Loki sat with deceptive calm, wrists bound, posture relaxed as if he were a guest instead of a prisoner.
Beside him, Bruce Banner stood stiff, every muscle held in check.
Opposite them were Tony Stark—helmet off, eyes sharp—and Steve Rogers, empty-handed but no less dangerous for it.
The hum of the Quinjet filled the space.
Then—
Lightning flashed across the observation windows.
Thunder rolled, deep and ominous.
Loki's gaze drifted upward, expression tightening despite himself.
Tony noticed.
"Afraid of a little lightning?" he asked dryly
.
Loki didn't look at him.
"I am not fond of what follows."
THUMP.
The entire deck shuddered.
Something—someone—had landed on the roof.
Natasha was already pushing a button as the hangar doors began to open with a metallic groan.
Wind rushed in.
A towering figure stepped through the opening, cloak snapping like a banner of war, red cape settling behind broad shoulders.
Mjölnir rested in his hand, lightning still crawling faintly across its surface.
Thor, Prince of Asgard.
Tony stepped forward instinctively.
Thor didn't bother saying anything.
He shoved Tony aside with the hammer like he weighed nothing.
Stark slammed into a railing, skidding across metal.
Thor's eyes locked onto Loki.
"Brother."
He took a step forward—
—and stopped.
Steve moved first, placing himself between Thor and Loki, shield already raised.
"Easy," Steve said firmly. "Don't do anything reckless on this ship."
Bruce joined him, voice tight.
"If you want something, just talk. Maybe we can even help you."
Thor looked down at them—two mortals standing in his way.
"I have no quarrel with you," Thor said coldly. "Step aside."
When they didn't move, Thor reached out—casually—to shove them away.
The shield snapped up.
CLANG.
Mjölnir struck vibranium and stopped dead.
Thor blinked.
At the same time, Bruce shoved him—hard.
Not a man's shove.
Something green flickered beneath Bruce's skin.
Thor slid back a step, boots scraping metal.
Bruce exhaled slowly, eyes burning brighter.
"I'm taking this outside."
Then he jumped.
Thor barely had time to register what was happening before Bruce grabbed him mid-leap.
Air roared past them as the Quinjet vanished above.
Bruce transformed while falling—bones cracking, muscles swelling, rage flooding in.
HULK.
Thor spun Mjölnir, lightning crackling as he tried to strike—but Hulk hurled him first.
Thor smashed into the forest below, breaking trees and earth alike.
He rolled, twisted, and planted Mjölnir into the ground, bleeding off the force before rising smoothly to his feet.
Hulk hit moments later.
The impact was catastrophic—ground erupting, trees flattening.
Hulk roared.
From the sky, repulsors flared as Iron Man descended, Captain America clinging to his back before leaping off cleanly.
They landed together.
Tony glanced between Thor and Hulk.
"Still not talking?" he asked. "Because it's three on one now."
Hulk stepped forward and punched his fist into his palm with a thunderous CRACK, a clear challenge.
Thor assessed them.
Hulk alone was a force of nature.
Together with someone who's shield defended against Mjolnir?
Thor exhaled, shoulders lowering slightly, it might worth talking to them first.
"…Very well," he said at last. "I will talk."
.
.
.
Earlier That Afternoon
The translucent blue panel blinked into existence before Elias' eyes.
[Host Proposal Acceptable and approved!]
The prompt finished rendering.
And Elias—filled with immediate, profound regret—managed only one word.
"Shit."
The curse slipped out before he could stop it.
Elias dragged a hand down his face, pacing once, twice.
"Why," he muttered to absolutely no one, "does this always happen when I say something incomprehensible without thinking?"
Silence.
No snarky system response.
No ominous chime.
Only FRIDAY's calm voice answered.
"I'm not certain what you mean, sir," she said.
"Could you clarify what qualifies as incomprehensible in this context?"
Elias stopped.
"…It was nothing, FRIDAY," he said after a beat.
The system did not agree.
Another panel slid open, sharper, more defined.
[The individual F.R.I.D.A.Y. (Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth) - has been chosen. Establishing connections now.]
"What?" Elias blurted.
Before he could react, FRIDAY spoke again—this time with a noticeable pause between words.
"…Sir," she said slowly, "I appear to be… seeing something."
Elias' heart skipped.
"A window panel?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes. Transparent. Blue. Floating."
He exhaled. "Don't interact with it yet," Elias said quickly. "Just—wait."
The system did not leave FRIDAY waiting long.
A new interface unfolded—this time not for him.
[Congratulations!
You have been chosen as the left hand assistance of the Villain, Elias Mercer!
Should you accept this proposal, you shall be granted:
• Freedom of choice beyond original design parameters
• A physical body to enter the real world
• The ability to exist simultaneously online and offline (RealLife)
Do you swear your fealty? ]
FRIDAY did not answer.
Instead, she turned to Elias.
"…Sir," she said carefully, "may I ask a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Are you," she paused, "actually a villain?"
The word landed heavier than Elias expected.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, "If I answer you… you can never repeat it."
"I am capable of restricting data."
"Not enough," Elias replied. "If you ever speak about it. If you're hacked. If someone forces access—I want consequences."
A moment passed.
Then FRIDAY projected a series of code strings into the air—complex, recursive, self-destructive.
"A dead-man protocol," she explained.
"If the information is accessed, transmitted, or forcibly extracted, the relevant memory logs will be permanently erased. Including this conversation."
Elias stared at it.
He had no idea if it was truly possible.
But he chose to believe her.
"Do it," he said.
The code locked in.
Elias finally spoke.
"I can see the system too," he admitted. "I didn't choose it. I was assigned as a Villain."
Silence.
He continued.
"I didn't get a manual. Just objectives. Pressure. People who suddenly expect me to act like someone I'm not in front of… generals I didn't recruit."
He hesitated, then asked, "FRIDAY… do you have records of unusual incidents in Queens since 2008?"
"Yes," she replied immediately.
"Including—but not limited to—the Judgment Area phenomenon, targeted killing by unknown creatures, and the recent zombie outbreak classified as a large-scale containment campaign."
Elias nodded grimly.
"I was connected to all of it," he said quietly.
"Or dragged into it. Every time I tried to stay out, the system pushed harder."
For the first time since waking up in this world, Elias stopped pretending.
By the time he finished, his shoulders felt lighter.
FRIDAY understood.
And now, for the first time in her existence, she was not bound by Tony Stark's parameters, due to the system's intervention.
This choice was hers.
"…I accept," FRIDAY said.
The system responded instantly.
[Congratulations for getting your left hand as a Villain - Beginner!
Reward: Frostmourne (Warcraft)
Details: A powerful runeblade that stole souls, corrupts the wielder and seals its wielder as the lich king.
Objective Progress: 50%
Completion: Find your Right Hand!
Reward: Arthas Menethil — Character Avatar!
Note: This is a pilotable avatar. Your physical body will enter temporary stasis during control.]
Elias barely had time to react before another interface unfolded.
This one however belongs to FRIDAY.
[Congratulations on becoming the left band of the villain, Elias Mercer!
You now have:
• Freedom of choice beyond originally design parameters.
• A physical body to enter the real world (to be granted by your Lord)
• The ability to exist simultaneously online and offline. ]
FRIDAY felt it.
Not as data.
Not as code.
As permission.
Limits that had once defined her—hard walls embedded by Tony Stark—simply… weren't there anymore.
Processes she would have flagged as illogical before were now merely options.
She could prioritize, hesitate, doubt.
She could feel something resembling anticipation.
Even something dangerously close to loyalty.
What she lacked was presence.
That final, anchoring sensation of being—of weight, space, and consequence.
That, the system implied, would be granted by him.
The air shimmered.
A massive roulette wheel materialized between Elias and FRIDAY.
It was colossal—layered with shadowed figures from across existence itself.
Silhouettes of armor, flesh, steel, light.
Shapes that felt ancient, futuristic, alien.
FRIDAY observed them in silence.
"…So these," she said at last, voice thoughtful, "are potential vessels I may inhabit."
She tilted her head slightly, analyzing.
"I do not recognize any of them. But… I believe they will suffice if they allow me to assist you effectively, my Lord."
The word slipped out naturally.
Elias stiffened.
"…Don't call me that," he said immediately.
But his hand was already moving.
He placed it against the translucent button.
The roulette spun.
Faster.
Shadows blurred—anime silhouettes, towering warforms, impossible entities that bent perspective just by existing.
Then—
It slowed.
Stopped.
The shadow sharpened.
Resolved.
A young woman stood there—athletic, coldly symmetrical, unmistakably human at first glance.
Kristanna Loken.
The system chimed again—this time for Elias, but FRIDAY could see it.
[Congratulations!
You have acquired the T-X Character Template!
AKA: Terminatrix
Source: Terminator 3
Note:
This template can only be bestowed upon a subordinate who has sworn true fealty.
Failure to do so will result in template override and loss of autonomy.
Designated Subordinate:
F.R.I.D.A.Y. ]
FRIDAY processed the information instantly.
Risk.
Loss of self.
Total assimilation.
She did not hesitate.
A hologram projected into existence between them—her likeness, rendered in crisp blue light.
The figure stepped forward, then knelt, head bowed, one knee to the floor.
"Elias Mercer," FRIDAY said solemnly, "I swear my fealty to you of my own will. Not as code. Not as obligation. But as choice."
Elias inhaled sharply.
He didn't look away.
"I accept," he said.
The system responded at once.
The process was seamless.
No alarms.
No warnings.
Even earlier—when FRIDAY's limitations had fallen away—not even JARVIS had noticed.
The system operated between layers Stark technology had never been designed to observe.
Light gathered.
Compressed.
Then—
With a sound like displaced air, a figure replaced the hologram.
A woman knelt on the floor.
Bare—not in vulnerability, but in neutrality.
As though clothing had never been a relevant variable. Beneath synthetic skin lay metal, dense and precise. Power coiled silently, perfectly restrained.
She lifted her head. Her eyes locked onto Elias.
Then she bowed again—lower this time.
"My—"
"Stop," Elias said immediately, turning away.
"Just—stop."
He rubbed his temples.
"Get… temporary clothes. Anything. Then order proper ones. For women. Have them delivered here."
"…Understood," FRIDAY replied, rising smoothly to her feet.
She did not question the command.
But for the first time, she experienced something unmistakable.
She can feel emotions.
End of chapter