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Vienna. United Nations International Centre.
The massive glass curtain walls reflected a hazy sky. The plaza out front was packed with news vans, and reporters from thirty countries chattered into cameras, broadcasting the historic Sokovia Accords ratification to the world.
Nobody noticed the unremarkable black sedan parked at the edge of the police line.
"Jake, is it really going to happen?" Gwen took off her sunglasses. Her Spider-Sense had been buzzing since they'd arrived — low, persistent, the particular frequency that meant something terrible is coming and I can't tell from where. "This is the United Nations. Security is tighter than the White House."
"Security guards against enemies." Jake leaned against the headrest, his eyes locked on a news van marked BNO News parked in the corner of the plaza. "Not against shadows."
"Zemo is a psychologist, not a soldier. He doesn't need to attack anyone directly. He just needs to light a match and let the heroes burn each other."
Jake's finger rested on the Omnitrix dial. He hadn't defused the bomb in advance — because if he had, Ross would have turned around and accused him of planting it. The political trap was as dangerous as the explosive.
He needed to be the one who saved everyone at the exact moment destruction arrived.
Inside the conference hall.
King T'Chaka of Wakanda stood at the podium, his weathered eyes surveying the assembled representatives.
"...Wakanda has been silent in this world for too long. When we see nations bleeding from the unchecked power of enhanced individuals, we can no longer stand by—"
Below the stage, Natasha listened with a solemn expression. Prince T'Challa stood by a side door, scanning every corner with the coiled vigilance of a predator.
Beep—
A faint electronic sound. Barely audible. But T'Challa's enhanced hearing caught it — coming from outside the window.
"LOOK OUT!"
T'Challa's instincts detonated. He launched himself toward the podium like a black blur, tackling his father to the ground.
"GET DOWN!!!"
BOOOOOM!!!
The news van outside became a fireball. The explosion — military-grade high explosives, enough to level half the building — shattered the glass curtain wall and sent a wall of fire, shrapnel, and compressed air screaming into the conference hall.
T'Challa was on top of his father, but the blast wave — strong enough to collapse internal structures — would shatter the organs of anyone within fifty meters.
Natasha, thrown backward by the air blast, saw death arriving for everyone in the room.
Then—
"Ribbit!"
A loud, absurdly comical croak drowned out the explosion.
A green blur — bouncing with a physics-defying elasticity — squeezed through the shattered window and planted itself between the expanding fireball and the Wakandan royals.
Half a meter tall. Green. Round. Four stubby legs. A face that looked like someone had given a frog an attitude problem and a bottomless stomach.
Upchuck. Gourmand.
The alien looked at the fireball — hundreds of times its body size, carrying enough destructive force to kill every person in the hall — and did something that would haunt the dreams of every physicist who later reviewed the footage.
It opened its mouth.
The jaw split back to its ears. Four long, adhesive tongues shot out and plunged directly into the center of the explosion, acting as conduits for something that shouldn't have been possible.
SLURRRP!
The fireball — the expanding wall of fire, the concussive blast wave, the white-hot shrapnel, all of it — was sucked into the frog's mouth like noodles into a vacuum cleaner.
The explosion didn't dissipate. It didn't get redirected. It got eaten.
In one second flat, the earth-shattering detonation was gone. In its place stood a green frog whose belly was swollen like a glowing balloon, its entire body radiating red light from the sheer volume of consumed energy.
"Mmm..."
Upchuck puffed its cheeks, face flushed crimson. It turned, aimed at the already-destroyed ceiling, and—
"BURRRP—BOOOM!!!"
A green plasma beam erupted from its mouth and lanced skyward — punching through a dozen floors of the UN building, exiting through the roof, and blasting a hundred-meter hole through Vienna's cloud cover.
Sunlight streamed through the gap.
Upchuck patted its now-flat belly and licked its lips. "High-explosive C4... tastes like expired mustard. Two stars."
The hall was silent.
T'Challa lay over his father, staring. King T'Chaka had scrapes and bruises — T'Challa's tackle had cracked two of his ribs — but the blast that should have killed him had been eaten. The old king was alive.
Green flash.
Upchuck vanished. Jake appeared on the podium in civilian clothes, casually brushing dust off King T'Chaka's suit.
"Your Majesty, Wakanda's technology is impressive — but next time, I'd suggest holding meetings further from the parking lot."
"Omni..." T'Chaka was shaken. He looked at the young man who was technically a UN fugitive. "You saved all of us."
"Don't thank me yet." Jake pointed at the large display screen, which had been forcibly hijacked. "The director of this show hasn't taken his bow."
Surveillance footage filled the screen: a figure with long dark hair, a tactical mask, and a gleaming metal left arm, walking away from the news van one minute before the explosion.
The Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes.
"That symbol..." T'Challa helped his father up, and the look in his eyes transformed from royal composure to something feral. Pure, focused killing intent.
His father hadn't died — but a terrorist attack targeting the Wakandan king was a violation of national dignity that demanded blood.
"T'Challa." King T'Chaka clutched his broken ribs, voice weak. "Don't let hatred cloud your judgment..."
"Father, you need medical attention." T'Challa's voice was terrifyingly controlled. "Take the king to the embassy immediately. Notify the Royal Guard — seal everything."
He removed the royal ring from his thumb, handed it to an attendant, and turned to Jake.
"Omni. I owe you a debt. But that assassin — I will judge him myself."
T'Challa was gone before Jake could respond — sprinting from the hall with the speed and purpose of a man who'd already decided the outcome.
"Hey — that's not the real—"
"DON'T MOVE!!"
The blast doors slammed open. Two teams of Austrian SWAT officers poured in, weapons trained on the one enhanced individual standing on the podium.
Ross's voice crackled over the building's PA system: "Rivers! You are suspected of manufacturing a terrorist attack! Hands on your head! Snipers are in position!"
Jake looked at Natasha, who wore an expression of absolute exasperation.
"See? This is what 'no good deed goes unpunished' looks like. I ate the bomb, and he's accusing me of planting it."
Natasha sighed. "Go. Now. Ross is rabid. Don't start a fight here."
"Wasn't planning to."
Jake pressed the Omnitrix.
"I've got a date in Bucharest — cleaning up the mess around Captain America's unlucky best friend."
Blue flash.
XLR8.
The visor snapped shut, and the world froze.
Before any SWAT officer could squeeze a trigger, a blue gale swept through the hall. When the wind stopped, every officer's magazine had been removed, and their belts were tied together in a daisy chain.
Jake was gone.
In the car.
Gwen floored the accelerator as Jake materialized in the passenger seat.
"T'Chaka survived. History changed."
"But the seed of hatred still got planted." Jake watched police cars screaming past in the opposite direction. "T'Challa is a perfectionist. Someone touched his father — he won't let it go. And Ross will issue a global warrant within the hour."
Jake checked his phone. Steve's location signal was moving fast. Toward Bucharest.
"Hold tight, Gwen. Next stop: Romania."
"What's waiting there?"
"A three-way collision. Captain America. Black Panther. And the police forces of half the Western world."
Deep in the Omnitrix:
[Plot correction complete.]
[Host used Upchuck to consume the Vienna explosion. T'Chaka survived.]
[Despite the king's survival, Black Panther — motivated by royal dignity and threat elimination — has initiated pursuit of the Winter Soldier.]
[Current mission: Proceed to Bucharest. Intervene in the initial confrontation between Captain America and Black Panther.]
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