Marvel: Hunter

Natasha had always been clear-headed.

But in moments like this—when her situation shifted from manageable chaos to imminent death—even her composure began to crack.

As mentioned before, she wasn't afraid of dying. What she feared was a meaningless death.

And dying here, in this situation, would be just that—pointless.

Aside from taking down a handful of Chitauri, her death wouldn't significantly impact the battle. It wouldn't buy time or create a turning point. It would just be… another fallen soldier.

If her death could serve a purpose—even the smallest advantage—she could accept it without regret. Just like any of the original Avengers would.

Fortunately, Blaine arrived just in time.

He caught her mid-fall, gradually dissipating the momentum with precision, and finally set her gently on the ground without injury or strain.

"Thanks," Natasha said, breathing a sigh of relief, her gratitude genuine.

Her legs trembled slightly—not from fear, but from her body's natural, uncontrollable reaction to a near-death experience. The instinct would pass quickly.

"You're welcome," Blaine replied flatly. "It's just business."

His voice was cold, emotionless—pragmatic to a fault.

"You really are ruthless," Natasha muttered, bending slightly to rub the tension from her legs. She sighed.

The man in front of her had no obvious weaknesses—or perhaps, all of his traits were flaws. Chief among them was his obsession with profit. Even when he occasionally joked or played along, the impression he left was always the same: cold and calculating.

"Ruthless is better," Blaine replied. "What good is sympathy?"

Can love be used as currency?

He didn't say it aloud—but the thought echoed in his mind. He simply gave a small shake of the head, letting the unspoken sentiment hang between them.

Some things didn't need to be said. People like Natasha understood without words.

"Thanks again, Tony," Blaine said over the comm.

With that, he vanished—teleporting toward the top of the Stark Tower.

The Stark Tower floated in the skyline, half-consumed by the chaos.

The lightning field that encased the space portal was weakening. Once, it had acted as a near-impenetrable barrier, frying anything that tried to pass through. Now, only a few straggling Chitauri managed to force their way out.

The elemental energy was nearly depleted.

After all, elemental arrows—despite their incredible power—were simply condensed packets of ambient energy, strengthened through Blaine's system-based magic (an AU mechanic). They had no internal power source. No self-sustaining supply.

When the elemental bow eventually leveled up—perhaps past level 30—it might begin drawing energy directly from its surroundings. Until then, its abilities were still limited and temporary.

Blaine stood on the roof of the Stark Tower, gazing up at the flickering lightning field. The Chitauri were overwhelming it, second by second.

He smiled faintly.

"Let's keep the show going."

He raised his bow.

Four more advanced lightning-elemental arrows were notched and released in rapid succession, reinforcing the field for a few more crucial minutes.

That should be long enough.

Long enough to set up a big move.

"Tony," Blaine called over the comms, "let me borrow your genius for a second."

Tony—still fending off a squad of Chitauri—felt a chill down his spine.

A very bad feeling crept up on him.

But, for the sake of the mission, he gritted his teeth and shouted back:

"Fine! Just don't blow up the tower!"

A grin curled across Blaine's face.

"Meteor—Flame."

With a quiet incantation, twin flames ignited in his eyes.

Beneath them, an arcane symbol glowed—the sign of the Copy Eye (AU ability).

Suddenly, a massive purple magic circle—a pentagram nearly 100 meters in diameter—materialized atop the Stark Tower's roof.

The light that erupted from it was blinding. It eclipsed the sunlight. It outshone even the storm cloud of the lightning field. The power pulsing through it was immense—a beacon seen by everyone on the battlefield.

And then—

The purple glow disappeared.

From the center of the magic circle, a five-meter-wide meteorite, glowing and flaming, erupted downward like a cannonball from the heavens.

Its rocky body scorched as it tore through the sky, trailing fire.

BOOM!

The meteorite struck the ground—but not like a real meteorite.

The stone shell disintegrated instantly upon impact, transforming into a surging inferno that devoured everything in the blast radius.

A nearby taxi vaporized in an instant.

The heat was so intense, even hardened steel began to melt.

And that was just the beginning.

Meteorites continued to rain down—some five meters wide, some three, some just one—but all of them burned with the same unrelenting flames.

Each one left a blazing trail behind it, like a storm of fire descending from the sky.

From a distance, it looked like a meteor shower.

Up close…

It looked like hell.

The Chitauri were getting obliterated.

Any soldier caught in the path of the meteorites burst into flames. The fire clung to them like tar, burning them alive. In the air, dozens of burning corpses spiraled and fell like shooting stars—each one a scream in the chaos.

The Leviathans—the massive, armored alien "whale-ships"—were even worse off.

Whereas the Chitauri foot soldiers could at least try to dodge, the Leviathans were slow and massive, easy targets for the falling fire.

Only two remained near Stark Tower.

As the meteors rained down, they were hit over and over again—screaming in pain, writhing under the heat, smashing into buildings in desperate attempts to escape.

One slammed into the ground, erupting in a shockwave of superheated air. Flames engulfed its bulk, cooking it from the outside in. The surrounding area instantly became unapproachable—even S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in protective gear couldn't get within ten meters.

And then there was Loki.

He'd been soaring on a Chitauri hoverbike, laughing maniacally, scepter in hand—feeling triumphant.

Finally reunited with the weapon that had started it all.

Victory felt close.

That is—until the giant pentagram appeared.

The light from the circle made him squint. A sense of foreboding set in.

Loki's body was agile—but nowhere near as durable as Thor's. He dodged instinctively, weaving side to side.

Behind him, Chitauri soldiers weren't as lucky. Just one sudden swerve from Tony was enough to send them smashing into a building.

And the meteorites kept coming.

Even with Loki's quick reflexes and practiced flight, he couldn't dodge them all.

After sidestepping several blazing rocks, one final meteor—smaller than the rest, just three meters across—zeroed in on him.

He had just dodged another when he looked up—too late.

There was no escape.

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