Max set the glass down with a soft clink, letting the silence stretch just long enough for the weight of his words to settle in. Then, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"Listen carefully. In Horizon, respect isn't given. It's taken. This city doesn't care who you were back on Earth—it only cares what you can do here. If you can't back it up, the city will eat you alive. There are predators in Horizon who sniff out the weak. They'll smile at you, toast you, then strip you down to bone and code when the lights dim."
Natasha's gaze sharpened. "So you're saying we have to earn our place. The hard way."
Max's smirk returned, faint and knowing. "Exactly."
Tony scoffed, reclining back as his morphic chair reshaped into a lounge seat. "Fine, then what's the fastest way to start climbing? You don't expect us to sit around and play scavenger hunts while the whole city tries to chew us up, do you?"
Max chuckled. "Fastest way? Do what you're already best at. This city has professions—mercenaries, inventors, brokers, performers—but mercenary work is the quickest for people like you. Horizon runs on jobs. Debut as a crew, take contracts, and you'll earn credits, influence, and most importantly—reputation."
Clint raised a brow. "Contracts? From who?"
"Middlemen," Max said simply. "They're called fixers. They broker jobs between clients and mercs. No contracts go directly—you always deal through a fixer. Keeps things clean. Safer, too. At least, safer than taking some back-alley deal where you're paid in counterfeit code."
He reached into his coat and slid a small crystalline shard onto the table. Three numbers glimmered across its surface, rotating like a hologram.
"These three are the best. Reliable, professional, and they don't throw mercs at meat-grinder jobs just to make a quick cut. Don't use the cheaper ones—you'll end up as expendables."
Fury's jaw clenched. "And the work?"
Max swirled the last of his drink, its glow dancing across his face. "Depends on the fixer. You might get bodyguard detail for a corporate bigshot one night, then a raid on a gang stronghold the next. Sometimes it's theft, sometimes it's smuggling. But whatever you do—your name spreads. Horizon respects results. Fail, and word spreads just as fast."
Bruce exhaled slowly. "…So it's survival of the fittest. Structured. Engineered."
Max raised his glass in a small salute. "Controlled chaos."
–––
The AI attendants brought their food—plates of shimmering protein strands, gene-edited fruits that pulsed faintly like bioluminescent hearts, and flasks of synthwine refracting light into rainbows. Only Tony dared sip, then frowned.
"…Tastes like someone turned champagne into an algorithm."
One of the avatars bowed. "Correct, Sir. This is Code-Wine. Its flavor changes with your genetic resonance and emotional state."
Clint gave it a look like it was a loaded gun. "Yeah, I'm not drinking booze that psychoanalyzes me."
–––
After the meal, Max led them onto a vast open balcony overlooking Horizon. The city spread out beneath them like a living circuit board—lower tiers glowing like molten rivers, upper towers crowned in fractal light. Airships drifted through antigrav lanes, their hulls carrying crests of powerful syndicates.
"Everything you see," Max said, his voice low but carrying, "runs on contracts. You want respect? Take work, and deliver. You want freedom? Take bigger work. You want power? Take work no one else dares touch. It's all there for the taking… if you've got the teeth for it."
Fury's eye narrowed as he scanned the pulsing cityscape below. The glow of the tiers reflected off his face like faint fire.
"Well, merc work, spy work—it's all just survival games dressed different," he said finally. "If contracts are the fastest way in, then we do what we do best. We adapt. We watch. And we strike where it counts."
Max's smirk tugged wider, a flicker of approval glinting in his eyes. "Good answer. Horizon eats the hesitant. If you play your cards sharp, you'll climb fast."
He straightened, setting the crystalline shard back onto the table between them. Its rotating numbers pulsed brighter for a moment, as though acknowledging the decision already made.
"Alright then. You've got your leads. You've got my word. If there's anything else you need before you make your debut… you can ask through my channels. Consider it a courtesy."
Natasha tilted her head. "You're giving us a lifeline?"
Max's smile cooled into something razor-thin. "No. I'm giving you a window. How you use it—or waste it—that's on you."
Tony tipped his glass in mock salute, the rainbow liquid catching light. "Nice of you to make us feel all warm and fuzzy, boss."
Clint muttered, "More like dropping us in the deep end and waving from the shore."
Bruce's voice was low, thoughtful. "At least we know the rules now. Or… some of them."
Max's gaze swept across them, lingering just long enough to remind them that nothing here was given freely. "Rules change fast in Horizon. Keep that in mind."
He turned, the crystalline walls reshaping into a corridor at his gesture. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, this city will smell fresh blood on the wind."
The crystalline corridor folded behind him as he left, the sound of his footsteps dissolving into the living hum of Horizon. For the Avengers, silence hung heavy until even the walls seemed to exhale.
Then, from the floor, thin strands of light coiled upward, weaving themselves into a figure. A tall woman of shifting code and bioluminescence stood before them, her presence calm yet vast. Her hair shimmered like fiber-optic streams, and her eyes glowed with layered circuits.
"We meet again," she said, her voice resonant but gentle. "By Max's decree, I will act as your liaison within Horizon during Lord Max's absence. I will guide, safeguard, and… observe."
Tony raised a brow. "Great. A babysitter. Please tell me you come with a mute button."
Gaia's lips curved faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I come with efficiency. And unlike your Earth's assistants… I do not tolerate unnecessary noise."
Clint stifled a laugh as Tony scoffed, muttering something under his breath about "bossy AIs."
Natasha, however, studied Gaia with sharp intent. "Absence? Where did he go?"
The construct tilted her head, and for a moment, her body flickered into streams of cascading numbers before stabilizing again. "Lord Max has returned to his original domain. Earth, as you name it. His affairs span more than one realm. For now, your integration into Horizon is your priority."
Bruce frowned, unease flickering in his eyes. "He left… just like that?"
Gaia's gaze swept across them, cool and unwavering. "You misunderstand. He left you here deliberately. This is not abandonment—it is a crucible. You will learn whether you can stand without leaning on him. Horizon will decide what you are worth."
***
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