The moment the Hammer Drones initiated their lethal "saturation fire" protocol, the air in the exhibition hall didn't fill with the smell of gunpowder. Instead, it grew unnaturally still.
Thousands of high-velocity rounds erupted from the Gatling barrels, but they didn't reach the screaming crowd. An invisible, shimmering ripple swept through the auditorium, and suddenly, the bullets froze. They hung in the air like metallic insects trapped in amber, thousands of lead-and-copper deaths suspended just inches from the front rows.
"How is this possible?!" Ivan Vanko, watching the feed from his command center, slammed his vodka glass onto the table, shattering it.
His eyes bulged as he leaned into the monitor. "Mutants? Impossible! That dancing fool Hammer said the government had rounded up the powerful ones in New Hope. He said New York was clean!" Vanko's fingers flew across the keyboard, trying to force the drones to recalibrate, but the data returning from the hall made no sense. It was as if the laws of physics had simply opted out of the contract.
Huang Wen stood in the center of the chaos, his hand extended like a conductor finishing a symphony. With a casual flick of his wrist, the suspension broke. The thousands of bullets didn't continue their trajectory; they simply lost all momentum and rained to the floor in a deafening metallic clatter, sounding like a million falling coins.
"Tony, do you actually have this under control, or do you need a girl to finish your chores?" Huang Wen called out, his voice cutting through the ringing silence.
He looked up at the sky where Tony was being swarmed. It was a sight to behold: the "Iron Legion" was essentially a collection of aerial vultures. While they lacked the refined elegance of the Mark series, Ivan Vanko's crude engineering was efficient. They were fast, they were armored, and they were relentless.
Steve Rogers, standing near the podium, was momentarily paralyzed. He had seen the horrors of the front lines—mortars, mustard gas, and the terrifying blue energy of Hydra—but he had never seen a single human being render an entire army's worth of ammunition useless with a gesture.
"How... how can someone possess that much power?" Steve whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and tactical terror. "If we'd had her at the Maginot Line... if someone could just stop the lead... no one would have had to die. There wouldn't be any casualties at all."
Logan, who was busy lighting a cigar despite the flying robots, blew a cloud of smoke. "Don't get your hopes up, Steve. This kind of talent isn't exactly common. There was a guy years back who could do something similar with metal, but he's six feet under now. And between you and me? I think the Boss is even scarier."
"I don't need help!" Tony roared from the rafters. He executed a tight barrel roll, his repulsor beams slicing through the wing of a Navy drone. "I'm just getting warmed up! These things are made of recycled soda cans and bad intentions. I can handle the trash!"
"Tony! Please! Forget your ego and listen to the lady!" A desperate, muffled voice erupted from one of the drones that was currently trying to headbutt Tony. "Mr. Huang Wen! Help! I'm trapped in here and this thing is trying to fly me into a wall! Get me out!"
Colonel Rhodes was having a very bad day. He was a decorated pilot, but currently, he was nothing more than a passenger in a homicidal suit of armor.
"Tony, the one you just shot at was me! Watch your aim!" Rhodes screamed as Tony's beam grazed his shoulder.
"Oops! My bad, Rhodey! Everything's grey and ugly today, I can't tell the difference!" Tony quipped, though his HUD was frantically trying to track his friend's signature.
Huang Wen didn't wait for Tony's permission. he didn't like seeing a friend in a cage. She focused her intent on the suit carrying Rhodes.
"Hold still, Colonel. This might feel a bit... breezy," she murmured.
With a sharp, pulling motion of her hands, the spatial fabric around the Air Force suit distorted. There was a sound like a giant piece of parchment being torn in half. The "War Machine" armor didn't just break; it unraveled. The bolts, the plates, and the internal wiring disintegrated into their base components, peeling away from Rhodes' body like an orange skin.
Suddenly, Colonel Rhodes found himself in the middle of the air, wearing nothing but his flight suit and a look of pure horror.
"Ahhhhhhh! No parachute! No armor! I'm falling!"
For a battle-hardened soldier, the sensation of free-falling from fifty feet up without a plane was enough to trigger a primal reaction. He flailed his arms, his eyes squeezed shut as the floor rushed up to meet him.
"Relax, Colonel. I've got you," Huang Wen smiled. He caught him with a cushion of telekinetic force ten feet above the ground and lowered him gently onto the plush carpet of the VIP section.
Tony Stark watched the "disassembly" with a twitch in his eye. "You know, one of these days, you're going to show me how you do that without scratching the person inside. It's a very invasive way to help someone, Wen."
"What? You afraid I'll do the same to you?" Huang Wen teased, catching Tony's gaze.
"I'm already designing a 'Huang-Wen-Proof' alloy," Tony muttered, though his internal sensors told him no such material existed on the periodic table. "Just... don't do it while I'm over the ocean, okay?"
CRACK!
A circular blur of Vibranium whistled through the air, smashing into the head of a drone that had been trying to sneak up on Tony. The drone's head spun 180 degrees, sparks showering the stage. Steve Rogers caught his shield as it returned, his movements a masterclass in kinetic flow.
"My nephew!" Steve called out, his voice echoing with the authority of a Sergeant. "Focus on the fight! A soldier who gets distracted by the scenery ends up in a pine box! Watch your six!"
Steve didn't wait for Tony's snarky retort. He hit the ground running, leaping over a row of chairs and performing a flawless front flip that would have made an Olympic gymnast weep. He moved through the chaos with a grace that seemed impossible for a man of his size.
He slid under the legs of a towering "Army" drone, then sprang up, grabbing the machine by its neck joints.
"Stay down, soldier!" Steve growled, his muscles bulging as he applied a sleeper hold to a two-ton machine. He was trying to knock the pilot unconscious, his 1940s morals telling him there was a man inside that metal shell who deserved a chance to surrender.
He squeezed with all his might, but the drone simply rotated its torso 360 degrees and tried to backhand him. Steve grunted in frustration, realizing his first "interrogation" in sixty years was a failure.
"Fine. Hard way it is!"
Steve slammed the edge of his Vibranium shield into the drone's helmet. Because the shield absorbed all vibration, the impact didn't bounce—it drove through. The metal crumpled like wet cardboard, and the drone's optical sensors shattered.
Steve peered into the jagged hole, expecting to see a bleeding pilot. "Wait... there's nobody in here? It's empty?"
He looked toward Colonel Rhodes, confused. He had seen Huang Wen pull a man out of one of these things, so he assumed every suit was occupied.
"They're drones, Steve! Robots!" Rhodes yelled from the ground, having found a discarded pistol to help cover the civilians. "Nobody's home! You can break 'em as much as you want!"
Steve's eyes narrowed. A grim, satisfied smile touched his lips. "Robots? Well... that certainly simplifies the ethics of the battlefield."
"Hahahaha! Welcome to the party, Popsicle!" Logan laughed, leaping through the air like a predatory cat. He landed on the back of a Marine drone, digging his boots into its exhaust ports.
With a familiar Snikt, three blades of shimmering Adamantium erupted from each of Logan's hands. He didn't punch; he shredded. He drove his claws straight into the drone's Arc Reactor core. The machine let out a pathetic electronic whine before its lights went dark, and it crashed to the stage.
Steve stared at Logan's hands, his memory flashing back to the bone-colored spikes Logan used to carry. "Logan... your claws? Since when are they made of chrome?"
Logan hopped off the dead machine, shaking the oil off his blades. "Nothing much, kid. Just had a bit of a 'heavy metal' makeover while you were chilling out. Don't let it distract you! The kids are already out-scoring us!"
He pointed toward Peter Parker and Huang Liang, who were working in tandem to web-wrap a group of drones and then smash them into each other like oversized New Year's crackers.
"Don't let the youngsters show you up, Captain!" Logan teased before vanishing back into the fray.