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A wave-skimming, high-speed advanced aircraft tore across the surface of the Pacific Ocean, its sleek metallic body cutting through the air just meters above the water. The ocean below churned violently in its wake, long streaks of white foam trailing behind like scars on the surface. The sky above was overcast, heavy clouds pressing down as if mirroring the weight inside the aircraft itself.
Inside the cockpit, Natasha sat firmly in control, her hands steady on the controls. Her expression remained calm, almost indifferent—but her eyes were sharp, constantly scanning data streams, navigation paths, and distant signals. She looked composed, but beneath that calm surface, her mind was anything but quiet.
Behind her, seated silently to one side, was Bruce Banner.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He simply stared ahead, his gaze unfocused, as if replaying something over and over again in his mind. His hands rested on his knees, fingers slightly curled, occasionally tightening unconsciously. In his eyes, there was something heavy—deep regret, mixed with something darker.
Hatred.
Not just toward Jack.
But toward himself.
Natasha glanced back briefly, studying him. She knew that look. She had seen it in soldiers, in survivors… in people who had crossed a line they could never step back from.
She broke the silence.
"Still thinking about the Kolkata incident?"
Banner let out a faint, strained laugh—one that carried no humor at all.
"There's no way to forget it," he said slowly.
Natasha didn't respond immediately. Instead, she reached forward and activated the onboard broadcast system. The screen flickered to life, and a news channel filled the cabin with cold, factual reporting.
"The latest international update: Humanity's Public Enemy, Jack, has reappeared in the Indian city of Kolkata. Together with a green giant, he caused massive destruction across the urban district. Most of central Kolkata has been completely devastated."
Banner's jaw tightened.
"Confirmed casualties have reached 380,000 dead. Over 930,000 have been injured. Economic losses are estimated to exceed 30 billion US dollars."
The words echoed in the cabin like a hammer striking metal.
Each number felt heavier than the last.
Banner's breathing grew uneven.
On the screen, the broadcast continued.
"The Prime Minister of India has issued a strong condemnation and formally declared war against Humanity's Public Enemy Jack. National forces are being mobilized. With support from the United States, Japan, the European Union, and over one hundred countries worldwide, a global manhunt has been initiated."
Natasha's eyes flicked briefly toward Banner again.
The report didn't stop.
"'As long as Jack lives, the world cannot know peace,' the Prime Minister stated. 'But we believe that as long as humanity stands united, he can be defeated.'"
Natasha reached out and shut off the broadcast.
Silence returned.
Heavy. Suffocating.
"Heard that?" she asked quietly.
Banner didn't look at her.
"I heard it," he said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Three hundred eighty thousand people… dead because of me."
His hands slowly tightened into fists.
"Nine hundred thirty thousand injured… because of me."
His head lowered.
There was no anger in his tone now—only raw, crushing guilt.
Natasha's voice turned colder, more precise.
"This isn't your fault. It's Jack's."
She turned slightly toward him.
"He manipulated you. Used you. You were just a piece on his board."
Banner let out a slow breath, then lifted his head.
"Jack…" he murmured.
His eyes darkened.
The grief didn't disappear.
It twisted.
Turned.
Hardened into something sharper.
"Jack," he repeated, his fists clenching harder. "I swear… I will tear you apart."
His voice dropped, trembling with intensity.
"Either you live… or I do."
Natasha watched him for a moment.
Then she smiled faintly—not out of amusement, but because this was what she needed.
"That's the attitude you should have," she said.
She turned her gaze forward again.
"But before you kill Jack, there's something more urgent."
Banner frowned slightly.
"The Tesseract."
Her tone became serious.
"If you want to use every possible method… then we need its power."
Banner didn't hesitate.
"As long as I can kill him," he said.
There was no longer any conflict in his voice.
Only purpose.
Before, he would have rejected something like that—refused to turn power into a weapon.
Now?
Hatred had already crossed that line for him.
Neither of them noticed.
On the inner wall of the aircraft, a thin layer of metallic substance rippled almost invisibly. It shifted slightly, like liquid, forming the faint outline of a smiling face before melting back into the surface.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
---
Far away, deep underground, in a hidden facility—
A group of people moved around complex machinery, analyzing data, adjusting instruments, and constructing something unknown. The air was filled with tension, but also purpose.
Among them stood familiar faces.
Erik Selvig worked near a console, focused on calculations.
Nearby, Jane Foster studied astronomical readings.
And not far from them—
Loki.
Seated calmly, watching everything with quiet amusement.
Beside him stood Clint Barton—Hawkeye—his posture sharp, eyes alert, but his expression unnaturally still.
Loki leaned slightly forward, staring at a screen displaying recent footage.
"Who is this Jack?" he asked casually.
Erik glanced up.
"I think you've already met him," he said. "Back in Puente Antiguo… when your brother Thor was there."
Loki's expression shifted slightly.
"Jack was there too," Erik continued. "He defeated Thor… and even the warriors of Asgard. Easily."
Loki's eyes narrowed.
"Then he disappeared. No one expected him to return like this."
Erik's tone grew heavier.
"And now… he might become our enemy."
"Jack…" Loki repeated softly.
His brow furrowed.
"I know him," he said slowly. "I know."
Hawkeye turned his head slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Loki's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile.
"The one who stole my Casket of Ancient Winters… it must be him."
His eyes gleamed with cold fury.
"It has to be."
His voice dropped.
"I will find him. And when I do… I will make him suffer."
The smile widened.
"He took what belongs to me. I will take it back."
Erik frowned slightly.
"He won't be easy to deal with."
Loki laughed softly.
"I know," he said.
"That's what makes it interesting."
He lifted the golden scepter in his hand, the blue gem glowing faintly.
"A human who can make me suffer a loss…" Loki murmured. "He's worth playing with."
Hawkeye spoke from beside him.
"We'll work together."
Loki nodded slightly, then turned his gaze toward the central machine.
The Tesseract.
Glowing with immense power.
"For now," Loki said, "the priority is opening the portal."
He paused.
"Jack can wait."
---
Back in the Pacific—
An enormous helicarrier floated on the ocean's surface, its sheer size dominating the horizon.
The aircraft approached rapidly and landed smoothly on the deck.
The hatch opened.
Natasha stepped out first, followed by Banner.
Banner looked around, his eyes scanning the massive structure, the advanced systems, the personnel moving with precision.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technology…" he muttered. "It's impressive."
Natasha walked ahead.
"The most advanced tech. The best people," she said simply. "Everything is here."
Another aircraft landed nearby.
From it emerged Phil Coulson and Steve Rogers.
Steve's face was tense.
His jaw clenched.
His fists tightened at his sides.
There was anger in him—quiet, controlled, but powerful.
Coulson spoke gently beside him.
"Captain… don't blame yourself."
Steve shook his head.
"It is my fault," he said.
His voice was firm.
"If I had killed him during World War II… none of this would have happened."
Coulson fell silent.
Natasha approached.
"Natasha," Coulson said, "this is Captain Rogers."
"Hello," Natasha said with a slight smile.
Banner stepped forward.
"You were talking about Jack?" he asked.
Steve looked at him.
"You're Dr. Banner," he said. "I've heard about you."
Banner gave a bitter smile.
"Not for good reasons."
He looked away briefly.
"You probably hate me."
Steve shook his head immediately.
"That's not true," he said.
"It's Jack. Everything leads back to him."
His fists tightened again.
"It seems we share the same enemy," Banner said quietly.
Steve nodded.
"Yes."
His eyes hardened.
"I will deal with him."
Natasha stepped between them.
"Gentlemen," she said, "if you're going to share your anger, do it later."
She glanced upward slightly.
"This place is about to get hard to breathe."
At that moment—
The entire helicarrier trembled.
The ocean around it began to swirl violently, massive currents forming beneath the surface.
Steve looked around sharply.
"What is this?" he asked. "Is this thing diving?"
"No," Natasha said calmly.
"It's lifting."
The deck vibrated.
Then—
Massive engines unfolded from the sides of the carrier, four enormous turbines spinning to life.
With a deep, powerful hum—
The helicarrier rose.
Slowly at first.
Then steadily.
Lifting into the sky.
Steve watched in silence, impressed despite himself.
"This is a flying aircraft carrier…" he muttered.
Natasha turned toward the interior.
"Captain. Dr. Banner," she said.
"Fury is waiting."
She began walking toward the cabin.
Steve and Banner exchanged a brief glance.
Then followed.
None of them noticed—
A thin stream of liquid metal moving silently across the deck.
Following them.
Waiting for the right moment.