The Quinjet flew fast and low, running through the clouds.
Inside, Clint Barton stood by the open rear ramp. The wind whipped past him, tearing at his vest, but his glowing blue eyes were fixed on the massive Helicarrier ahead. Without looking, he pulled an explosive arrow from his quiver, feeling the familiar weight and balance of the shaft. He nocked it and drew the string back to his cheek.
The port engine of the Helicarrier was the target. One arrow through the turbine housing, one explosion inside the fan assembly, and the carrier would start a slow descent it could not pull out of. Simple. Clean.
He fired.
The arrow sliced through the afternoon air, tracking perfectly toward its target.
But before the arrow could even cover half the distance, a blinding beam of concentrated repulsor light cut sharply across the sky.
The beam intercepted the arrow mid-air and blew it apart in a harmless flash. The minor shockwave scattered into the wind and was gone.
Iron Man dropped from the clouds, hovering between the Quinjet and the Helicarrier. The afternoon sun glinted harshly off his armor. Tony raised a glowing gauntlet, ready to take the jet apart piece by piece
Barton did not flinch at the sight of the armored Avenger. His soulless blue eyes looked directly at the metal suit. There was no frustration in his gaze, no anger at the missed shot. Just cold, mechanical calculation.
He gave a single, sharp hand signal.
Without a word, Barton and the six heavily armed tactical agents standing behind him simply stepped off the edge of the ramp. They plummeted silently into the dizzying drop, freefalling toward the sprawling deck of the Helicarrier below.
Tony immediately fired his thrusters, intending to dive right after them and pluck the compromised archer out of the sky. He was already calculating intercept angles when JARVIS cut in sharply.
"Sir, incoming!"
Tony barely had time to look back. The Quinjet had not been left empty. The remaining pilot had just fired two close-range air-to-air missiles straight at Iron Man.
Tony reacted purely on instinct. He threw both hands forward and fired his repulsors at point-blank range.
The resulting explosion was deafening. The shockwave slammed into the Mark X like a fist. The armor tumbled violently backward through the air, its stabilizers screaming in protest, the HUD flickering wildly as the suit fought desperately to right itself.
When the thick black smoke finally cleared, Tony fully expected the Quinjet to be turning around for another run.
It wasn't.
The pilot had instead dropped the nose completely. The Quinjet was in a steep, aggressive dive, accelerating rapidly directly toward the very same engine Barton had tried to shoot. If the explosive arrow had failed, Barton's team had clearly decided to use the entire jet as the arrow.
"Oh, come on," Tony grunted inside the helmet.
He hit the thrusters hard, breaking the sound barrier instantly with a loud, cracking sonic boom.
The red and gold suit tore through the sky, closing the distance in seconds. Tony caught up to the diving jet just as the massive engine blades filled the viewport. He didn't bother trying to slow the aircraft from the outside. He flew straight into the open rear hatch, boots hitting the metal deck hard.
He marched straight up to the cockpit, grabbed the brainwashed pilot by the back of his tactical vest, and threw him unceremoniously out of the seat with a quick stun blast for good measure.
Tony dropped heavily into the pilot's chair, grabbed the controls, and pulled back as hard as he could.
The Quinjet groaned, its metal frame screaming under the immense G-force. For a terrifying second, the massive, spinning blades of the Helicarrier engine scraped against the underbelly of the jet, shedding a shower of bright sparks.
Then, the nose lifted. The jet pulled out of the suicidal dive, skimming safely over the top of the engine housing and soaring back up into the open sky.
Tony exhaled a heavy breath, leveling the aircraft. Crisis over. Carrier intact.
He keyed his comms.
"Fury," Tony breathed. "The jet is secure. But Agent Barton and his squad base-jumped onto the main deck before I could intercept."
"Tactical teams are already on it," Fury replied grimly over the static. "Agent Romanoff is moving to intercept Barton. Bring that jet in, Stark."
—
On the Helicarrier's windy outer walkways, bathed in harsh daylight, Natasha found her old partner.
He was alone. The rest of his strike team had successfully scattered into the ship's interior toward their assigned sabotage targets.
Moving in total, practiced silence, Natasha dropped lightly from a ventilation shaft onto the metal catwalk right behind him.
Even brainwashed, Barton's instincts were razor-sharp. He spun around, an arrow drawn and aimed dead at her chest in the blink of an eye.
"Clint," she said softly.
His blue eyes stared right through her. There was absolutely no recognition. No memory of impossible missions together, or the countless times they had saved each other's lives in the line of duty.
He fired.
—
Deep inside the Helicarrier, Thor sprinted down the narrow metal corridors.
Alarms were blaring throughout the ship, bathing the halls in pulsing red light, but the God of Thunder ignored them. His only focus was the detention level. He gripped Mjolnir tightly, his eyes fierce with determination. He had let his brother slip away too many times.
He burst through the heavy blast doors into the massive detention block and stopped dead in his tracks.
The thick glass door to the containment cage was wide open. The glowing golden runes that the Unspeakables had painstakingly carved into the glass were flickering weakly, completely useless. Loki was casually stepping out of the cell, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"No!" Thor roared.
Thor did not hesitate. He lowered his shoulder and launched himself across the room at full speed. He would drive his brother through the reinforced glass, pin him to the floor, and end this before it escalated further.
He braced for the heavy, satisfying impact.
He hit absolutely nothing.
Thor passed straight through Loki's body. The image of the God of Mischief dissolved instantly into a cloud of faint, mocking green mist.
An illusion.
Thor stumbled forward, off-balance, his momentum carrying him directly into the center of the glass cage.
Behind him, the heavy glass doors slammed shut with a sharp, hissing lock.
Thor spun around, raising his hammer.
The real Loki was standing casually at the main control console on the observation platform. He was looking down at his trapped brother with a smile of pure, venomous delight.
"How many times, brother?" he asked softly, shaking his head in mock pity. "How many centuries must pass before you finally learn to look before you leap?"
Thor slammed Mjolnir violently against the glass. The impact was deafening, but the reinforced glass surprisingly did not crack. The cage had been built to hold the Hulk; it looked unbreakable from the inside.
Loki watched his brother struggle, his smile widening into a grin.
"The Director was so incredibly confident that this cage could stop an Asgardian god," Loki noted, his fingers resting lightly over the console. He tilted his head. "Prove him wrong for me, brother. You have about thirty seconds."
"Loki, do not do this!" Thor shouted, slamming his fists against the glass.
"Goodbye," Loki said smoothly.
He pushed the large, ominous red button.
The floor beneath the cage dilated open with a grinding mechanical roar. The howling winds rushed up into the room, flooding the chamber with blinding daylight.
The heavy steel clamps released simultaneously. The massive cage dropped like a stone, plunging straight down into the open abyss, thirty thousand feet toward the churning ocean below.
—
Meanwhile, in the lab, Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner were waiting.
They had heard the alarms start blaring. They knew the ship was under attack. But Fury's strict orders had been to hold their position and guard the Scepter until given a specific tactical assignment. So they stood there and waited for any news. Any development that needed them. Anything.
But nothing came. The comms remained dead silent.
Then, suddenly, the laboratory doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Loki calmly walked through them.
He was not rushing. He looked completely unbothered by the alarms ringing throughout the ship. He stepped elegantly into the lab, his green eyes sweeping over Steve and Banner.
"Interesting," Loki said softly, sounding genuinely surprised. "I had fully expected the Scepter's ambient influence alone to be enough to drive your beast into a mindless frenzy. I expected him to tear this vessel apart from the inside out." He looked closely at Banner. "But it would appear someone has successfully domesticated the monster. How terribly disappointing."
Steve did not hesitate. He raised his shield and rushed straight at Loki.
He swung the heavy edge of the vibranium disc in a lethal arc aimed at the god's head. But just like with Thor, Steve crashed through green mist and hit the far wall with a heavy thud.
Another illusion.
Bruce realized it first. Loki didn't care about them; he wanted his weapon back.
"Hulk," Bruce whispered urgently. "It's your time."
The transformation was explosive. In two seconds, Bruce Banner was gone, and the Hulk roared into the laboratory, his massive green frame bursting through the colorful fabric of his suit.
Hulk lunged toward the center of the room just as the real Loki materialized directly in front of the containment cradle. Loki reached for the Scepter, but the massive green hands were already coming down to crush him.
But, Loki twisted sideways with serpentine grace, and the Hulk's massive frame barrelled through the space where the god had been standing. The cradle took the impact instead. It crumpled like tin foil.
But the Scepter was already in motion.
Loki extended one hand. The golden weapon lifted smoothly from the wreckage and flew directly to his outstretched fingers.
The Hulk turned, his green eyes burning with raw rage.
"The beast is angry," Loki observed smoothly. "And you are indeed incredibly powerful. Let us direct that anger at something other than me, then."
Hulk roared and charged again.
Loki did not dodge this time. He vanished in a small, blinding pulse of the Scepter's blue light and instantly reappeared directly in front of the charging Hulk.
It happened far too fast for Steve to intervene. It happened too fast for Hulk to stop his own massive momentum.
Before Hulk could swing his massive fists, Loki brought the Scepter up. The glowing blue tip of the blade touched Hulk directly in the center of his massive green chest, right over his heart.
Cosmic energy flared.
Hulk's massive frame went completely, horrifyingly rigid. His furious roar died in his throat. His enormous muscles locked tight.
His eyes flickered. Green to blue. Green to blue.
Hulk fought. For three long seconds, the creature's primal fury pushed back against the Mind Stone's absolute command. The blue flickered. The green surged. His fist trembled in the air, straining to finish the swing that would have ended all of this.
Loki held the Scepter steady. He poured more power through the connection. The gem blazed until its light filled the entire lab.
Steve watched in mounting horror as Hulk's angry, flickering eyes settled permanently into a terrible, empty, glowing icy blue.
Loki smiled in deep satisfaction and stepped gracefully aside.
The massive green giant turned slowly toward Steve. The transformation was complete. There was absolutely nothing behind those glowing blue eyes. No trace of Bruce Banner. No familiar restraint.
Just a mind-controlled monster, waiting for an order to kill.