Marvelous Mutations

Luke was so excited that he couldn't sleep. Neither could Wanda nor Sharon.

Especially when they heard the low rumble echoing from above the roof, an unmistakable sound that made their hearts race.

They were giddy, practically buzzing with excitement.

If Nick Fury had still been in the grocery store to witness their expressions, he might've lost a few years of his life out of sheer fury.

This, this was exactly why he fled the scene so quickly.

If he stayed even a minute longer and saw Luke happily prancing around while welcoming his new helicarrier, he might've ground his teeth into dust.

It was like two friends buying lottery tickets together, solemnly agreeing that if one of them won, there'd be no hard feelings.

And then... Luke won.

With Fury's ticket.

…

The trio didn't even pretend to sleep.

They piled into the Camaro, Doggo included, and soared directly toward the helicarrier floating quietly above Manhattan.

Tonight's sky felt different, calmer, brighter.

Especially from the open deck of the helicarrier, where the soft wind rolled across the platform and the stars blinked down like a blessing.

Doggo rolled happily across the deck, his white fur catching the starlight.

"This is insane," Sharon said, gazing at the sheer size of the ship. "We're standing on a flying fortress."

"And it's all ours!" Luke grinned, arms raised like a victorious general.

"In this economy?" Wanda teased, spinning slowly in place. "Who needs an apartment when you've got an aircraft carrier?"

It was absurd, sure, but so was real estate in New York. And this? This was better than any mansion, bigger than any of them, and mobile to boot.

The four of them, Doggo included, looked red-eyed from lack of sleep, but none of them were tired.

Instead, they huddled around the edge of the deck, discussing renovations like overexcited homeowners.

"I say we build a pool here," Luke pointed dramatically.

"We need a game room. You know we need a game room," Sharon added.

Wanda tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We should move the grocery store here."

Luke nearly choked. "What? Are you crazy?! Who's going to fly up here to buy snacks?"

"Well… maybe some VIP delivery service?" she smirked.

"Absolutely not," Luke said, waving her off. "If we do that, our business model will crash harder than Fury's patience."

Just then, Bumblebee's voice distracted them.

"Boss, there seems to be something abnormal going on back on the ground. You might want to take a look."

They blinked at each other, instantly alert.

"Abnormal?" Luke frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Without further delay, they rushed into the control room.

It was a marvel of technology, circular in shape, wrapped in curved glass windows with a panoramic view of the world outside. Advanced instruments filled every panel, while translucent monitors hovered midair giving it a futuristic touch.

But they had no time to admire it.

Bumblebee had already transferred a live feed from the helicarrier's external cameras to a central screen.

The high-definition image displayed a street view of Manhattan, still cloaked in early dawn shadows.

Specifically 58th Avenue, right near the grocery store.

A group of young people filled the street.

All dressed differently, casually, as if they belonged to no specific faction. But the angle from above revealed a more sinister detail, they were moving with subtle purpose, slowly encircling the grocery store.

"They're surrounding us…" Sharon muttered.

"They don't move like Hydra," Wanda noted, her brows furrowing. "Too loose. No training."

Luke's gaze narrowed. "But this many people? This early? That can't be a coincidence."

He was right. At this hour, Manhattan streets were usually empty or just beginning to stir, not teeming with hundreds of twenty or thirty-somethings moving like shadows.

Something was wrong. And they could all feel it.

…

Elsewhere, far from Manhattan, Tony Stark's mansion was about to face a nightmare.

Two armed helicopters hovered silently in the dark sky.

Inside, a man sitting in the co-pilot seat adjusted his earpiece. "Boss, we're in position near Tony Stark's residence. Should we engage?"

Inside his secret base, Killian's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Attack immediately," he ordered. "Send them all to hell."

The command barely finished echoing before the sky lit up.

Boom boom boom!!!

Explosions shook the coastline. Missiles slammed into Tony Stark's home, each impact louder than the last.

Boom! Boom! Boom!!!

The mansion, once a beacon of modern architecture, collapsed in on itself like a card pyramid.

Killian stared at the live footage with a twisted grin. His shoulders trembled with laughter, years of resentment bubbling into satisfaction.

This was the revenge he'd craved so long.

"There's no way he survived that," he murmured to himself, his voice nearly trembling with glee.

The explosions came at dawn's edge, when most people were still deep in sleep.

"Boss, the target has been eliminated," came the voice on the comms. "Requesting permission to return."

Killian barely looked away from the screen. "Head to Pier 2."

"Roger that."

As the helicopters turned and flew off, none of them noticed what remained beneath the rubble.

Tony Stark, wearing his upgraded Mark-42 suit, stood amid the wreckage. His armor glowed faintly in the shadows as he protected Maya Hansen and Pepper with his outstretched arms.

Ever since recent events had shaken his nerves, he'd developed the habit of sleeping in the suit.

That habit had just saved all three of their lives.

The mansion was gone, but Tony was still standing.

…

Meanwhile, Killian's plans continued.

With Hydra wiped out, he wasted no time expanding his operations.

He'd already recruited hundreds of followers, every one of them injected with Extremis.

An army of enhanced soldiers.

And Killian had plans for everyone.

For Tony, he sent two helicopters.

For the President of the United States, ten men, now en route to Pier 2.

But for Luke?

He sent hundreds.

Nearly half his total manpower.

He knew Luke wasn't normal. He'd witnessed it firsthand.

Even so, Killian was confident.

"There's no way that bastard survives this," he muttered, bouncing his leg impatiently as his car rolled toward Pier 2. "Not even those two women can stop such an army."

His laptop screen glowed.

On it: a live feed of 58th Avenue.

The grocery store.

Hundreds of Extremis-enhanced young people had surrounded the building, moving into position like actors in a grand finale.

Killian leaned forward and grinned.

"Do it," he ordered through the communicator.

…