"BOOM—!!!"
A deafening explosion nearly shattered everyone's eardrums!
The entire Sky Carrier lurched violently to one side, as if struck by a colossal hand from beneath the clouds. The steel hull groaned in agony, its structural integrity screaming under the strain.
Inside the lab, ceiling lights exploded in streaks of sparks, showering the room with debris. The shrill wail of red alarms merged with Agent Hill's desperate shouts, broadcasting through every corner of the ship.
"Report! Engine Three is under attack! We're going down!"
The sudden loss of gravity sent everyone reeling.
Tony stumbled, barely catching himself against a lab table. Dr. Banner, pale-faced, clutched the edge of a desk, his glasses askew. Thor hovered mid-air, his hammer in hand, golden hair whipping wildly in the turbulent air.
The lab—once a battlefield of betrayal and fury—was now engulfed in the shadow of death.
The collapse of trust had been swiftly followed by physical destruction.
Loki's script unfolded with horrifying precision, one calculated move after another.
Amid the chaos, only Paul remained eerily calm.
Though the violent tremors threatened to throw him off balance, his mind raced like an overclocked processor, instantly filtering out all panic.
Something was wrong.
This was all too... convenient.
The earlier argument—the one that had nearly torn the Avengers apart—had felt artificial. Captain America's stubbornness, Tony's biting sarcasm, Thor's arrogance, Fury's ironclad resolve...
Their flaws had been amplified, their rationality drowned out by emotion.
This wasn't just a crisis of trust.
This was deliberate psychological warfare.
Paul's gaze cut through the flashing red alarms, zeroing in on an object carelessly discarded on a corner lab table—Loki's scepter.
The blue gem at its tip pulsed rhythmically, flickering like the beating heart of something malevolent.
"White, scan the scepter. Full-spectrum energy analysis," Paul commanded silently.
[Command received.]
[Analyzing...]
[High-frequency gamma radiation detected. Energy signature matches the Tesseract.]
[Secondary energy wave detected—low frequency, actively emitting...]
[Waveform analysis complete. Confirmed as psychic interference radiation, capable of amplifying negative emotional states: fear, rage, paranoia...]
Got it.
Just then, Fury—having just steadied himself—snarled into his comm with fury burning in his single eye. "Hill, return fire! Take those bastards down!"
"You're worried about the attackers?" Thor's voice boomed like thunder. "Your flying coffin is about to crash! And it was you who brought the Tesseract to Earth!"
"This is my ship!" Fury roared back. "My responsibility! Not your brother's damn playground!"
"Enough!"
A sharp, icy voice cut through the chaos—soft, yet it silenced them instantly.
All eyes snapped to Paul.
"Will screaming patch the hole in our engine?" Paul's gaze swept over them before locking onto Fury. "Or are you planning to keep arguing all the way down into the Atlantic?"
He strode to the center of the lab, pointing at the scerpter.
"That thing's been pumping out a psychic wave—heightening all our worst instincts."
A dry, mocking edge crept into his tone.
"Or, in simpler terms: we just acted out Loki's script like puppets. And now, we've reached the grand finale."
Dr. Banner adjusted his glasses, his breathing ragged, his pulse erratic. A swarm of invisible flies seemed to buzz inside his skull.
He clutched his head, grimacing. "I... I don't feel right..."
"Bruce!" Natasha tensed, knowing exactly what his loss of control meant.
"There's a way," Paul said, turning to Fury with a razor-sharp gaze. "Director, wasn't SHIELD developing a synthetic 'White Eye' system? For interrogation and emotional regulation. Bring it out."
Fury's eye widened imperceptibly.
The "White Eye" project was one of SHIELD's most classified psy-ops initiatives. How the hell did this kid know about it?
Tony glanced sideways at his adopted son, amused despite himself. Just how much of SHIELD's database had he hacked?
"What can it do?" Natasha pressed, a fragile hope lacing her words. "Can it... help Clint? Or Selvig?"
Her mind was on her brainwashed comrades.
Paul shook his head, dispelling her hope.
"No. It only creates an interference field—neutralizes the amplified emotions, restores rational thought. Think of it as a sedative, not a cure."
Seeing her expression dim, he added, "To save them, we first need to stop losing our own minds."
Fury didn't have time to question Paul's intel. His only choice now was trust.
"Get the White Eye units here—now!" he barked into the comm.
Moments later, an agent burst in with a silver case. Inside lay a dozen devices resembling sleek Bluetooth earpieces.
"No time for individual calibration."
Paul's palm flipped open, unleashing a stream of silver nanites that flowed like liquid metal over the devices. A faint hum resonated as the nanites worked—three seconds later, every indicator light turned from red to steady blue.
"Put them on."
No one hesitated.
Banner was first.
The moment the device touched his ear, the lines of pain on his face smoothed. His breathing steadied. He stared at his own hands in disbelief.
"The anger... it's gone," he whispered. "It's... quiet."
The others followed.
The simmering fury, the unbearable itch of paranoia—it all dulled beneath a wave of unnatural calm.
In the midst of their deadly descent, the lab's tension dissolved into eerie stillness.
Thor looked at Fury. Fury at Tony. Tony at Banner.
A chilling realization settled over them all—they had nearly torn each other apart before their enemy even struck.
And Loki had planned it perfectly.
"Alright," Tony exhaled, clapping his hands together. "Now we can actually fix that damn engine."
Just then—
"Beep! Beep! Beep! Warning! Warning!"
A new alarm—sharper, more urgent—shattered the fragile quiet.
Not the engines.
Not an external attack.
This alarm came from inside the lab itself.
Every head turned toward the central console.
The holographic screen flickered to life, displaying their worst nightmare: the reinforced containment cell built for the Hulk now flashed with bright red text—
EXTERNAL BREACH DETECTED.
LIFE SIGNS: NEGATIVE.
"Oh no..." Banner's face drained of color.
Loki hadn't wanted him dead.
He'd wanted him unleashed.
"Hill!" Fury's voice cracked. "Where's the Hulk?!"
Over the comm, Hill's response was fragmented by explosions and screams:
"He's—he's on the lower decks—our people are everywhere—Oh god! He's heading for Engine Three!"
Loki hadn't attacked the engine.
He'd sent the Hulk to smash it.
Use one Avenger to destroy the rest.
That was the real plan.
Outside the lab, rapid footsteps and the sounds of weapons being readied echoed closer.
Fury's expression darkened as he looked between Paul and Tony.
"Stark! Now would be a damn good time for that suit of yours!"
Just as the storm of distrust had calmed, an uncontrollable green monster was tearing apart their last chance of survival—one deck below.