The street was quiet.
The Executioner's body laid broken in the crater. His axe sat beside him, glowing faintly like it still wanted to fight. But the man who once carried it was gone. Completely gone.
Sam stood over him, breathing heavy inside the black suit. He pressed his boot down one more time just to make sure. Nothing moved. No tricks. No second chance.
His eyes moved to the axe. The weapon hummed like it was alive, whispering in a voice only he could hear. Promises of power, promises of endless blood.
Sam reached down and grabbed it. For a second the axe tried to fight back, flaring up with killing intent, but the moment his grip tightened it gave in. The weapon went quiet, like it knew who was in charge now.
"You're mine," Sam said simply.
He lifted the Executioner's body in one hand like it was nothing. Then the world folded, and he was back in his Atlas Biotech office. The clean, polished floors and glass walls looked strange after the chaos outside.
Sam dropped the body on the floor with a heavy thud. Blood leaked across the marble tiles. Then he let the axe fall too. It sank into the floor with a loud crack, stuck deep in the stone.
—--
New York burned.
The smoke was so thick it stung the eyes and clogged the lungs. The streets were unrecognizable—cars flipped, buildings crumbling, glass glittering like snow across the pavement. Chitauri corpses littered the ground, their weapons sparking faintly. The smell of ozone, blood, and fire clung to everything.
Captain America stood in the middle of it all, his shield dented and scorched. He let out a long breath, shoulders heavy, and looked around at the others.
Tony's armor hissed and sparked, one arm hanging useless at his side. He ripped off his helmet, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. "Okay… just for the record," he muttered, his voice hoarse, "that was officially the worst day of my life. And I've had some bad ones."
Natasha lowered her pistols, empty magazines clicking uselessly. She shook her head, her braid coming undone. "You're alive. Worst day or not, that's a win."
Clint groaned as he pulled himself out of a shattered store window, limping slightly. "I'm out of arrows.
Not far off, the X-Men regrouped. Cyclops was helping Jean to her feet, her face pale with exhaustion. Bobby leaned against a collapsed light pole, ice fading from his hands as he caught his breath. Kitty phased through a wall to drag two civilians to safety, then slumped beside Storm, who landed gracefully but clearly worn out.
There was no cheering. No smiles. Just silence, heavy and uncertain.
Because every one of them was thinking about the same thing.
Thor and Hulk had been lost to Amora's control. Both of them had been ready to kill. The Avengers, the X-Men, everyone—none of them could stop it.
Until he appeared.
That faceless figure in black armor. The blur of movement. The impossible strength. Thor and Hulk launched away like dolls, Amora dropped in one strike, and the Executioner—an Asgardian warlord—beaten so badly it didn't even seem real.
And then, just like that, he was gone.
Steve broke the silence first. He adjusted his torn gloves, his voice low but firm. "Whoever that was… he saved us."
Tony let out a short, sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Saved? Cap,
The guy didn't even look at us. You saw it. He wasn't here for us."
Jean raised her head, her voice tired but steady. "I tried to reach his mind. Just for a second. It was like staring into a black hole. No thoughts. No feelings. Just… emptiness. It was terrifying."
Storm folded her arms, her white eyes dimming back to normal. "Then what is he? No mortal man moves like that. No mutant I've ever met could fight like that. And yet…" she looked around at the wreckage, "…he turned the tide in seconds."
Natasha glanced at the others, her expression unreadable. "The real question is simple. Is he on our side?"
Nobody answered.
Above them, the sky suddenly flared. A nuke—streaking toward the city.
Tony cursed under his breath and pushed his broken suit forward. "Guess that's my cue." He barely got the thrusters working, but it was enough. He grabbed the missile, dragging it upward with every ounce of power left in the armor, disappearing into the portal.
The team held their breath until the explosion came—far away, beyond the sky. The portal collapsed in on itself. The Chitauri dropped lifeless where they stood.
The battle was over.
But as the dust settled and the city lay broken, the weight in the air wasn't victory.
It was the memory of that faceless figure. The stranger who had appeared, broken gods and monsters, and vanished.
Steve tightened his grip on his shield. "We need to find him," he said, voice hard.
Cyclops adjusted his visor, his jaw clenched. "Because if we don't… and he decides we're in the way…"
Storm finished softly. "…then today was only the beginning."
The Avengers and the X-Men stood in silence, surrounded by ruins, every one of them carrying the same thought.
They had survived the invasion. But they had no idea what had just walked among them.