While SHIELD buried itself beneath plans layered atop plans, debating methods and calculating risks, there was another man who wasn't interested in waiting for permission or consensus.
The glow of holographic projections painted Tony Stark's face in cold light as he pushed a drive across the table toward Agent Coulson.
"That's why I called you in person," Tony said, leaning back as he displayed the data he had collected.
Coulson raised an eyebrow but said nothing until Jarvis's projections confirmed the readings: unnatural radiation spikes tied to unknown energy signatures. Not nuclear, not gamma. Something else. Something worse.
"I pulled this from Luthar's base," Stark continued. "My sensors can't fully make sense of it. Best guess? It's fuel. For something big."
Coulson frowned, flipping through the readouts. "We wouldn't be here if you hadn't brought him to America."
"It wouldn't matter," Tony said, tone sharpening. "He's building… an engine, maybe. Or a reactor for a ship. Just imagine if he was still in Afghanistan. We wouldn't even know what he was doing until he silently took over the entire country."
Coulson's expression didn't change. "So should I thank you for bringing this disaster to American soil?"
Tony gave a humorless smile. "No need to thank me, not with your expressionless face. As for Luthar, I already have a plan to take him down."
Coulson nodded. "Then we'll focus on the radiation. I'll have SHIELD find the best experts. In the meantime, I suggest you be careful."
As Coulson left for SHIELD, preparations on both sides accelerated.
In the depths of the Sanctum, Luthar moved through the heart of his domain with silent certainty. The vats of promethium burned steadily, purified and refined by ancient rites adapted for this primitive world. Already, the first shipments fed into flamers, engines, and prototype reactors. He did not require whispers from any machine spirit to understand efficiency. Only one problem remained: the population had become his limiting factor. Servitors required flesh. A voidship required operators. A war machine required bodies. If he wished to launch his ship, he would need many people.
And he knew a place where they could be gathered with ease: Hell's Kitchen. Not because it was easy to catch people there, but because it had already become his hunting ground.
He began preparations for acquisition, prioritizing live capture. Healthy, viable stock only. Minimal damage. The orders echoed through vox-links, carried by agents and constructs alike. Rumlow received his new armament in silence—heavy armor patterned after ancient forge-world designs, crimson trim gleaming, and a modified flamer slung over his shoulder. His grin was faint beneath the rebreather.
"Finally," he murmured, testing the weight of the weapon, "something effective."
Beside him, servitors moved without pause, preparing transports and containment for the sweep to come.
The latest report had been sent. Kara Lin had done her duty.
Location: Hell's Kitchen.
Target: Civilian population.
Intent: Mass capture.
Purpose: Unknown. Suspected augmentation.
Immediate threat level: Critical.
The reply was as expected. Cold. Distant.
Continue observation. No intervention authorized. Proceed with the cover intact. Casualties are acceptable.
Kara set the device down with trembling hands. It wasn't fear for herself that gnawed at her. Not yet. It was knowing she'd reported Rumlow's betrayal weeks ago, and no orders had come. No answers. Why? Why ignore that? Shield is only talking about her mission. She didn't understand, which terrified her more than Luthar's machines. But for now, she could do nothing but watch and Obey.
At SHIELD's command center, Maria Hill marked Hell's Kitchen on the holo-map with a flick of her stylus. "Hell's kitchen heavy criminal presence. Perfect place for execution. Perfect for testing."
Nick Fury watched the projection with a grim set to his jaw. "And the radiation at the Luther base."
"Contained. For now. Whatever he's doing underground isn't leaking—yet." Coulson's tone was clinical and detached. Kara's reports line up with Stark's data. He's building fuel. For weapons, vehicles… maybe worse."
"We hit him in Hell's Kitchen. Hard. Force him to defend. Draw him out. While he's busy, we raid his base."
"FBI, Army, or PMC?" Hill asked.
"Everything we can use, Delta Force is already briefed on high-risk urban ops. FBI HRT is less undeniable. PMC… try to get some," Coulson answers.
"Start with PMC first," Fury decided. "They're meat shields with guns. If they succeed, the problem is solved. If not… Delta cleans up. Quiet."
Alexander Pierce, watching from the periphery, gave a diplomatic smile. "Do we need disguises for them?"
"No," Fury said. "We already crossed that line. Deploy two waves: one in Hell's Kitchen and one at his base workshop, whatever that place is."
"And if they field completely?" Hill asked.
"Then we prepared to negotiate to cut our losses while starting to plan for war," Fury's voice was ice. "
Bays opened in the depths of Luthar's sanctum. Convoys rolled out. Servo-skulls hovered like carrion birds over streets soon to burn. Supply lines were established. Units armed and active. Readiness confirmed. Rumlow's unit moved ahead, flamers primed, gear humming with lethal intent.
"I take this district fast," he ordered. "No mess. No witnesses."
Behind them, containment transports followed, empty cages waiting. Above, Kara watched from the shadows. She already knew what would happen next.
In the workshop beneath Stark Tower, Tony's new armor gleamed beneath the overhead lights—sleeker, heavier at the shoulders, with weapon mounts integrated into the frame. New systems waited for field testing: electronic warfare modules, energy disruptors, and hardened defenses against electromagnetic and radiation attacks.
"Jarvis," he said, cycling through diagnostics, "mark this down as Plan B through Z. We're not doing clean fights anymore."
"Understood, sir. May I ask… Plan A?"
Tony smirked. "Don't die."
But while everyone prepared for the storm, there was one person who remained deeply troubled: Liliruca Arde. Though loyal to Luthar, she still disliked the idea of capturing so many people. After mustering her courage, she decided to speak.
She found Luthar amidst the preparations, surrounded by machinery, schematics, and the hum of weapons being readied. Still, she stepped forward.
"…Master Luthar," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Must it really be this many people? I understand the necessity… but isn't there a better way?"
Whether her words would sway him remained to be seen.
Author's thought:Tomorrow, 28 August, is my birthday, but things are not going very well. There are too many issues, from back pain to mobile not working to headphones not working, and I feel like I'm also not able to improve the speed of writing.