Thor's words had barely fallen before the others moved as well.
Nolan's eyes swept over the group, then settled on Thor himself.
So, the God of Thunder was not merely a hammer-obsessed brute after all. There was some calculation in him.
Yet it was equally clear that Thor's intellect was… limited.
Nolan could almost sympathize. A dethroned god stranded on Earth had little sense of security. And Nolan, by all appearances, was nothing more than a businessman dabbling in technology.
But still being underestimated stung.
A wry smile curved his lips. "So that's what I am to you? A soft persimmon to be squeezed at will?"
He chuckled at his own joke, though bitterness tinged the sound.
In truth, the insult wasn't entirely unfounded. His hand-to-hand skills were inferior even to a trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He was no Tony Stark, armored genius and eccentric playboy.
Hogun, one of Asgard's famed warriors, raised his weapon with a roar, eyes burning with absolute confidence. Victory was already written across his face.
Then came the thunderclap.
A deafening crack split the air as the wall near him erupted. Stone and dust scattered, leaving a smoking hole.
A sniper's bullet.
High above, across the rooftops, several hidden marksmen had long been in position, their barrels trained on the Asgardians.
It was a warning shot.
Nolan's laugh was cold and sharp. Did they truly believe he would stand unprepared before Thor Odinson?
If Thor had to die, so be it. Killing the son of Odin might trigger cosmic consequences, but Nolan had no intention of sacrificing his life for fear of divine retribution. Even Odin himself would be nothing more than an obstacle if he threatened Nolan's survival.
Hogun understood the message instantly. He had seen tactics like this before on countless battlefields.
"Snipers!" he bellowed, yet his steps only quickened.
Against a hidden marksman, there were only two viable options: flee and hide, or seize a valuable hostage as leverage.
And Hogun was no coward. He was Hogun the Grim, one of Asgard's Warriors Three.
Nolan did not underestimate him. Not for a moment.
He had always known the truth reality was not the movies.
Cinematic convenience diminished characters to highlight the chosen few. On screen, the Warriors Three were reduced to comic relief, little more than background muscle. But in reality?
These were battle-hardened champions of Asgard, veterans of wars against realms far more advanced than Earth. Asgard's magic was not stage trickery, but a force that had toppled empires. Their soldiers were not barbarians, but juggernauts tempered by centuries of bloodshed.
The man charging him now was no disposable sidekick.
Which was why Nolan lifted his hand, formed it into the shape of a pistol, and mimed pulling the trigger against his temple.
His snipers understood at once.
If warning was wasted, then the next shot would kill.
The crack rang out before Hogun could react.
The bullet struck just shy of his temple, the kinetic force blasting him sideways like a ragdoll. His body hit the ground hard, dust rising around him.
For a moment, Hogun's eyes widened in disbelief.
But he did not die.
Nor did fear touch him.
A faint shimmer coated his skin an invisible barrier, faintly glowing before fading from sight.
Nolan's lips tightened. As he suspected, these warriors were a nightmare.
The others rushed forward. Sif's blade flashed. Fandral twirled his rapier with mocking grace. Volstagg thundered like a charging bear. All converged on Nolan at once.
He did not flinch.
Because from the corners of the compound came a mechanical roar.
The heavy whine of rotary barrels spinning up.
Then
Ratatatatatatat!
Seven or eight Gatling guns unleashed hellfire, a storm of bullets flooding the air, tearing stone and steel alike. The shockwave alone hurled Sif and her companions back.
Yet not a single Asgardian fell.
Every round struck a thin, translucent film upon their skin, each bullet dispersing harmlessly against the shimmering magical barrier.
Nolan narrowed his eyes.
Magic.
He had never seen it firsthand, but there was no mistaking it now. This was sorcery an unseen armor that denied the laws of physics themselves.
"Kill!" Hogun roared, hauling himself upright once more. His allies echoed him, charging straight into the storm of gunfire.
The bullets could not harm them.
Nolan exhaled through his nose, brows furrowing. Asgard's champions were exactly as he feared not invincible, but infuriatingly resilient.
He glanced sideways at Thor.
The prince of Asgard stood calmly, arms folded, wearing the faintest smirk of disdain. Clearly, he thought Nolan's machines little more than toys.
Nolan smiled faintly back. "So, Gatlings aren't enough? Then let's see how you handle the next level."
He raised his wrist and spoke into the slim device strapped there.
"Red Queen, where's our support?"
The voice that answered was crisp, feminine, and utterly artificial. It spoke from the watch, but the true power behind it pulsed from a hidden supercomputer.
"Sir, reinforcements are en route. Arrival in approximately two minutes."
Nolan nodded, already retreating several steps.
The Asgardians were dangerous. Even for him, getting too close was unwise.
The Terminators surged forward instead. Cold, skeletal frames of the T-800 units clashed with gods. Steel met steel, servos grinding as the machines locked the warriors in combat.
The Asgardians' shimmering shields absorbed bullets, but they lacked any ranged sorcery of their own. Their strength was raw, physical, and devastating in close quarters. They were tanks but not immovable ones.
And tanks could be toppled.
Elsewhere, Agent Coulson raced toward the battlefield.
Reports had already warned him Asgardians immune to bullets, hostile, and dangerously strong.
Beside him, a convoy of Locke Technologies security personnel marched. Each piloted a towering mech nearly five meters tall, armor plated and bristling with ammunition belts as thick as tree trunks.
Coulson's lips twitched. "Locke Technologies again. More experimental toys?"
Clint Barton, bow slung across his back, gave a sour laugh. "Looks like it. Figures."
Even he wore Locke's exo-suit now, the heavy frame enhancing his strength and agility despite its bulk. He would never admit it aloud, but the thing worked.
"Experimental?" Coulson murmured. His eyes lingered on the mechs. No, these weren't prototypes. Nolan's company had already perfected them.
And S.H.I.E.L.D. had none.
He thought of Hammer Industries' miserable drones, pathetic failures compared to these walking war machines.
"Barton," Coulson said quietly. "When this is over, we're speaking to Fury. These units S.H.I.E.L.D. needs them."
Clint nodded. "Agreed. Even if we never use them in the field, we should have them. This—" His grin flashed boyishly. "This is every man's dream."
Back on the battlefield, the four Asgardians clashed with the Terminators.
Though they fought fiercely, it was less a duel and more a prolonged beating.
The T-800s were durable and relentless, striking with the cold precision of machines. Yet no bullet could pierce Asgardian magic.
And slowly, the tide shifted.
Five Terminators already lay in shattered pieces. The rest would follow soon.
Nolan watched, his smile faint but steady.
Across the chaos, Thor caught his eye. The faintly mocking look unsettled the god. For the first time since Loki's deception, unease stirred in Thor's chest.
Loki tricked me. But this man, Nolan Locke… is he just as dangerous?
No, Thor told himself quickly. Surely not. His friends were strong. They would prevail.
He clenched his fists and whispered under his breath, "Sif… you can do this."
But his words were drowned by the thunder of marching steel.
The ground trembled. Dust rose in thick clouds.
From beyond the compound, a column of massive exoskeletal mechs appeared, their footfalls shaking the earth. Their bulk dwarfed the T-800s, each machine bristling with grotesque chains of ammunition, cannons primed and ready.
In perfect unison, the armored giants marched to Nolan's side.
Then, as one, they halted.
Their weapons gleamed under the floodlights, aimed directly at the Asgardians.
For the first time, Thor's chest tightened. The sight of so many monstrous machines, each armed with more firepower than an army, made even the God of Thunder uneasy.
Nolan looked at him, calm and smiling.
Then he gave the order.
"Open fire."
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