I looked around. Shit. This was the site where Mjolnir landed. The ground had been fenced off with warning signs slapped on every corner like they thought tape could stop gods. Big black tents stretched across the dirt, trying hard to look like a basic maintenance zone and failing miserably. It looked less like roadwork and more like aliens crash-landed and the cleanup crew got lazy halfway through. The building Darcy and others sneaked in the other day wasn't far off.
I stumbled forward, my ribs reminding me they hated me. Everything stung. Probably bruised. Maybe cracked. Definitely not okay. The air smelled like burnt rubber and bureaucratic panic. I pushed off a half-melted traffic cone and staggered toward the nearest tent. Maybe there was cover. Maybe someone would shoot me and put me out of this misery.
A siren wailed nearby. Too far to matter. I ducked inside the first flap.
Two seconds later, I regretted it.
The tent's interior was not just packed with tech. It was built around something. Something big. Center stage: a crater, circular, neat, almost surgical. And in the middle? A hammer. Just sitting there like it's daddy bought the land. Mjolnir.
I barely had time to take a breath before someone shouted, "Intruder!"
Flashlights cut through the gloom. Figures in black suits rushed me. Tactical gear. Guns raised. Not regular mall cops. SHIELD.
"Freeze!"
I rolled my eyes. Not that they could see it behind the mask. "I didn't come here willingly, fuckers. There is a monster in your backyard and you are pointing your guns at me."
They shouted again. Same robotic lines. "Hands where we can see them! Get on the ground!"
Yeah, that was not happening. The Destroyer crashed through the barricade behind me like it was chasing a pizza delivery guy with no tip money. Its chest pulsed again. I glanced back. Glow building. Time running out.
"Fucking idiots," I muttered, then shot two webs at the agents in front, yanking them sideways like bowling pins. They rolled out of the beam's path just before it exploded across the tent entrance.
Not because I was a good guy. Not because I gave a shit. This was PR. Headlines loved a hero. They hated a kid who fried feds on camera. Alarms shrieked. Backup shouted. Someone yelled for containment. Another screamed about protocol. None of it mattered. The Destroyer stomped forward, metal glinting like polished murder.
I ran.
Inside the tent, crates toppled. Boxes smashed open. Cables sparked. The hammer sat in the center like it gave no fucks about the chaos.
Idiots finally realized I was not trying to steal their precious alien hammer that no one could carry. Their guns turned toward the Destroyer, as if a few bullets could stop a glorified death toaster made of god-metal. Shots echoed. The bullets pinged off its armor like someone flicking Tic Tacs at a tank.
The Destroyer didn't even flinch.
It raised its arm. Chest core lit up again. White-hot energy started gathering at the center, humming louder by the second. SHIELD agents scrambled, diving for cover, barking commands like they had not already proven themselves useless.
[System]: Oh baby, look at them run. Wet pants, wasted ammo, and not a single clue. You sure you aren't gonna save one just for fun?
I vaulted over a supply crate, landed behind one of their trucks, and fired a web to the top of the tent. I yanked myself up and stuck to the ceiling just as the beam erupted. The blast tore through the truck below me. Flames surged. Debris scattered across the camp like a bad fireworks show. One agent rolled across the ground, coughing. Another one screamed for a medic.
"Yeah. That worked great," I muttered, swinging to the far side and landing behind a half-collapsed antenna tower. The metal sizzled with heat.
I needed to hit this thing hard. Problem was, I could not even scratch it. My charges did nothing. My webbing slowed it down for two seconds, maybe. And I had already taken a hit that rattled my lungs loose. Not ideal.
The Destroyer picked up a truck like it was a toy and hurled it straight at the SHIELD command center. The vehicle spun mid-air and smashed into the temporary building with a crash that split metal, shattered glass, and collapsed the entire front wall. Concrete dust and paperwork exploded into the sky like a bureaucratic pinata.
The shockwave rippled through the compound. Agents flew. Radios sparked. Sirens wailed louder. The SHIELD techs inside had no chance. One was thrown against a rack of servers. Another vanished under a falling beam.
A metal chunk flew past me and buried itself into the ground a foot away.
I sprinted back toward the tent where Mjolnir was still sitting in the dirt like the most smug paperweight in the universe. The Destroyer followed, crushing crates under its feet, heat rising from every vent on its body. Its chest was building light again.
From the felled building, a man stumbled out through the smoke and dust. He was tall, blonde, and muscular. Shirt torn. Face cut up. Dirt streaked across his chest like war paint from a fight he didn't even remember entering. Thor. Not the thunder god version. Just a guy with a strong jaw and a lot of questions. His eyes landed on the Destroyer and stayed there.
He stared like the thing had followed him from a bad dream. His fists clenched, as if to call for his hammer. He looked at the chaos around him. Smoke still rising. Metal warping from heat. SHIELD agents dragging their wounded out of the way. Civilians running like they finally understood just how fragile New York's peace really was.
Thor took a step. Then the beam fired again. The light flashed against his face. Orange glare cut across the compound. He didn't flinch, but he didn't run either. Maybe he had no idea what to do without the hammer. Maybe he still thought he could just shout and the thunder would come to save him. It didn't. From the opposite end of the blast zone, four more figures crashed into the scene.
Asgardian fashion and zero care for human laws. Sif hit the ground first, blade already drawn. Volstagg stumbled in behind her, eyes wide, beard even wider. Fandral came next, twirling his sword with a smirk that looked like it belonged in a different scene. Hogun trailed with axe in hand.
"You guys!" Thor shouted, grinning like it was some goddamn reunion special. Then turned back to the Destroyer. "Why is this thing here?"
Volstagg charged with a grunt, as Hogun stepped up next to Thor, "Loki. He used Heimdall when Odin fell asleep."
I landed next to them with a web-snap thud that made them jerk back, weapons raised instantly. Fandral's sword twirled in his grip, Sif's blade angled toward me like she was deciding if I was worth stabbing.
"What are you? Some medieval cosplayer?" I asked, giving their armor the once-over. Looked like Comic Con exploded.
Thor turned toward me, glaring at my costume. "And who are you?"
I shrugged. "Just a friendly neighborhood trying to stop that thing from roasting everyone nearby."
I ignored their weapons and their expressions. Not like they were doing anything interesting with them. I pointed at Sif and nodded upward. "Wuzzup? What do you do after this?"
Her brows pulled together like I asked if she wanted to split a milkshake. Thor stepped forward. "You are in danger. That thing does not care about mortals."
"Cool. And you are shouting while doing nothing." I pointed back at the Destroyer. "That thing is playing laser tag with buildings. Either you are all gonna help, or I am swinging back in solo."
Sif frowned, "Step back, Midgardian. That thing isn't something a mortal like you can deal with."
I chuckled, as I raised my hand, "I am not a regular mortal. I am a bit of a magical myself."
I launched a web at the side of a crumpled truck, flung myself forward, and charged straight at the Destroyer before they could argue. I swung low, then vaulted high, using a snapped traffic light as a springboard. My feet hit its back, and I planted a new charge at the base of its neck. Nothing again. No spark, no reaction. The thing just turned slowly, like I had stepped on its favorite toy.
"Alright, shiny," I muttered, flipping away before the arm came crashing down. I fired another web to a nearby lamppost, swung around, and kicked the side of its knee. It didn't move. At all. Felt like kicking a cement pillar dressed for a Renaissance fair.
[System]: Your little dance is cute, baby. But that tin can isn't flinching unless someone drops a god-bomb on it. I would say plan B, but you skipped plan A entirely.
I dropped behind a wrecked sedan, ducked low as the Destroyer's head swiveled. A few SHIELD agents scrambled in the open, dragging the wounded like ants evacuating a nest. I popped back up, fired a line at the fence, and zipped across to a higher vantage point.
Thor and his cosplay crew had spread out. Volstagg took cover behind an overturned truck, panting like he had never met a treadmill. Fandral was talking too much for someone who had not even tried stabbing anything yet. Sif was the only one moving, sword out, eyes locked on the Destroyer like she was waiting for the right second to strike. Thor stood in front of Mjolnir, staring at it like he expected it to leap into his hand. It didn't.
[System]: Oh, poor thunder boy. No hammer, no lightning, just a big blond disappointment.
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You can read up to Chapter 95...
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