Fury at the Summit
Thor was locked in direct combat with his brother. But it wasn't a fair fight… it was a beating. Loki could barely stay on his feet under the fury of the God of Thunder. Thor slammed him with Mjolnir, smashed him into the ground, then lifted him effortlessly with one hand, pointing to the destruction around them.
"Look at what your army has done, brother! Is this what you call ruling? Buildings reduced to rubble, innocents fleeing in terror!"
For a brief moment, Thor thought he saw a flicker of regret in Loki's eyes.
He was wrong.
Loki drew a dagger and stabbed him without hesitation. Before Thor could react, Loki leapt onto a nearby Chitauri ship and fled immediately.
Thor growled in frustration and yanked the dagger from his body with force. A spark of fury lit his eyes as he grabbed Mjolnir again.
"Thor. If I kill your brother… will it bother you?" Nicolás's voice crackled over the comms, calm and casual.
"If you can avoid killing him, I'd appreciate it. As the prince of Asgard… and as his brother," Thor replied with dignity, despite the wound.
"What if he loses an arm or a leg? Still good?" Nicolás joked.
"As long as he lives…" Thor conceded, resigned.
At that moment, a blue energy beam tore through the sky. The shot left a glowing trail as it struck the ship Loki was escaping on. Loki barely had time to turn his head before the explosion sent him hurtling through the air.
"You better catch him before he hits the ground," Nicolás added, clearly proud of his shot.
Thor needed no more encouragement. Spinning his hammer, he launched himself like a thunderbolt toward his falling brother.
…
"You know," Owen said calmly as he landed on the rooftop across from Barton, "our first fight was a bit more challenging. This time… feels a little one-sided."
The archer already had him in his sights, bow drawn. But Owen was no longer the same opponent.
"For you, obviously," he added.
Before Barton could react, Owen flung one of his daggers with such speed it shrieked through the air like thunder. Barton barely managed to roll aside, but not without the blade slashing his thigh.
When he looked up again, Owen was already there.
A brutal punch straight to the temple.
Barton was unconscious before his body hit the ground.
"Tsk, tsk… How did they wake you up this time, again?" Owen muttered, glancing at the fallen man with mild annoyance.
"Leave him to me," said Natasha, stepping out onto the rooftop with a pistol in hand.
"Well, looks like everyone survived their little shipwreck," Owen commented with a lopsided smile. "Tell him he owes me two."
Then, without missing a beat, he sprinted toward the edge of the rooftop and jumped. Mid-air, he extended both daggers, embedding them into a passing Chitauri ship. With a graceful twist, he hijacked the craft in flight.
As he advanced, he spun like a cutting shadow, tearing through enemies in his path.
"Hey Owen! Civilians have been fully evacuated," came a voice through his earpiece.
Owen smiled with satisfaction.
"Perfect. Then… join the party."
A second later, a red beam shot up from the ground, annihilating a wave of enemies in a single blast.
An invisible ship suddenly appeared as its cloaking deactivated, opening fire from above.
On the ground, several Chitauri froze in place—literally—as Iceman joined the battle, skating on his own ice trail, raising frozen walls that crushed entire squads.
Wolverine leapt between buildings like a feral beast, slicing through Chitauri with his bone claws, his roar echoing through the air.
Beast (Hank McCoy) bounded between enemy ships, ripping out engines and causing chain explosions with surprising agility.
Colossus charged through the streets, his metallic skin gleaming, hurling massive rocks like artillery shells—each one landing with thunderous impact.
From a higher vantage point, Psylocke emerged on a rooftop, unleashing psychic blades that paralyzed enemies mid-air before they could even reach the ground.
With the arrival of the X-Men, the tide of battle changed completely. The Chitauri swarm was contained within a radius of one or two kilometers from Stark Tower. And though they kept coming, even the Leviathans were no match for the deadly trio of Thor, Hulk, and Storm.
"Hey, isn't this the perfect time for a group hero pose?" Nicolás joked while shooting down a Chitauri that got too close, then reloaded and kept firing.
"Doesn't look like it. Do these things ever run out?" asked Tony, flying overhead and blasting energy bursts. His missiles were long gone.
"Owen, you're being awfully quiet," Nicolás said suspiciously.
"Oh, right. This… I just got a message from the general. Seems like our friends at the Security Council—and the brilliant minds at S.H.I.E.L.D.—decided to launch a nuclear bomb," Owen replied with visible disgust.
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Tony shouted from the sky.
"Not at all. After this, I'm going to kick their asses one by one. Who's in?"
"I am!"
"Me."
"Absolutely."
"Count me in."
One by one, everyone answered with irritation.
"Owen, did you check if you can shut down the machine?" Steve asked bluntly.
"I'm standing right next to it," Owen replied. He was by the device, casually dispatching incoming Chitauri with deadly precision, throwing and retrieving his daggers like clockwork. "But honestly? I'm waiting for the bomb. Where else do you think it's going to go? Though… I think I'd survive the radiation. You guys? Maybe not."
"You want to send it through the portal?" Jean asked.
"Exactly. Can you do it? You don't have to go in—just do your thing, and make sure these bastards watch your back for once."
"The woman who controls the weather can summon more cloud cover. That'll help," Thor said confidently.
"My name is Ororo," she corrected with a half-smile—but even so, she raised her hands, and the sky began to darken once more.
"I'm on my way," Cyclops said, stealing a Chitauri bike mid-air and racing toward Jean with purpose.
A low growl echoed through the radio.
"You guys realize we need more people who can fly, right? Time to start recruiting," Nicolás muttered.
"It's not like we get an alien invasion every year… right?" Steve remarked.
"Well…" Owen murmured, leaving the sentence unfinished. "Better get a few just in case."
Truth was, everyone was calm. The battle, while chaotic, wasn't truly difficult with so many powerful allies fighting side by side. The number of enemies was overwhelming, yes… but their coordination, experience, and strength far outmatched the invaders. Some buildings were in ruins, but they still had control of the battlefield.
"Got it," Tony announced, appearing in the sky, struggling as he carried the nuclear missile on his back.
He flew straight toward the portal, where Jean waited, surrounded by Storm, Thor, Cyclops, and Nicolás, each guarding a strategic point.
Jean raised her hand.
The missile stopped in front of her, suspended mid-air by her telekinetic power.
Tony flew ahead, ready to clear anything that came through the portal…
Jean closed her eyes, focusing. The missile floated steadily in front of her as she guided it with precision through the portal—straight toward the Chitauri mothership, hidden in the shadows beyond the dimensional rift.
At that exact moment, Owen, still standing by the machine, narrowed his eyes.
A red flash—something that didn't belong to this sky—streaked in from deep space… heading straight toward Jean.
"Did anyone else… see that?" Owen asked, his voice low and serious, still staring at the portal.
"What thing?" Tony asked, confused.
"Did something happen?" Ororo chimed in, concerned.
"Something only you can see and the rest of us can't? Is it an enemy?" Nicolás asked, finger already on the trigger.
Owen went quiet for a moment. Then, in a heavy voice, he muttered:
"Shit…"
"The missile's inside! Close the portal!" Jean shouted, suddenly alarmed.
Without hesitation, Owen drove Loki's scepter into the machine's force field. The metal sparked, and a wave of energy pulsed through the core before it shut down completely.
A second later, the explosion erupted. The sky lit up like a newborn sun. And just like that—like someone had flipped a switch—all the Chitauri on the ground froze in place. Their bodies collapsed simultaneously, falling like broken puppets.
The connection to the mothership had been severed.
Even Cyclops, flying on a Chitauri bike, began to fall as the vehicle powered down. But before he hit the ground, Jean caught him gently with her telekinesis.
…
Meanwhile, in a hidden room surrounded by monitors, General Nathaniel stood with arms crossed, a smile tugging at his lips—not of joy, but of restrained pride.
"They actually did it…" he murmured.
He turned to another screen. Several figures appeared via video call: the World Security Council.
"I warned you. I told you not to attack my kids. Did you really think I was going to let this slide?" His voice was sharp—cutting, like a blade pressed to the throat.
"Is that a threat, General?" one of the council members asked smugly. "Remember your place. Even if you refused to work under the World Security Department, it's thanks to us that your team has clearance to operate."
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes.
"Yes. It's a threat. I don't care about my position. Take it, if you want. But you better be ready for what's coming."
His gaze turned cold.
"One idiot from your council pissed off those brats. And they faced down an army from another world to protect this city. What do you think they'll do to you—sitting in your fancy suits, thinking you're untouchable? Like I said once before: if the people see them as heroes… then heroes they'll be. And if enemies see them as villains… well, that's what they'll become too. And you, gentlemen… you're stepping into that second category."
He paused.
"Isn't that right… Hydra?"
The silence in the call was immediate. One of the council members visibly tensed.
"What… what are you implying?" one of them asked, now slightly nervous.
"You'll find out soon enough," Nathaniel replied, and ended the call without another word.
Then he turned to a young soldier standing by the door.
"Send the squad. Retrieve every single piece of Chitauri tech. Destroy it if you must. No civilians, no army personnel, no outsiders get their hands on that tech. And if any of our own are wounded—I want every trace of DNA destroyed on site. No samples stored, no transfers. If anyone tries… arrest them and interrogate. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the soldier replied with a salute and hurried out.
Nathaniel turned back to the monitor, where the young heroes were now gathering inside Stark Tower. His expression softened ever so slightly.
"Enjoy the victory, kids… and have some fun while it lasts," he said before walking away.
There was much to clean up. Too many threats to anticipate.
And he was the only one keeping them at bay.
…
"Anyone ever try shawarma?" Tony suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "There's a place two blocks away. No idea what it is… but I really want some."
They were inside Stark Tower now, just out of the elevator. Owen sat calmly on a sofa, drink in hand, as if ending a casual workday. Around him, Jean, Cyclops, and Ororo stood quietly, not touching anything—like guests who knew they didn't quite belong.
Owen, however, looked perfectly at home.
Thor landed with a crash from the sky, Logan and Beast took the stairs—since the elevator was in use—and Hulk barged through the broken window frame, adding a few more cracks to it.
"Ice cream," he said bluntly.
"You're gonna get fat if you keep that up," Tony teased with a smirk.
"Hulk… all muscle," Hulk replied, proudly raising both arms.
Then everyone turned toward a low groan.
Loki was tied to a metal beam with reinforced restraints. His right leg was bandaged in a quick, messy wrap, soaked in blood. The wound was still fresh. One of his limbs was nearly useless… courtesy of an extremely precise shot.
"Well, looks like you won't be losing that leg after all," Nicolás said, walking in with his rifle, admiring his handiwork with indifference.
Loki glared at him, eyes full of hate. Nicolás didn't even look back.
"Jarvis, civilian casualties?" Owen asked, his voice more firm than ever.
"Civilian casualties: zero, Mr. Owen. However, multiple injuries were reported due to panic during evacuation. Thanks to the X-Men team, all civilians were relocated outside the combat zone before the first impact. That said, there is significant structural damage to residential areas."
Owen let out a slow breath and gave a faint smile. Still, his eyes remained alert. He scanned the surroundings as if waiting for something.
No one came.
No TVA agents. No temporal glitches.
That could only mean one thing: this universe accepted him.
He was part of this multiverse.
"Well then… shawarma it is," Tony said, breaking the moment of reflection in classic Tony fashion.
"Mind if we join you?" Natasha asked as she arrived, with Barton by her side—his gaze lowered, a mix of guilt and exhaustion in his expression.
"The two trained assassin spies, huh?" Owen said, raising an eyebrow. "We saw you fighting. But… you didn't quite make the leaderboard, in case you were wondering."
The others, tense at their arrival, relaxed a bit at Owen's comment. The tension melted away with a shared smile.
"Jarvis, give us the scores," said Tony, folding his arms.
"Yes, sir. In first place: Miss Ororo, with 2,000 Chitauri kills."
"Wait, my lightning boosted hers!" Thor protested immediately.
"Correct. However, technically Miss Ororo controlled every strike. Second place goes to you, sir, with 1,999."
Thor's expression hardened. One number away from the top.
"In third place: Miss Jean Grey, with 1,800. Followed by Mr. Nicolás with 1,600. Mr. Stark with 1,500. Mr. Scott Summers with 1,100. Mr. Owen Colt with 1,000."
"That's because we arrived late," Cyclops clarified.
"Mr. Steve Rogers with 500. Mr. Logan with 200. Mr. Hank McCoy with 190. Mr. Colossus with 180. Mr. Bobby Drake with 179. Miss Rogue with 150. Miss Kitty Pryde with 120. Mr. Hulk with 100."
Everyone turned to look at Hulk. He stared back, confused.
"However," Jarvis continued, "if we include the Chitauri inside the Leviathans, his count rises to 3,000. Additionally, with Miss Jean Grey destroying the mothership, her total kill count is estimated at over 100,000."
"Ahhh…" everyone said in unison.
"So… we've got our three-digit squad, and our glorious four-digit elite club," Tony said with a triumphant grin, pointing to the heavy hitters.
"Let's eat. I'm starving," Owen declared, standing up.
And everyone followed, leaving the building while still joking and laughing about their scores—like true warriors celebrating a well-earned victory.