He stood up, stretching lazily, then turned serious.
"But if we're going to survive... no, if we're going to win—it's not enough to just hide here."
Sara frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Max summoned another menu, pulling out a sleek-looking vial filled with swirling, blood-red liquid.
The vial pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat.
"This…" he said, holding it up, "is called a Red Apple."
Sara stared at it suspiciously.
"...That looks nothing like an apple."
Max laughed.
"Yeah, naming things isn't my strong point. Anyway—this thing's important. It's a serum I created—well, technically it's a hybrid of some crazy Gach..... things I combined. It boosts a person's potential beyond human limits."
He crouched down in front of her, twirling the vial between his fingers.
"It unlocks dormant strength in anyone who takes it—men, women, kids, anyone. Even if they're normal humans, they can awaken powers strong enough to tear apart Ultrons barehanded."
Sara's eyes widened.
"You mean... we could fight back? Not just run and hide?"
Max nodded slowly.
"But there's a catch," he said, his tone dropping a little.
"Once you take it, there's no going back. Your body will evolve... your soul too. You'll become something stronger—but also different. Some people can't handle the surge, and if their will isn't strong enough… well, they lose themselves."
Sara was silent for a moment, processing.
"Have... you used it yourself?" she asked.
Max shrugged casually.
"Nah, I don't need it. I'm already beyond that level. But for everyone else? It's the key to flipping this dead world back onto its feet."
He placed the vial gently into her hands.
"I'll make more. Enough for everyone here.
But the choice to take it... will be yours."
Sara tightened her grip on the vial, a fierce determination rising in her eyes.
"I'll do it," she said firmly. "If it means we can stop running, protect each other... protect this..."
She looked around at the beautiful city growing under Max's care.
"...Then I'll fight."
Max grinned wide, a spark of admiration flashing through him.
"Good answer."
He stood up, looking out across the horizon where the remains of a broken world lay beyond their shielded paradise.
"This is just the beginning, Sara.
We're not just surviving anymore.
We're going to build a kingdom right under Ultron's nose."
The next day, Max and Sara stood in a massive open square inside the Eden Dome. Word had quickly spread among the survivors: Max, the strange newcomer who built them a paradise, was offering a way to fight back.
Hundreds gathered — tired faces, scarred bodies, but eyes filled with flickering hope.
Max stood atop a newly constructed stone platform, a sleek table beside him stacked with dozens of vials, each containing the crimson swirling liquid — the Red Apples.
Sara stood next to him, dressed in simple black clothing, her expression solemn but resolute.
Max raised his hand and his voice, letting it boom across the square without any mechanical aid — his power made sure every soul could hear him clearly.
"Today is the day we stop being prey."
The crowd stirred, murmurings of disbelief and excitement rippling through them.
"You've lived your lives scavenging in ruins," Max continued, "hiding from those metal bastards… watching loved ones fall while you ran."
A deep breath. His voice turned colder.
"I'm tired of running. Aren't you?"
"YES!"
The crowd roared.
Max grinned.
"Good. Because running ends today."
He held up a vial.
"This is the Red Apple. A miracle and a gamble. Drink it, and your body, your soul — everything you are — will evolve. You will awaken power, strength you never thought possible."
He let the words sink in before continuing.
"But beware — if your spirit is weak, if you let fear and doubt rule you— you could lose yourself. Those unworthy will burn out. Only those who truly desire to fight, to protect, to live free — will succeed."
Sara stepped forward, clutching her vial tightly.
"I'll go first," she said loudly.
Max smiled warmly.
"Brave girl."
Without hesitation, Sara popped open the vial and drank the Red Apple in one swift motion.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then her body tensed, trembling as a glowing red light exploded from her core. She gasped as her veins lit up like molten rivers. Power, raw and primal, surged through her.
The crowd held their breath.
Sara gritted her teeth, screaming not in pain — but in triumph.
Her hair whipped wildly as a crimson aura blazed around her. The ground cracked under her feet from the sheer pressure.
Then, slowly, the glow stabilized. Sara stood taller, her eyes glowing faintly red, her muscles leaner, her presence sharper — almost predatory.
Max nodded in approval.
"You see?" he said, turning back to the crowd.
"This world doesn't need cowards hiding in holes anymore. It needs warriors."
He gestured grandly toward the table full of vials.
"Come. Take your fate into your own hands.
Become the sword that strikes down the machine gods."
One by one, the bravest among them stepped forward, faces grim but determined.
The Red Apple Awakening had begun.
And soon, a new army would rise — not of machines, but of awakened humans, ready to take back their world.
Max watched it all unfold, his heart thundering in his chest.
'This... this is how it starts,' he thought.
"To fight an army, you need an army," Max muttered under his breath, patting his chest with satisfaction as he watched the awakening process unfold before him.
The square glowed red as each survivor drank the Red Apple. The weaker ones merely became stronger physically — bones hardened, muscles thickened, reflexes sharpened. Enough to stand and fight, to survive.
But only one had gone beyond that.
Max's gaze naturally settled on Sara.
Red lightning crackled and danced around her, forming thin webs of electric fury that coiled and uncoiled across her arms and shoulders. Her very presence had changed — it was like standing near a charged stormcloud now.
She stared at her own hands, awestruck, red sparks arcing between her fingers."I feel… alive," she whispered.
Max nodded to himself, thinking,Hm. As I expected. Only those with strong will and a natural affinity can awaken an Attribute from the Red Apple...
He walked toward her, his coat fluttering slightly from the residual static in the air.
"Congratulations," he said with a small grin. "You're not just strong now. You're special. That lightning you command is the real deal."
The sky over Tokyo was dark, rain pouring down in sheets that glistened under the neon glow of signs in Kanji. The narrow alleyways were slick with water and shadow, reflecting a city still running in fragments—order maintained by those who had the power and the will to take it.
Natasha Romanoff walked with purpose, her hood drawn up, blending in with the late-night crowd. She moved through the backstreets with practiced ease, her eyes sharp, knowing exactly where to go.
It didn't take long to find the carnage.
A dozen bodies lay sprawled in silence near a private club—a front for a powerful crime syndicate that had thrived in the vacuum left after the Snap. Blood mixed with rainwater in small rivers at the edge of the pavement. All of them armed. All of them dead.
Natasha's lips pressed into a grim line. She stepped through the wreckage and into the building beyond.
There, standing in the middle of a luxurious hallway under shattered chandeliers and flickering lights, was Clint Barton. Or rather, what was left of him.
He no longer wore the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D. gear. His new armor was darker—tactical, efficient, ruthless. A dragon symbol stitched on his shoulder. His face was partially masked, but Natasha could still see the haunted emptiness in his eyes.
He was wiping a bloodied katana clean when he looked up, instantly recognizing her presence.
"Nat," Clint said simply, his voice tired. Hollow.
"Clint," she replied, stepping forward. "I've been looking for you."
"I didn't want to be found."
"You're not the only one who lost everything." Her voice was steady, but held a softness only he would catch.
Clint turned away, staring at the city beyond the smashed windows. "These people… they were monsters. After the Snap, they filled the void. Took what wasn't theirs. They didn't deserve to survive when my family didn't."
"I know," Natasha said quietly. "But this… this isn't who you are."
He laughed bitterly. "Isn't it? Because every time I cut one of them down, I don't feel regret. I feel... like I'm balancing something."
"I came because we have a chance to fix it," she said, stepping closer. "To bring them back. All of them."
Clint's breath caught for a second. She saw the flicker of pain in his eyes.
"We found a way," she continued. "Tony, Bruce, Scott—everyone's working on it. And we need you."
Clint looked at the blood on his blade, then at the rain slowly washing it away. His shoulders dropped slightly.
"Do you think it'll actually work?" he asked, his voice rough.
"I don't need any false hope"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Natasha came near him saying as she added" Me too, I would rather die than give you a false hope"
There was a long silence between them, filled only by the sound of rain and distant sirens.
Then Clint finally sheathed his sword and turned fully toward her.
"…Alright," he said. "I'm in."
Natasha nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long while, she felt hope press through the grief.
They left Tokyo together, shadows trailing behind them—one more piece of the puzzle falling into place.
***
Far from the remnants of bustling cities and fallen empires, nestled along the rocky coastline of Norway, lay New Asgard—a quiet, resilient fishing village. Waves lapped gently against the shore, and small boats bobbed near the docks. The place had none of the grandeur of the old Asgard, yet there was a solemn dignity in its simplicity.
Steve Rogers stepped out of the truck and onto the muddy road that led through the village. The air was crisp, salt-filled, and quiet—too quiet. He walked past homes built from repurposed materials and fishermen hauling in the day's catch. Children played in the mud, their laughter soft but real. Life here had continued, in its own small way, trying to heal.
Valkyrie spotted him first.
She leaned against a post near the edge of the dock, a fishing net slung over her shoulder and a drink in hand. She looked like she hadn't slept in a few days, but her expression was alert.
"Captain," she said with a faint smile. "You're a long way from the stars and stripes."
"Valkyrie," Steve nodded. "Is he here?"
She scoffed. "Oh, he's here. Just not the Thor you remember."
Steve raised a brow. "That bad?"
She gestured toward one of the larger cabins sitting higher up the hill, near the cliff's edge. "See for yourself. Just don't bring up the past… or beer. He's already had plenty."
Steve made his way uphill, boots crunching over gravel and damp grass. The cabin was weathered, smoke gently rising from the chimney. The door was partially open, and from within came the flickering glow of television light—and the unmistakable sound of video game gunfire and shouting.
He stepped inside.
The living room was a mess. Beer cans, pizza boxes, empty mead bottles, and Asgardian relics all jumbled together. The God of Thunder himself sat slouched into a massive recliner, wearing sunglasses and a robe, a blanket draped over his lap.
Thor had changed.
His once-godlike physique had softened; his beard was bushier and unkempt. He held a beer in one hand, a game controller in the other, and shouted, "Noobmaster69! You foul beast! I smite thee again!"
Korg, the rock-skinned Kronan, sat beside him with a bowl of chips. "Oh, hey man, you're getting him this time. Don't worry, he rage-quits all the time."
Steve stood there in silence for a moment before Thor finally looked over.
"…Steve?" he blinked, lowering his sunglasses. "You're alive. Or am I dead? Hard to tell these days."
"You're alive, Thor," Steve said gently. "And we need you."
Thor sighed and leaned back. "Yeah, well… the last time I was needed, I failed. Half the universe, Steve. I had the shot… and I didn't take it."
Steve stepped further in, his tone firm but understanding. "You're not the only one who lost, Thor. But we've found something. A way to fix it."
Thor didn't answer at first. He looked down at the can in his hand, then toward Mjolnir's replacement—Stormbreaker—resting quietly against the wall.
"You're saying… we can bring them back?" Thor finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Steve nodded. "We think so. But we can't do it without you."
Thor looked away, staring out the window toward the sea.
"I'm not who I used to be."
Steve offered a faint smile. "None of us are. But you're still worthy, Thor. You always were."
The God of Thunder closed his eyes for a moment. The silence stretched… until finally, he stood, wobbling a little, pushing the robe aside to reveal his armor—still fitting, though a bit tighter.
"…Alright," he said. "Let's get the damn team back together."