The desert night in New Mexico was quiet, save for the low howl of the wind rolling across the empty plains. In that silence, something extraordinary had fallen from the heavens: a hammer. Not just any hammer, but one that radiated an aura of weight and mystery, its presence alone enough to make it seem out of place against the barren sand.
To the locals, it appeared as nothing more than a strange object. But the moment they tried to lift it and found it immovable, whispers began spreading. Very quickly, those whispers grew into reports that reached the ears of two powerful forces: S.H.I.E.L.D. and the United States military.
Both sides understood immediately that this was no ordinary incident. This was an anomaly an event far beyond the ordinary jurisdiction of law enforcement or scientists. Whoever reached it first would control not just the hammer, but the secrets it carried.
Agent Phil Coulson, representing S.H.I.E.L.D., was already on the move with a team of field agents. Their destination: the crash site in New Mexico.
At the same time, General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, who had been leading his elite Hulkbuster squad in the region, also received the news. Though his mission had been to track the Hulk, he recognized that this mysterious hammer could not be ignored.
"A hammer?" Ross muttered when the report first came in, his tone sharp and skeptical. Yet there was no mistaking his intent. "Mobilize the Hulkbuster unit. We're heading to New Mexico immediately. This time, S.H.I.E.L.D. will not beat us to the prize."
The Hulkbuster unit quickly rolled out, a column of armored vehicles cutting through the desert. They were the military's ace card, a force trained not only to handle the Hulk but also any unnatural phenomena the world might throw their way.
But despite their speed, they were slower than S.H.I.E.L.D. By the time General Ross's forces arrived at the crash site, Coulson and his men had already secured the area and pitched a temporary base camp.
Coulson stood near the hammer, his eyes filled with curiosity. The weapon was simple in appearance small, even but something about it radiated immense power.
"So this is it?" he asked quietly.
Nearby, Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye, nodded. His face was serious. "We've already tried everything. Six or seven men put their strength together, and it didn't budge an inch. It's like the thing is fused with the ground itself."
Coulson knelt by the hammer. The scientific team had already scanned it for potential hazards: radiation, toxins, pathogens. Nothing dangerous had been detected. For that reason, Coulson felt confident enough to attempt it himself.
He licked his lips, gripped the handle firmly with both hands, and exhaled. "All right. Let's see what you're hiding."
Muscles tensed, his face turned red with effort, but the hammer didn't move not even a millimeter. It was as if it had grown roots deep into the Earth.
Panting, Coulson stood and glanced at Barton, who was watching him with a faint smirk. Refusing to give up, Coulson tried again, pulling with everything he had. The result was no different.
"Not even close," he muttered, straightening his suit jacket with a sigh. "All right, I'll admit it. This thing is… strange."
Before he could examine it further, a young agent ran into the camp, visibly shaken. "Agent Coulson! The military's here!"
Coulson's brows knit together. Of course. Wherever there was something unusual, the military was never far behind.
"Let's meet them," he said calmly.
When Coulson and his agents stepped outside, they were met with the sight of an imposing force. Dozens of soldiers had fanned out in formation, supported by heavy machinery. At the front stood rows of SAR-1 combat robots, their red optics glowing in the dark. Behind them lumbered several T-800 units, each one outfitted with rotary Gatling cannons locked and ready.
Coulson's face grew serious. He raised his voice, projecting authority. "I am Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. This site falls under the jurisdiction of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Crisis Division. We will handle this incident. Please stand down."
But before he could finish, a colonel from Ross's Hulkbuster squad stepped forward and cut him off. His expression was cold, his voice laced with disdain.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.? What proof do you have that you're authorized to be here? We received no such orders. Until we see a directive from our chain of command, you're nothing more than interlopers. And we don't yield to strangers."
He gestured sharply, and the SAR-1 units began marching forward, their servos humming ominously. The T-800s raised their mechanical arms, their massive weapons trained directly on Coulson and his agents.
"Are you insane?" Coulson snapped, his composure cracking. "You're pointing live weapons at us! Tell me who your commanding officer is. I'll speak to him directly!"
The colonel sneered. "Our commander is General Ross. If you have an issue, tell your director to call him. Until then, step aside. The military is taking control of this site."
Though Ross himself remained out of sight, his presence was unmistakable. His disdain for S.H.I.E.L.D. was well known. In his eyes, soldiers answered to governments and nations, not to an independent agency that operated above borders and laws. This was his chance to put S.H.I.E.L.D. in their place.
Coulson clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated, but he remained calm. Years of experience had taught him patience.
Barton, however, was less restrained. He glared at the colonel and muttered to Coulson, "We got here first. This is our operation. If we walk away, they'll seize the hammer and lock it down. That can't happen."
"What are you suggesting?" Coulson asked quietly.
Barton's eyes flicked toward the robots. "It's just them. Just a bunch of tin cans. If it comes down to it, we can hold the line."
Coulson thought it over. In truth, this wasn't the first standoff between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military. He finally gave a small nod. "Fine. We wait. Let Fury and Ross fight it out at their level. Until then, we stand our ground."
As if in response to their decision, more of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s "Fail" series combat drones emerged from the camp, forming their own wall of steel and circuits.
The military colonel frowned but said nothing. He gestured for his men to pull back slightly, leaving the two sides glaring at one another across the desert floor, two mechanical armies locked in silent defiance.
Coulson wasted no time. He contacted Director Nick Fury directly, reporting the situation. On the other end, Fury pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. Ross again. Always Ross.
Even so, negotiations had to happen. Fury placed the call.
Ross's voice thundered over the line, full of contempt. "Your agents have no business here. You've overstepped for the last time!"
But before Fury could argue back, chaos erupted.
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. camp, one of the agents monitoring the Fail drone consoles suddenly noticed a flicker across his screen. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then looked again. The flicker returned.
"Agent Coulson!" he shouted, his voice urgent. "Unit 31's control feed is unstable!"
Coulson rushed to the console, his heart sinking when he saw the erratic code scrolling across the display. Something was wrong.
"Shut it down immediately!" he ordered. "I knew these Hammer Industries knockoffs couldn't be trusted!"
Before his words could be carried out, the drone fired.
The staccato roar of gunfire tore through the night, muzzle flashes lighting up the camp. The Fail drone had opened fire unprovoked, unauthorized, and aimed directly at the military's side.
Coulson froze, his stomach dropping. "Did… did we just fire?"
Barton's eyes widened. Agents around them stood in stunned silence. Then realization sank in like a blade.
They had pulled the trigger first.
"Damn it!" Coulson cursed, his voice raw with frustration.
Across the line, Ross's officers reported the attack. One of his SAR-1 units had taken damage. Ross himself didn't hesitate.
"They fired first? Then retaliate! All units, engage!"
The desert erupted.
Fury, listening to the sudden cut of the line, could only stare in disbelief. His jaw tightened, his face darkening. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been framed or worse, compromised.
"Who fired that shot?" Fury growled to no one in particular. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him. A single bullet had just sparked open conflict between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the United States military.
And the hammer, the cause of it all, sat silently in the desert sand.
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