The morning air was sharp over the former Red Room compound, the chill carrying the echo of grinding metal. Freya sat in the modified battle tank, her silver hair gleaming beneath the hatch as the massive machine roared forward. With a thunderous crunch, the treads rolled over a line of old cars, flattening them into twisted steel. She laughed—bright and unrestrained—as the tank lurched over another vehicle, crushing it like paper.
At a distance, a group of agents observed uneasily, their expressions a mix of awe and alarm. The tank wasn't meant for play, but for Freya's amusement, Luthar had modified it to function like a bumper car.
The machine rumbled to a halt, and Freya climbed out, her movements graceful even as smoke curled from the wreckage below. Luthar stood ready, servo-skull hovering at his side, raising a small device to capture the moment as she descended. The image froze—she was poised against the tank, a picture to mark the first step of their outing.
Freya brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "So," she said lightly, "where are we going next?"
Luthar lowered the device, snapping a final picture before setting it carefully aside. He retrieved a small notepad from his robes and glanced down, his tone precise and measured. "First, we visit nearby natural sites—like lakes and rivers. Then we proceed to urban landmarks. Lunch is scheduled at a local restaurant, followed by visit to a shopping mall then we can go to amusement park."
Her gaze flicked over his crimson robes, and a playful smile tugged at her lips. "You're not seriously going to wear that on a date, are you?"
For a moment, Luthar was silent. Then, with a curt nod, he turned back toward the base. Minutes later, he returned—robes exchanged for a tailored red garment that cloaked his form without the ceremonial weight. His mask, too, had changed: sleeker, less ornate, yet still concealing.
Freya tilted her head, studying him with open amusement. "Well, at least now you can almost pass for human."
As Luthar guided Freya to choose a car at the base for their sightseeing journey, Anders, having finally taken control of the research, was about to meet his benefactor once again.
He stepped carefully across the polished floors, the silence pressed around him. At the far end, a figure awaited, shrouded in shadow. The subtle flicker of crimson light revealed just enough to identify him.
"You've done well to get this far," the figure said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "But the real question remains: are you prepared to see the next stage of my design?"
Anders inclined his head, mind already racing through contingencies. "For that, I would need to know what you actually want me to do."
The red glow sharpened, no longer just shadow but fire burning behind a human shell.
"I am Mephisto, lord of Hell. What stands before you is only a fragment, a shadow of my true self. As this world's rules and magicians deny me entry. So I need a stable teleportation gate which will let my body come here without limitation."
Anders didn't flinch this time. "A teleportation gate for the hall—that's going to be hard even with Hydra's resources, especially since we do not have the right mind or materials."
Mephisto's eyes burned brighter, his tone sharp and unyielding. "Hydra doesn't. But S.H.I.E.L.D. does. Do not forget the cube they guard so carefully it's a fragment which can control Space itself. With it, their resources, and your guidance, the foundation can be built. Hydra will steal what they don't have And you will ensure it serves me."
Anders's mind was already calculating. "You're asking me to pit Hydra against S.H.I.E.L.D. before we've even secured control of our own assets. One wrong move, and we'd be exposed, vulnerable—and you'll lose your chance before it begins."
Mephisto leaned forward, the shadows curling tighter around him. "That is why you are here. To make certain there are no wrong moves."
Anders's eyes narrowed, the calculation never leaving his expression. "Fine. Let's assume we pull this off and somehow build your gate. What happens then? You step through—and what? Why should I believe your arrival won't burn this world down the moment you set foot in it?"
Mephisto's lips curved, not in kindness but in quiet certainty. "Because I have no need to burn what I can rule. My presence here, unchained, would tilt the balance of every power on this planet. Hydra wants dominance. You want progress. And I—" his eyes flared, molten fire spilling through the cracks of his disguise, "—I want freedom. The gate is my key, and this world is the board on which I will play."
Anders held his stare, though unease prickled beneath the surface. "So you want me to build the device that lets the devil out. And you expect me to believe you'll be satisfied with rule instead of ruin."
Mephisto's laughter was low, edged with heat. "Destruction is a child's impulse. If I burned this world, the souls I crave would vanish with it. Why would I end my own feast? No, the planet must thrive… people must live, struggle, and fall. That is where my strength grows."
He leaned closer, his voice tightening like a vice. "Do not mistake me, Anders. I do not want a graveyard—I want a harvest. And when the gate is built, you will see that this world is only the beginning."
Anders's eyes narrowed. "And what about me, once you succeed? Where do I stand in all of this?"
Mephisto's smirk returned, sharp as a blade. "You? I will always need someone who understands how to prune, how to guide, how to keep the harvest from withering too soon. Think of yourself as a gardener, Anders who ensure the plants don't die before they bear fruit."
His voice softened, taking on a tempting cadence. "Do that well, and you'll discover a world of endless rewards waiting just for you."
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