[Ding! United States Army General Ross has threatened to kill the host. In retaliation, the aircraft he was riding in has decided to change course, taking the initiative to meet the incoming nuclear missile and leave this absurd world.]
Luke blinked.
"…Huh?"
He rubbed his eyes, but the system prompt was still there.
Did the plane… give up on life?
He scratched his head.
"I've been hiding here this whole time, haven't done anything weird lately… Why is General Ross suddenly threatening me? What's his problem?"
Wanda and Sharon looked over curiously.
Luke shrugged. "Some old dude's mad at me again. Not my fault."
He muttered, "Honestly, between Ross and that mustache of his, I can't tell which one's crazier…"
Still, he frowned slightly.
Ross had clearly lost his marbles.
All the conflict between them had been started by Ross, not him. Luke had just defended himself. Now Ross wanted revenge because… what? He lost a few super soldiers and his facial hair?
Unreasonable.
Petty.
Classic Marvel villain behavior.
But then Luke's eyes narrowed as something in the system prompt caught his attention.
Nuclear missile…
'Oh. Right.' Luke blinked again. 'That part.'
He'd almost forgotten.
The war between Gul'dan and the Chitauri was just too insane, like watching a top-tier boss fight while hordes of under-leveled minions tried to get a hit in.
He was so entertained, he'd nearly forgotten about the actual bomb.
But now? It wasn't really a big deal.
After all… General Ross was such a great man. Willing to sacrifice himself in the name of protecting the city?
Luke smirked slightly and wiped an imaginary tear.
'How noble.'
…
High above New York, inside the now-doomed military plane…
General Ross had just ordered the pilot to break away from the battlefield and head for safety.
But then.
"Autopilot is now engaged. Please exit the cockpit."
The pilot paused.
"…What?"
"Autopilot is now engaged. Please exit the cockpit."
"…I didn't turn on the autopilot," he muttered, confused. "And since when does it talk like that?"
"Autopilot is now engaged. Please exit the cockpit."
The pilot's brow furrowed as the controls locked beneath his fingers.
"Wait, what?!"
He began slamming buttons, toggling switches, twisting levers, but nothing responded. The stick didn't budge. The navigation system ignored all manual input.
The voice continued, eerily calm.
"Please exit the cockpit."
And worse, the plane had begun turning…
… Right back toward New York City.
The pilot's face went pale.
"Oh no. Oh no no no, General!"
He scrambled for the comm.
…
In the cabin, Ross was seated stiffly with his arms crossed when the panicked voice blared through his headset.
"Sir! The plane's not responding! The autopilot's hijacked and… it's turning around!"
Ross's eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about? Speak clearly, soldier!"
"W-we're heading back, sir! The plane is flying straight toward the nuke!"
The adjutant, overhearing this, ran to the window.
His jaw dropped.
Below them was the glinting rooftop of Stark Tower, glowing with the light of the Tesseract.
"…Sir." His voice was weak. "We've… we've circled back. We're over New York."
Ross stood up abruptly.
"That's not possible."
The adjutant turned to him slowly.
"It is. Also… the pilot just ejected."
"WHAT?!"
Ross rushed to the window and looked down.
A tiny figure, parachute open, was drifting toward the outskirts of the city.
"…He bailed," Ross whispered.
And that's when the realization hit him like a missile.
No pilot.
No crew.
No control.
And no time.
The nuclear missile was inbound.
The plane was heading right toward it.
And they were sitting in it like gift-wrapped suckers.
Ross turned to his adjutant. "Grab a chute. We're jumping!"
Without hesitation, the two bolted to the rear hatch. The emergency door blasted open, wind roaring inside the cabin.
One glance below told them everything:
There was only one safe-looking zone on the battlefield, a small, quiet street oddly devoid of fighting.
And parked neatly at the center was a bright yellow sports car.
Ross's eyes lit up.
"We're going there. I'm driving us the hell out of this city."
He dove.
…
As the wind howled in his ears, Ross could already taste freedom.
He was going to survive this.
Forget the fifty super soldiers.
Forget the damn Council.
Forget the nuke.
He was going to live, and take revenge.
He adjusted his chute and looked down at his landing point. The yellow car was in sight. A modest storefront beside it. It seemed untouched by the conflict.
Hope surged through him, right until the door of the shop creaked open.
A dog's head popped out.
Then the dog looked up.
Directly at him.
And smiled.
Ross squinted.
"…Wait a second."
The dog's eyes curved into crescent moons.
Its mouth stretched wide in a terrifying grin.
Sharp teeth. Tongue lolling out.
It knew him.
No, he knew it.
'No. No way. That can't be…'
The fur shimmered green.
The body expanded.
The dog's head began to inflate like a balloon, swelling grotesquely into a monstrous green snout.
"NO. NO, NO, NO, NOT YOU!!"
It was Doggo.
Luke's freakish, demonic, base-destroying husky.
The same one that had torched Ross's eyebrows, shredded his reputation, and left his military base a crater.
And now?
It had transformed again into a monstrous beast, mouth gaping wide.
And Ross was falling directly into it.
He thrashed wildly midair, trying to change course, to roll, to grab the chute straps and redirect.
Too late.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!"
With one final shriek, General Ross disappeared into Doggo's mouth.
Chomp.
Gone, just like that.
…
Inside the grocery store, Luke looked up.
He'd heard the yell.
He saw the parachute fluttering alone in the wind.
"…Doggo," he muttered.
"Get back here! What did I say about eating trash?!"
Doggo, back to his normal husky form, slinked through the door looking deeply aggrieved.
Luke glared.
"Don't give me that look! You could've gotten hurt out there!"
Doggo whimpered pitifully, his eyes round and innocent.
And then…
Plop.
He coughed out a boot dripping with saliva.
Sharon gagged.
Wanda covered her mouth in shock.
Luke sighed.
"…At least chew next time."
…
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