The Red Room drifted through the upper atmosphere like a steel leviathan cloaked in cloud. Its spires and hangars jutted out like teeth, turbines humming beneath the hull to keep the massive facility aloft.
Inside, the corridors were lit a harsh red, their walls lined with surveillance panels and hidden weapons.
Anna stood in the center of one of those corridors, the letter 'A' emblazoned on the chest of her emerald-and-yellow suit.
Around her, two dozen armed Widows in black combat gear formed a ring, rifles raised. The air smelled of oil and ozone.
She flexed her fingers with a crooked smile touching her lips. "Alright, girls. Let's see if I can get that five-star rating on my first solo mission."
With a single step she blurred—vanishing, reappearing at the far end of the hall. Behind her, twenty Widows crumpled to the floor, unconscious. She glanced back over her shoulder, white streaks of hair falling into her eyes.
"This is efficiency," she murmured. "Just like I planned."
The echo of heavy boots thundered up the corridor as another squad advanced at a sprint, rifles barking. Bullets cracked against the walls, screaming sparks across metal—but when they struck her body and armor, they ricocheted harmlessly like pebbles against stone.
Anna only sighed and blurred forward, moving faster than mortal sight could track and within two seconds they were down as well. The gunfire ceased and the squad lay sprawled where they fell, groaning faintly.
One groaned; Anna crouched, pressed her palm to the woman's bare wrist. Information flooded her mind—the layout of the floating fortress, the quickest path to the command center.
'Got it,' she thought. 'This castle's mine now.'
She blurred again, becoming a streak of green and yellow, knocking aside anyone who tried to intercept her.
Doors whooshed open before she reached them. At last she arrived at the reinforced double doors of the command room. One kick sent them flying inward, shattering against the far wall.
At a corner desk, an old man with steel-rimmed glasses sat perfectly still, swirling red wine in a crystal glass. He watched her calmly, no flicker of fear in his pale eyes.
"Such an unfriendly visit," Dreykov observed. "The young people today… no manners at all."
Anna raised one brow, her boots echoing on the metal floor as she walked past the holographic monitors opposite his chair.
Her eyes flicked over the holographic monitors, then back to him. "I'm not here for friendly chats. I'm here to make sure you know who you're messing with."
He tipped his head. "Do you even know who I am?"
"Dreykov," she said coldly, and began to list his crimes — trafficking, indoctrination, assassination, the hypnotising of girls and turning them into mindless killers. "You've been at this for a long time."
Anna paused on the other side of his desk, arms loose at her sides, her presence radiating danger. "Funny thing is," she added, narrowing her eyes, "I figured you'd have been running for your life by now."
His lips quirked in ghostly amusement. "I was prepared the moment you stepped aboard."
She leaned closer, voice dropping like ice. "Prepared for this?"
Her hand darted for his collar. But vents hissed open beneath her boots, spilling a faint blue gas. The ceiling irised apart and a figure in a black tactical suit and skull mask dropped from above, grappling her from behind.
She didn't resist at first. Then she twisted, flinging him across the room. He crashed through a side wall with a metallic crunch.
Dreykov chuckled. "That blue chemical is what I used to control every Widow. Soon, you too will join them."
Anna stood silent, green eyes narrowing. Dreykov mistook her stillness for weakness. He stepped forward, voice rising.
"I'll tear Carter down," he hissed, his pale eyes feverish behind the glasses, "with his own women." His lips curled into a jagged smile. "I worried the plan would fail… but my ally, Alchemilla, provided me with a formula. A drug. One that… ah, lets me temporarily hypnotize women. Do you understand, girl? Hypnotize. Control. Subvert. You will bring me the rest who surround your precious Ethan Carter. And when he sees his women bend to me? When he watches you destroy him by my design? Ethan Carter will finally collapse."
He let out a low, cruel laugh. "I can't wait to see his face on that day."
She had heard enough. Her hand shot out, closing around his throat. His eyes went wide.
"You're obsessed with breaking girls," she snarled, spitting the words into his face. "Drugging them and puppeteering them. You call this power? Pathetic. Only a weak man hides behind tricks like that."
He choked out a sound, trying to call for the Widows.
Then the Widows hidden behind his chair and in the corners—concealed by camouflage tech—shimmered into view, their stealth fields dropping as they surged forward toward Anna.
She raised her hand, calling on the power she'd only recently acquired from Magneto — magnetic manipulation. The metal floor rippled and bent at her command, rising up to ensnare the Widows like living chains.
With a flick of her fingers, loose metal objects from around the room shot through the air, striking several of them and knocking them out cold.
He stared at her in shock, lips trembling as he tried to bargain for his life even as her fingers closed around his throat. "W-wait… we can make a deal," he rasped. "Money, information—anything you want."
Her power surged. His memories poured into her like black water, his secrets and networks laid bare. He screamed for help. Behind him, more Widows tried to move, but the metal under them pinned them in place.
Anna's grip didn't loosen. "You think I'm here for money?" Her gaze bored into his. "I've seen what you've done. You drugged them. Used them like puppets and broke them."
He swallowed hard, sweat beading at his temple. "It… it was just business—"
Her fingers tightened, cutting him off. "Business?" she echoed, voice like steel. "These are lives of humans. You don't get to hide behind business."
Her voice dropped even colder. "You're not a visionary. You're not a kingpin. You're just… a pathetic human. Breaking women because you could never match them."
Now that she knew everything—and she despised what he had done and she would make sure he paid for it.
Anna's eyes glinted. "I know every name, every account, every shipment. You built your empire on their pain. I know everything now," she said softly. "And I don't need you anymore."
Power Cosmic flared from her palm that is holding him. Dreykov's body and soul unraveled, turning to dust that drifted across his own desk.
The trapped Widows stared in shock. Anna then slipped a sling ring onto one hand and carved a glowing circle in the air with her other hand.
A portal opened, spilling dozens of crimson vials into her grasp. She closed it with a flick, then hurled the vials among the immobilized women.
The vials burst across the metal floor, shards spilling streams of chemical fog that writhed upward.
Anna spread her hand above it. Power Cosmic surged out in a pulsing flare, igniting the haze into a living, crimson storm.
The mist swirled through the chamber, lashing across every Widow, coils of fire-tinted fog searing deep into their lungs not with pain—but with release.
She couldn't help but think that every relentless hour she'd poured into mastering the Power Cosmic was beginning to show; at last the training was bearing fruit.
"Time to clear your heads," she murmured.
Her voice echoed off the walls as the fog settled.
The glow thundered once, then faded. The last trails of fog sank away.
Slowly, one after another, the Widows blinked. Their glassy eyes softened. Confusion replaced the empty obedience. Memory began to return.
The fortress creaked, caught in silence, as the spell Dreykov built over years began to crumble in a single moment.
And for the first time in years, the Widows' eyes began to clear.
---------------
The makeshift SHIELD compound on the edge of the desert buzzed with restless activity. Tents, trucks and humming generators sat under a bruised evening sky, the air full of static tension.
Inside the largest tent, Coulson and his agents huddled over laptops and scanner rigs, trying to keep up with the day's surreal events. Thor's hammer still sat in its crater a few feet away, an unmovable mystery. And now a new visitor had arrived.
An older man with a nervous smile stood opposite Coulson, holding out a passport. "His name is Donald Blake," the man said crisply. "He's with the team your people pulled research from. And he's very angry about it."
Coulson accepted the document with a frown. "Our men are running scans on this. You understand we've had… unusual guests lately."
The agent at the scanner glanced up before whispering. "Sir… the ID's a fake."
Coulson's eyes narrowed. "If he's a scientist, Dr. Selvig, how did he get past my people? He took down several agents before anyone could blink."
The man's smile twitched. "He used to… work out. A lot." His tone was half-joke, half-deflection.
Coulson tilted his head. "Really."
Before the conversation could go further, the tent flaps parted. Ethan Carter stepped in along with Susan Storm at his side with a half-mask hiding her features—she didn't want people like Selvig to know she was with Ethan yet—and Thor looming behind them like a restless storm.
The air shifted the moment Ethan walked in; agents straightened unconsciously.
Ethan spoke first. "Mr. Erik Selvig, you can take your companion. He's innocent of any wrongdoing."
The scientist's eyes flicked to Ethan. "You… oh my god, you are—"
"Ethan Carter in the flesh." Ethan extended a hand. "I've read your work, Dr. Selvig. Even funded some of it anonymously. And I've heard the story of you and Dr. Foster conducting your research. That's an interesting idea."
Selvig tried to hide the flash of excitement behind his glasses as he reached out to shake his hand. "I can't believe I'm meeting you here. You're Ethan Carter… the founder of Aeon Biotech… and the—"
"Superhero," Susan murmured dryly while glancing at Ethan.
Ethan smiled. "Let's just say we're giving your research back. And funding it the right way. No strings. No theft. You'll have what you need."
Selvig exhaled, relief warring with disbelief. He cast a sharp look at Coulson. "You're going to return Dr. Foster's materials you've taken, right?"
Coulson's jaw tightened. "Borrowed, Dr. Selvig. But yes… it will be done."
Selvig nodded once, a little too quickly. "Then I'll take Donald back. We have a lot to discuss."
Thor inclined his head, heavy eyes softening. "I thank you, friend Selvig."
Ethan stopped them briefly, holding out a book. "Give this to Dr. Foster. It's her notes. The rest will be back by tomorrow morning."
Selvig accepted it like a sacred text. "Thank you, Dr. Carter. Truly." He glanced at Thor, then led him out of the tent, addressing him quietly as Donald Blake.
Susan watched them go, "What are you even doing, Ethan?"
He turned to her. "He's a prince—exiled or not. He deserves to be treated with respect. And it's clear he's already bonded with people here. Selvig came to save him." He turned to Coulson. "It's best not to get on his bad side. I'll personally watch him. Since they're basically gods, it's best to treat them with respect... And caution."
Coulson listened, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Ethan continued, "Dr. Foster's research is worth looking into. I plan to take them under my wing, Coulson."
Coulson understood what this meant, exhaled and nodded. "Their data and materials will be returned by morning. You have my word." He signaled to his men, who began making arrangements immediately.
Ethan's gaze shifted to Coulson. "That's good. But tell me one thing: how did SHIELD get back together so fast after I wiped out nearly eighty percent of Hydra inside it?"
Coulson's mouth twitched in a half-smile. "Because the world still has more people trying to save it than destroy it, Dr. Carter."
Ethan recalled all the villains of the Marvel universe, a shadow crossing his face. 'Not from what I've seen.' Aloud he said with a wry smile, "I'm not so sure about that."
Susan raised an eyebrow, realising there were people out there who would do anything to get power into their hands.
Coulson then turned to Ethan. "What about the hammer? Should we study it? Try to find out what makes it powerful?"
Susan shook her head sharply. "Bad idea. That hammer's Odin's. If SHIELD pokes it and Odin comes for it, it won't end well." She turned to Ethan. "Why don't you take it and hide it somewhere safe. You're worthy, and you seem to be the only one able to move it."
Ethan glanced toward the sealed chamber where Mjölnir lay. "I plan to do so. It's best not to leave it here. We don't want unwanted attention from anyone interested in a magical Asgardian hammer. People would kill for something like that. I'll give it back to Thor after he becomes worthy again. Better not to crave what isn't ours."
As much as he wanted to take the hammer for himself, he intended to keep the plot intact, as close to the original story as possible. He would keep it in town and make sure Thor regained his powers like in the original canon.
His mind flicked back to the time he used his chronokinesis to find the dark branch in the DC universe. That memory still haunted him—the universe where the plot had deviated because someone had reincarnated in there and tried to seize too much power, almost ending the entire branch of DC universe.
Marvel had its own version of "fixed points," and incursions would erase entire universes if those points were broken. At first he hadn't cared about the larger plot at all, but watching an entire branch collapse into nothingness changed him. It was wiser, he realised, to keep events as close to the original path as possible while quietly steering them toward a better outcome for everyone.
He was confident he could repair the damage already done — but he had no desire to trigger further incursions or draw the eyes of the cosmic powers just yet.
Susan asked quietly, "Do you think Thor can become worthy again? Maybe this is Odin's punishment, stripping him of his powers and leaving him here with the hammer he can't lift."
Ethan's eyes darkened. "Odin is not a simple man. Don't forget he's the king of nine realms."
Coulson inclined his head. "I still can't believe this. All the myths are real."
Ethan murmured something as Coulson stepped outside for air—though they both knew he was really going to report to Fury.
When the tent had quieted, Ethan lifted his hand. Susan's eyes widened with curiosity. "What are you doing?"
He pushed her gently aside. Two seconds later, Mjölnir flew into his hand with a heavy thunk. Ethan grinned, boyish delight lighting his face. 'Oh, I've always wanted to do this in my previous life.'
He swung the hammer experimentally, then, with a casual twist, sent it into the mirror dimension for safekeeping.
Ethan looked at Susan. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Her eyebrow arched as she removed the mask. "Where to?"
He smiled. "A date across town. We've earned it."
Her eyes softened. "You're impossible."
"Probably," he said, offering his hand.
She took it, and together they stepped out into the desert morning, leaving the tent, and drama behind them—for now.
.....
Inside the glass-walled executive office of Aeon Biotech, sunlight pooled across polished floors and chrome fixtures. Diana sat behind her desk in a tailored navy suit, the phone still warm in her hand from the call with Didi. She cut the connection, leaned back, and stared at the skyline.
The conversation replayed in her head: Didi had taken in two homeless children. One of them, disturbingly, carried a power so intense that even Didi — who was rarely rattled — had been cautious.
Diana's gaze slid to the panoramic window. Afternoon light glared off the glass, turning the city into a sea of white and gold. Her reflection stared back at her, and with it came a rush of memories from a different life — the comic versions of herself that existed in this universe.
New DC issues had started to appear on newsstands again, each one was a twisted mirror. In some she was a diplomat, in others a mercenary. One particularly infamous run had her falling in love with Batman.
She still snorted when she thought of it. Why would I fall for a man like that? Ethan had been in her heart long before she'd even seen that story line. She'd nearly stormed the publisher's office to demand they pull the title — but Ethan had stopped her, buying the entire DC imprint outright and quietly shutting down the more lurid books.
Most of them had painted her as little more than a pin-up in armor, all curves and poses, their popularity built on how "sexy" she looked. She'd never wanted to be a model or a symbol for someone else's fantasy. She wanted to be seen as what she actually was: a warrior, a protector and a woman with strength and passion.
She exhaled and forced her mind back to the present. Before Ethan had left with Susan, he'd parceled out assignments about guys who are trying to find trouble with their company.
Anna was already dealing with the Red Room, as Ethan had asked; that conversation had taken place over their private telepathic link, a little trick Ethan had built so they could speak whenever they wished without anyone listening.
Jean was immersed in another project entirely — collecting the world's refuse so Ethan could transmute it into usable material.
A small smile touched Diana's lips. The man she'd chosen worked tirelessly for the good of mankind, even if he could be slippery at times. She shook her head. Silky, she called it.
But she had her own mission. One name sat like a splinter in her thoughts: The Hand.
In the underworld, the Hand was a secretive ninja cult, centuries old, steeped in black magic. They resurrected the dead, brokered assassins, and embedded themselves in corporations across the globe.
Ethan's assignment for Diana was to keep the Hand and their allies from infiltrating Aeon Biotech. She would not allow it.
She stared at the city again, a flicker of steel in her eyes. Diana straightened, smoothing a hand down her suit jacket. There was work to do, and she would see it done.
None of them realised it, but Ethan's influence was quietly remaking his inner circle. The women around him were being drawn into an almost obsessive orbit, their minds sharpening, their instincts hardening until they were far more dangerous than their canonical selves — perhaps even more dangerous than Ethan himself, not in raw power but in mindset.
Whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.