Thor straightened from his crouching position, his cape billowing slightly as he strode toward Captain America. "What's the story upstairs?" the Captain asked, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.
"The Tesseract is shielded by an impenetrable barrier," Thor responded grimly. "A message played from one of these invaders
a mysterious Voice came out of nowhere and said Thor is right we need to focus on stopping these guys first."
"And how exactly do we do that?" the red-haired woman asked, tightening her grip on her weapon.
"As a team," Captain America said firmly.
Thor's gaze darkened. "I have unfinished business with Loki."
"Get in line," the guy with the bow remarked dryly.
"That's enough," Captain America cut in before any further discussion could happen. He was about to give orders when the sound of a motorcycle engine cut through the conversation.
Everyone turned toward the noise.
A man rode toward them on a beat-up old motorcycle, his posture completely relaxed as if he weren't driving straight into an alien invasion. His clothes were extremely baggy, flapping in the wind, and he had a calm, almost detached look on his face. He rolled to a stop near the group, cutting the engine, and slowly dismounted.
Luke observed him silently, feeling an odd sense of tension in the air.
The man—the one who had apparently caught everyone's attention—finally spoke. "So… this all looks pretty bad." His voice was mild, as if this were just another Tuesday.
The woman responded without missing a beat. "I've seen worse."
The man gave a small, knowing smile. "Sorry,
It's okay we need a little worse right now, The woman said
Captain America pressed his finger to his earpiece. "Tony, we found him."
"Banner?" Tony's voice crackled over the comms.
"Yeah," Cap confirmed. "Tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you."
Hearing this, the man—Banner—raised an eyebrow. "You guys still expected me?" He gestured vaguely in Luke's direction. "I thought you'd replaced me with this guy."
Luke stiffened slightly as all eyes turned toward him.
"I've been meaning to ask," Thor said, tilting his head. "Who is this hooded man
Luke could only offer a small, awkward wave.
"He's the one who saved us when Loki shot us down," Captain America explained. "He's been fighting alongside us."
Before anyone could comment further, a loud, distant roar echoed through the streets.
WHOOOSH.
Something massive was approaching fast.
Luke turned in time to see Iron Man soaring through the sky—but what caught his attention wasn't him. It was what was following him.
A giant, grotesque, lizard-like creature—easily the size of a building—was flying low, its enormous body covered in metallic plating. It twisted through the city, knocking over streetlights and shattering windows with the sheer force of its presence. Then, it started descending, scraping against the ground, tearing through the streets as it slid forward like an unstoppable train.
Luke's eyes widened.
What the hell is that thing?!
While Luke was still processing, Banner calmly stepped forward, walking directly toward the approaching beast.
Luke's head snapped toward Thor, who stood beside him, arms crossed like he wasn't at all concerned about the fact that a normal-looking man was about to be flattened.
"…Are you gonna stop him?" Luke asked hesitantly. "He's about to get crushed."
To his shock, Thor let out a booming laugh.
Luke blinked, even more confused now.
Captain America stepped forward. "Banner," he called out. "Now might be a pretty good time for you to get angry."
Banner stopped walking, turned slightly, and looked back over his shoulder.
"That's my secret, Cap," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I'm always angry."
And then, right before Luke's eyes, Banner changed.
His body expanded, muscles stretching and swelling as his skin turned a deep, unnatural green. Fabric tore apart, leaving only his pants intact. His face contorted, features shifting as his transformation completed.
Luke took an instinctive step back.
Then, in one swift motion, the Hulk turned and punched the incoming leviathan with a force so powerful it flipped the creature onto its back, sending it skidding and rolling through the street. Its thick armor cracked from the impact.
Iron Man seized the moment. "Finishing move!" he shouted, releasing a powerful blast that obliterated the monster's exposed underside, splitting it in half. The remains crashed down, shaking the ground.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then, an ear-piercing screech broke the moment.
More aliens.
The surviving invaders, realizing their massive war beast had fallen, began surrounding the group, weapons raised. They snarled and screamed in their alien tongue, their numbers rapidly increasing.
Luke shifted his stance, falling into a ready position. The others did the same.
They stood together in a loose circle, backs to each other, forming a defensive line. Even without speaking, their presence alone made the enemy hesitate.
But hesitation didn't last long. The portal above them shimmered again. And from it, more massive creatures—just like the one they had just taken down—began to emerge.
Iron Man exhaled sharply. "It's your call, Captain."
Captain America's expression remained firm. "Alright, everyone," he said, his voice unwavering. "Until that portal is closed, our priority is containment." He turned to Hawkeye. "Barton, I want you on that roof. Eyes on everything—call out patterns and strays."
Hawkeye nodded. "Can you give me a lift?"
"Better clench up, Legolas," Iron Man quipped before grabbing him and taking off.
Captain America turned to Thor. "You need to bottleneck that portal."
Thor gripped Mjolnir tightly. "Understood."
"Light 'em up."
Thor grinned before taking to the sky, lightning crackling in his wake.
Captain America looked at the red-haired woman, then at Luke. "You, me, and Windwalker—we hold the ground."
Luke straightened at the order, adrenaline surging through him.
Captain America turned to Hulk last. "And Hulk…"
The green behemoth simply let out a low, guttural growl.
Cap smirked slightly. "Smash."
With that, Hulk roared and leaped into the fray, tearing through the nearest group of enemies like they were nothing.
Luke exhaled, bracing himself.
Captain America turned to him one last time.
"Let's go."
Luke sprinted down the street, jumping from the ground to a light pole, then onto a rooftop before leaping toward an alien riding a flying scooter. Midair, he twisted his body and slammed his foot into the alien's chest, sending him crashing into the side of a building. But instead of landing, Luke manipulated the wind, holding himself in the air. He hovered for a moment before pushing forward, now fully flying.
His hood was immediately blown back, but he barely noticed—he was too excited. He had just met Thor, Iron Man, and, as it turned out, that skinny guy was Bruce Banner—the Hulk. This is insane. I'm in an action movie. No, a comic.
Then he spotted another alien. He stopped midair, aimed at the alien below, and attack the alien with a wind fist hitting his head and killing the Alien but even though Luke killed the alien, he was upset because Balancing his flight while trying to fight an enemy felt nearly impossible. The moment he started trying to fight, his control over the wind wavered. I can float and fight just fine. But. I can't move while fighting. So moving and fighting at the same time in high-speed battles, He gritted his teeth. I don't have the level of control I need yet. And I won't for a long time. Possibly never. So he seriously need to fix this or find another method of flying
HAHHHHH!
A scream.
It wasn't like the general panic filling the city—it was raw, terrified, and desperate. Luke's head snapped toward the source. Without hesitation, he propelled himself forward, flying as fast as he could toward the sound.
In front of a shattered store window, an alien stood over two people. Luke cut off his flight immediately, dropping hard onto the ground. He pivoted, lunging forward, and slammed his foot into the alien's chest, sending it flying into a parked car.
His eyes darted to the people inside the store hiding, but his eyes landed at the teenage boy that was kneeling, cradling an old man.
Luke took a step forward, then froze.
The old man was dying.
Luke could barely hear the weak words the man was whispering to the boy. His breaths were shallow. His skin was pale.
A few minutes ago, Luke had been treating this like a movie, like a comic book. But this—this was real.
There was nowhere to take the old man. No one around who could help.
Luke clenched his fists, unsure what to do. Then—
A series of guttural voices behind him.
He turned sharply.
A massive group of aliens was moving toward him.
The innocent people behind him screamed in terror, but Luke barely registered their voices. Normally, facing this many enemies at once would make him nervous—his instincts would scream at him to back off, to avoid being overwhelmed. But right now, he wasn't nervous. He was furious.
He had treated this whole battle like a game. Like a scene out of a movie or a comic book. The excitement of meeting heroes, the thrill of the fight—it had all clouded his judgment. But now, seeing the cost, the real, undeniable consequences of this invasion… his stomach churned with rage.
Luke clenched his fists as he glared at the oncoming horde of aliens. His usual instinct was to throw a wind blast, and he moved to do just that—but this time, something was different. His body acted on its own, rushing the process. Instead of gathering wind from the air around him, he generated it from within, directly from his arm.
The result was immediate. The blast surged out with greater speed and impact than before, striking the lead alien square in the chest and sending it flying. The force was so intense that even though a whole squad stood behind it, the body shot through them like a cannonball, knocking them over like bowling pins. Luke caught a glimpse of the alien he'd hit—it was choking on blood, its chest caved in.
He stared at his own arm, his mind racing. That was stronger than usual—way stronger. It wasn't just about saving time. Creating wind from his body and immediately using it as an attack not only sped up his offense, but it also packed a much heavier punch. Before, his wind blasts could knock enemies back. Now? They could break them.
A grin spread across Luke's face.
He could use this.
His fury reignited, Luke lunged forward, both fists crackling with wind energy. He launched a Wind Fist straight into the crowd, sending multiple aliens flying, their bodies crashing against the pavement or slamming into walls with sickening force.
Movement behind.
Without even thinking, Luke spun around. His wind sense picked them up—aliens trying to flank him, leaping at him from behind. He whipped out a hand and unleashed a Wind Wave, the concentrated gust slamming into them midair and hurling them backward before they could land a hit.
He turned back to the main group and didn't hesitate.
Wind Fist. Wind Wave. Wind Blast. Over and over, he unleashed a relentless barrage, hammering through the enemy ranks. His movements blurred together—dodge, strike, counter. He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Adrenaline burned in his veins as he kicked off the ground, launching himself into the air, and came down with an axe kick. A massive burst of wind pressure exploded on impact, carving a crater into the street and scattering enemies in every direction.
The battle raged on.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Thirty minutes, maybe longer. He didn't count. He just fought.
The civilians behind him had stopped screaming. They could only watch in stunned silence as Luke held his ground, as he fought off wave after wave of aliens. He hadn't taken a single hit—but they could see it. He was slowing down. His breathing was heavier, his movements just a fraction less fluid than before.
This should be over by now.
"HAHHHHH!"
Luke roared in frustration, fists clenching so hard they shook. "Why the hell isn't this ending?!"
He didn't get an answer.
Instead, more enemies arrived—this time, aliens on flying scooters. A whole squad of them.
Luke gritted his teeth. His first instinct was to run. He was already tired, and fighting airborne enemies would take even more effort. But he shook that thought off immediately. No. Not yet. He still had to hold his ground for a little longer.
Dodge. Block. Move.
Blaster fire rained down from above, forcing him to move fast. He sidestepped some shots, used alien bodies as cover for others. His mind was running a mile a minute—he needed to get some distance, but he also needed to conserve energy.
An idea struck.
Luke raised his hand and gathered wind, shaping it into a wave. But this time, he compressed it, making it thinner. He wanted speed and power, but with minimal energy cost. He released the attack—and immediately realized his mistake.
It was too thin.
He had lost focus at the last second due to exhaustion, and instead of a forceful gust, the wind came out razor-sharp, almost as thin as paper.
It sliced straight through the squad of aliens in front of him.
Luke's breath hitched. His mind barely processed what he'd just done as the aliens dropped into two pieces. The weapons that got hit exploded, sending flames and debris into the air.
A… Wind Slash?
He'd done that… by accident?
Luke barely had time to process it. He turned his attention to the remaining aliens in the air, then without moving, dragged them down with his wind control, forcing them to crash into the street below. The scooters exploded on impact, finishing the job.
For a moment, silence.
Then—cheers.
The civilians behind him erupted into celebration, shouting his name—no, not his real name, but the one the public had given him.
Windwalker Windwalker Windwalker
Luke barely reacted. His body was burning with exhaustion, his limbs heavy. He turned his gaze toward the portal, and that's when he saw it.
A missile-shaped object, carried through the sky straight up to the portal
He knew exactly what that was.
And just like that… his job here was done.