The fifty super soldiers began to withdraw, slowly, reluctantly.
Each of them had been injected with a powerful serum derived from Hulk's blood. While it granted incredible strength, it also amplified their most primal instincts.
Rage, violence, bloodlust.
And yet… They held back.
Not because they wanted to, but because somewhere buried beneath the beast, there remained a trace of soldierly discipline.
A thread of control.
A shred of loyalty.
It was that final thread that let them obey General Ross's command to retreat, even if their every nerve screamed to charge headfirst into the fight.
But as they turned away from the battlefield…
A chuckle echoed behind them. Low, hoarse, sinister.
Gul'dan extended one gnarled hand.
Fel energy surged from his palm in a thick, radiant stream, coalescing into a sphere, akin to a green sun pulsing with malevolence. The air around him crackled and hissed as the orb twisted and spun.
"Go," Gul'dan hissed. "Bring my servants home."
With a sharp crack, the orb exploded into fifty streaks of green fire, each one launching like a missile.
The light moved faster than sound, weaving through the battlefield and slamming into the backs of the retreating soldiers.
One streak per man. A perfect, terrifying match.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, screams.
The change was immediate and monstrous.
Each soldier's body began to bulge, muscles split fabric. Veins glowed green beneath thickening skin. Their height increased, their shoulders doubled in width. Shoes exploded off their feet, armor fell away in shredded pieces.
But it was the faces that changed most.
Their features warped, flattened, twisted, canines grew long and curved outward. Their eyes bled into pools of glowing crimson.
They no longer resembled men.
They looked like orcs, Fel-corrupted orcs, Gul'dan's orcs.
As one, they turned back toward him.
Their eyes, those burning red orbs, locked onto his figure. A deep, instinctual recognition passed between them.
They knew their master.
They felt his will.
And they embraced it.
"Children," Gul'dan croaked, his voice like rusted metal dragged across stone. "Tear those Chitauri to pieces."
A beat passed.
Then came the howl.
Fifty throats cried out at once, a deep, bloodthirsty war scream.
And then they charged.
Like a green tide of berserkers, the fel super soldiers ripped across the battlefield, straight into the ranks of the Chitauri.
What followed was a slaughter.
Alien weapons bounced off their hide-like skin. Chitauri fell like wheat before a harvester. Some were torn in half. Others were pummeled into the ground with fists like sledgehammers.
The battlefield turned into a massacre.
…
Deep underground, General Ross watched it all unfold through flickering satellite feeds.
His face went pale.
"Yes, they're stronger," he muttered.
But not his anymore.
"They're not following orders," he said, louder this time. "Why aren't they responding?"
He turned toward his communications officer, voice rising. "Get them on the line. Now!"
The officer scrambled at the controls, shouting into the mic. "Alpha unit, do you copy? This is command! Alpha unit, respond!"
Static.
No voice, no signal.
Nothing.
Ross's knuckles whitened.
"I don't understand," he said. "The GPS shows they're alive. They're moving. They should hear us, why the hell aren't they answering?!"
His adjutant turned to him, pale-faced. "General… I think they're gone."
Ross slammed his fist against the console. "They're mine. Not his!"
A long silence.
Then Ross spoke again, voice low and dark.
"Get a helicopter ready."
The adjutant blinked. "Sir? You can't possibly"
"I said I'm going to the battlefield myself. I need to see this. Up close."
The adjutant hesitated, then swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, General. But... helicopters aren't safe. The aliens…"
"Then don't give me a helicopter." Ross turned slowly. His eyes were full of fire. "I want a transport plane. Now."
The adjutant saluted clumsily, already running.
…
Across the city, Loki stood frozen atop a shattered rooftop, gazing at the chaos unfolding far below.
This wasn't part of the plan.
The Chitauri were supposed to be unstoppable. The humans were supposed to fall, one by one.
And yet, those green-skinned monsters had just eviscerated one of his frontlines.
One of them had ripped open a Leviathan's armored jaw.
Loki clenched his fists.
"What is that creature?" he spat, watching Gul'dan stand at the heart of the carnage, staff glowing, face calm and cruel.
And worse still, those fel soldiers were spreading destruction like wildfire. Chitauri tech seemed useless against them.
"This war is mine! He has no place here!"
Furious, Loki contacted the mothership. "Dispatch everything we have! Kill the green monster!"
Every remaining Chitauri in the air banked midflight, turned, and swarmed toward Gul'dan.
…
Inside Luke's grocery store, the mood was… tense.
Luke, Wanda, and Sharon crouched beside a window, peeking out.
They had watched in confusion as thousands of Chitauri suddenly veered in a single direction, toward the fel-corrupted battlefield.
Wanda frowned. "Brother… should we be worried?"
Sharon, wide-eyed, added, voice full of cat-like curiosity "Should we maybe, I don't know, check it out?"
Luke stared out, lips pressed into a flat line. "Nope."
"But what's happening out there?"
"I know what's happening," Luke said grimly. "That's Gul'dan. And I'm not getting involved unless I want my house turned into a fel-flavored crater."
Sharon blinked. "He's that strong?"
Luke shot her a look. "He's a walking apocalypse wrapped in a garbage bag full of curses. If he sneezes wrong, he could summon an army of demons."
"…Cool," Wanda murmured.
Luke flinched. "No, not cool! Very much the opposite of cool!"
Just then, a soft chime echoed from the computer.
[Ding~ Your computer has sensed your desire to observe the summoned being. A new function has been added: "Summon Status Viewer" has been enabled on your screen.]
Luke blinked. 'Well, that's... convenient.'
…
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