ZZEEW!
A crimson laser beam sizzled past her ear, singing the fabric of her mask.
Immediately after, a deafening explosion erupted behind her.
Gwen's Spider-Sense had screamed at her a split second before the shot was fired, allowing her to dodge the laser itself. But the shockwave from the explosion? That was unavoidable.
She grunted as shrapnel and debris slammed into her back. A burning, stinging pain washed over her—she couldn't tell how many tiny rock shards were now embedded in her skin.
But Spider-Woman didn't have time to check for injuries. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tucked into a roll, evading the next volley of energy blasts.
Coming out of the roll, she fired two quick webs, pinning two Dark Elf soldiers to a nearby wall just as they were about to flank Jane Foster.
It was a noble move, prioritizing the civilians. It was also a tactically poor one, leaving her wide open.
Fortunately, Tony had shaken off his concussion enough to rejoin the fight.
Seeing more Elves raising their rifles, Iron Man snapped his arms up. His repulsors whined and fired, blasting the soldiers backward into a pile of rubble.
But it was a losing battle. For every Elf they dropped, two more seemed to step out of the shadows. Their attacks were barely scratching the surface of the invasion force.
Tony's HUD flashed a warning. He saw a small, blinking device arc through the air, landing dangerously close to Gwen's feet. He didn't think; he just moved.
"Look out!!"
Just as the grenade detonated, Tony's thrusters roared to life. He tackled Gwen, using his armor's mass to shield her and carry them both behind a slab of concrete wreckage.
Behind them, the grenade didn't explode with fire. It imploded.
A mini black hole formed, violently sucking in air, debris, and light, crushing everything into a singularity before vanishing with a hollow pop.
Tony and Gwen looked back at the neat, spherical crater left in the pavement, sweat trickling down their necks.
They had seen these black hole grenades in action already. It didn't matter how tough your armor was; if you were in the radius, you were gone. Erased.
If Gwen's Spider-Sense hadn't warned her about the very first one earlier in the fight, they would both be dust right now.
But even surviving this long was a miracle. They were running on fumes.
Gwen was battered. Her accelerated healing was impressive, but she was still recovering from previous battles, and the accumulated damage from today was pushing her limits.
Tony was in even worse shape. His suit was low on power after the Frost Giant fight. Then came the Kurse's punch, followed by crashing through half a city block. He had manually disabled the damage warnings because they were cluttering his entire field of view.
He honestly didn't know how much of the Mark suit was still functional.
"Spider-Girl," Tony panted, his voice tinny through the external speakers. "Get out of here. Catch up to the scientists and keep them safe. Uncle Tony can handle these pale-skinned party crashers."
He moved to stand between her and the advancing Elves, ready to make a last stand.
Truth be told, if his flight stabilizers weren't shot to hell, he would have flown them out of here already. But lifting off now would just make them slow, easy targets. He wasn't going to let the kid die because his suit was a lemon.
Gwen looked at him, then down at her wrist. She gave a pained, humorless laugh.
"Mr. Stark... I'm out of web fluid."
She held up her wrist shooter. It was dry.
Silence fell behind the concrete slab.
Then, the ground began to shake.
RUMBLE... RUMBLE...
It wasn't footsteps. It was a continuous, deepening vibration that rattled their teeth.
They peeked over the cover.
Behind the line of Dark Elf infantry, two sleek, black Harrow ships—blade-shaped fighters—had shifted into their vertical attack mode. They were literally carving through the street, their razor-sharp wings slicing through asphalt and cars as they sped toward Tony and Gwen.
The noise was deafening—the sound of the earth being ripped open by alien metal.
The Elves had gotten tired of playing with their food. They called in air support to wipe the "insects" out.
Is this it?
The thought crossed both Tony and Gwen's minds simultaneously. Are we going to die here?
BUT!
Just as the Harrow ships were about to slice through their cover—
Another sound cut through the chaos. A roaring, clanking mechanical noise that had been building in the background suddenly overpowered the alien engines.
Tony and Gwen looked up.
Hurtling down the street was... a ball.
A massive, twenty-five-foot-tall sphere made of what looked like... junk?
It was a chaotic, multicolored mess of welded scrap metal, dumpsters, and car parts, rolling toward them at a speed that defied physics.
CLANG-CRASH-BOOM!
The giant junk-sphere plowed through the Dark Elf formation like a bowling ball through pins. Alien soldiers were crushed or sent flying like ragdolls, their black armor shattering against the sheer mass of the rolling monstrosity.
And it wasn't stopping.
As it neared the enemy fighters, the sphere didn't slow down. It jumped.
With a bizarre, gravity-defying leap, the metal ball launched itself into the air, crashing down like a meteor onto the first Harrow ship.
CRUNCH!
The sound of alien metal snapping was crisp and satisfying.
The Harrow ship, which had been slicing through concrete like butter, crumpled instantly under the impact. It exploded into a shower of sparks and debris.
The junk-sphere, somehow completely undamaged, was engulfed in the fireball.
But inside the flames, something shifted. The sphere didn't break apart—it unfolded.
Panels shifted, gears locked, and limbs extended. In mid-air, the ball of trash transformed into a towering, fifty-foot-tall mech.
It looked like a junkyard god, welded together from the city's refuse but moving with fluid grace.
As it landed, the mech stomped directly onto the second Harrow ship.
SNAP!
The second fighter snapped in half like a dry twig.
Amidst the fire and the ruin of alien technology, Tony and Gwen stared, jaws on the floor.
The mech stood up from its "superhero landing" pose, steam hissing from its joints, casting a massive shadow over them.
Then, from the external speakers of this heap of heavy metal, a familiar, youthful voice crackled through the smoke.
"Yo. Did somebody order a cleanup crew?"