From the helicopter, Nick Fury fired repeatedly at the SUV Barton was driving.
But a handgun's reach and precision were limited—Barton slipped away unharmed.
A flash of blue—
Loki fired from the trunk.
The energy bolt struck the helicopter's wing, sending it spiraling downward.
At the last possible second, Fury leapt out and hit the ground hard, surviving by instinct and timing alone.
But by the time he aimed again, Barton's vehicle was already a distant shadow.
The Tesseract was gone—taken by Loki.
---
Out at Sea
Meanwhile, far from the chaos, Karl and the others were enjoying a lavish seafood feast.
He and Tony had spent the entire afternoon fishing, yet somehow pulled up nothing but a handful of tiny octopuses and a half-grown sea turtle.
Not a single decent fish.
Karl seriously wondered if he was cursed by misfortune—
even a beginner could catch something in open ocean… right?
Especially when they had watched entire schools of fish swim beneath the boat all afternoon.
The sea turtle was spared thanks to Pepper.
Everything else went into the pot—chef-prepared, flown in by helicopter at Tony's request.
After the feast, everyone retired to their own cabins—the yacht was large enough that each person could sleep comfortably in their own room.
Karl, however, remained on the open-air lounge at the top deck.
Drink in hand, he stared into the dark expanse of the sea.
The water was a sheet of obsidian, perfectly mirroring the star-sprinkled heavens above.
Away from city lights, the night sky revealed itself in full glory.
To Karl, it felt as though the world had shrunk to only two things—
him, and the dazzling ocean of stars overhead.
The Milky Way stretched like silver silk across the heavens.
Moonlight mingled with starlight, washing over him in a pale, ethereal glow.
He lay back, letting the sea breeze roll over him, reaching toward the stars as if he could pluck them from the sky.
Tony stepped onto the deck.
Seeing Karl motionless, gazing upward, he followed his eyes—
and froze.
He had never truly looked at the night sky.
His days were consumed by research and playboy distractions; his nights drowned in neon and city smog.
Who in the modern world still looked up?
People bowed their heads for work, for money, for survival.
In the bright, polluted cityscape, the color of the sky had become a forgotten luxury.
Blue, people said, symbolized melancholy.
But the blue of the sky and sea—
that was the color of healing.
Neither man spoke.
Neither wished to break the fragile, perfect stillness.
Two figures beneath the vast Milky Way.
Two witnesses to a moment of quiet beauty.
---
Under the Same Sky, Elsewhere
"Coulson, alert all personnel.
Return to base immediately.
This is a Level Zero event," Fury ordered, voice cold and unyielding.
The Tesseract's power could annihilate humanity.
Fury knew that better than anyone.
"From this moment on," he said, staring up at the very same stars Karl and Tony admired,
"we are at war."
Coulson and Hill exchanged grave looks.
"Sir, what's our next move?" Coulson asked.
Fury didn't answer.
Different hearts under the same night sky see different worlds.
---
The Next Morning
Karl and Tony didn't get up until the yacht docked—
and even then, only because they were shaken awake.
They hadn't gone to bed until dawn.
After stargazing, they stayed to watch the sunrise over the ocean—
the horizon erupting in gold, washing both men in warm light, leaving them refreshed and strangely uplifted.
Pepper, knowing Tony hadn't come back to their cabin the night before, put the pieces together quickly.
After breakfast and some water-play, she captained the yacht back to the villa's private port.
Karl and Tony were unusually energetic despite little sleep—
as if that sunrise had cleansed their spirits.
---
Elsewhere: A Hostage Situation
Inside an abandoned factory, several large men surrounded a woman tied to a chair.
Scarlet-orange hair.
Black evening dress.
Long legs sheathed in black stockings.
Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow.
The silver-haired general questioning her looked pleased as she rattled off bits of intel in feigned panic, just enough to keep herself alive.
She was buying time.
"Impressive. The Red Room truly knows how to train its girls,"
the general chuckled.
"But in the end, just a pretty vase. Caught so easily."
He turned toward a rack of torture tools.
"Enough talk. Send the Black Widow on her way."
Before he could choose, a phone rang sharply.
The guards froze.
One reached into his pocket—an unknown number.
He answered.
A deep voice spoke calmly:
"Listen carefully.
There's a fighter jet not far from your location.
Give the phone to Black Widow—
or that jet will erase the entire facility you're standing in."
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