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❄️ Chapter 23 — The Gathering Storm
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The tower hummed with quiet energy.
Tony Stark sat in his workshop, eyes fixed on the row of armored shells standing like silent sentinels against the far wall. The Iron Legion. Each frame gleamed under the pale light, polished to perfection, waiting for deployment. J.A.R.V.I.S. filled the air with the soft clicks of diagnostics, a metronome to Tony's restless thoughts.
He dragged a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "Alright, you beautiful bastards, time to make sure Earth's got more than just a shield and a prayer."
The doors hissed open.
"Stark."
Steve Rogers stepped inside, posture sharp as ever. His presence carried that no-nonsense weight Tony had grown both irritated by and, in a way, fond of.
"Cap," Tony greeted without looking up, fingers tapping across a holo-screen. "Come to admire the latest line in automated world-saving?"
Steve glanced at the row of suits, then back at Tony. "So I assume you've heard the news."
Tony smirked faintly, not pausing in his work. "You mean that Thor's adopted brother is having a family reunion with his popsicle relatives and might be planning a global road trip? Yeah, the god of thunder stopped by, filled me in. Real cheery bedtime story."
Steve's jaw tightened. "This isn't a joke, Stark. If Loki really has the Frost Giants behind him, that's an invasion we can't take lightly. And if he strikes where we can't reach—"
"—then it'll be a disaster, cue ominous soundtrack, fade to black," Tony cut in, finally swiveling his chair to face him. His eyes were tired but sharp, the glint of calculation beneath the sarcasm. "Relax, Rogers. I don't know where Loki's planning to start his little magic show, but I know where he won't. He won't risk hitting random spots on Earth first."
Steve folded his arms. "Then where?"
Tony leaned back, expression shifting to something more serious. "The Bifrost. It's the passway to the Nine Realms. The express lane. And unless Frost Giants suddenly invented space travel, it's their only way in."
Steve frowned. "And you know this how?"
"Because I already asked Point Break. Thor confirmed it. Said he's cut the Bifrost off—disabled it for six months. Nobody's getting through." Tony spread his hands, mock-taunting. "So congratulations, Cap. We've got time to prepare."
Steve didn't look convinced. He stepped closer, voice low. "Preparation won't mean much if we don't know when or where. You trust Thor that much?"
Tony's smirk faded, his gaze drifting back to the gleaming suits. "…I don't trust anyone that much. Which is why I'm building backup plans. These," he gestured at the Legion, "don't get tired. Don't crack under pressure. Don't argue about orders. When the storm hits, they'll be there."
Steve studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Just make sure when you play god, Stark, you don't create another Loki."
Tony's eyes flickered, but he didn't respond. Steve turned and walked out, leaving the faint sound of the elevator doors echoing behind him.
For a moment, the only noise was the hum of the suits. Then Tony muttered under his breath.
"Yeah. No pressure."
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🌑 Underground Base
Adrian collapsed against the console, sweat dripping down his temple. His breath came ragged, every muscle screaming from the strain of three Miraculouses burning through him like wildfire.
He stared at his trembling hands. This won't do.
If he fought like the version of himself he had seen in the future—reckless, overloaded, draining himself into ashes—he'd face the same defeat. He knew what would happen. He'd seen it.
"I can't…" he muttered, clenching his fists. "I can't win like this. Not alone. Not like that."
Natalie stood nearby, her posture calm but her eyes sharp. She had been watching in silence, letting him vent his frustration.
Adrian lifted his head and met her gaze. "I need to plan better. If I can't hold three Miraculouses forever, then I need to quick-change. Adapt. And more than that…" His voice wavered, softer. "I need to trust others. I need to trust you."
Natalie's lips curved into the faintest smile. "At last. I was wondering when you'd say it."
Adrian chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "So. Help me?"
"With pleasure," she said, eyes glinting.
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⚔️ Training hall
The chamber shimmered into life, its walls projecting a battleground simulation. Adrian stood on one side, the Cat and Ladybug Miraculouses glowing faintly on his body. Natalie stood across from him, her form sharper, clad in dark attire. On her hand, the Tiger Miraculous glowed.
The duel began with a blur.
Natalie struck first, her strength magnitudes beyond human. Adrian darted aside, reflexes sharpened by Cat agility, countering with a flick of his yo-yo. The cords wrapped around her wrist, pulling taut—but Natalie ripped free with brute force, slamming her palm into the ground and sending a shockwave that nearly toppled him.
They clashed again and again, blows sharp, movements fast, the hall ringing with the echoes of combat. Adrian's speed and tactics kept him alive, but Natalie's raw strength pressed him hard.
Then she grinned faintly. Her aura flared. "Clout."
Adrian braced, dodging the first surge of energy. Relief flickered across his face—until Natalie, without pause, used it again.
Her fist slammed into his stomach before he could raise his guard. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He staggered back, clutching his abdomen.
Pain flared—but then the Ladybug's magic washed over him, repairing the damage, restoring him in an instant.
Panting, Adrian stared at her. "You… you can use your ability multiple times in succession?"
Natalie's smirk softened into something more matter-of-fact. "Apparently."
Adrian's mind whirred. He thought fast, his gaze flicking between her Miraculous and the unused ones at the table. Then, an idea struck.
He walked over and retrieved two items: the Peacock and Snake Miraculouses.
"Natalie," he said, voice steady now. "Two jobs for you. First, use your telepathy and teleportation to evacuate civilians when the invasion starts. Second… use the Snake Miraculous. Every five minute. Save any hero in danger. Using Second Chance."
Natalie turned the Miraculouses over in her hand, her serious face reflecting faint approval. "Efficient. Risky. But possible."
Adrian nodded. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his lips. "And I had another idea. What if I use the Mouse Miraculous as a base—multitude—and wield different Miraculouses split between copies of myself?"
The kwamis stirred, buzzing nervously.
Tikki spoke first. "The strain would be lessened, yes. Four, maybe five Miraculouses safely. But Adrian… you're pushing the limits of what even a chosen can endure."
Adrian smirked faintly. "Limits are meant to be tested."
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Meanwhile, above ground, life carried on.
Marinette sat cross-legged on her bed, sketchbook sprawled open, pencils scattered around her. She had been working on manga panels all night, shading carefully, adjusting lines. But her thoughts drifted.
She remembered the other day—Adrian promise to visit her home. She had invited him . Sunday. Just two days left.
Her pencil hovered over the page as a soft smile tugged at her lips. For a moment, the world outside—the chaos, the battles, the looming storm—fell away.
She sighed, brushing her hair back. "Two more days…"
But then, unbidden, a shiver ran down her spine. Like something far away was whispering. She shook it off, burying herself back into her drawings.
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Deep in space
The throne loomed at the heart of a dark chamber, lit only by the faint glow of distant stars. A massive figure sat upon it, shadowed but unmistakably powerful, his form draped in armor that gleamed faintly in the void.
Before him, Loki knelt.
The god of mischief bowed low, his emerald robes whispering against the ground.
The throne's occupant leaned forward slightly, voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"Loki."
"Yes, my lord."
"You seek a world to rule. I seek an object of power. Bring me the Tesseract, and the Earth is yours to play with."
The figure raised a hand. A scepter shimmered into being, its blade-like head glowing faintly with a blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Loki's eyes widened with reverence and hunger as he accepted it.
The shadowed figure leaned back on the throne. His voice was calm, cold, certain.
"Do not fail me."
Loki smirked, rising to his feet, the scepter humming with power in his grasp. "I would never dream of it."
And as he turned, the stars outside seemed to flicker like dying candles.
The storm was no longer distant.
It was coming.
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