The moment Steve lifted the dark hammer, the air in the crater tore open. A shimmering, rainbow-edged portal swirled into existence, and four figures stepped out as if walking from their living room into a disaster zone.
The first was Thor, looking less like a god of thunder and more like a tourist on vacation in Miami, complete with a floral shirt and shorts. He was followed by Loki, who was impeccably dressed in a sharp business suit and carrying a briefcase. Behind him was Sylvie, wearing an apron dusted with flour, a look of pure annoyance on her face as if she'd been interrupted in the middle of baking. Last was Jane Foster, in a simple sundress, blinking in the harsh desert sun.
Thor's laid-back demeanor vanished the second he saw Steve holding the hammer. "Who are you?" he boomed, his voice cracking like thunder. "And why are you holding my hammer?"
Sharon Carter immediately stepped in front of Steve, her hand on her sidearm. "We're with S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said, her voice firm.
"Ah, yes. S.H.I.E.L.D.," Loki said with a disdainful sniff. "We are aware of your organization. That doesn't explain why you are experimenting with Asgardian property."
"Isn't that Mjolnir?" Sylvie asked, looking at Thor with shocked eyes. "The hammer your sister put the worthiness enchantment on? If this mortal picked it up, that means he's worthy. That he has a pure soul."
Steve, still feeling the hum of immense power coursing through him, finally spoke. "Can someone please explain who all of you are?"
"They're really Asgardians," Jane said, stepping forward and addressing Sharon directly. "I'm an astrophysicist. This is… a lot to take in, I know. I think we should probably continue this conversation somewhere more private."
Sharon looked from the god in the beach shirt to the man holding the lightning-wreathed hammer and nodded. "Agreed."
Aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, the atmosphere was tense. In the advanced medical bay, Tony Stark, the Iron Supreme, waved his hands over Bruce Banner. Holographic readouts and glowing mystical symbols floated around Bruce's hands, where the ten Mythic Rings still glowed faintly.
"What's the verdict, Tony?" Natasha asked, her arms crossed, her worry for Bruce palpable.
"He's stable," Tony said, the projections dissolving. "But these rings… they're fascinating. They were searching for an ultimate power source, and they found one in Bruce. Or rather, in the Hulk." He turned to Bruce. "They've formed a symbiotic relationship with you. They'll grant you immense power, drawing on the entire emotional spectrum, but in return, they'll consume your energy. The good news is, this won't change the fact that you can still control the Hulk. The switch you built still works."
Bruce looked down at the rings, a mix of fear and wonder on his face. "So I'm stuck with them."
"For now," Tony said. "But you need to learn to control them. They hold enormous power, but if you don't master it, it will consume you." He walked closer. "I can help. I can use my own blend of tech and magic to give you a head start. Close your eyes."
Tony placed his fingertips on Bruce's temples. A faint, golden light flowed from his hands. "I'm embedding the control protocols, the theory, the tricks… everything you need."
Bruce gasped as a torrent of information flooded his mind. "It's… it's so much. A whole new science." He opened his eyes, which now seemed to hold a deeper understanding. "I need to… process this." He nodded to the others and walked to a quiet, isolated chamber to begin meditating, to integrate his terrifying new power.
As Bruce left, Tony turned to Clint. "You've changed, Barton. The files on 'Quantum Strike' are… impressive."
"Yeah, well, you can say that again," Clint said with a wry smile.
Natasha stepped forward, her expression serious. "Tony. You said you could help me perfect the Widow's Echo."
"I did, and I can," Tony said, his focus shifting entirely to her.
For the next several hours, they worked. Tony became a whirlwind of genius, combining arcane spells with intricate coding, high-tech engineering with ancient mystical arts. He didn't just upgrade the technology; he wove magic into its very fabric.
First, he established a Neural Sync, linking the Echo's projection matrix directly to Natasha's subconscious. "It's more than a remote-controlled drone now," he explained, as a shimmering copy of Natasha formed beside her. "It knows what you're going to do before you do. It will fight for you even if you're knocked unconscious."
Next, he made the Echo a true Sentient Projection. "Try it," Tony urged. Natasha focused, and the Echo turned its head, its voice a perfect replica of her own. "Threat assessment: minimal. Room for improvement: Stark's coffee." Tony just smirked. The Echo now had her skills, her voice, her memories—a ghost copy that could operate on its own.
He then added a more insidious feature, the Emotional Ghost. He brought in a training dummy. "Focus on a memory, a trauma. Push it into the Echo." Natasha thought of the Red Room, of the fear and pain. The Echo reached out, and the dummy's sensors went haywire, simulating a complete psychological breakdown. It could now weaponize her past, paralyzing enemies with their own regrets.
Tony then installed a Shadow Anchor, allowing the Echo to phase through solid objects, acting as a tether to reality if she was ever losing control or being pulled into another dimension. Finally, he added the most dangerous protocol, a last resort. "This is the Quantum Rewind," he said, his voice grave. "If you are killed while the Echo is active, it will expend its entire energy reserve to rewind your personal timeline by ten seconds. It gives you one chance to rewrite your own death. It will only work once per mission, Nat. Don't waste it."
Natasha stood in the training room, her perfect, shimmering copy standing opposite her. She could feel the connection, the raw power now at her command. She was no longer just the Black Widow. She was a ghost, a memory, and a warrior, all at once.