The silence that followed stretched heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the holograms.
Fury finally grunted, "Alright. My people aren't guinea pigs. We'll take what we need, nothing more."
Gaia's eyes flickered, as if she were smiling in code. "Wise. Horizon consumes those who chase excess."
Max stepped forward now, his shadow long against the flickering neon projections. His tone was casual, but the weight in his words wasn't. "Relax. Nobody's drilling ports into their skulls. I've got a workaround—exo-suits. Adaptive armor, neural-linked but external. You'll get the reflex boost, strength scaling, environmental protection, all of it—without slicing into your nervous system. You don't have to integrate like the locals just to survive here."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "So we're not becoming cyborgs—we're just… wearing them?"
Max smirked. "Think of it like training wheels wrapped in military-grade plating. Enough to keep you alive, not enough to eat you alive."
Steve crossed his arms, nodding with approval. "That, I can live with."
Bruce frowned, clearly troubled. "But what about long-term exposure? Even with external suits, neural-link strain could still affect cognition. We don't know the drift rate in this environment."
"Banner," Max cut him off, voice flat but not unkind. "That's why I designed them this way. The suits handle the feedback. If you fry a circuit, you swap hardware—not brain tissue."
Fury's single eye narrowed. He didn't like it, but he trusted the logic. "Fine. Then it's settled. Tier-one suits only. Nobody straps on anything I haven't seen tested. And if any of my people start twitching like that poor bastard in your story, I pull the plug."
Gaia inclined her head, the holograms folding neatly into the air as if closing a book. "So be it. Horizon awaits your first steps. The city will not hold back… and neither should you."
The light dimmed, the projections collapsing until only faint afterimages burned on their retinas. For a moment, it felt as though the walls of the factory had truly disappeared—only to slam back into place with cold reality.
Max exhaled slowly, then glanced at the group, his tone final:
"Suit up. Learn fast. And remember—out there, hesitation's the same as death. Welcome to Horizon."
Engines hummed low, not gasoline but the smooth purr of Horizon's grav-drives. Sleek vehicles lined up along the depot exit, each one gleaming under strips of violet neon that stretched across the ceiling like veins of light.
Max leaned back in the rear seat of a luxury transport, the interior lined in dark synth-leather that adjusted to his posture automatically. A small holo-interface floated near his wrist, pulsing with real-time data of the convoy. The ride was quiet, smooth, insulated from the noise of the city beyond. Horizon's wealthiest rolled like this—sealed off, untouchable.
The others weren't so lucky.
Outside his tinted window, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, and even Fury himself were crammed into standard-tier transit pods. The doors on those weren't seamless—manual handles still clunked into place. The cushioning was thin, the ride jostled with every shift in grav-field. The difference was obvious, deliberate.
Max had chosen it that way.
He watched Steve adjust in his seat through the convoy feed, arms crossed, not complaining but clearly aware of the downgrade. Natasha leaned against her window, sharp eyes already cataloguing every detail of the passing streets. Clint muttered something under his breath about "back of the bus treatment," though no one responded. Bruce looked distracted, lost in thought, tapping his fingers nervously against his knee. Fury… Fury just sat stone-faced, saying nothing, but his single eye flicked once toward Max's luxury car in the distance.
Max's voice cut into their comms. Calm, matter-of-fact.
"Before anyone starts whining—this isn't favoritism. It's rank. Out here, you don't roll like kings unless you've earned it. You're starting as citizens. Common folk. No one out there gives a damn if you saved New York or Sokovia. Horizon doesn't care. You'll walk their streets the way they do, or you'll stick out like blood on snow."
Steve's voice crackled back over comms, steady but with that edge of challenge. "So you're saying we start at the bottom?"
"Exactly," Max said. "Exo-suits or not, you're tourists in someone else's warzone. Blend in. Learn the rules. Then climb."
The convoy exited the depot, neon spilling across the windshields as Horizon revealed itself in full. Towering spires pierced the clouds, each one alive with holographic banners and shifting light. Sky-lanes swarmed with traffic—swarms of hovercraft, drones, and armored patrols. At ground level, the city was no less chaotic: alleys stacked with glowing vendor stalls, augmented workers hauling crates with metal limbs, children darting between the crowds with glowing visors covering their eyes.
The Avengers fell silent, taking it in. It wasn't like New York, or even Wakanda. This city was alive in ways Earth had never dreamed—alive, and dangerous.
Max's luxury car pulled slightly ahead of the convoy, tinted glass reflecting streaks of neon. His voice reached them again:
"Get used to this view. Horizon doesn't stop for anyone. You adapt—or it eats you alive."
The convoy slowed as the neon sprawl of Horizon narrowed into choke points. Walls rose up in layered steel and glowing wards, bristling with drone turrets and armored sentinels. The main city might have felt alive and endless, but the border was pure control—cold, unyielding.
"Checkpoint," Fury muttered from the pod, his single eye narrowing. "Looks like they don't just let anyone waltz in."
The cars came to a halt beneath a lattice of scanning beams. The air shimmered as the scanners swept across their vehicles, projecting streams of code and symbols none of them recognized. A trio of armored guardians approached, their implants humming with power. Each bore the emblem of Horizon's Enforcement Corps—hard-faced, faceless behind mirrored helms.
"Step out," one of them ordered, voice flat, amplified. "Identity rise required. All entrants must present citizenship tags for verification."
The Avengers exchanged uneasy looks. Natasha tensed, already calculating her odds of slipping past without being tagged.
***
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