Fury stared at the phone screen for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The incoming flood of reports, alerts, and calls from world leaders blinked one after another in an endless cascade of chaos.
Then he let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Thank God… it's not another goddamn alien invasion.
For the first time all day, he actually felt a flicker of relief. No war fleets. No Chitauri. No Kree. No galactic doomsday cult knocking on Earth's front door. Just… Max.
Which wasn't exactly comforting—but compared to an armada? Fury would take it.
Footsteps approached. Phil Coulson came to his side, holding a tablet with his usual calm precision.
"Sir," Coulson said lightly, "who should we assign to… meet Mr. Ryder and maybe get us a tour of his new world?"
Fury looked up slowly, his one good eye flat and deadpan.
"You mean that planet-sized middle finger he just dropped into our solar system?"
Coulson didn't flinch. "Yes, sir."
Fury exhaled another long, heavy sigh and stood up. "Yeah… let's see what the hell this guy built out there."
"What about the world leaders?" Coulson asked carefully. "They've been calling nonstop. They're… alarmed."
Fury didn't hesitate. "Tell them to go f*** themselves."
Coulson blinked. "…Sir?"
"Tell them it was a hidden alien world that Max discovered while he was scouting and checking on all the planets in our solar system to make his base," Fury said flatly. "He came across it, broke its invisibility shield, and decided to set up shop there."
Coulson raised an eyebrow. "And if they don't buy it?"
"Remind them it's the same guy who killed nine f***ing world leaders last time they told him to submit," Fury snapped. "And if they're still dumb enough to complain—" He jabbed a finger at Coulson, his voice sharp as a blade. "—tell them to contact Max. Not me."
Coulson stared for a second, then gave a small nod. "…Understood, sir."
As Coulson walked away, Fury sank back into his chair, staring at the phone with a long, tired sigh.
"Could've been worse… Hell, it should've been worse."
His eye narrowed as he muttered under his breath:
"But still… a whole goddamn planet? What's next with this guy…"
The Helicarrier's engines hummed softly against the winds over New York. Fury sat in the dim glow of the command deck, staring at the massive projection of the solar system now hanging in the air before him.
Eight familiar orbits. And then—one more.
A ninth planet. Massive. Perfectly aligned. Sitting where Pluto used to be, like it had always belonged there.
Fury rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Son of a bitch…"
Footsteps approached again—Hill this time, her tone sharp and urgent.
"Sir, we're getting hundreds of reports. Every observatory on the planet has eyes on it. The media's calling it 'New Earth.' Social feeds are exploding. NASA's having a meltdown."
Fury grunted. "Let them melt."
Hill hesitated. "Do you want me to at least prepare an official statement?"
He turned slowly, his one good eye burning like molten steel.
"Yeah. Tell them it's classified. And if they keep asking, tell them it's above their pay grade."
Hill opened her mouth to argue, then closed it.
"Yes, sir."
When she left, Fury stood alone in the silence, the projection still spinning lazily above the table. He stared at the glowing orb that was Horizon and exhaled slowly, his jaw tight.
"Not another alien invasion," he muttered to himself, relief and irritation warring in his voice. "Thank God for that…"
But then, another thought hit him.
"Hell… maybe I should be more worried."
Cut to Horizon.
The portal shimmered like liquid glass as Max stepped through and emerged into the heart of his sanctum once more. Behind him, the girls followed, their faces still glowing with awe from what they'd seen.
"Okay," Max said, clapping his hands once, a grin tugging at his lips. "Tour's not over yet."
Lan Xue tilted her head. "There's… more?"
Max gave her a look, a slow grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"You've seen the war halls. You've seen the Gaia Core. You think that's it?"
The girls exchanged glances. Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You're saying there's more?"
Max chuckled and started walking toward a glowing archway. "Well, you've seen your living quarters, sure… but that's just the part of Horizon where I keep my house. The tip of the iceberg."
He glanced over his shoulder, that wolfish grin still on his face.
"Come on. Let's step outside."
The corridor beyond curved gently upward. The walls pulsed faintly with silver light, alive with data streams that looked like constellations trapped in glass. When they emerged into the open, a gust of wind swept across the platform, carrying a scent so pure it almost didn't feel real.
The girls froze.
The sky wasn't just blue—it was an ocean of shifting hues, threaded with faint auroras like ribbons of living light. Aetherial towers rose in the distance, impossibly elegant, fused with waterfalls that cascaded upward as much as they fell. Hovering gardens floated lazily in the air, tethered by streams of energy. Entire ecosystems sprawled across the horizon—lush forests, neon rivers that glowed softly at night, crystal mountains that shimmered like frozen lightning.
Max stepped forward onto a bridge of translucent alloy, his coat trailing behind him in the wind.
"This… is Horizon as it is now," he said casually, as if he hadn't just unveiled paradise.
Lan Xue's breath hitched. "It's… like something out of a dream."
"No," Gwen murmured, her eyes wide as she turned in a slow circle. "It's like… Horizon Zero Dawn and Cyberpunk , the games you have in your company. You made those fictions into real world?"
Max smirked. "Pretty close."
What they didn't realize—what he didn't bother saying—was how much effort had gone into this. Or rather, how much of Gaia's effort. Max didn't just terraform a planet. He cheated time itself.
***
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