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◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones. or 500 Collections
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Wade tumbled and crawled, trying to hug him.
"Scram!"
Anthony sidestepped in disgust and kicked.
"Bang!"
Wade flew off like a red rubber ball and landed squarely inside a still-smoldering trash can.
"Ahhh—! My butt's on fire! Oh—my poor buddy!!"
Right then, learning of Homelander's return, the media went crazy and burst through the distant cordon.
"Charge!!"
Reporters from every outlet and streamers with phones poured into Times Square.
Cameras of every size locked onto the heroes in the rubble.
Flashes lit up the night like broad daylight.
"Mr. Stark! What was that black monster just now?!"
"Captain! Captain! Over here! What do you think about this Earth crisis?!"
"Deadpool—could you put on some pants?!"
Facing the lenses, the trainees who'd been sprawled on the ground suddenly sprang up, straightened their backs, and struck their coolest poses.
Ashley had drilled this basic Vought-hero etiquette into them.
Yet when the cameras centered on Anthony, the place fell silent.
He stood spotless, cape fluttering, a Stark contrast to the surrounding wreckage.
Every microphone reached toward him.
"Homelander! You destroyed the alien fighter and took out the alien leader—you saved the World again!"
"What would you like to say about this crisis?"
"Wait, I have something to say."
A steady voice cut off the reporters.
Under everyone's gaze, Steve Rogers slowly stood.
His uniform was torn and scarred, but no one matched his aura of leadership.
He walked up to Anthony and, before countless cameras, extended his hand.
"I want to thank you, Homelander."
Steve's tone was solemn; partly for show, yet knowing Anthony, he meant it as repayment.
"Without your plan, without the courage and confidence you gave these kids, we couldn't have won today."
"You saved this city." Steve looked into Anthony's eyes.
"You're a hero."
"Click—!!!"
The moment was frozen.
The Avengers' spiritual leader saluting Vought International's leader.
More than a handshake—it felt like a passing of eras.
Anthony gripped Steve's hand, humility and gratitude on his face.
"No, Captain."
He turned to face the trainee heroes watching him.
"Look at that monster." Anthony pointed at the pulp, voice low and powerful.
"An enemy even gods couldn't defeat. Yet you mortals tore it to pieces."
"That's the Beast inside you—the fury that protects your home."
"The courage to charge knowing you might die!"
"You..." Anthony swept his gaze across them, "...are the real heroes."
"Wham—!!!"
Thunderous applause.
System prompts flooded Anthony's mind.
"Ding! Special popularity +8000! (From Steve Rogers)"
"Ding! Special popularity +6000! (From Tony Stark)"
"Ding! Special popularity +5000! (From Pietro Maximoff)"
"Ding! Special popularity +5000! (From Angela Taylor)"
"Ding! Special popularity +2000! (From Wade Wilson)"
"Ding! Special popularity..."
Anthony watched the numbers dance across his panel, especially the final tally:
"Current special popularity: 98,500"
Excitement he couldn't hide curved his lips.
"Beep-doo—beep-doo—"
An ambulance siren—late by a whole century—finally sounded.
"Get me a private ward! With a Nurse—a pretty Nurse!"
"Don't touch my face—I'm going on TV!"
Amid the chaos and banter, the heroes who'd just saved Earth were loaded into ambulances like rowdy high-schoolers after a brawl...
High above, an invisible ship quietly slipped away.
Dark Elf mothership.
Silence on the bridge; the few hundred remaining Dark Elves stared blankly at the holographic replay.
Their invincible leader Malekith tossed into a volcano and turned to ash, their mightiest warrior Algrim beaten into mincemeat by Midgardians.
Faith crumbled.
Fear spread.
"We're... finished." A lieutenant sank to his knees in despair.
"The Aether Particle is gone, His Majesty is dead... we're the last ghosts of the Dark World."
"Who says we're finished?"
An elegant voice drifted from above the command dais.
The elves jerked their heads up.
A man in dark-green battle robes and a gilded horned helm lounged on Malekith's former throne, toying with a delicate dagger, a cryptic smile on his lips.
"It's that Asgardian!"
"Kill him!"
Several Dark Elves surged forward.
"Wait." Loki lifted a hand; the alien warriors reflexively froze.
"Kill me—then what?"
Loki rose and slowly descended the steps, meeting each Dark Elf's gaze.
"Drift through the cosmos while Asgard's armies hunt you? Or stay exiled forever in this frozen Universe, with nowhere to call home?"
The elves exchanged glances.
"You've lost your leader, lost your way." Loki's voice brimmed with persuasion.
"You're nothing but lost lambs."
"And I..."
Loki spread his arms, impassioned.
"...can give you a new direction."
"I can take you somewhere Asgard can't reach, where we'll rebuild our glory and take revenge on those self-righteous gods."
"Think: Malekith is dead, but he left you this ship, this army."
"All you need is a new... king."
Loki tapped his temple, smiling like a devil.
"A mind smarter than Malekith's, one that knows how to survive in this brutal Universe."
"This vessel..." Loki caressed the cold console, "...can do so very much."
The Dark Elves fell silent.
Survival instinct spoke.
Seconds later, the first elf lowered his weapon and knelt.
A second followed, then a third—until all knelt before Loki.
Loki watched, his grin widening.
"Excellent."
He settled back onto the command throne, eyes on the star-filled void.
"Set sail."
...