The phone rang sharply, its shrill tone cutting through the tranquil atmosphere of Trudheim Manor. Thor picked it up, glancing at the unfamiliar number. A knowing smirk spread across his face as he raised the phone to his ear.
"Let me guess," he drawled. "Which old friend is risking everything to bring me some news?"
On the other end, Nick Fury's gravelly voice responded, its weight underscored by urgency. "The council has passed a decision. A nuclear bomb is set to drop on the Trudheim estate in ten minutes."
Thor's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Wow," he whistled, clearly unimpressed. "They've decided to grant me such… distinguished treatment? Do they think nuclear bombs are the solution to everything?"
Unfazed, Thor leaned back, casually twirling a goblet of wine. He had been informed of this move long before Fury's call—nearly half an hour earlier, in fact, back when the council was still debating the decision. It was almost amusing how predictable they were.
"As expected, you already knew," Fury muttered, his voice heavy with resignation. "I'm calling because I hope you'll show some restraint. And… try not to leave too many traces."
Thor's laughter echoed through the room, low and dangerous. "Restraint?" he repeated. "Nick, you wound me. I'll do my best to control the fallout."
Fury didn't respond for a moment. Thor could hear the underlying tension in his old ally's voice. Fury knew the truth: a nuclear bomb wouldn't stop Thor. It wouldn't even scratch him. If anything, it would provoke a wrath that the council was ill-prepared to handle. Fury's concern wasn't for the council—it was for the world.
As Thor ended the call, he turned his attention to Skye, who sat before a bank of monitors, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Skye," he called out casually, "is it done?"
Skye glanced over her shoulder, her face tense. "Almost there," she replied. "If I can't get it under control, are you really going to… you know, handle it?"
Thor grinned. "Of course. But that would be less dramatic. This way is far more effective."
Hacking into a military network was no small feat, especially one designed to be entirely isolated from external systems. However, the resources Thor had at his disposal went beyond ordinary hackers. Kingpin's men had ensured a way in—discreet, untraceable, and effective.
Finally, Skye hit the last key with a flourish. "Done!" she exclaimed. "I've got full control of the nuclear warhead. Where do you want it to go?"
Thor leaned over the map on the monitor, scanning it briefly before pointing to a spot in the Pacific Ocean, far from any inhabited land. "There," he said. "No need for unnecessary casualties."
Skye raised an eyebrow, clearly relieved but still skeptical. "That's… unexpected," she admitted, inputting the coordinates.
Thor's smile widened as he added, "Don't worry. This isn't the end of the game—just the opening move."
He reached for his phone, dialing another number. "Mr. Fisk," he began smoothly, "I believe we have an opportunity to collaborate. Let's discuss…"
In a secure military conference room, tension filled the air. A general, his uniform adorned with four stars, slammed a fist onto the table. "What the hell happened?" he barked. "How did we lose control of the missile?"
A technician nervously adjusted his headset, stammering as he replied. "Sir, the missile veered off course shortly after launch. Its new trajectory places the detonation point in the northeast Pacific Ocean—well away from the mainland."
The room fell silent for a moment. Relief washed over the faces of several officials, though the general's scowl remained fixed. "An accident?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The technician nodded uncertainly. "It seems so, sir."
The general exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He didn't realize just how deliberate the "accident" truly was.
Meanwhile, at the Leipzig Halle Airport, chaos reigned as the Avengers clashed. The once orderly terminal had transformed into a warzone.
On one side stood Iron Man, War Machine, Vision, Spider-Man, and Black Panther, each determined to bring the rogue Avengers to justice. On the other were Captain America, Bucky Barnes, Hawkeye, Falcon, and the newcomer Ant-Man, fighting to protect their ideals.
The battle was fierce, every blow shaking the foundation of the airport. Ant-Man had grown to a colossal size, towering over the others as he wreaked havoc on the surrounding structures, using his massive frame to shield Steve and Bucky.
But his sheer size proved to be a disadvantage. Spider-Man, darting nimbly between his legs, managed to ensnare the giant with layers of webbing. With a final push, Ant-Man toppled, his immense body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
Elsewhere, Hawkeye found himself outmatched by the ferocity of Black Panther. Despite his best efforts, every arrow he fired was dodged or deflected with ruthless precision. T'Challa closed the distance in seconds, forcing Clint onto the defensive.
War Machine, true to his name, rained down fire from above—until disaster struck. A stray beam from Vision, intended for Captain America, struck War Machine's suit, sending him plummeting from the sky. The impact left him crumpled on the ground, unmoving.
The sight of his friend falling pushed Tony over the edge. Anger coursed through him as he turned his full attention to Falcon. Sam tried to evade, but Tony's relentless assault left him no room to escape. With a final, devastating blow, Falcon was grounded.
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