The plane jolted violently as a laser beam from Loki struck it, sending it spiraling out of control. Inside, Captain America, Black Widow, and Hawkeye gripped their seats tightly as the aircraft veered dangerously close to the towering buildings of New York.
"Hawkeye!" Steve shouted over the alarms blaring inside the cockpit.
"I know, I know! I'm trying!" Clint responded, his hands steady on the controls as he weaved the plane between buildings, doing everything he could to minimize the damage. "I can land it, but don't expect it to be smooth!"
Before anyone could reply, something slammed against the front of the plane with enough force to shake the entire aircraft.
"What the hell was that?!" Natasha snapped, reaching for her gun.
Clint squinted through the cockpit window. "Is that… a person?"
Steve leaned forward. Through the cracks in the glass, they could see a figure clinging to the front of the plane, dressed in Black and white, form-fitting clothing, with a hood drawn over his head and a silk mask covering the lower half of his face.
"How the hell did he get up here?" Clint muttered.
Before any of them could react further, the figure tilted his head slightly—and suddenly, the entire plane began to slow down drastically.
Steve's eyes widened. "He's stopping the fall…"
Clint took the opportunity and wrestled the plane into a safer descent. With the added resistance from whatever this guy was doing, the impact was far less severe than it should have been. The plane skidded along the ground, bouncing once before finally coming to a rough stop in the middle of the park.
For a few seconds, everything was silent except for the distant sounds of chaos—explosions, screams, the alien invasion tearing through New York.
Natasha exhaled sharply. "That could've been worse."
Clint let out a breath, shaking his head. "Who the hell was that?"
Steve was already watching through the cracked windshield. The mysterious figure had jumped down from the plane and was walking away, seemingly uninterested in them.
"We should go out and see if he needs help," Steve said, undoing his seatbelt.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Natasha asked, frowning. "We have no idea who this guy is. What if he's an enemy?"
"If he wanted us dead, he could've just let the plane crash," Steve pointed out. "He saved us. That doesn't mean he's on our side, but it does mean he's not trying to kill us—at least for now. so Let's stay cautious, but I want to see who he is."
Without waiting for more debate, Steve pushed open the door and stepped out onto the wreckage, adjusting his helmet as he walked forward. Natasha and Clint exchanged a look before following him.
The figure had stopped a few feet away, staring at them. More specifically—staring at Steve.
Steve frowned slightly, taking a cautious step forward.
Then, the masked figure blurted out, voice slightly muffled through the silk mask—
"Captain America?!"
Steve blinked. The guy's eyes were wide, and from the way his mouth was shaping under the fabric, it looked like he was completely stunned.
"…Uh," Steve started. "Yeah?"
The guy just kept staring, as if he hadn't even realized he'd spoken.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Great. Another fanboy."
Luke never expected to meet a superhero like this—saving one, no less. The idea sounded ridiculous when he thought about it. But this wasn't just any superhero. This was Captain America.
Back in his previous life, Luke had respected Captain America immensely. The guy had faced insane threats—alien invasions, gods, world-ending disasters—and kept going without hesitation. And that was before he even became a super soldier. His respect wasn't just because of the hero's reputation; it was earned.
And now? Now he was standing right in front of the Captain America.
Luke's brain short-circuited for a second. In this life, he was already a fanboy So with some of the knowledge in his previous life he became an even bigger fan. So when he saw him, he completely froze.
He barely managed to shake himself out of it before it got too obvious. Quickly, he put on his best neutral expression and said, "Strange seeing you here. Last I heard, you were dead for seventy years."
Captain America—Steve Rogers—gave him a strange look. So did the two others standing behind him. Did they notice my reaction earlier?
Thankfully, Steve was the kind of guy to let things slide. He simply nodded and replied, "Yeah… a lot's happened. But I'm back." His gaze settled on Luke. "Now, I'd like to know who you are."
Luke scratched the back of his head. "It's kind of embarrassing to say out loud, but… I'm Windwalker. At least, that's what the public is calling me."
"Windwalker…" Steve muttered, as if testing the name.
The woman beside him spoke up. "He's a recent vigilante. Been active for a few weeks now. People call him Windwalker because of his wind-based abilities."
Steve's eyes gleamed with interest. "If you're a vigilante, I'm assuming that means you'd like to help us?"
"Absolutely," Luke said, a little too fast.
Steve didn't seem to mind. He just nodded. "Then let's go."
BOOM! BANG! Explosions roared through the city as chaos unfolded around Luke. The streets were filled with screams, smoke, and the sounds of collapsing buildings. Aliens swarmed in every direction—some flying on sleek hovercrafts, others charging on foot with weapons that crackled with unfamiliar energy. Luke moved on instinct, blasting the ones in the air with concentrated bursts of wind while using his fists, reinforced by controlled gales, to send the grounded enemies flying. Every hit shattered bones, sent blood spraying, and tossed the invaders away like ragdolls.
Two more aliens charged from the side. One wielded a jagged melee weapon, the other aiming a sleek alien firearm directly at Luke. The one with the melee weapon lunged first, swinging downward in a brutal arc. Luke sidestepped just in time, feeling the air shift as the weapon barely missed him. He retaliated with a quick punch to the alien's face, but his opponent managed to block with his weapon, letting out a guttural snarl. The alien swung again—this time faster—but Luke caught the weapon mid-swing and forcefully yanked it to the side, positioning the enemy as a shield against the second alien's incoming shot.
The blast hit its ally square in the back, causing the alien to roar in pain. Luke didn't give him a chance to recover—he drove a wind-enhanced fist into the alien's gut, sending him flying backward, his body twisting unnaturally before slamming into a nearby car. Blood dripped from his mouth as he went still.
The remaining alien hesitated for a moment, likely realizing he was outmatched. But before he could react, Luke used Wind Drag to yank him forward. The alien barely had time to let out a grunt of shock before Luke grabbed his head and slammed him into the pavement with enough force to crack the concrete. His body twitched once, then went still.
Luke took a deep breath, shaking the lingering adrenaline from his fingers. Damn it, he thought. I can take them down in one hit with my Wind Fist, but I can't gather wind fast enough to keep using it in rapid succession. His control still wasn't where he wanted it to be.
Looking up, he quickly scanned the battlefield.
The guy with the bow—whoever he was—was focused on getting civilians out of harm's way, moving with precise efficiency. The red-haired woman had smashed an alien's gun and was now using it against them with deadly accuracy. And Captain America—Luke's eyes were immediately drawn to him—was commanding a group of police officers. At first, they seemed hesitant to listen, but then a group of aliens charged at them. Captain America took them down in a matter of seconds, his movements smooth and effortless, his shield striking with pinpoint precision. That was enough to make the officers snap out of it and follow his orders.
So this is what Captain America does on the battlefield…
Luke couldn't help but smile a little.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A new set of explosions erupted from the other side of a small bridge. Luke turned in time to see several aliens flying above the streets on their hovercrafts, dropping explosives at random. Buildings crumbled, cars flipped over, and debris rained down.
Not happening.
Luke sprinted forward and leaped high into the air, using bursts of wind to propel himself higher. Twisting his body midair, he swung his leg forward, sending a powerful wind wave downward. The force slammed into the flying aliens, knocking them off their vehicles. Their hovercrafts spiraled out of control, crashing into the ground and erupting in flames. Luke landed in a crouch, the ground shaking slightly beneath him.
Before he could catch his breath, his attention snapped back to Captain America's group. More aliens were closing in on them—too many. Luke was about to rush over to help when—
CRACK-BOOM!
A blinding bolt of lightning tore through the sky, striking the oncoming enemies with devastating force. The ground sizzled, smoke rising from where the aliens once stood. Then, through the haze, a figure descended from the sky, landing in front of the three heroes with a heavy thud.
A man with flowing blonde hair, clad in silver armor, wielding a hammer crackling with electricity.
Thor.