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Tony's HUD painted trajectory lines across his field of vision as he executed the same deadly dance that had worked so well before. The Leviathan behind him moved with terrifying grace for something the size of a city block, its bio-mechanical body cutting through the smoke-filled air with predatory purpose. He released a cascade of brilliant flares, the magnesium-bright points of light searing afterimages across his retinas as they spread in a defensive pattern.
The massive creature took the bait immediately, its alien sensors locking onto the heat signatures with single-minded hunger. But as Tony scanned the chaos below, searching for that familiar green blur of controlled rage, frustration built in his chest like pressure in a steam engine. The city had become a maze of destruction—overturned cars created metal barriers, building debris formed impromptu mountains, and through it all, the Hulk rampaged with the beautiful unpredictability of a natural disaster.
Where the hell are you, Big Guy?
The Leviathan's bulk cast a shadow that chilled the air around him, and Tony could feel the electromagnetic interference from its bio-tech systems playing havoc with his suit's sensors. The acrid smell from its energy weapons .
Can't let this thing keep tearing up the city while I play hide and seek.
Tony's mind raced through tactical options, each one more desperate than the last. That's when Captain America's voice crackled through the comm, cutting through the static of battle.
"Tony, we have reinforcements here. You will see a red and blue robot. Don't attack; he will help you ."
"I don't remember us having any more powerful reinforcements," Tony replied, his voice tight with skepticism. But something in Cap's tone made him bank toward their position anyway, the G-forces pressing him deep into his armor's padding.
"Baymax's... er, a big robot!" Captain America said, and Tony could hear the bewilderment in the super-soldier's voice. The guy sounded like he was trying to explain something that defied his entire understanding of the world.
What did that Aidan did now? Tony thought as he increased speed, his repulsors carving twin trails of superheated air through the smoke. Below him, the street scene resolved into focus—and there, moving with purpose through the debris-strewn asphalt, was a heavy-duty truck that looked like it had rolled off a movie set.
"Don't tell me it's a big truck," Tony muttered, his sensors automatically cataloging the vehicle's specifications. But something about its red and blue paint scheme, the way it moved with too much precision, triggered a memory he couldn't quite place.
"No, he can transform. I don't know how he did it," Captain America's voice carried the kind of confusion that came from having your understanding of reality fundamentally challenged.
"Are you sure he can do it?"
"Okay, you just guide it down like last time."
Tony heard the instruction and began his dive, the familiar routine of aerial choreography taking over. He pulled up sharply in front of the truck, hovering in mid-air as his suit's stabilizers worked overtime to keep him steady. When he looked back, his world tilted on its axis.
"My God, that guy Aidan actually brought out the Transformers," he whispered, his voice lost in the thunder of impossible machinery reshaping itself.
The transformation was a symphony of mechanical precision that defied every law of physics Tony thought he understood. Metal plates shifted and reconfigured with sounds like a thousand clockwork mechanisms operating in perfect harmony. Hydraulics hissed, servos whined, and beneath it all was the deep harmonic resonance of alien technology made manifest.
As the Leviathan bore down on what had been a truck mere seconds before, the red and blue giant completed its metamorphosis. Optimus Prime stood thirty feet tall, his optical sensors blazing with an inner light that spoke of consciousness, of a soul housed in metal and circuitry.
The momentum of his transformation carried him forward on feet that shook the earth with each step. Without breaking stride, he reached behind his back and drew forth a blade that sang through the air with the molecular-sharp edges. The energon sword caught the firelight from a dozen burning vehicles, casting rainbow refractions across the scarred street.
At the moment of impact, Optimus Prime launched himself skyward with hydraulic power that compressed the asphalt beneath him into a spider-web of cracks. His arms rose above his head in perfect synchronization, the massive sword positioned like a spear as he drove toward the Leviathan's armored skull.
SCHUNK!
The blade punched through bio-metal and alien flesh with a wet, tearing sound that echoed off the building walls. Dark fluid sprayed from the wound—not quite blood, not quite oil, but something that hissed where it hit the pavement. The Leviathan's forward momentum carried both combatants in a grinding slide across the street, Optimus Prime's feet throwing up showers of sparks as they carved furrows in the asphalt.
Slowly, inexorably, the massive alien creature's movement ceased. Its bio-mechanical systems gave a final, shuddering pulse before falling silent. Optimus Prime stood over his fallen enemy, servo motors whining as he worked the blade free. When it came loose, it brought with it a gush of dark brown ichor that pooled around the creature's head like a grotesque halo.
"JARVIS, how many such robots have appeared in the city now?" Tony asked, his voice barely steady as he processed what he'd just witnessed.
"Ten," came the AI's measured response.
Tony's mind reeled as JARVIS fed him tactical data from across the battlefield. Multiple contacts, each one the size of a building, each one moving with purpose and devastating efficiency through the alien ranks.
"I don't think we are needed here anymore," he said, watching footage of the other Transformers in action. Then one particular feed made him do a double-take. "However, are these two Transformers gorillas?"
The image showed Hot Rod and Ironhide locked in what appeared to be a competition to see who could throw the largest pieces of debris at the Chitauri forces. A city bus sailed through the air like a football, followed immediately by what looked like an entire food truck.
After Optimus Prime dispatched his Leviathan and moved toward his next target, the battle's tide shifted decisively. The addition of the Transformers had tipped the scales from desperate defense to methodical alien extermination. Iron Man found himself with the unfamiliar luxury of choosing his engagements rather than simply reacting to the next crisis.
Meanwhile, atop Stark Tower, Aidan emerged onto the roof where the portal device hummed with barely contained cosmic energy. The Tesseract sat at its heart , contained within a shimmering energy shield that made the air around it dance with heat distortions. The electromagnetic field was so intense that it made his teeth ache and caused the fine hairs on his arms to stand on end.
Standing beside the device was a familiar figure in black tactical gear—Natasha Romanoff, her red hair catching the otherworldly light of the portal above.
"Aidan?" Natasha's voice carried both relief and wariness as she spotted him. Her green eyes immediately locked onto the mind scepter in his hands, and he could see her body language shift into the coiled readiness of a predator preparing to strike.
"Do you want this?" Aidan asked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, holding the scepter casually in front of him. The weapon pulsed with its own internal rhythm, like a mechanical heartbeat.
"Yes," Natasha said, her voice tight with controlled tension. Every muscle in her body screamed readiness as she calculated angles and distances. "We must use it to close the portal as soon as possible, otherwise these aliens will continue to teleport over."
"I'm sorry, I still have something to look for. I'll close it when I get back." As Aidan spoke, the scepter simply vanished from his hands as if it had never existed.
"No, Aidan, we—" Natasha started forward, but her words died in her throat as an enormous shadow fell across the tower.
The air itself seemed to thicken with the presence of something vast materializing behind Aidan. When the distortion cleared, a mechanical giant stood where empty air had been moments before.
The mecha was a monument to impossible engineering—easily as tall as Stark Tower itself, its blue and grey hull gleaming with an inner light that spoke of technology beyond human comprehension. The psychic scepter had vanished from Aidan's hands, replaced by a perfect black cube that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
The AllSpark.
Aidan rose into the air without any visible means of propulsion, floating toward the giant's chest where panels were already sliding aside to reveal a control chamber within. He could have simply teleported inside, but there was something to be said for making an impression.
"What is this?!" The cry came from multiple voices across the city as the Pacific Rim-style Jaeger dominated the skyline. Its head turned with the slow deliberation of a mountain deciding to move, and twin orange lights blazed to life in its optical sensors.
The mecha's arms swung up and clasped together with a sound like thunder, and then it began to rise.
"How much has this guy Aidan made?" Tony's voice carried across the comm channels. He hung motionless in the air, his suit's sensors struggling to catalog the impossible machine before him.
( IMAGE HERE )
Even the Chitauri forces seemed stunned into temporary inaction, their weapons falling silent as they stared up at the metal god ascending toward their portal.
The neural link established itself with a sensation like lightning running backward through Aidan's nervous system. Suddenly, his consciousness expanded to fill the massive frame.
He looked up at the swirling portal above—and then the Jaeger's massive engines ignited, carving twin pillars of superheated plasma through the sky as it accelerated toward the dimensional rift.
The sight of the colossal mecha disappearing through the portal burned itself into the retinas of everyone watching. Across the globe, satellite feeds carried the image to screens in the Pentagon, the White House, and every intelligence agency on Earth.
"Is this your method?" President Kenneth whispered, his voice barely audible in the stunned silence of the White House situation room.
In that moment, as the impossible became reality on live television, emergency orders flashed across secure networks worldwide. Every planned operation against Aidan Parker and Baymax Corporation was immediately suspended. In boardrooms and bunkers, powerful people suddenly realized how catastrophically they had underestimated their target.
And in the silence that followed, more than one official felt a cold gratitude that they had chosen negotiation over confrontation.
PLZ THROW POWERSTONES .