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Aftermath – Part II Six hours after the Massacre

'I saw A Twelve Step Program to Omnipotence and frankly I thought it did pretty much everything wrong with an SI story. So I decided to do it better. So I decided to do it better. And yes, this is still going to be a power fantasy wank fest - it will just be one that doesn't require absurd ass pull 'luck' to work'.

So I’ve read the SI fanfic called The Spider and the 12 steps to omnipotence and I am looking for any Star Wars or Marvel SIs or OCs about someone from earth or of an AU. Same for any PJO ones that are not Percabeth thank you!! (Mainly male oc or si thank you!!). I think you understated things with those 3 fics, I don't remember much of WTR to comment but 12 steps is crap (gems of infinite potential is much better: I saw A Twelve Step Program to Omnipotence and frankly I thought it did pretty much everything wrong with an SI story. So I decided to do it better.

Six hours after the Massacre

Straightening her skirt out of habit, Peggy Carter raised her fist (for the first time in decennia without any wrinkles, something she was still getting used to) and knocked on the door of the hotel room in which the most infamous CEO in the world had currently moved in.

She only had to wait for a moment, before a deep rumbling voice called out to her from within the room.

'Enter!'

Turning the handle, Peggy opened the door, before slowly allowing it to fall closed behind her. However, at the very last moment, she hooked her toes around the edge of the door, keeping it from falling completely into the lock.

Almost immediately, she felt the weight of the door lessen, and let go, the door remaining in place, from a distance appearing to be closed.

This all took all of a second, and then Peggy was striding through the hallway, as if nothing had happened, and most people wouldn't even have noticed that anything had.

'Mr. McCole?'

'In here!'

Following the sound of his voice, Peggy walked into the living room, seeing the enormous CEO stretched out on the couch in front of the TV.

Wearing a fluffy white bathrobe.

For a moment, the sheer surrealism of what she was seeing made her pause, as she tried to reconcile the image of the flaming demon that had been dominating the news all day with the man who was just lying there, fluffy slippers on his feet.

Without looking away from the TV, McCole spoke up, his voice tired but calm.

'Hello, Mrs. Carter. I hadn't expected to meet you again so soon. What can I do for you?'

Shaking herself from her confusion, Peggy crossed her arms in front of her chest, her lips pressing together to form a stern line.

'What are you doing, Mr. McCole? For that matter, what are you wearing?'

Giving a deep sigh, McCole turned his head towards her, pushing himself up until he was resting on his elbows.

'Well, what I'm doing is trying to relax a bit before I try to go and get my three hours of sleep. As you can imagine, after the day that I've had, I'm feeling exhausted. What I'm wearing is a custom tailored bathrobe generously provided by the hotel. You saw what happened on the news. I felt like having a shower, and this thing is surprisingly comfortable.'

Shaking her head at the man, Peggy's lips thinned even further as she fixed him with a severe look.

'So you're just going to lie there, watching Friends reruns?! Do you even know what's going on out there?!'

McCole's brow furrowed as she saw irritation rise in the giant man, though he didn't get off the couch.

'Presumably, everybody's calling me a monster and menace, something to tell their children to be afraid of. Everybody and their mother is holding debates on just what needs to be done to me, because I scare them. Considering the day I've had, I don't particularly feel like listening to all that crap, hence the Friends reruns.'

'Well, if you had been keeping an eye on the news, then you'd have known that people aren't just talking about you and your dinosaur anymore.' Peggy said primly, drawing a confused look from McCole.

'Really? Huh. Not to sound vain or anything, but I'd kinda expected for me and Susan to remain news for a couple of weeks at least.' The giant mused, and sounding just vaguely disappointed.

'Of course does he name the firebreathing dinosaur Susan of all things. Why am I not surprised?'

Not letting her thoughts show on her face, Peggy gave the man a curt nod.

'The gangs of New York, equipped with heavy futuristic weaponry and shooting up everything in sight, will tend to do that. But even that pales in comparison to six high-profile assassinations throughout various branches of the government Especially considering their rather… bloody common theme.'

That got his attention.

Sitting up fully on the couch, McCole fixed her with a heavy look, the glow in his eyes increasing in intensity.

'There were other assassination attempts?' he asked, getting another nod from Peggy.

'Not including the attack on Jeri Hogarth, there have been six assassination attempts, all of them on high-profile targets within the U.S. Government, all of them completed successfully, and all of them carried out in the same manner.'

'What happened?' McCole asked as he stood up straight, his face set in a serious expression (which was somewhat ruined by the fluffy bathrobe, which Peggy noticed didn't quite reach the giant's knees).

'At one pm today, Senator Stern was last seen alive when he entered his office. At one-thirty pm, his secretary entered after repeatedly calling out to him, having received no response. He was found still sitting behind his desk… beheaded.'

She saw Michael's eyes widen in surprise as she continued.

'Throughout the day, five more people had been found, three of them at their desks, one of them in the bathroom, and one of them at home. They were either Senators like Stern, or were attached to various branches of the military. All of them beheaded as well.'

'Jezus.' Michael said softly as he clasped his hands behind his back, walking over to the full-length windows of his room which offered a magnificent view of night-time New York.

'Are there any theories surrounding the murders? Any suspects, or motives, or anything like that?'

Moving over to the couch, Peggy sat primly on one of the armrests as she answered.

'See, that's the thing. Each individual had their own enemies, that much is true. But there's not a single person that they shared animosity with. A further look into the deceased's personal lives provided evidence that two of them had social circles that didn't even came into contact with the other ones. Meaning that there's no motive for killing all six of them on the same day, and thus, there aren't any obvious suspects.'

McCole was nodding along, before he suddenly stopped, half-turning towards her with a confused expression on his face.

'Wait. How do you know about all this? Just this morning you were stuck in a retirement home.'

Rolling her eyes, Peggy smirked at the giant man.

'Like I said. The news. You really should pay more attention to it sometime, very informative at times. Well, that and what Fury was willing to tell me about it.'

'You spoke to Fury already? For a ninety-year old lady, you sure do move fast, Mrs. Carter.' McCole asked as he turned to gaze out the windows again, with far less heat than she had expected from the man, considering the conversation he and Fury had had today.

'Well, when a ninety year old ex-Agent and former founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up looking younger than he does, he's going to have a couple of questions anyways, so I thought it best to get it all sorted out as soon as possible. Had my debriefing, got my former rank back and was ordered to take on an assistant who could put together a database for me on all the things that I need catching up on. Sharon was all too happy to say yes when I asked her for the job.'

'I can imagine.' McCole said with a small chuckle, before she saw his burning eyes shift in the windows, looking straight at her through his reflection.

'You're being awfully openhearted about what's going on inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'

'I haven't told you anything classified, now have I? After all, the most exciting thing currently happening there is the investigation into these murders, and the gossip going on about me.' Peggy explained with a shrug and a smirk.

Honestly, her return had been a bit underwhelming. The people at the top, those old enough to have been rookies in S.H.I.E.L.D. when she had still been running things, they had reacted with the appropriate amount of shock upon her return (she was pretty sure she had given Pierce a heart-attack).

But for the rest of the people she had met, those she had crossed in hallways?

Nobody recognized her. She looked familiar of course, as the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. she was sure there were still a few pictures of her around, somewhere. Combined with the fact that she had been one of Captain America's closest companions, like an honorary Howling Commando, and she had gotten more than a couple of curious looks of vague recognition, people clearly wondering just why she looked familiar to them.

But there was nobody who immediately recognized her, simply because most of the people that would have were already dead. She was the last of her generation, and it was only once she had been de-aged and healed that she truly understood what it meant to live the longest.

It just mean that the rest died first.

'So, why are you here then, Mrs. Carter? Not just to tell me that both the attack on Titan Solutions and Jeri Hogarth apparently weren't isolated incidents, I'm sure.' McCole said, snapping her from her musings as the tone in the room suddenly turned a lot sharper.

Standing up from the armrest, Peggy uncrossed her arm, clasping her hands behind her back instead (with her thumb slowly moving over the grip of the handgun she had tucked in the back of her belt, hidden underneath her jacket).

'Precisely because those attacks weren't isolated. Except for the fact that they do not fit at all with the other attacks. Titan Solutions was the only location targeted so heavily by the gangs, and it is the only reported instance of multiple gangs working together in this whole wave of violence.' She said curtly, getting only a slow, considering nod in response.

'Well, I did help out law enforcement quite a lot with the Amber Armor. Maybe they were just really pissed off at me?' McCole said blithely, appearing completely unbothered by the tense spy standing not even ten feet away from him.

Then again, this was a man who had taken an entire barrage of high-powered weaponfire to the chest, and shrugged it off.

'Even then, the assassination attempt on Jeri Hogarth doesn't fit with the other assassinations.' Peggy forged on.

'She did say that her attacker was very insistent on trying to cut her head off. So it does fit with the general theme of the other attempts. It just didn't take with her, that's all.' McCole said with a raised eyebrow.

'True enough. I'm not saying that the way an attempt was made on Mrs. Hogarth's life doesn't fit in with the other assassinations. I'm saying that the attempt itself doesn't fit at all.' Peggy said with her chin raised high, not giving an inch when McCole slowly turned around, a flat expression on his face, though his eyes were glowing very brightly now.

'What are you trying to say, Mrs. Carter?' the giant asked in a low, deep voice, but Peggy didn't hesitate in answering nonetheless.

'The other six all had functions within the U.S. Government, or one of its military branches. Jeri Hogarth is a lawyer. A good one, to be sure, but she doesn't hold the same function as the others did. Which brings us right back around to suspects and motives.'

'How so?' McCole asked, but his eyes hadn't left hers for a second, and when the behemoth took a step forwards, she automatically took one backwards.

'What do these seven persons have in common? Which enemies do they share? Why were they beheaded, and who has the skills to pull it off in broad daylight, at seven different locations? Just like the rest of the world, I couldn't find the answer, until I thought back to what you said before you healed me. 'An ancient enemy', is what you told me.'

'What exactly are you trying to get at, Mrs. Carter?' McCole asked, once again taking a step forwards, and once again she took one backwards as well.

'I'm trying to get at nothing. I'm just wondering something.' Peggy said, her voice still calm, even as adrenaline began to sing in her veins in preparation of a fight.

'Wondering, what?'

'Am I looking at one of the ancient enemy right now?'

For a moment, silence fell across the room as McCole froze in his tracks. Peggy's fingers creeped ever so slowly around the handle of her hidden gun. She knew that it wouldn't do much, if anything at all, against the behemoth in front of her, but she bet she could buy herself some time if she shot him in the eye-

'Heh. Heheh. Haha! HAHAHA!'

Peggy's musings were rudely broken when McCole tilted his head back, letting out great bellows of laughter, which only served to make her even more nervous.

'W-Wait a second… hehe, you think, haha, you think that I am Hydra?!' McCole said with wheezing laughs as he straightened to look at her with mirth in his glowing eyes.

'Seven people were targeted, six of which were successfully beheaded. It's clearly meant as a message, a provocation. And one of those seven, is a woman who works for you, the CEO of a company which was the sole target of an attack coordinated by multiple gangs using advanced weaponry. Clearly, someone wants to hurt you and people they think are affiliated with you. Taking into consideration that you just so happened to warn me of an organization famous for having beheading in their motto, and yes, the thought has crossed my mind.' Peggy explained, her voice as strong as steel, despite the fact that McCole's reaction was making her slightly nervous.

'Is that why you have Captain America waiting behind the door?'

Peggy's blood turned into ice in her veins, and she couldn't quite keep her eyes from widening in shock.

'I don't know-'

'C'mon now, Mrs. Carter. One of the greatest spies in history, who doesn't properly close the door behind her when she's about to confront a target? It was only to be expected that you would seek him out as soon as you were able to. I wonder, did you find him by using the address that I gave you, or did you ask someone in S.H.I.E.L.D.?' McCole asked her with an enormous grin.

For a moment, Peggy just looked at the man in surprise, before her lips pressed together as she narrowed her eyes at the men, calling over her shoulder.

'It's alright Steve. Come in.'

She heard the door open and soft footsteps quickly striding through the hall, before they came to a halt a couple of feet behind her to her left. Even now, just knowing that he was right there, just like her not a day older than when he went under the ice… it was sending lightning through her nerves, a tingling feeling that spread to every part of her body.

She resolutely kept her eyes on McCole, afraid of losing her self-control (again) if she were to look at the man who she had loved and mourned for the better part of a century.

When she had tracked him down to that gym that McCole had written on the back of his business card, she had caught him in the middle of a workout. For a few long moments, she just stared at the man who she thought she'd lost forever.

When he turned around and saw her, he had frozen in place, and all he said was a small 'wow', followed by 'I guess I died after all'. She had slowly approached him, drinking in every inch of him, just like he was doing to her. Then, as if afraid that it would turn out to all be a bittersweet dream, she had softly laid a hand on his chest, a brilliant smile coming to her face when she felt solid skin underneath her hand.

She had swallowed a few times as she looked up into his shocked, perfectly blue eyes, before she smiled sadly at him.

'I know I'm seventy years too late. But I was wondering… do you still want to have that dance with me?'

For the following four and a half hours, there had been a mix of tears, laughs, her telling him her life story, and how the world had changed, and of course, a lot of enthusiastic… dancing.

Though as she reminisced on what was probably the happiest day of her life, McCole's knowing grin made her consider just looking at neither man at all, instead contemplating if staring at the floor would be too out of place.

'Hello there, Captain. It's truly an honour to meet you. You've probably heard this a lot by now, but I grew up with tales about you. We used to play 'punch out Hitler' in the schoolyard you know.' McCole said to Steve, his smirk turning into a genuine smile as he walked forwards, his slippers making barely making any sound as the man extended his hand.

'Ah. Yes, yes I have. It's… a bit getting used to, I suppose.' Steve said in that ever-polite voice, and before she even knew it, she had turned in order to look at him.

Steve had always been the picture of physicality, while still having a natural look to him, as if he was just born as the absolute peak of humanity. But shaking hands with the enormous McCole… Peggy was starkly reminded of the tiny little man who she shared a car ride with, as he twiddled his thumbs and shyly admitted that he hadn't had much success with 'dames'.

But even then, Steve had never shied away from those that were bigger than him (which had been basically everybody) and he shook the giant's hand without a second of hesitation, powerful muscles shifting underneath the plaid button shirt that he wore.

'God, it's like he just stepped out of a picture.' Peggy thought, before she managed to recollect herself.

Adjusting to her vastly younger (and more active) body was still a work in progress, after all.

'Now, Mrs. Carter. Why would I be Hydra? I healed you. I gave you the Captain's contact information. I warned you about Hydra. What exactly about that screams 'Neo-Nazi' to you, I wonder?' McCole asked with a smile as he looked towards her, hands stuffed in his ridiculous fluffy bathrobe.

'Well, Hydra mainly consists out of cells, which loosely operative which each other, but are each individually focused around a single project. Red Skull was the lynchpin: without him, and if Hydra does still exist after seventy years in hiding, those cells would now operate with great independence from each other. You could try to take out your rivals by having Peggy focus on them, while keeping yourself free from any suspicion by pretending to be an ally.' Steve said promptly, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

Glancing at the supersoldier from the corner of his eye, McCole smirked a bit, keeping up his casual air.

'A bit farfetched, don't you think Captain?'

'I'm not sure. Hydra is capable of a lot of things most would think are farfetched, and they aren't exactly regarded for their extraordinary sense of loyalty.' Steve said coldly, his eyes staring unwaveringly into McCole's burning ones.

'Fair enough. So what was the plan here? Mrs. Carter was going to try and trick me into revealing my evil master plan, then shoot me with that toy she has kept hidden in the back of her belt? Which would fail, of course, which brings us to your part. You would heroically burst into the room and…?'

'And I'd push you out the window.' Steve said calmly, not even batting an eye at McCole's incredulous look.

'Really? You'd kill me? Just like that?'

'If you turned out to be Hydra? Yeah. Just like that.' Steve answered.

'Besides, would a fall from this height even kill you? We're only fourteen stories up, I'm pretty sure you could survive that.' Peggy cut in, successfully masking her shock when McCole casually mentioned the pistol she had kept hidden (or failed to, apparently).

'Probably. It would be far from pleasant though.' McCole answered with a shrug, appearing completely at ease with the idea of being attacked by Steve, who was widely regarded as the best soldier America (or the world, really) had ever produced.

Turning around, McCole walked over to the desk that stood at the other end of the room, rummaging through the top drawers.

'Now, I'm not Hydra, but I also realize that I can't exactly prove that I'm not, since everything that I could use to convince you, you'd probably see as something that a Hydra-agent would do instead. But, what I can do, is show you who is in Hydra.'

And with those words, McCole turned back around again, holding two usb-sticks in one hand, and three syringes in the other, two of them normal-sized, the third one worryingly large.

'On the silver stick, is a database filled with all the names of the Hydra agents that I know the identity of. It consists mainly of the leaders, so don't expect to roll up the entire organization when you cross everybody off the list: they're bound to have grunts in all kinds of places. You'll need to be thorough.' McCole said seriously, holding up the usb.

'Now, on the black stick is a program me and my friends have written. If you end up going to Camp Lehigh, then you'll need to insert this stick into the computers there. It will destroy the computer system, which is incredibly advanced, though the tech is somewhat outdated at this point. This step is essential if you want to defeat Hydra.'

'Why. What's at Camp Lehigh?' Peggy asked as she stepped closer to Steve, steeling herself in order to not reach out to him and touch him, to convince herself that, yes, he was still here, still real, still alive.

Judging from the small twitch she saw him make when she got close to him, she knew that Steve was going through something similar.

'At Camp Lehigh, you'll find many of the answers you seek. You'll find the man who rebuilt Hydra from within the shadows. At Camp Lehigh, you'll find… Arnim Zola.' McCole said with a dramatic pause, clearly enjoying the role of quest-giver.

'What? Zola? How!?' Steve said in shocked voice, and Peggy mirrored his reaction.

Zola had been captured in 1945, and had been in his forties even then, which would make him well over a hundred years old by now, which explained Steve's shock. But Peggy was surprised for another reason: forty years ago, the scientist had been diagnosed with an advanced stage of lung cancer, and had died not long afterwards.

She was prepared to call McCole out on it, but the knowing grin he sent her way halted her in her tracks. Because what was she going to say? People don't come back from the dead? You can't be ninety years old and still be in the prime of your life?

The world had always been a weird place (she should know that better than anyone) and in the past seventy years it apparently had gotten weirder still. Zola surviving… it was unbelievable.

Unbelievable…. but not impossible.

'He uploaded his mind into a massive complex computer system, then allowed his physical body to die. This stick will enter his code and shred it from the inside out, essentially killing him. For good, this time.' McCole explained with a proud smile, but Peggy could tell he was lying about something.

She just couldn't put her finger on what exactly.

'And the syringes?' Peggy asked with narrowed eyes.

'These two are for the both of you and are filled with something I like to call the Brain Booster. It's based around the same principles that reversed the effects of your Alzheimer's, Mrs. Carter. What this will do is grant you eidetic memory, advanced computing abilities, and increased information observation and assimilation speeds. Basically? You'll understand a lot more, a lot faster, and you'll never forget it.' McCole said with a grin, wiggling the two smaller syringes back and forth as he spoke.

She could see Steve's eyes widen in surprise as McCole told them the abilities the serum would grant, but she already knew that he wouldn't go for it. Steve had volunteered for the Supersoldier Serum, because that had been the right thing to do, because he was friends with Dr. Erskine, and because he wanted to serve his country.

Accepting a serum which changed your brain from a stranger is just not something that Steve (and most people, honestly) would do, not matter the promised benefits.

Peggy on the other hand…

Looking back on her life, there were such large parts of her memory that were just… fog, especially in her later years. The possibility that it would return haunted her ever since McCole had healed her. To have something that would make her unable to forget ever again…

Not allowing her troubled thoughts to show through her voice, Peggy lifted an eyebrow as she inclined her head at McCole's hand.

'And the third syringe?'

'Now this one is for you specifically, Mrs. Carter. It's the Supersoldier Serum.'

'What?!' Steve called out in shock again, his hands balling into fists as he intently stared at the behemoth across from them, who just gave a massive grin in response.

'The Supersoldier Serum, Captain. I have managed to reverse engineer it. Don't ask me how I got a sample in the first place, I'll never tell you. I'm not giving you any of the enhancements that I, or the people of Titan Solutions have. I believe that S.H.I.E.L.D. are the good guys, I really do. But I don't trust you with the power that I've gained for me and my people. Given that you have an ample amount of Supersoldier right there already, I can at least give you this. You're going to need it.' McCole explained, walking up to them and offering her his hand.

'Peggy, what are you-' Steve started, but she quickly shut him up by softly placing a hand on his arm (which just ended up sending jolts of lighting coursing through her body again) as she turned to look at him in determination.

'Steve. I'm taking the enhancements. If you think that I'm ever going to let you to go off and fight without me ever again, then you've got another thing coming Mr.. From now on, I'm standing by your side, but in order for me to do that, I'll need to be your equal. This would let me keep up with you, and there's nothing you can say that would keep me from you-'

Peggy was interrupted mid-rant when she felt his lips softly cross over hers. Within moments the entire world fell away as she threw her arms around the broad shoulders of the man who had been nothing more than a half-forgotten memory for the past few decades.

As she melted into his chiselled form, clinging onto each other like a couple of love-sick teenagers, she couldn't help but smile widely into the kiss, her hand coming up to softly go through his golden hair.

'It took seventy years. But it was worth the wait.' She thought blissfully to herself, the world forgotten in her moment of happiness.

It would take time, a lot of time, before she and Steve had fully healed from their respective ordeals: he from suddenly finding himself in the future, with everyone he once knew was long dead, and her from regaining her youth and having to reconcile the life she had built since Steve saved the world with the man himself.

But she was convinced that they could work through it together eventually and was, for the first time in a long while, looking forwards to the future.

'Uhh, guys? Guys? Right… I'll just put the stuff over on the coffee table then…? Ok.'

Eight hours after the Massacre

The man stood on the balcony of his building, overlooking the glistering lights of New York City as it prepared to welcome the New Year tomorrow evening. The hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps was a soothing balm to his senses, and he simply enjoyed the feeling of the wind crossing his bald scalp.

The peaceful moment was broken however, when he heard the door to his balcony open, soft footsteps approaching him. Irritation welled up inside him before it was quelled somewhat by his own willpower and the voice of the newcomer.

'Sir. She's here to see you now.'

Turning around to face the speaker, the enormous man gave a quick nod, his face set in a determined frown.

'Thank you Wesley.'

Giving a quick nod at his bosses' words, Wesley turned back and opened the door, allowing a small, hunched over old lady to shuffle onto the balcony, her walking stick tapping against the stone with her every step.

'Madame Gao. A pleasure.' Fisk said in his characteristic voice, approaching the woman who only reached his waist, and yet was one of the most dangerous people he had ever dealt with.

'Xiānshēng Fisk chūjià huānyíng nǐ.' (Mr. Fisk bids you welcome) Wesley immediately began to translate.

Halting in her tracks, Gao's eyes snapped towards him, fixing him in place.

'Wǒ huì hé xiānshēng Fisk shuō. Dāndú.' (I will speak with Mr. Fisk. Alone.)

For a moment, Wesley's lips pressed together in a thin line as he gazed at the biggest heroine dealer in New York (and probably the world, though nobody was entirely sure). Then his assistant's eyes flitted towards him, and Fisk gave him a slow nod.

'It's alright Wesley. Thank you. Take the rest of the night off, go get some sleep.'

It was clear that his assistance disliked leaving his boss alone with such a dangerous adversary, but dependable as always, Wesley simply gave a short incline of his head to him, and offered a small bow to Madame Gao, before he briskly left.

As the door fell closed behind his most trusted assistant, the aged lady turned to peer him with intelligent eyes, a slight smirk on her wrinkled face. Walking over towards the table in the middle of the balcony, Fisk extended a meaty hand to one of the luxury seats.

'Qǐng. Zuò xià.' (Please. Take a seat.)

Shuffling over towards the chair, Madame Gao sank into the soft pillows with the creak of ancient bones, keeping a keen eye on him as she did. Not wasting any time, Fisk took a seat across from her, clasping his hands in front of him.

'Nǐ xiǎng tán shénme shì shénme, Madame Gao?' (What is it you wanted to speak about, Madame Gao?) Fisk asked in a rumbling voice, getting a tight smile from the heroine dealer.

'Please Mr. Fisk, let's talk in English. You're pronunciation is horrible. Who taught you?' Madame Gao asked him with a smirk, and Fisk wisely decided not to point out just how heavily accented her own English was.

'A private tutor…' Fisk said softly, prompting a scoff from the ancient woman across from him.

'Bah! You should have his fingers removed.'

Putting aside what he should or shouldn't do to the people in his employ, Fisk sat a bit straighter in his chair, towering over the aged lady even as they were seated.

'Madame Gao. What is it, that you wanted to, speak to me about?'

Narrowing her eyes at him, Gao placed both of her wrinkled hands on top of her cane.

'It is thanks to us, that the weaponry given to the gangs of New York by Ulysses Klaue, has found its way into your hands. It is thanks to us, that the other gangs are weakening themselves in this battle they are waging against each other, and the police, which will allow for your expansion, Mr. Fisk.'

'And I am, grateful, for that, Madame Gao, to both you and your friends.'

'Yes. And it is good to be grateful to the hand that feeds you. But gratefulness, is quite useless to us, unless it's backed up by action.' Gao said sharply, and Fisk finally knew why the old lady had decided to visit him in the dead of the night.

He knew that by partnering with the Hand, he'd owe them favours, especially after they made sure that those Wakandan weapons eventually found their ways into his hands.

He just hadn't expected them to want to cash in on those favours so soon.

'And what action would the Hand wish, for me to undertake.' Fisk said, weighing his options.

'Your men have advanced weaponry, thanks to us. They have advanced armour, thanks to your connections within the police. Now it is time to use them.'

'You want me to launch an attack? On whom?' Fisk asked, though he had an idea already.

'The demon known as Michael McCole. We had not expected our last attack to have such little effect on the creature, but at least we tore down his building and killed some of his people.' Gao said easily, as if she was talking about something utterly mundane, like trimming the hedges.

'So that was you. I suspected it the moment I saw people from Cottonmouth and Colon working together. Just how aware are they that they are puppets on your strings, I wonder.' Fisk thought to himself, though he was careful to keep any of them from showing on his face.

'Like you said, the man personally was hardly affected by the attack. And there's no building left to destroy. Why would an attack now change anything?' Fisk asked carefully, loathing the idea of throwing away perfectly good equipment on a fool's errand.

'Because, McCole will act out of anger. He knows we exist. He knows who we are. He will try to strike back. The Hand asks that you, who has profited so much from all this chaos, to block his strike. Bring the demon to his knees, and your debt to the Hand shall be considered, to be paid in full. You'll become a full partner to us, Mr. Fisk. There are very few people in the world that can boast such a status, and they are all at the heads of organizations, far older than yours.' Gao said imperiously, her soft voice showing hidden power as she spoke.

Still, Fisk could spot the slightest cracks in her impressive façade.

'They're rattled. They're clearly uncomfortable with the lack of anonymity, and they didn't expect McCole to come out of their surprise attack unharmed, just like his lawyer, apparently. All this, is just to ask me to be a meatshield between them and the wrath of McCole.'

This… yes, he could definitely work with this.

'Of course. My people are yours to command, Madame Gao' Fisk said, as he gave a short bow with his head.

No need to tip her off to the fact that they most definitely wouldn't be. But let them figure that out for themselves when McCole reduced them to stains on the ground. The criminal scum of New York was tiring itself out as the Hand guided them into taking their new weapons for a test run. He practically owned the police. Only the Hand now remained as a serious contender to him, and they had just pissed of one of the most powerful beings on the planet.

In the end, he alone would stand tall above the dregs of New York.

'Will my men be asked to perform assassination attempts as well? They would be willing, of course. However, we do not possess the fabled skills of the Hand…' Fisk trailed off when Gao suddenly held up her hand, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

'You must work on your subtlety more, Mr. Fisk. That attempt to try and figure out if we were behind the beheadings today was painfully obvious. If you wish to stand on equal footing with the Hand, you'll need to be able to conceal your thoughts better.' Gao said sternly, and Fisk easily kept his grin from showing on his face as he adopted a chastised expression, once again bowing his head.

'I see. I apologize. I shall vow to work on it more, in the future.'

'See that you do. You have great potential Mr. Fisk. Your handling of events these past weeks is proof of that. To anyone else, it would seem as a great coincidence that, no matter what happens in the chaos of this city, it always comes to benefit you in the end.' Gao said, standing up from her chair with creaking joints, clearly making an end to this conversation.

Fisk rose with her, and as he towered above her, he turned around in order to look at the vibrant lights of the greatest city on earth, a grim smile coming to his face as he clasped his hands behind his back.

'A coincidence? No Madame Gao, there is no coincidence. After all…' Fisk trailed off, looking over his shoulder to see that he was now alone on the balcony, the aged lady nowhere to be seen.

Turning back to the amazing skyline, Fisk allowed his small smile to grow into a full-blown grin, his eyes gleaming with thoughts of the future.

'… I am this city.'

AN: More comicbook!Fisk here than MCU!Fisk, but D'Onofrio (while absolutely brilliant) has a distinctive way of speaking that's nearly impossible to capture in written form. I ended up cutting an entire POV from this part of the Interlude. Originally it was going to be Tony, but while we would learn how he reacts to Michael, it doesn't necessarily add anything vital. And considering we're dealing with a serious case of Arc Fatigue here, I cut it entirely. Then I wanted to replace it with a conversation between Pierce and Whitehall, where Pierce berated Whitehall for acting so openly, while all they need to do is lay low and wait for Project Insight to start. It had some good stuff, but again, it wouldn't really impact the plot (it was more relevant to Peggy/Steve's story, instead of Michael's), so I was merciless and I cut that out as well. Also, good news! I've found a way to mush the last two chapters of this goddamned Arc together in a way that fits, it has a power-up for Michael (we went far too long without one) and I've got an ending I can't get out of my head for the past two days, which means that by the next chapter we can finally leave this Arc behind us! Yay!

Fun Fact: After the Vietnam War and Watergate Scandal, Captain America became so disillusioned with the US government that he became 'The Nomad', donning a costume which ditched the stripes and stars.

As always, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful Patrons, AndrewDC_MAC2, Thordur hrafn, Daniel Dorfman and ReaperScythe! Thanks so much for your support, it really does mean a lot to me!

First Steps

I waited patiently until Pepper Potts and her escort of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents entered the Stark facility, biding my time in the shadow cast by the buildings on the other side of the compound. I could try and sneak in after them, but it would be far easier to just wait for Stane to provide a distraction and then simply walk in, no sneaking required.

BOOOMM!

And that is my queue. Thanks Stane, I owe you one. Well, not really since a: you're an evil, terrorist funding, bastard and b: you'll be dead by the time I get what I came here for.

As the building is lit up by bright flashes and the stacatto blasts of gunfire, I simply walk inside and make my way deeper into the complex where Stane is walking around in the twisted love child of the Iron Man armor and a tank, squashing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents left and right.

The ridiculously high turnover rate of agents (not to mention them being a shell for the most evil human organization in history) had kept me from entering the spy agency in order to get my grubby hands on all of their fancy toys in my quest for godhood.

Because when you find yourself in a fictional universe with gods and monsters and aliens, you could either try and become buddies with the heroes (in the case of females this required you to be both ridiculously pretty as well as emotionally connected to at least one of them or in the case of men, you were ridiculously badass with about every superheroine salivating over your body) or you could realize that magic was real and decide to supplex reality in being your little bitch.

Within the first ten minutes of being born in this world I decided on the latter.

And the first step in my Twelve Step Program (more like Twenty Steps but who was keeping count anyway) involved salvaging whatever I could from Stane's reverse engineering of Tony Stark's masterpiece.

Of course his true masterpiece, the Arc Reactor, was out of my reach until I was powerful enough to rip it out of his chest with my bare hands, but in the meantime I could at least try and take his armor for myself. Or just wait until Whiplash manages to make an Arc Reactor on his own. Better make that Twenty-one Steps then.

During my musings Stane had been ever so kind to keep the spotlight on him, allowing me to enter the hangar where he first activated the Iron Monger unchallenged, with the exception of the odd dead agent I had to watch out not to trip over.

That'd just be embarrassing.

Once in the hangar I immediately began tearing every single blueprint off the walls and tables leaving nothing behind, stuffing it all in my oversized duffelbag. I could sort this all out in the safety of my apartment without a spy agency and one of the smartest and dangerous men in the world breathing down my neck.

Despite the fact that I knew nobody was in a position to stop me from stealing the plans to the most advanced armor in the world, on the account of nobody knowing I was here or even existed for that matter, too focused as they were on the metallic slugfest between Stane and Tony judging by the familiar whine of repulsor blasts, I still felt sweat pouring down my neck, soaking my shirt, making it cling to my chest in the most uncomfortable way.

I felt like I was in the most dangerous fight of my life despite the fact that all I was doing was walking around stuffing paper in a duffelbag. After what felt like hours of running around with my heart trying its best to hammer its way to freedom straight through my ribcage I had finally managed to rip the last blueprint (a giant poster with what at a glance seemed to be the overall outline of the Iron Man/Monger armor on it) off the wall, trying my best to ignore the smoking hole in the metal right next to me. I knew that I had to hurry up now as I could hear the fight getting closer again, which meant an increase of threat against my continued good health, either by massive explosions or overeager spies who might be Nazi's in disguise.

As I made my way to the exit of the building I had the biggest scare of my life when from the roof of the building came a crash that shook the entire structure. Worse than that however was the sound of someone shouting orders ahead from me, with what seemed like a dozen footsteps running towards me in an orderly yet hurried fashion.

Looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements have (unfortunately) arrived on the scene.

As panic tried (and somewhat succeeded) to rear it's head I threw myself and my duffelbag into one of the sidehalls in the mazelike interior surrounding the hangar like area where Stane first activated his monstrosity. Throwing myself to the ground, I was briefly thankful for my decision to wear a generic suit which, combined with the poor (or rather, non-existant) lightning allowed me to pass as one of the nameless grunts already littering the hallway.

Within the first ten steps of my Twenty-one Step Plan, no human would be able to harm me anymore. A few steps later and I could at the very least survive a fight with Thor, who managed tank a blast from a neutron star and live to tell about it. By the end of my plan I would be effectively omnipotent.

Now though? Now all I was capable of was lying down, covered in sweat while trying to get some measure of control over my harsh breathing, playing dead in the hope a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D. goons wouldn't find me.

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Perhaps not the grandest start to galactic domination but I had to begin somewhere.

I desperately held my breath as I heard a squad of agents barrel down the hallway I had been walking in only moments before, praying to whatever deity that was on my side (given how many there are in this world, sheer probability dictated that at least one should be. Right?) that the agents were distracted enough by the lightshow on the roof to not check their dead.

My silent terror sky-rocketed when I heard a commanding voice call out in a soft whisper, as the multitude of footsteps slowed down to a halt.

'Fan out, keep your heads on a swivel.'

'No, don't fan out! Don't fan out! Keep going straight ahead, there's a bad guy with power armor there, that means instant death for you guys, shouldn't you be running face first into that!?' I screamed internally, trying to keep as still as possible.

I could only lie there, paralyzed by fear as I heard soft footsteps creeping ever closer to where my sweat soaked body was lying face down on the harsh ground.

Any second now, he would see that I was still alive. Any second now I would be captured by an organization which was run by the most evil bastards on earth. Any second now my life would be over before it even had a chance to really take off. Any second now-

'We got incoming! Everybody move, move, move!'

My quiet sigh of relief went unheard in the middle of the pandemonium that resulted after yet another explosion rattled the building. Feeling more than seeing that the superpowered brawl between Stane and Tony was coming to an end, I waited till I heard the last of the footsteps run deeper into the complex before I made a mad dash towards my overstuffed duffelbag.

I hurriedly made my way to the exit, not wanting to see Stane (and by extension this building and therefore me) go up in flames.

Running away was surprisingly galling but the sheer terror that consumed me when I was nearly discovered quickly beat my sense of pride into submission, leaving it a snivelling wreck before taking the wheel of my motor functions, telling me nothing was more important than getting the fuck outta here.

I was supremely grateful for its sense of initiative when not moments after I had left through the back entrance (the front was surrounded by a small army of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents) the entire building seemed to explode, a wave of heat and pressure slamming me to the ground.

Chancing a quick look over my shoulder, I saw that it was only the main hall, where the giant Reactor stood, that had been obliterated.

Not to mention the bits of Obadiah Stane that were most likely raining down everywhere.

Scrambling to my feet, ignoring my scuffed hands and ripped pants, I hurried my ass out of there to where my car was parked a few blocks away. A modest Honda civic it probably wouldn't draw any attention as I made my way to the middle class neighborhood I lived in.

It was nearly 3 AM when I had finally managed to come home, shrug off my dirtied clothes and dropped onto my bed, completely exhausted.

Stealing blueprints to advanced weaponry from underneath the nose of the greatest spy agency in the world as well as the inventor of said weaponry was surprisingly tiring.

Resolving to look at my loot first thing in the morning I switched off the lights and immediately I was dead to the world.

Stark is a genius. Let me rephrase that: Stark is a fucking genius. I mean, I knew he was, everybody both here and in my old world knew he was. But to actually look at his work, botched by Stane as it was, actually drove home just how much smarter the Merchant of Death was than me.

If it wasn't for Stane having to dumb most of it down for himself and the scientists on his payroll I probably wouldn't even know what I was looking at. As it stood, while I had a decent understanding of how the armor worked (operating under its own weight without crushing the wearer, or how inertia dampeners allowed Tony to be punched through a wall with only a bruise to show for it, that kinda thing) the Arc Reactor was completely beyond me.

I sorta got the theory behind it, but I had absolutely no clue how to go and actually build the damn thing, especially small enough for it to be carried.

Sorry Ivan, but it seems I'm gonna have to take your stuff.

Filing the armor away for now (and I do mean file. With all the supernerds in this universe there's no way in hell I'm digitizing any of this. For now the plans go behind a false plank underneath my sink) I start trawling through the internet trying to get my hands on as many news outlets as possible and visiting every forum there is. With my meta knowledge separating hoax from truth is a walk in the park and I'm hoping that somewhere among the rumors and speculations I can find clues for my master plan of Galactic Domination.

You know, I really feel like an evil laugh would be appropriate there but the walls of my apartment are thin and I can do without any noise complaints.

Ah well, I'll just do them later once I have a proper lair.

Suddenly a news article grabbed my attention with all the subtlety of Thor trying to put IKEA furniture together using Mjolnir.

'Soda factory in Rio shut down due to massive structural damage , witnesses claim to have heard gunfire and have even claimed to have seen a monster. Neither the authorities nor the executives of the company were available for comment.'

I smirked as I read the short article, skimming over the fact that some employees had apparently been injured in what was being presented as a work related accident.

I knew better.

'Hello Bruce.' I said softly with a grin that would make many a sailor break out in cold sweat and mutter something about needing a bigger boat.

Unfortunately I couldn't act on this yet as it was part of Step 3. For now I would need to focus on Step 2. After well over two hours of caffeine supported digging through the most untrustworthy and speculative parts of the internet I finally found what I was looking for.

An apparently leaked memo that hinted at Stark Industries planning some sort of big event. Ideas were thrown around about what this could be, one more ridiculous than the last (one presented the idea that Tony would unveil a sex oriented line of Iron Man… paraphernalia) but I knew what it really would be.

Time to put on my nice suit, I was going to the Stark Expo.

As a compromise, this time I laughed inside my head. So what if that makes me crazy? Everybody else already is.

'Bwahahahahahahahaha.'

It's amazing the places you can get into with just a safety vest and an expression that says that you know what you're doing. I quickly realized that my salvage idea that I used in Step 1 might not work here due to it being far more in the open and with thousands of people present. Infiltrating Hammer Industries was also out of the question since I simply wasn't good enough for it and I seem to remember that Black Widow already was doing that.

Hijacking control over the drones was a no-go since not only was Ivan a way better programmer than me, he did everything in Russian which I could speak well enough to either order a vodka or get my teeth kicked in.

Certainly not well enough to try and out hack a genius.

So, instead of scavenging stuff after the fact, I decided to come in way in advance. I helped setting up the stages, laying down the wiring, everything you could think of, I tried to do. While I was hired for construction, which meant that thankfully I got payed for all my time there (even Galactic Overlords need to eat) I used my vest, id-badge and sheer confidence to get to areas where I technically wasn't allowed to go.

Such as the unloading area where Hammer's drones would arrive before they'd be placed on the platform where they would be revealed on stage. Underneath my bulky work clothes I was wearing a bare bones version of the Iron Man armor, made from the material I had managed to pilfer during my time setting up the Expo.

You wouldn't believe the amount of raw material that went in to making all of the stands, visitor areas, walkways, hell, even parkings required tonnes of stuff to make.

And with my almighty safety vest, I had access to all of it. Of course I had to be careful about what and how much I took, so I was limited to small amounts of steel and power tools (not to mention the size of the boot of my Honda) which was why I applied months in advance.

During my time working here I had stolen enough material and tools to make at least the skeleton of the power armor. It was basically just a frame on my torso and limbs hidden from view by my uniform. It offered me no protection but it did give me superstrengh.

As I walked into the loading area with my toolbox in hand I was stopped by an armed guard stepping in my way. As I tried to keep my breath even I was immensely relieved to see that while the guy was alert he wasn't suspicious of me or wary, his hands resting loosely on top of his gun.

'This is a restricted area sir, I'm going to need to see some id.'

'Oh, yeah sure. Here you go.' I replied, trying to keep any tremors out of my voice as I reached into the back pocket of my overalls with my bulky gloves, fishing out the card and presenting it to the security guard.

The card said two things: the first was that I did indeed work for the Stark Expo.

The second thing it said was that I wasn't actually allowed in this part of the Expo.

Thankfully, given where I had just pulled the card from made the guard somewhat disinclined to look all that closely at my badge. Not taking any chances I tried to reassure the man with the submachine gun in his hands.

'I'm just here to fix the wiring. Lights are acting up.'

Right on cue the lamps in the ceiling sputtered in pitiful protest before dimming slightly. As they should, given the fact that I had sabotaged the wiring not 5 minutes ago.

Giving a glance towards the ceiling before glancing at my card again, the guard looked at me again before giving a shallow nod.

'On your way then.'

Dipping my head in thanks I made sure to walk away in an unhurried tempo without making it obvious I was trying to do so. I needn't have bothered as the guard deemed me completely uninteresting, turning away from me and watching the open end of the loading bay where the trucks with the Hammer drones would enter.

Making my way towards an adjacent room on the other side of the hangar (this one without a guard thankfully) I sat down at one of the many terminals that were scattered all over the backstage area, due to the amount of robotics, pyrotechnics and whatever other -technics you could imagine being used in the Expo which required massive amounts of data.

I had no clue what the terminal I was sitting at was supposed to do, my briefcase with tools and important looking manuals (one was for the blender I had at home as it had stopped working for some reason) opened beside me but I knew one thing for sure: it wasn't for fixing the lights.

After about ten minutes of me looking busy (while actually trying to figure out why my stupid blender apparently couldn't conquer the might of the ordinary banana) I saw the guard who looked extremely bored after his eight hour shift of just standing around, perk up slightly.

As the sound of heavy engines met me I understood why: the drones have arrived.

I kept 'working' at my terminal (honestly it was a banana, a toothless grandma could chew it, so what the hell blender?) as the heavy crates containing the drones were offloaded and unpacked. I waited until the hustle and bustle of the entire process was winding down before I heard a hesitant knock on the door frame.

The guard from before gave an uncomfortable look at my toolbox with its foreboding manuals promising ultimate boredom and at me, kneeling in front of the terminal with my arms up to my elbows in its guts (I had given up on the mystery of the only blender known to man who was apparently allergic to bananas and out of pettiness had decided I might as well try and figure out what this terminal was actually supposed to do).

'You alright there?'

Giving a non committal shrug I turned back to the inner workings of the machine in front of me (mostly to try and hide the heart attack he had given me) as I replied, making sure to line my voice with annoyance.

'Sure, sure. Some idiot tried cutting corners in laying down the wiring so instead of a sequential relay I'm now dealing with a parallel circuit so's now I gotta go and run diagnostic's on every goddamn breaker, which is gonna take more time than actually laying the wiring right in the first place!'

The guard gave a confused blink at my torrent of inane techno-babble (as intended) before evidently deciding it was not his problem.

'Right, guess that sucks huh? Look, the shipment has been unloaded but the crew that are supposed to take the lot to the stage area haven't arrived yet but my shift technically ended about 35 minutes ago and I ain't getting paid overtime. You mind keeping an eye on things till they or the next guard shift turns up?'

While the overworked guard was clearly surprised (and angered) by the tardiness of the next shift, I on the other hand felt only satisfaction. Then again, I had the advantage over the guard in knowing why the next shift was so late: because I arranged it to be so.

I might not be willing to try and hack a criminal unstable genius like Ivan Vanko, but Jennifer from Administration?

Bring. It. On.

One sleepless night spent hacking the work schedule for this week using keycodes and passwords swiped from meeting rooms where I had technically no access to (thank you invincible safety vest!) and I had given myself a half hour window between this guard's shift and the arrival of the drones and the start of the next shift. More than enough with the superstrengh granted by my armor and with my tools in my toolbox.

'Yeah, sure not a problem. Something happens, I'll just give a yell or something.' I said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, giving a nonchalant wave with one of my grease stained gloves as I turned back towards the mass of wires and circuity in front of me.

The guard was clearly uncomfortable with leaving some electrician watching over a shipment of advanced military grade weaponry, but he turned out to be even more uncomfortable with working for more than nine hours straight by now (courtesy of yours truly again).

'Right. Good luck with the… thing.' He muttered, before being waved off as I just turned my back on him.

I waited until the door on the far side of the hangar clicked closed, before I bolted towards where the drones were packed in neat rows. I had at maximum a half hour before the next shift was supposed to show up, but I still remembered the near miss at the showdown between Stane and Stark. At any moment someone could show up and massively screw up my plans.

Sure, my power armor would allow me to at least get out of here alive, but I'd be on so many radars it wasn't even funny anymore.

But I hadn't put on the armor for a fight, as counter-intuitive as it felt to every teenager in the universe, but for something more… utalitarian.

The drones were massive solid metal forms, protected from tampering by strong plates and internal software. An obstacle easily overcome by me ripping away the plating at the neck of one of the Navy-model drones. I knew Ivan had trackers in the drones, but I also seemed to remember that taking out their heads cut off his remote control. Now obviously I couldn't simply rip off the head entirely, that was rather likely to be noticed. But tear out the online connector?

Now that I can do.

Slipping a signal jammer inside the body of the drone for good measure, I slap the plating back roughly into place using some of the more sophisticated tools in my arsenal (fine, I'll confess, I used duct tape) before making my way around the other models, each time only disabling a single drone in each batch as too many would draw too much attention.

Surprisingly, despite me expecting to be found out at any moment I actually managed to finish with ten minutes to spare. I quickly gathered all of my stuff, triple checking to see if I left any clues behind that could lead back to me, but thankfully not finding any.

I wasn't worried about the cameras that covered the hangar since I knew they didn't actually have any power.

I should know, I installed them myself.

Seeing nothing more I could do to cover my tracks I swiftly made my way towards the main stage area, my pass and mighty safety vest easily granting me access to the backstage area where in a couple of hours Justin Hammer would make a fool of himself, courtesy of Whiplash.

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And now, all I had to do was wait.

I calmly sipped my soda (no beer for now as I wanted to be completely sober for what came next) as Hammer's world went up in flames.

Quite literally, as one Air Force drone bombed the stage next to the one he had been standing on.

Despite the general mayham and pandemonium I was perfectly calm. Unlike everybody else here, I knew that Tony Stark had managed to get his head out of his ass, massively improve his Arc Reactor and was now on his way to punch Ivan into next week.

And sure enough a gold and red blur arrived and started shooting the drones out of the sky with well-placed repulsor blasts. Taking that as my cue, I walked towards the back of the stage which was deserted as all the employees had deemed the explosions too close for comfort and decided to take off towards safer pastures.

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I took control of the lifts that had raised the drones on platforms onto the stage behind Hammer during his speech and ordered them down again. When Ivan started his attack, almost all of the drones took off and started raining down death and destruction upon the audience of the Expo. A few of the drones however had remained unresponsive on the platform.

They were my drones now.

Using my superstrengh I knocked down a portion of the temporary wall behind the main stage, which opened up to a large parking lot filled with company cars and trucks.

My car, with a trailer attached to it as was nearly every vehicle there, was right in front of the hole I had just punched through the wall (there is something inherently satisfying about having a punching match with an architectural element and coming out on top. This might just be my new favorite hobby).

Wasting no time since the dogfight over the Expo seemed to increase in intensity, I hurried back to the platforms with my unresponsive drones on them, throwing one over my shoulders. Each one weighed around half a tonne, but with my armor on I could take it (though it gave a distressed whine when I lifted the Army model with its oversized turret).

Throwing it onto the trailer I quickly covered the heap of robots with with some tarp, got in my car and drove away from the Expo, where in all likelihood Stark and Rodey were fighting off Whiplash.

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I was greatly tempted to stick around to try and get my hands on Ivan's Arc Reactor but once again S.H.I.E.L.D. was on the scene and I didn't want to push my luck just yet.

It was the same reason why I didn't go to Hammer's base to go for Ivan's blueprints since the Black Widow was currently there. At the moment I vastly outclassed her in the strength department, but I was sorely lacking in defensive options, while she was both faster and more skilled than me, which meant there was a chance she could disable me.

No, I'll have to be content and take my drones to my storage unit, rip them apart and put them together for my own armor.

No matter, there were other steps down the line which would allow me to have another chance at obtaining the Arc Reactor for myself, I just had to be patient a little longer.

Step 3 was close to commencing and with the treasure trove of robotics in my trailer I'll be ready.

I'm coming for you Bruce.

Or rather, I'm coming for your blood.

Fun Fact: Loki's first appearance in the Marvel Universe predates that of his brother Thor's first appearance by 13 years.