Join now :- patreon. com/TranslationGod
20+ early chapters at just 20$
Avengers Compound. Conference room.
BAM!
A thick file hit the table.
General Ross — Secretary of State, professional thorn in every hero's side — leaned forward, glaring at Steve and Tony.
"You WILL hand over control of the alien weaponry! The Plumbers cannot exist independently of the United Nations!" Ross's voice filled the room. "Earth was nearly destroyed and you didn't even file a REPORT!"
Tony leaned back. Sipped his coffee. He'd just saved the planet. And besides — Ross couldn't beat him.
"Times have changed, Stark."
Ross pressed a remote.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Three heavy mechs descended onto the compound lawn. Pitch-black armor. Crimson reactors. Secondary vibranium shells and energy suppression fields.
"Military's latest — Hulkbuster 2.0. 'Heavy Artillery' class." Ross smirked. "We have the capability to take over defense."
BANG!
The conference room door kicked open.
Jake walked in. Pulled out a chair. Sat down.
"Take over what, exactly?"
"Hand over the watch. Open the Moon base. Or the Plumbers are classified as a terrorist organization." Ross didn't flinch. Three War Machines backing him up tended to help with courage.
Jake said nothing.
He glanced out the window.
Thought.
No hand movement. No dial. No slap.
Whoosh!
Jake vanished — blue-black afterimage punching through the window.
XLR8.
The blur circled the first mech. CRACK! Knee joints dismantled mid-stride. The mech dropped to its knees.
Green flash — mid-run, no pause.
Four Arms.
BOOM! One fist into the second mech's chest. The secondary vibranium shell crumpled like foil. Power core stalled. Four hands grabbed top and bottom and ripped — the mech torn in half, pilot shaken free and tumbling onto the grass.
Landing. Another thought.
Diamondhead.
The third mech raised its weapon—
Jake's palm hit the ground. PFFT-PFFT-PFFT! Crystal spikes erupted beneath the mech, piercing limbs, pinning it in the air like a specimen on display.
Three seconds. Three mechs. Scrap.
Whoosh.
Jake sat back down in his conference room chair. Picked up a water glass. Sipped.
Outside, the Military's pride and joy was a junkyard.
Dead silence.
Ross had gone the color of old cheese. Cold sweat soaked through his uniform.
Jake set down the glass.
"Listen. The Plumbers aren't under anyone's jurisdiction. I handle the monsters you can't. You handle keeping your mouth shut."
He stood.
"Questions?"
Ross shook his head. Stiffly.
"Good. Physical demonstrations are more persuasive than PowerPoints."
Jake stepped into a portal and vanished.
The Watcher Station. Jake's private lounge.
Steam. A split copper pot bubbling on the table — red oil on one side, clear broth on the other. The aroma filled the room with warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.
Gwen wore loose loungewear, blonde hair tied up casually. She scooped out a piece of beef tripe with a slotted spoon and placed it in Jake's bowl.
"Earth situation handled?"
"Just politicians." Jake dipped the tripe in sesame oil and garlic, ate it in one bite. "This is incredible. Stark Industries logistics earned their paycheck."
Gwen smiled — chin on hand, watching him eat. After Titan, after Thanos, after the apocalypse — the hot pot, the warm light, and the person across the table provided something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
Peace.
"Jake."
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
He put down his chopsticks. Took her hand.
"I promised I'd take you home to visit."
Her eyes reddened. She squeezed back.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!
Red alarm. Station-wide.
The warmth shattered.
Jake frowned. Tapped the terminal.
"Commander Stacy!" A Plumbers operator appeared, face tight with urgency. "Cross-dimensional distress signal intercepted! Coordinates: Earth-65!"
Gwen stood so fast her chair fell.
Earth-65. Her Earth. Her father. Her friends. Her home.
"Patch it through!"
Static. Flickering. Then — stabilized.
A burning city. In the background, the Empire State Building — broken, leaning, surrounded by smoke. This was New York. But not their New York.
In the center of the frame stood a young man.
Red-and-black jacket. Features that were — exactly like Jake's. Same face. Same build. Same jawline.
Except the hair was bone-white.
The white-haired youth looked into the camera. A smile that had nothing warm in it.
He raised his left hand. On his wrist — a crimson metal watch. Same design as the Omnitrix. Different color. Different intent.
"Gwen Stacy."
His voice came through the static. Dripping with madness.
"Do you like the gift I sent you?"
The feed cut to black.
Gwen stared at the dead screen. Her knuckles were white.
Jake stood. Wiped red oil from the corner of his mouth. His eyes went cold — the particular cold that meant someone had made this very personal.
"Albedo."
He spoke the name like a verdict.
"Prepare the cross-dimensional portal."
Jake turned toward the equipment room.
"I'm full. Time to get to work."
Show Some By Powerstones
Next BONUS CHAPTER at 200 powerstones