Two months had passed since the Stark Industries Expo's World-shaking finale.
For most people, that clanging "terrorist attack" iron show had long been eclipsed by new headlines. Hammer Industries' stock had plummeted, and Justin Hammer himself was facing a mountain of charges, including colluding with Terrorists and endangering national security. He was still wrangling with an endless team of Lawyers. The World seemed to have returned to its old self—noisy yet stable.
But for the Avengers and those hiding in the Shadow, the aftermath of that battle was only just beginning... In the cliffside mansion of Malibu, in the underground workshop.
The street-blasting rock of AC/DC was gone, replaced by slow, lingering classical symphonies. Tony Stark wore a sci-fi-looking head-mounted microscope, staring intently at the claws of rage suspended in mid-air. This weapon, forged from Werewolf traits and Vibranium, hummed silently under the strikes of the vulcans hammer. The mad rules within it were being stripped away and reshaped bit by bit in a visible form.
Dr. Bruce Banner sat to one side, his holographic screen refreshing the complex changes of the spirituality structure inside the claws in real-time.
"Bruce, look at this," Tony's voice was filled with the excitement and obsession unique to a creator. "The essence of the vulcans hammer is a higher-dimensional restructuring protocol! It can forcibly dismantle the spirituality structure of Beyonder items, like reverting an encrypted file to its base 0s and 1s. Now, I'm using it to strip away the part of the mad rules that pollutes the mind most severely, leaving only the purest concept of rage that can amplify strength."
He took off the so-called rule analyzer and rubbed his temples tiredly, but his eyes were frighteningly bright. "It's done. I've cut the side effects by about 60%. Although prolonged use will still amplify aggression, it definitely won't go out of control easily anymore. From now on, it's no longer that lethal weapon that drives anyone who uses it mad."
Tony handed the refreshed claws to Banner. The obsidian hue had deepened, and a gentle silver flow of light now circled the originally ferocious claws.
"It's for you, Bruce." Tony patted his shoulder. "Or rather, for the other big guy. Tell him this thing will make his fists harder, and he won't have to worry about accidentally hurting his own people."
Banner looked at the weapon, which seemed tailor-made for the Hulk, and felt the power within it—still violent but no longer chaotic. His gaze became complex. Over these two months, thanks to the California Sun and Betty Ross's constant company, his state of mind was more peaceful than ever. He could even vaguely sense the emotions of the green big guy inside him... Most of the time, that World-destroying temper was like a Beast dozing by the fireplace.
He solemnly took the claws of rage and whispered, "I think... he'll like it. Thanks, Tony."
...Nepal, Kamar-Taj.
In the courtyard atop the snow-capped mountain, Steve Rogers was shirtless, wearing only loose monk pants, practicing the energy guidance techniques taught by Master Wong in the bone-chilling wind.
The vibranium shield in his hand was no longer just for physical blocking; a solid white energy halo, radiating a holy feeling, covered it. Sometimes he would throw the shield fiercely, and the white light would turn into a sharp blade on the shield's surface, silently slicing distant rocks in half; sometimes he would hold the shield in front of him, and the halo would instantly expand into an incredibly hard circular energy wall.
"Breathe, Mr. Rogers, remember your breathing." Master Wong's voice was as steady as a bell. "The holy light of the Vishanti originates from the will to protect, not the rage of slaughter. Your strength is growing, but your heart must be steadier than your strength."
Hearing this, Steve slowly retracted the shield and exhaled a long breath of white mist. The battle in Nevada had made him deeply realize that in the face of true extraordinary power, physical strength and skill alone were far from enough. In the two months since returning from Africa, he had spent almost all his time training at Kamar-Taj. Under Wong's guidance, he had become proficient in integrating the white holy light belonging to a Guardian with his own combat techniques. What he sought in this bizarre new World was the power to truly stand in front of his companions and provide them with an absolute safe zone... S.H.I.E.L.D. Trident Headquarters, Director's office.
Nick Fury's single eye stared intently at the encrypted report before him. On that eternally frozen face, an expression that could almost be called "troubled" appeared for the first time.
"...All leads went cold after Rumlow's 'accidental death'." Maria Hill stood to the side, reporting the latest investigation progress, her tone also full of frustration. "After suffering this painful loss, HYDRA has become airtight. His recent behavior has been exemplary; he even proactively cooperated with several of our internal security audits, but we found nothing. HYDRA has seemingly vanished into thin air, diving deeper than ever before."
"They haven't vanished, Hill," Fury's voice was low and raspy. "They've just smelled a scent of sulfur they don't understand and have temporarily retreated into their hole. The logic of that fire skeleton that doesn't distinguish between friend and foe is completely beyond HYDRA's comprehension. Before these Lunatics who believe in control find a way to deal with ghosts, they won't easily show their heads."
Lin Huai's "let ghosts catch ghosts" quip had actually come true in an unexpected way over these two months. A supernatural legend wandering in Texas was like a nail that couldn't be pulled out, firmly pinned into HYDRA's heart, forcing all their secret operations to a temporary halt.
"Continue monitoring, highest level." Fury finally gave the order. HYDRA's dormancy was, for him, both a moment to catch his breath and an ominous omen before a larger storm... The gears of the World rolled forward unhurriedly amidst this eerie calm and the surging undercurrents.
New Mexico, an endless desert.
"I say, Jane, are you sure your theory is okay? We've been eating dust here for two weeks!!!" A girl wearing a beanie, looking like an intern, Daisy Louise, complained at the data on the computer screen while chewing potato chips.
"Shut up, Daisy." The young female astrophysicist named Jane, Jane Foster, replied without looking up, her entire mind immersed in those complex astronomical data. "The energy model won't lie. This is the center point of the geomagnetic anomaly. There must be something..."
Before she could finish, a brilliant, rainbow-colored aura, much like an aurora, suddenly appeared in the sky without any warning.
"Oh... my God..." Dr. Erik Selvig, Jane's mentor and colleague in the driver's seat, stared dumbfounded at the magnificent sight.
Then, a violent energy fluctuation that no scientific instrument could measure swept across the entire desert like a storm! All the equipment on their battered research vehicle simultaneously emitted ear-piercing overload alarms, then with a "pop," sparks flew in unison, and everything fried.
"What was that?!" Daisy was so startled she dropped her potato chips.
No one had time to answer. A visible, tornado-like pillar of energy crashed down from the center of the rainbow aura with a roar, slamming heavily onto the sand not far from them!
"BOOM—!!!!"
The violent Impact swirled with sand and dust, nearly flipping their small, battered car over.
Once the dust settled, the three of them scrambled out of the car. Jane Foster ignored Daisy's screams about "being dissected by aliens" and Dr. Selvig's warnings to "maintain a safe distance." Like a believer whose soul had been hooked by some power, she walked step by step, trembling, toward the massive Impact crater.
In the middle of the crater, a metal warhammer with a primitive design and full of mythological color was quietly embedded there.