end battle
With Laufey's death and the sudden appearance of a new enemy at the heart of the battlefield, the general didn't hesitate—he gave the order to retreat immediately. But this time, they weren't alone. Thor, thunder dancing across his skin, raised his hammer to the sky and finally joined the fight. Lightning erupted around him like divine heralds. For a moment, it seemed like the end of the battle was near.
High above, Tony Stark flew over the Destroyer, firing precise bursts while expertly dodging the laser beam that shot from the metal titan's head. Then, in a brutal leap, Hulk came crashing down like a meteor, roaring, and grabbed the Destroyer by one leg. With monstrous strength, he lifted it into the air and hurled it toward Thor like it was a ragdoll.
The God of Thunder stood waiting, arm raised, summoning a storm that answered his call. Bolts of lightning rained down, cloaking him in an aura of ancient power. And when the Destroyer got close enough, Thor struck with the full might of Mjölnir, unleashing an explosion of energy and lightning that shook the earth.
Meanwhile, War Machine and Owen moved through the chaos, guiding injured soldiers away from the battle and covering their retreat.
"I need new weapons," Owen growled, looking at his knives—one completely bent, the other with its cable torn. "Ones that don't fold like butter," he added with frustration.
The Four Warriors of Asgard, sent by Thor, descended onto the battlefield to support the human soldiers. For the first time, the God of Thunder showed genuine concern for those fighting beside him. It was as if, in the middle of the chaos, he'd finally awakened to the true weight of war. And as always, the general had taught the lesson without needing a single word.
With three of the most powerful heroes of the present—Thor, Iron Man, and Hulk—the Destroyer was ultimately destroyed. Its body crashed to the ground, smoking, an inert shell among the debris.
Thor walked with dignity through the wreckage, his hair blowing in the wind, Mjölnir crackling at his side. Tony landed nearby, his armor still smoking, while Hulk grinned proudly, already anticipating the reward he'd been promised—food.
"Well, that was an interesting adventure," Nicholas said, stepping down from the cannon, which was beginning to melt from the energy it had discharged during the battle.
"An alien invasion… who would've seen that coming?" said Rhodes, frowning. "Let's hope it's not the first of many."
Owen said nothing, but silently noted that saying something like that right after surviving a war sounded like triggering a death flag. But whatever was coming... it would come, whether they talked about it or not.
"Ha! Owen, how about a little match right now to see who's stronger?" Thor exclaimed, lifting his hammer with an eager grin.
"Sure. But first… you should take care of your little problem. Then we can fight all you want," Owen replied, with a calm and sly smile.
"You're right," Thor nodded seriously. Then he glanced at his Asgardian companions and the general who was now approaching.
"Thank you for your teachings, General. You can consider yourself honored—you were the teacher of the God of Thunder," he said sincerely.
Then he raised his eyes to the sky and shouted:
"Heimdall, take us!"
Everyone waited. The wind blew. Nothing happened.
"Heimdall?" Thor called again, slightly confused.
Before Tony could let out a sarcastic remark, a golden beam of light fell from the heavens like a divine spear and whisked away the five Asgardians in an instant.
"Well... that's an interesting way to travel," Tony said, replacing the joke he was about to make with a genuine smile.
Nathaniel stepped forward through the dust and rubble, speaking with a firm voice:
"Well done. Your first mission as a team was far bigger than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd start with putting out fires or distributing food in low-income neighborhoods."
"Chocolate ice cream. And meat," Hulk declared, approaching with happy steps, like a child asking for his reward.
"Yes, yes. We'll get something to eat," Tony replied with a weary sigh.
"General, how many...?" Owen began to ask, but Nathaniel cut him off gently.
"Not many. Thirty. But don't blame yourself, Owen. If you hadn't been here… it could've been all of them. You defended your country—your world. You did well."
The words settled heavily in the air. Tony and Nicholas, used to saving lives from a safe distance, lowered their heads. The battlefield was different. Death was more real here.
Even Hulk, usually indifferent, didn't press the matter of food. Silently, he climbed onto Nicholas' vehicle and sat on the roof. The cannon had been packed away, leaving enough space.
Owen took the driver's seat, his brow furrowed. His mind was racing. The serum in his body made him stronger by the day. It had no limit. And he planned to use every cell of it. To evolve. To improve. To become more.
Tony and Rhodes said their goodbyes and took off into the sky. Behind them, the soldiers were pitching tents, tending to the wounded, and starting to clean the battlefield. Even though they'd managed to push the fighting out of town, it was still too close to leave things unattended. Scattered weapons, spent shells... and a massive, alien, metal corpse lay in the middle of it all.
…
At nightfall, with the battle concluded and the perimeter secured, the military camp began to disassemble. While the soldiers organized the withdrawal and tended to the wounded, an armored truck quietly approached the remains of the Destroyer. Several men quickly got out and began collecting metallic fragments, along with the corpses of the Jotuns.
Once their task was complete, the vehicle sped away. However, they failed to notice a car following them from a distance—the same one Owen, General Hawthorne, and the others had left in earlier. But now they returned with a very different purpose.
The truck drove for hours, eventually reaching a secret facility hidden deep in the forest. As the armored gate began to open, sentries noticed the approaching car, accelerating fast. Weapons were raised immediately.
"Stop! This is a restricted area!" one of the guards shouted, aiming directly at the driver.
"Yeah, I know. We're here because you're taking something that doesn't belong to you," Owen replied from the driver's seat, his tone calm. "And unless you want a big green giant coming to get it back himself, I suggest you call your boss."
Beside him, General Nathaniel Hawthorne sat with a deep frown, visibly annoyed.
The guard recognized them immediately. He also recognized the passengers in the back seat—Bruce Banner, now in human form, and Nicholas. Though calm on the surface, Banner was ready to let Hulk out at a moment's notice.
The soldier spoke into his radio, then turned back and said tensely, "Wait here."
The four of them stepped out of the vehicle. While the soldiers lowered their weapons slightly, their eyes stayed locked on them, full of suspicion.
"You know," Nicholas said with a smirk, "you really should stop pointing those guns. You're making Banner nervous."
No one laughed.
Minutes later, the gate to the facility opened. A group of agents emerged, led by none other than Nick Fury. Behind him were several of his men, including Rumlow, whose face remained unreadable. None of them had been seen during the battle. Clearly, their mission had been something else. And to Owen, it was obvious what.
"General Hawthorne. What can I do for you?" Fury asked, feigning irritation, though his voice was carefully controlled.
"Don't play dumb, Fury. You know exactly why I'm here. Now it makes sense why you were so eager to 'help' with this operation. You came to collect material for your secret projects. But what you're loading into that truck belongs to us. We're taking it," Nathaniel said, voice steady but sharp as a blade.
"Sorry, General. This falls under global security. You don't have jurisdiction here," Fury replied firmly but diplomatically.
"No. You don't have jurisdiction to walk into a battlefield where my men fought, bled, and died defending this country—defending the world, incidentally—and sweep up the leftovers."
"Understanding the genetic and technological makeup of these enemies could help prevent future attacks," Fury insisted, colder now.
"Oh really? And when they come back, will you and your spies be on the front lines? Or hiding again while you collect samples from the rubble?" the general retorted with a bitter smirk.
Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tensed. Rumlow clenched his jaw. Fury narrowed his eyes.
"Don't underestimate what we do. You may not see us on the front lines, but we risk our lives to protect people every day," Fury replied.
"Protecting us from what, exactly?" Nathaniel asked, his voice like ice.
"Things you probably wouldn't understand," Fury said, slipping back into his practiced calm.
"Sure. Owen, take the truck. We're leaving," the general ordered, turning away.
"With pleasure," Owen said, walking casually toward the vehicle.
But the moment he moved, every soldier in the base—Rumlow included—raised their weapons again, aiming at each of them.
"As I said, you have no authority here," Fury warned. "If you attempt to take that material, it will be considered attempted theft and a threat to global security."
Rumlow, still aiming at the general, watched in silence. His finger began to squeeze the trigger. He had a different order—if things escalated, he was to eliminate the general. And that order hadn't come from Fury.
Owen felt it. His instincts flared. He stepped to the side, completely composed.
"General... I'm going to start killing now," he said, with such serenity that everyone felt a chill crawl up their spine.
Fury's lips parted slightly. He knew that wasn't a bluff.
And before he could give the order to stand down, Owen moved.
Faster than a shadow, he threw the hidden knife from his wrist. The blade flew and sank cleanly into Rumlow's hand just as he was about to fire.
Immediately, Owen drew two pistols and opened fire with surgical precision. First, he took out the agents aiming at the general and his companions. Nine shots, nine confirmed kills. Then he turned and shot Rumlow's other hand and crushed one of his feet with another shot.
He swapped a magazine with practiced ease, firing with the other hand the entire time.
"Open fire!" Fury shouted, realizing things had spiraled beyond his control.
But against a supersoldier like Owen, it was pointless. He weaved between bullets with razor-sharp agility, using bodies and structures for cover. There was a reason they called him Revenant—even before the serum.
Meanwhile, the general calmly walked toward his vehicle. He knew Owen would cover him. Nicholas, by contrast, ran in zigzags, ducking like it would make him invisible. Banner... just closed his eyes.
And then roared.
"GRRAAAHHHH!"
Hulk emerged with an earth-shaking growl. The agents faltered. Some dropped their weapons on the spot.
"Hulk, wait! Let Owen handle it," Nathaniel shouted from behind the vehicle's door.
The green giant's mere presence was enough to stop the reinforcements emerging from the base. Fury took a step toward the entrance, seeking shelter.
But then—everything went silent.
Not a single shot. Only the chilling click of a gun being cocked.
When Fury turned around, he saw it: Owen was right behind him, a pistol pressed to his head.
He hadn't heard a thing.
"Well… that was refreshing," Owen murmured, smiling calmly.
Fury raised one hand slowly, but his eyes burned with fury and disbelief.
"Attacking S.H.I.E.L.D. won't end well for you. We answer to the World Security Council, not just the U.S."
"Yeah, I know. But I didn't attack S.H.I.E.L.D. I targeted the spies embedded in your ranks. In fact, you should thank me. Maybe even on your knees. I like the classics," Owen said with a smirk.
Fury scowled.
"What are you implying?" he asked cautiously.
"First, tell your men—the ones I didn't kill, the ones who are actually S.H.I.E.L.D.—to lower their weapons. Then I'll explain."