Steve shoved the last slab of twisted metal aside and reached down, gripping Tony's arm to pull him free.
"Stark, are you good?" he asked.
Tony coughed once, straightened, "Yeah. I'm good," he said, shaking his shoulders once. "But I'd really like my suit right about now."
Steve nodded. No argument there. Whatever hit them hadn't been random.
He turned toward Fury, who was pushing himself upright, one hand pressed to his side. "Fury. Do we know who's attacking?"
Fury sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "Hill," he said into his comm, voice rough, "report."
There was a burst of static, then Hill's voice came through tense and fast. "Sir, we've got a breach. One of the engines took a hit. Unknown hostiles on board."
That was enough.
Steve didn't wait for further orders. "I'll deal with the intruders," he said, already moving toward the exit.
Fury nodded sharply. "Do it. And someone check on Loki. Last thing we need is him slipping his leash."
One level below, Natasha groaned as she pushed herself up, her ears ringing. Smoke drifted through the corridor, emergency lights flashing red. Debris was everywhere.
Her eyes snapped to Banner.
He was pinned under a chunk of collapsed ceiling, breathing hard, hands gripping the floor. His glasses were gone. His face was pale… and then it wasn't.
"Dr. Banner," Natasha said quickly, dropping into a crouch beside him, keeping her voice steady. Calm. Controlled. "Hey. Look at me. Stay with me. You need to stay calm."
Banner's head jerked up. His eyes were already darkening.
"Get away," he snapped, panic bleeding through the words. "You need to get away—"
His muscles tensed. Skin stretched. The sound of bone shifting echoed in the narrow corridor.
Natasha didn't hesitate.
She turned and ran.
Behind her, the floor cracked as something massive tore free of the wreckage. A thunderous ROAR ripped through the level, shaking the walls and sending loose debris skittering across the floor.
Natasha sprinted down the corridor, heart pounding, knowing exactly what had just been unleashed.
Behind her, the Hulk was awake.
She brought her comm up to her ear, breathing hard but focused.
"Main level, this is Romanoff," she said sharply. "Banner's gone green."
A pause. Then she added, without sugarcoating it, "Hulk is loose on the lower decks. I repeat — Hulk is loose. Send backup immediately."
***
At the same time in Loki prison cell,
The glass cell slid open with a low mechanical hum.
Loki stepped out calmly, straightening his coat as if he'd been invited. His eyes flicked up and stopped.
Agent Coulson stood a few meters away, feet planted, both hands gripping a sleek, unfamiliar weapon humming with contained energy.
"Well," Coulson said evenly, the weapon charging with a rising whine, "you can just go back inside."
Loki smiled, slow and amused. "Do you truly believe that puny weapon frightens me?"
Coulson didn't flinch. "I don't know," he replied. "But I'm willing to find out."
Loki's smile widened—then vanished.
In a blur of green light, his body shimmered and vanished from where he stood.
Coulson's eyes widened just a fraction. Too late.
Loki reappeared behind him, a dagger already forming in his hand, arm drawing back for the kill—
THUD.
A hand clamped down hard on Loki's shoulder.
"Not happening."
The grip yanked Loki backward with sudden force, slamming him flat against the wall. The impact sent a sharp crack through the corridor as the panel behind him fractured and the lights flickered.
The dagger in his hand shattered into sparks before clattering uselessly to the floor.
Luke had appeared at the last possible second.
"Coulson," Luke said casually, not even looking at Loki at first, "you should really watch out more."
He finally glanced over.
Coulson, as usual, looked tired. Wrinkles showed more clearly than before, his bald head catching the eye, his posture a little slouched from long hours and constant pressure.
Too many hours. Too many crises.
Fury's most dependable agent didn't look like agent at all. He looked like a middle-aged man who never really got time off.
Coulson blinked. "Luke?"
Loki twisted his head just enough to see him, eyes sharp with recognition. "You," he said coldly. "You insignificant wretch."
He remembered Luke clearly. Anyone would. After all, humiliation like that wasn't something you forgot easily.
But this time, Loki didn't lash out.
He could feel the Helicarrier shudder beneath his feet, alarms screaming through the metal halls as the damage spread.
This was never about winning a fight.
It was about breaking the enemy's stronghold from the inside.
That was why he had surrendered in the first place.
And now—
His plan was almost complete.
Soon, the ship would fall out of the sky—and when it did, no one here would be in a position to stop what came next.
The Chitauri invasion.
Luke was a problem. Losing the scepter was inconvenient. But those were issues for later. Once Earth was under control, recovering it would be simple.
There was no reason to stay.
So Loki did what he always did best.
He vanished.
Green light flared for an instant, then faded. The corridor fell quiet except for alarms and distant explosions. Loki had already gone.
*****
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