki snarled, raising his scepter. "Let him be an example!"
Blue light flared at the tip as he drew back to strike.
And that's when a vibranium shield slammed down in front of the old man — just in time to deflect the blast.
The crowd gasped as Loki staggered back a step, his blast ricocheting harmlessly.
Standing between him and the German man now, straight-backed and broad-shouldered, was Captain America himself — shield raised, eyes locked on Loki.
Steve lowered the shield just slightly and tilted his head at the god of mischief.
"You know," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of dry humor, "the last time I was in Germany… and saw a man standing above everybody else?"
He gave a faint shake of his head.
"We ended up disagreeing."
Loki straightened to his full height, dusting an imaginary speck off his gold-plated shoulder, and sneered faintly.
"The soldier," he said smoothly, his smirk returning as he eyed Steve up and down. "A man… out of time."
But Steve didn't flinch. His blue eyes narrowed, his jaw set, and his voice dropped into something harder, colder.
"I'm not the one who's out of time," he replied.
And this time — it was Loki who stiffened.
—
The Quinjet descended like a hunter, turbines howling through the night. Searchlights painted the square in stark white as the mounted gun swiveled down, locking onto Loki.
A crisp, sardonic voice crackled through the PA, calm and deadly.
"Drop the weapon. Stand down. Or I repaint this square with what's left of your horns."
Loki's smirk barely twitched as he stood in the center of the plaza, scepter gleaming. His voice rose in a mocking drawl as he finally looked skyward.
"Ah. The red one. How charming that you think I'd listen to you."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, a blue bolt of searing energy shot up and smashed into the Quinjet.
Natasha's Russian swear cut through the comms as she wrestled the controls. The jet pitched violently, narrowly avoiding a crash.
"Yeah, thanks for that, reindeer games," she muttered under her breath.
On the ground, Steve didn't wait for an opening — he made one.
"Knew he was gonna be chatty," Steve growled to himself, then launched his shield at Loki with brutal precision.
The god's reflexes were lightning quick. He caught the shield on the tip of his scepter and spun it wide, the clang echoing through the square.
Then they charged.
The clash was explosive — Loki's scepter against vibranium, Steve's boots gouging furrows into the stone as he shoved back against the god's strength.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" Loki taunted between strikes, his tone laced with venom and amusement in equal measure.
"Not my style," Steve shot back, grunting as their weapons locked.
Loki ducked and swept Steve's legs out, sending him sprawling. The Captain rolled, came up on one knee, and hurled his shield again. This time, Loki batted it aside and stalked forward, pressing his advantage.
"You're a relic," Loki hissed, planting a boot on Steve's chest and forcing him down. "A fossil wrapped in a flag. And now you'll kneel."
The scepter's glow grew brighter as it hovered just above Steve's helmet.
But Steve's blue eyes were locked — not on Loki — but past him.
"Now!" Steve barked.
Loki's eyes narrowed — just as a brilliant arc of red-and-gold energy slammed into his back like a thunderclap.
The god froze mid-motion, his limbs locking as golden magical runes seared into existence around him.
Steve shoved the scepter away and rolled to his feet, dusting himself off.
"Not bad," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Appreciate the assist."
From the shadows, a tall figure strode forward, boots clicking on the stone.
Harry Potter.
The black bodysuit hugged his frame like a second skin, reinforced by gleaming red-and-gold armor that glowed faintly at the edges. His emerald-green eyes cut through the dark, alive with power and mirth. Magic still crackled faintly in the air as he crouched over Loki, fingers brushing the god's temple.
"Silencio," Harry murmured, and the spell clamped over Loki's mouth like invisible steel.
The god's eyes went wide as he found himself utterly mute. Worse, no matter how hard he tried to break the spell, his own magic faltered.
Panic flashed briefly in his expression — though he tried to bury it under icy disdain.
"You're welcome," Harry added casually as he straightened.
Steve smirked faintly. "You're full of surprises."
Harry's grin tilted roguishly. "You don't know the half of it."
Then AC/DC's "Shoot to Thrill" suddenly exploded over the Quinjet's loudspeakers, loud enough to make even Natasha wince.
Steve's brow furrowed, looking up in confusion.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
Even Loki's frozen face managed to convey faint disgust.
"Seriously?" Steve muttered.
Natasha's voice came over the comms, deadpan.
"Stark."
"Miss me, Romanoff?" came the predictably smug reply, right as a red-and-gold streak rocketed across the night sky.
Iron Man touched down like a comet, thrusters blasting the square into a storm of dust and heat. The armored plates on his suit slid and shifted as every single weapon he had deployed with a whir-click-shunk.
Tony stood there, faceplate still down, repulsors aimed at Loki's immobile body.
"Alright, sparkle-horns," he announced grandly, "you've officially been Stark-blocked. Don't bother thanking me, you're welcome by default."
Then the faceplate slid up to reveal his signature grin — only for his confidence to falter when he actually saw the scene.
Loki was already down. Silent. Steve was standing there looking bored. And there was some other guy — a tall, broad-shouldered Brit in black and gold — calmly inspecting the god like he'd done this a thousand times before.
Tony's weapons retracted with a faint hiss.
"…Oh," he said flatly. "Well. This is awkward."
Steve crossed his arms, smirking faintly. "Little late to the party, Stark."
Harry didn't even look up as he crouched to check Loki's bonds.
"And you are?" Harry asked dryly.
Tony blinked, pointing at himself. "Wait. You don't know who I— you're not with him?"
Harry finally glanced up, grin curling at the edges. "Definitely not with him."
Tony glanced between Steve, Harry, and Loki, completely thrown.
"…What the hell did I just fly into?"
Steve sighed and clapped Tony on the shoulder as he passed.
"Long story," Steve muttered.
Harry added without missing a beat — just loud enough for Loki to hear:
"But not nearly as long as his ego."
Loki's muffled growl was the only reply as Tony turned his head and stared after Harry, completely baffled.
"Okay…" Tony muttered. "Did I just get upstaged in my own entrance? …That's illegal."
—
The Quinjet roared through the clouds on its final approach to the Helicarrier, blades slicing the night. Inside, the air was tense but not quiet — the kind of tension that came with too many egos in one small space.
Loki sat at the back of the cabin, shackled to a reinforced seat, his wrists bound with gleaming cuffs and his scepter locked in a containment crate. Even silenced by Harry's spell, his emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, his posture regal despite the circumstances.
Natasha sat in the cockpit, fingers flying over the controls. Fury's gravelly baritone came over the comms.
"Romanoff. Prisoner say anything yet?"
Natasha allowed herself a faint smirk and glanced back at Loki.
"He hasn't said a word. Harry shut him up — magically," she replied, the edge of amusement in her voice clear. "Which, honestly? Probably for the best. If the Norse myths are accurate, listening to him talk's just asking for trouble."
There was a low chuckle from Fury's end of the line.
"No argument here. Just get him here. We're running low on time."
"Copy that," Natasha said, flipping a switch.
In the cabin, Harry leaned lazily against the bulkhead, arms folded, green eyes glinting as he watched Loki like a cat watching a mouse. His crimson-and-gold armored shoulders gleamed faintly under the lights. Steve sat across from him, his elbows on his knees, jaw tight, while Tony stalked the aisle, his hands moving as fast as his mouth.
"I don't like it," Steve finally rumbled, his tone low and certain.
Tony stopped mid-step, turned, and pointed at him.
"Which part? That we're babysitting Glorious Purpose back there instead of jettisoning him into a black hole, or—" he swung the finger to Harry, eyes narrowing in mock accusation, "—that Mr. Broody McGloweyes here just waltzed in and took down a scepter-wielding god like it was a Tuesday matinee? 'Cause, pal, both options keep me up at night."
Harry didn't even blink. "You talk a lot for someone who looked winded five minutes in."
That earned a sharp, low laugh from Steve, who clapped once against his thigh and muttered, "He's not wrong."
Tony ignored them both and started pacing again, gesturing furiously at Harry.
"No, see, here's my problem. You show up in a pretty little ensemble straight out of a Stark Industries concept sketch, and somehow you shut down that—" he jabbed a thumb at Loki "—with nothing more than some jazz-hands and an ominous glare. I've been running diagnostics in my head since takeoff. Either you're hiding a whole lot of alien hardware in that suit of yours, or—" he leaned in closer now, narrowing his eyes, "—you're doing something very illegal with physics."
Harry arched one brow, grinning faintly. "You think I need gear to beat him?"
"Oh, no," Tony shot back. "I think you need to explain your cheat codes. What is it? Quantum phase disruptors? Asymmetrical energy dampeners? Gamma-tuned photonic resonators? Or maybe… nanites?"
Steve tilted his head at Harry, smirking faintly. "You catching any of that?"
Harry gave him a sideways glance, his emerald eyes dancing. "Oh, sure. Sounds like a lot of words for 'I have no idea what's going on.'"
Steve chuckled, and even Natasha smirked faintly from the cockpit.
Tony threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll bite. What do you call it, then?"
Harry tilted his head ever so slightly, then finally spoke.
"Magic," he said.
Tony froze. His eyes narrowed, his jaw slackened. "…Magic? Really?"
Harry shrugged, tracing a lazy rune in the air. The faint sigil glowed gold and then fizzled into sparks.
Tony scoffed. "Right. Okay. Magic. And I suppose next you're going to tell me you've got a pet dragon and your owl writes your memos? Pal, everything has a scientific explanation. Even his parlor tricks," he added, jerking his chin toward Loki.
Even with his mouth magically silenced, Loki somehow smirked harder at that.
Steve cut in, folding his arms and cocking his head at Tony. "You know… I seem to remember the file calling him the God of Magic. Or did I misread that part?"
Even Loki's green eyes glimmered with faint amusement now, his silent chuckle visible in the rise and fall of his shoulders.
Tony glared at both of them. "No. Nope. Still not buying it. Alien? Sure. Powers? Sure. But magic? That's just science we don't get yet."
Harry grinned now — the kind of grin that promised trouble — and pushed off the bulkhead. He stepped toward Tony slowly, like a predator circling prey.
"Oh? Want me to prove it?"
Tony arched a brow and crossed his arms. "Go ahead. Be my guest."
Harry's smile widened just enough to be unsettling. He wiggled his fingers lazily at Tony, muttering something under his breath.
At first, nothing seemed to happen. Steve's mouth twitched. Natasha's smirk grew by half an inch.
Even Loki's shackled body leaned forward ever so slightly, his eyes bright with intrigue.
Then Harry conjured a small, gleaming mirror into his palm and held it out to Tony.
"Take a look," he said, deadpan.
Tony yanked the mirror from his hand, peered into it—
And froze.
"…Oh hell no," he finally said, his voice flat.
His goatee? Gone. Not trimmed. Not singed. Just… gone. Clean-shaven as a recruit on his first day of boot camp.
The cabin erupted in low laughter. Steve's laugh was deep and infectious, Natasha's soft but undeniably entertained. Even Loki's green eyes twinkled with visible delight at the sight of Stark flailing.
Tony pointed at Harry furiously, sputtering. "You don't— No. No. You don't mess with a man's facial hair! That's just wrong!"
Harry only grinned wider. "It'll come back when you agree magic exists. And mean it."
Tony sputtered some more, then slumped back against the bulkhead, glaring at Harry. "…Fine. Magic exists. You happy?"
Harry raised a single brow.
Tony groaned. "…Fine. I mean it. Magic exists. I'm a big believer. Hocus pocus. Abra-freaking-cadabra. Now fix it before I have an identity crisis in midair."
With a snap of Harry's fingers, the mirror dissolved and Tony rubbed his jaw as the faint shadow of his goatee reappeared.
Tony muttered under his breath, pacing again. "Stupid smug sorcerers and their stupid smug spells…"
Steve clapped Harry on the back, shaking his head in amusement. "That was a thing of beauty."
Harry simply grinned. "Oh, I know."
At the back of the cabin, Loki shifted slightly in his restraints, his emerald eyes locked on Harry now — the faintest smirk curling his lips. Even silenced, he managed to radiate the same thought loud and clear:
Interesting.
—
The Quinjet sliced through the clouds, steady and swift, though the skies outside were beginning to churn ominously. Every so often, turbulence jostled the cabin, but no one spoke of it yet.
Tony stood in the aisle, one hand theatrically rubbing at his freshly-restored goatee as though he could still feel Harry's spell lingering on his face. He narrowed his eyes and turned his focus to Steve, who sat calmly in his jump seat with his arms crossed over his chest.
Tony squinted, pacing slowly.
"You know," he began, wagging a finger in Steve's direction, "you're pretty spry for an… older gentleman."
Steve's eyebrows went up just a fraction.
Tony nodded to himself, warming to the subject. "Yeah. Real spry. Like, unreasonably limber. So what's your thing? You got a secret? Pilates? Goat yoga? That thing where they tie you into knots with silk scarves and hang you from the ceiling? Cirque du Cap?"
Steve blinked at him once. Then again. "…Goat yoga?" he repeated flatly.
Tony smirked. "Oh, don't play innocent, Cap. It's like calisthenics for the Instagram generation. Builds core strength, improves balance, gives you an excuse to post adorable animal pictures while you're stretching."
Steve tilted his head just slightly, unimpressed. "Sounds ridiculous."
"Yeah, well, you missed a few decades of ridiculous," Tony said lightly, leaning against the bulkhead. "You know. During your extended nap." He gave Steve an exaggerated shrug. "Capsicle."
Steve stared at him for exactly three long seconds — just long enough to make it clear the jab had landed.
From where he leaned against the opposite wall, Harry finally let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. His green eyes sparkled with dry amusement.
"Two egos enter, no survivors," he muttered under his breath.
Before Steve could retort, a sudden CRACK split the air outside, so loud and sharp the whole cabin flinched. Lightning flashed bright enough to cast stark shadows along the walls, and the jet lurched violently to the side as a blast of wind hammered it.
Natasha's hands flew to the controls, her expression tightening. "Hold on—" she called back over her shoulder. "That one was close."
Tony caught himself on a support strut, eyes wide. "Uh, yeah, that was not on the weather app this morning."
Steve braced a hand on the ceiling, instinctively scanning for damage.
Natasha's eyes narrowed as the Quinjet shuddered again. The static in the air was so thick it raised the hair on everyone's arms.
"…Where the hell is this coming from?" she murmured, almost to herself.
Another rumble of thunder — deeper this time, almost a growl — rolled overhead.
That was when they all noticed Loki.
Still shackled, still silenced, but… different now. The smug smirk that had barely left his face since his capture had finally slipped. His posture was tense, his gaze locked out the window, unblinking.
Steve caught it first, narrowing his eyes at him.
"What's the matter?" he asked dryly, watching Loki's shoulders stiffen. "Scared of a little lightning?"
Loki didn't even bother to turn his head. His eyes, gleaming green in the dark, stayed fixed on the storm clouds outside. His jaw tightened, but the spell on his tongue held.
Harry stepped forward, his boots quiet against the deck, and studied him — then glanced outside as well. He didn't even need to ask.
One plus one.
He turned back to the others, his expression neutral but his voice dry.
"…Maybe he's not overly fond of what follows," Harry said.
The words hung there as another fork of lightning split the sky, so close it rattled the entire cabin.
Loki closed his eyes, as though resigning himself to something inevitable. His fingers flexed against his shackles, his smirk nowhere to be found now.
Tony, for once, actually fell quiet. His gaze drifted from Loki to Harry to the window and back again.
Even Natasha glanced over her shoulder, just long enough to see the eerie calm on Loki's face.
The Quinjet kept pushing forward into the storm.
And above them, in the heart of the blackened clouds, something moved — streaking closer with the sound of thunder rolling in its wake.
Harry didn't take his eyes off the window. He just muttered, almost to himself — but not too quietly for them to hear:
"Showtime."
—
A blinding white light engulfs the ramp in an instant, accompanied by a deafening CRACK of thunder. The Quinjet shudders violently under the sudden impact of wind and raw power.
Not lightning.
A God.
THOR.
The god of thunder plants himself on the Quinjet's open ramp like a divine hammer strike — his red cape whipping, long blond hair wild in the wind. Mjolnir glints in his right hand, but his blue eyes are fixed like a hawk's on his quarry.
His massive fist closes on Loki's throat before anyone can react. The shackled trickster's head snaps up at the familiar grip, his green eyes narrowing with indignation and — if one looked closely — a flicker of guilt.
Even silenced, Loki somehow manages to look offended, muttering something inaudible behind the magical gag as Thor yanks him out of his seat like a disobedient child.
Thor's voice is a booming command, even if directed only at Loki.
"You have caused enough mischief, brother."
He glares over his shoulder at the stunned humans — Steve, Tony, Harry, Natasha — then leaps off the Quinjet ramp with a roar, dragging Loki bodily into the storm below.
For a few moments, all anyone can do is stand there in the swirling wind and gape.
Finally, Tony breaks the silence. His helmet slides closed with a mechanical click. He points at the swirling clouds outside, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, now there's that guy."
Harry, leaning casually against the bulkhead, arms crossed, watches the storm below with faint amusement. He glances at Tony.
"Thor. God of Thunder. Loki's brother. You know how family reunions get."
Tony whirls on him. "Thanks for the briefing, Sparkles. Got any more trivia for me? Maybe tell me his mother's maiden name while you're at it?"
Steve steps forward, still watching the clouds where Thor and Loki disappeared. His voice is calm but edged.
"Is he a friendly?"
Tony scoffs and primes his repulsors as he stomps toward the ramp.
"Doesn't matter. He lets Loki go? The Tesseract's gone. He kills Loki? The Tesseract's still gone. Either way…"
He stops, just long enough to gesture dramatically at the storm outside.
"…I'm not letting Fabio in a cape ruin my evening or my mission."
Steve grabs his arm as he nears the edge.
"Wait. We need a plan of attack!"
Tony looks back, a sharp grin hidden under the helmet.
"I have a plan: attack."
And with a deafening WHOOSH, he launches himself into the night sky.
Steve exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he grabs a parachute. "Stark…"
He turns, holds out another chute toward Harry.
"Coming?"
But Harry just smirks faintly and waves the pack off.
"I've got my own ride."
Steve frowns. "Your what now?"
Harry pulls a small, palm-sized metal starfighter model from… somewhere (Steve decides it's better not to ask). The faint red and gold etchings along its wings pulse as Harry crouches, sets it on the floor, and murmurs something in a language Steve's never heard.
The runes flare to life as the toy levitates off the deck — then shoots out of the ramp into the night air.
Steve watches as it grows and grows until it becomes a full-size sleek Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor, black with crimson and gold decals, its engines roaring to life. The canopy slides open.
Harry glances back, his emerald eyes glinting. He salutes lazily.
"Don't wait up, Captain."
And with that, he steps into open air, landing in the cockpit as the ship banks and rockets after the others.
Natasha's voice cuts through the quiet as she keeps the Quinjet steady, her tone dry but edged with something like worry.
"You know… you don't have to follow them. Sit this one out. Those two?" she says, nodding toward the storm. "They come from legends. They're gods."
Steve tightens the straps on his parachute. He glances back at her, dead serious.
"There's only one God, ma'am. And I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that."
Natasha huffs a soft, incredulous laugh as she watches him step onto the ramp.
"You're all gonna get yourselves killed," she mutters.
WHOOSH.
Steve dives into the storm.
Through the roaring clouds below, we see four distinct figures plummeting toward the forest — one red-and-gold streak of repulsor fire, one streak of lightning, one falling starfighter banking low, and one parachute cutting clean lines through the storm.
The Quinjet fades into the night behind them as thunder cracks and lightning flashes.
The real fight is about to begin.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!