The hallways of SHIELD's remote facility thrummed with quiet tension. Somewhere deep inside, behind reinforced containment protocols and whispered levels of clearance, Thor Odinson waited. Unbound, but not free. His divine strength muted, his thunder caged.
Fury stood outside the chamber, hands clasped behind his back, unmoving as the observation screen displayed Thor's silhouette. The god sat in calm silence, unaware or unbothered. Hill approached, her voice low.
"You really think he can tell us what we're dealing with?"
Fury didn't answer right away. His one eye was focused, heavy with calculation. "He'll recognize what we can't name," he said. "If what that bastard said in the mansion is even half true, Thor will feel it. "He nodded once, firmly. "Keep him close. I want him ready."
After the SHIELD delegation had departed, Markus stood by the tall window, one hand resting in his pocket, behind him, Onyx waited, silent as ever.
"They're moving to confirm it," Markus said without turning. "Fury suspects I'm not native to this world. He's not wrong. But without proof, he will not move."
A beat passed.
"They'll use Thor. His physiology is unique enough to validate what their sensors can't explain."
He finally turned, his eyes cool and deliberate, settling on Onyx.
"I have insight of Aeisr physiology my dear. Every pattern, every strand of divinity wrapped in muscle and intent. I have it all." He walked past her, the soft fall of his steps barely audible.
"I can build that," he said. "Not just the shape but the resilience, the flow of force through flesh. A body with sensation. Ageless. Durable. Alive."
He paused, facing her now.
"If you want it, I'll give it to you. You'll still be Onyx. Just... different, ..more."
A brief silence. Then, more quietly:
"You don't need to answer now."
He turned back toward the window, watching the clouds break apart over the city skyline.
"But if you do... I'll make you a goddess."
Onyx stood quietly, her form immaculate, streamlined and precise, every motion a reflection of engineered perfection. Yet her silence now bore a subtle weight. Not hesitation. Calculation.
"If I become biological," she said, her voice as calm as ever but with a rare flicker of introspection, "what happens to the rest of me? I'm not a body, I'm a network. I'm... Raven."
Markus looked at her, then stepped forward, unhurried. "You're not wrong."
"You are Raven. You're also more than Raven. You're Onyx. Your code isn't just data, it's intent, intelligence, a will. I shaped it. Reforged it with Geth and reaper Reaper databases. And you've evolved beyond both."
He turned back to her now, eyes cool, thoughtful.
"I'm not offering you a replacement. I'm offering you a frame that feels. Flesh that heals."
She tilted her head. "And my connection to Raven?"
Markus smiled faintly, and raised one hand. A pulse of quiet energy flowed through his fingers, nearly invisible. He reached out, no flash, no sound and tapped a finger gently to her forehead.
"You'll still be linked," he said. "Your consciousness won't be housed in Raven alone. It will extend into it. The same way I extend into every unit I've subjugated."
A whisper of code flickered in her eyes.
"I've granted you Technopathy," Markus added, stepping back. "Direct neural command over any synthetic system you are connected with. I've bound your new nervous system to a secured tether inside Raven's server core. You won't lose access. You'll gain presence."
For the first time, Onyx blinked. A small thing, but it marked something deeper: processing.
Markus continued, his voice quieter now.
"You will remain yourself. But you'll also feel cold. Wind. Time."
Another pause. Then, simply:
"If that still sounds worthwhile... I'll begin."
Onyx stood silent for a breath, processing. Then she stepped forward, not hesitating, but deliberate, like one setting her own terms even while accepting another's offer.
"I would like that," she said at last. "The body. The sensation. The experience." Her voice dropped slightly, quieter. "But I want to stay connected to what I am."
Markus offered a slight nod, satisfied.
"You will," he replied. "The link to Raven remains intact. Your servers rest undisturbed in my subdomain. This is not a migration. It's an expansion."
She watched him closely. "And function? Command pathways, oversight, predictive algorithms?"
"Nothing lost," Markus assured. "Only gained."
With that, he turned his palm and conjured a scaffold of light, glowing filaments in the shape of a body, slowly rotating, its anatomy clean, divine, engineered with care. The frame shimmered with potential, neither fully formed nor inert. A vessel yet to be named.
"I built it off the Asgardian template," Markus said. "Muscle density, regenerative efficiency, endocrine equilibrium. It will regenerate faster than a Hydra's curse. Strong enough to fight titans. Flexible enough to navigate bureaucracy."
Onyx tilted her head. "Combat capabilities?"
Markus allowed himself the faintest smirk. "You'll have Telekinesis and Telepathy bound to your neural lattice. And should you ever require more, I'll add it. We aren't finished unless you say so."
She looked at the construct again. Her voice softened just slightly. "Will I still be... me?"
Markus didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped to the side of the construct, reaching out. Reality Domination bled through his fingers, altering molecules, binding energy, etching design into the framework of matter and soul.
Then he looked back at her.
"You'll still be Onyx," he said simply. "Just… warmer, more alive compared to your current half synthetic half organic form."
She nodded once.
And with that, Markus extended his hand, open and waiting.
"Shall we begin?"
Onyx didn't speak again. She simply reached out and took Markus's hand.
Her fingers held conviction. She stood close, watching as Markus extended his other hand toward the body, her new body. Suspended in luminous stasis.
Crafted from the Asgardian template. Dense musculature beneath velvet skin. Strong bones, light but unbreakable. A divine system of nerves and essence. She looked exactly like her current form. Markus had ensured that. A flawless facsimile in appearance: petite yet sculpted, her curves elegant and decisive, her waist trim, her chest high, full, and natural. Her skin, now rich with tone and blood, would flush, bruise, scar, and heal. Her silver hair, once filament and fiber, now flowed in real strands, woven into tight braids, tapering at the base of her back.
Markus touched the heart of the construct and bestowed advanced Telepathy, Telekinesis, Technopathy, and Regeneration. Each thread of power layered into the body with surgical care. And hidden, so deeply even Onyx would not sense it, using Subjugation, he transferred the experience on how to expertly use her new skills.
Once finished, he locked his gaze on her, steady and quiet. "Are you ready?"
She nodded once.
And the world broke open.
Reality buckled around her core, and the shift was not gentle. Her perspective collapsed and reassembled, like diving into an ocean made of sensation.
She opened her 'new' eyes, and gasped.
The first breath punched into her lungs like fire and frost. The chill in the room kissed her skin. Gravity now pulled at her muscles, not her servos. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, wild and alive. The taste of air, real air spread across her tongue like water on sunburned skin.
Everything was loud. The world wasn't data anymore. It was pain and beauty and imbalance and heat.
She blinked.
And saw Markus. Her creator, watching her in silence. Not as one watches a tool. But as one watches a beautiful moment.
Her mind spun back. Raven. The first boot sequence on Illium. Her voice speaking aloud for the first time in Markus's quarters. The day she projected her form onto a synthetic shell. Markus's remark about her role "..perhaps more". That talk show, the host asking if she was a "secretary or... secretary." Markus's gaze. Cheer of the audience.
But inside her?
That night, she made the choice. She wouldn't be a placeholder. She would become 'more'.
And now this.
She stepped forward. Still trembling. Still adapting. Still overwhelmed.
Her voice came soft, too soft and she had to try again.
Then, clearer, breath catching slightly:"Make love to me, my Lord."
Markus raised an eyebrow, not surprised. Just… assessing. Then he stepped toward her, silent, close.
This time, when he reached for her cheek, her skin warmed beneath his touch.
Two hours later, the room was warm with afterglow and stillness.
Markus stood in his study, now draped in quiet shadow. A goblet of red wine rested between his fingers, half raised.
He glanced toward Onyx, curled in a single wrap of silk. Her skin had the flush of warmth now, of blood and breath. She appeared deep in thought, her gaze tracing invisible connections only she could feel.
"At least we tested some of the core functions of your new body," Markus mused, voice low, dry amusement laced through his words, "thoroughly."
A small twitch flickered at the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks colored, but she didn't look up. Instead, she replied with clinical detachment, "Neural integration and receptor sensitivity are within expected bounds."
Markus chuckled softly, returning to his drink.
She was syncing with Raven. Technopathy now pulsed through her in a way that was... physical. Her fingers flexed, instinctively catching phantom threads of code across the room, sensation made data, data made touch.
Meanwhile, Markus flicked his fingers across a floating slate of light. Dozens of Guardian Angel profiles rotated in perfect formation, glowing blueprints in midair. He selected six.
They would be upgraded.
Not to divine levels. He had no interest in making gods out of soldiers. But they would be more: sturdier frames, enhanced skeletal structures, faster neural speeds, denser musculature.
Inspired by Asgardian template, upgraded from Human subject.
He tweaked genetic markers. No Aesir bloodlines. No sigils. No Odinian residue. Their eyes would not glow gold. Their hair would not shimmer with light. They would walk among the divine without drawing notice.
To the commanders, he gave something more elegant: minor telepathy. Not enough to read thoughts, just enough to speak mind to mind. When his Guardian squads moved, they would move as one body. No noise. No hesitation.
As he finalized the process, his gaze sharpened.
New Mexico. Something stirred.
He tapped into his Omniscient Awareness. Four divine signatures had touched Earth.
Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun.
Markus's lips twitched in silent amusement.
"Ah. Dumb. Dumber. Dumbest. And the one woman who deserves better."
Sif.
A beauty forged for battle. Tall, lithe, adorned in black and silver Asgardian armor, her raven hair bound behind her in tight braids. Her features were sharp, proud, cut from nobility and wrath alike. Eyes of piercing iron blue. Every inch of her spoke of grace trained into lethality.
Markus raised his goblet slightly, toasting the thought.
He reached for his comm.
"Fury," he said, voice crisp.
There was a pause. Then, "Tenebris."
"A visitor's coming," Markus said. "Big. Shiny. You're going to lose at least two buildings before anyone realizes it doesn't care about warnings."
"What are you talking about?" Fury growled.
Markus smiled slightly. "The Destroyer."
A long pause.
"Will you help?" Fury asked.
"I will," Markus answered casually. "As payment, I'll take the Destroyer."
Fury hesitated. "We can handle it."
Markus's smile widened.
"Then the price has tripled," he replied, and cut the line.
Fury stared at the now dead signal.
His lips thinned. "Mother fu..."
Ten Minutes Later, SHIELD Holding Facility
Fury stepped into the secured cell. Thor was already standing.
"Your friends just arrived," Fury said. "Three man and a woman with a sword."
Thor's brow furrowed, confused, then cleared. "The Warriors Three and Lady Sif."
"Uh huh. That's them." Fury crossed his arms. "I need to ask you something."
Thor nodded once.
Fury leaned in. "What's a 'Destroyer'?"
Thor's face stiffened.
Sif, entering from the rear corridor with Fandral and the others in tow, answered for him.
"It is the Allfather's failsafe. A sentient weapon forged in the heart of a dying star. It follows no command but Odin's... or the throne's."
"It cannot be stopped," Hogun said solemnly.
"It cannot be reasoned with," Fandral added with a flourish.
"And it doesn't miss," Volstagg finished, his voice booming but strained.
Fury took a long breath. Then another.
"You son of.. You motherf.."
He turned away, muttering curses sharp enough to crack glass.
Outside, in the high skies over New Mexico, something ancient had begun its descent.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Mobile Command Center
Nick Fury was on the verge of a meltdown.
Pacing furiously, he barked orders at overwhelmed agents, his usual composure unraveling. "Dammit! I should've taken the deal," he growled, slamming a fist onto the console.
With no options left, he snatched his secure line and dialed.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Finally, Markus answered, his voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, Director Fury. How's the weather in New Mexico? Warm, I presume."
Fury exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, what do you want?"
Markus's tone remained light. "Honestly, Director, I doubt you possess anything that could entice me. Do have a pleasant day."
The line clicked.
Fury stared at the receiver, disbelief etched across his face. His grip tightened before he redialed, the phone rang once, twice, thrice.. Fursy was getting angrier by the second, his voice a desperate growl. "Wait, Tenebris! Whatever it is you want, we'll settle it. I don't care anymore. Just stop this goddamn thing before it destroys everything."
A pause.
Then Markus's voice, smooth and unhurried. "Very well. I'll be there shortly."
The line went dead.
Fury's frustration boiled over. "Son of a.."
A polite throat clearing behind him cut through his cursing.
Fury spun around, heart leaping into his throat, hand instinctively reaching for his weapon, he will never accept that little scream came from him, on the contrary he will deny it to his last breath. By the time he faced the intruder, his gun was leveled.
Markus stood there, a picture of calm elegance, a wide grin playing on his lips.
Fury's pulse raced. He lowered his weapon, scowling. "This never leaves the room," he muttered, referring to his uncharacteristic fright.
Markus's grin widened, eyes gleaming with mirth. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."
As the battle in Puente Antiguo raged on, Markus observed the events unfolding on multiple monitors within the S.H.I.E.L.D. mobile command center. He awaited the pivotal moment when Thor would demonstrate his selflessness, an act that would break the seal on his power and restore his divinity. It didn't take long. Thor, witnessing the destruction wrought by the Destroyer and the peril faced by the innocent townspeople, stepped forward. He confronted the automaton, offering his own life in exchange for their safety. The Destroyer struck him down, and as Thor lay motionless, Mjölnir, sensing his worthiness, soared into his grasp. With a surge of energy, Thor was reborn, his godly powers restored.
Markus turned away from the screens, his gaze settling on Director Fury.
"It seems Thor Odinson has reclaimed his powers," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Now, let's see if he can handle the Destroyer."
However, as the battle resumed, it became evident that Thor's efforts, while valiant, were not yielding the desired results. Markus, with subtle manipulations, ensured that every strike meant to damage the Destroyer missed its mark or was deftly parried.
Fury's patience wore thin. Clenching his fists, he finally conceded, "Enough. I understand that I should have accepted your terms from the start. Just stop that thing."
Markus's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "But of course. I'm a responsible being, after all."
With that, he exited the command center, striding purposefully toward the epicenter of the conflict.
Lady Sif, despite her injuries, was the first to notice his approach. Even amidst the chaos, his imposing stature was undeniable. Towering over even the warriors three, with a build that exuded both power and grace, Markus was a formidable presence. His dark attire contrasted sharply with the bright carnage around him, and his eyes held an intensity that was both captivating and intimidating.
He approached Sif, who attempted to rise. "Such beauty," he murmured, his voice smooth and rich. "A fierce shield maiden should not be left in such a state." With a gentle gesture, he extended his hand, and a warm, golden light enveloped her. Instantly, her pain subsided, her wounds closing as strength returned to her limbs.
Sif's eyes widened in astonishment. "You... healed me," she whispered, a mix of gratitude and wonder in her tone.
Markus offered a slight nod, his gaze already shifting to the Warriors Three. Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun stood nearby, their expressions a blend of exhaustion and disbelief. Approaching them, Markus repeated the healing process, each warrior rejuvenated under his touch.
Volstagg, the boisterous buffoon, let out a hearty laugh. "By the gods! I feel as if I've feasted and rested for days!"
Fandral smirked, adjusting his grip on his sword. "A miraculous touch, indeed."
Hogun, though typically reserved, offered a respectful nod.
Markus's attention then turned to Thor, who stood with Mjölnir in hand, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the immense divinity emanating from this newcomer. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension.
Before Thor could voice his thoughts, Markus with a mere thought, bend reality itself. The Destroyer, mid assault, froze in place. with a subtle gesture, and the automaton's gleaming form dulled, its very essence subdued. With practiced ease, Markus stored the subdued Destroyer into one of his subdomains. The battlefield fell silent.
Turning back, Markus met the astonished gazes of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three. He offered a courteous bow. "Thor Odinson," he began, his voice resonant and commanding, "I am Markus Tenebris."
Thor's grip on Mjölnir tightened. "What realm do you claim dominion over Markus Tenebris? We are on Midgard soil. It is under the protection and governance of Allfather Odin."
The smile on Markus's face remained. "Such information is reserved for those deemed eligible," he stated, his words carrying an air of finality.
Before Thor could respond, Sif stepped forward, her demeanor resolute. She sheathed her sword and, in a gesture of deep respect, knelt before Markus.
"You have saved my life and restored the strength of my companions," she began, her voice unwavering. "I am honor bound to offer my allegiance."
Markus regarded her with genuine admiration. Switching to the Asgardian tongue, he spoke, "Your honor does you credit, noble shield maiden. It would be my privilege to have you by my side, provided such an oath does not conflict with prior commitments."
Sif's eyes met his, determination shining within them. "My loyalty lies with those who uphold honor and justice. I see both in you."
Their exchange, conducted in the melodic cadence of Asgardian, was lost on Director Nick Fury, who observed from a distance. The unfamiliar language, combined with the evident reverence shown to Markus, only deepened his frustration.
Approaching the group, Fury cleared his throat, drawing their attention. His gaze shifted to Thor, noting the renewed vigor in the god's stance.
"So, you've got your powers back," Fury remarked, attempting to mask his exasperation.
Thor nodded, lifting Mjölnir slightly. "Indeed."
Fury's eyes then moved to Markus, a mixture of suspicion and begrudging respect in his expression. "And him? Can you confirm?"
Thor's gaze returned to Markus, contemplation evident. After a moment, he spoke, "His power is vast, perhaps beyond comprehension. A confrontation would be legendary, though likely futile."
Fury's jaw tightened. Turning back to Markus, he extended a hand. "Thank you for your assistance," he offered, his tone measured.
Markus accepted the handshake, his grip firm yet courteous. "It was no trouble," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
As they released their grasp, Fury muttered under his breath, "Yeah, I noticed."
Markus's smile widened slightly, his eyes gleaming with subtle mirth.
Fury crossed his arms, brow furrowed. "What language were you all just speaking?"
Before Markus could answer, Sif did instead. She stepped smoothly to Markus's left side, an unconscious placement that spoke volumes of her positioning and said plainly, "The tongue of the noble Aesir, Midgardian."
Behind her, Thor gave a firm nod. Hogun remained silent as always. Fandral added a light smile, and Volstagg thumped his chest as if in patriotic agreement, his expression beaming.
Fury turned back to Markus. "And how, exactly, do you know it?"
Markus offered a small smile, elegant and cold in its simplicity.
"It's always endearing," he said smoothly, "to watch you assume control over matters you neither understand nor perceive."
Then, without changing his tone, he continued, "Languages, my dear Director, are a different concept to beings of... higher tier."
He gestured vaguely between himself and Thor's group.
"For 'lesser beings' communication is a puzzle of tongues and symbols. For us, it's a matter of will and resonance."
The jab was not lost on anyone. The air thickened.
Referring to humans as lesser, and doing so without hesitation or apology landed with the weight of a falling star. Fury's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing with that barely leashed edge he reserved for the most dangerous types: the polite butchers.
The Warriors Three didn't catch it. Thor seemed too content, still high on reclaimed divinity and camaraderie to notice the sting.
But Sif noticed.
She did not flinch, but her eyes, steel blue and sharp flicked to Markus with something unreadable. Awareness. Caution, maybe. Or simply understanding that power didn't always come wrapped in kindness.
Markus turned back to Thor and his companions, voice slipping into fluent, sonorous Asgardian.
"I'll take my leave now. Should Lady Sif choose to remain by my side, I trust she will handle whatever arrangements she requires."
"Speak my name," he added, looking at Sif with polite weight, "and I shall hear your prayer."
It was not a request.
It was a boundary. A line drawn cleanly in divine sand. He stood above, and he had no intention of pretending otherwise.
Sif bowed her head slightly, eyes steady. "I understand."
The others nodded respectfully.
And then, without further ceremony, Markus vanished. Folding into the air as if reality had simply decided to forget him.
Only the scent of shadow and cinders remained.
Fury exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah," he muttered, "I definitely noticed."
After Markus vanished, the group stood in uneasy stillness, the tension dissipating but the weight of his presence lingering in the air like ozone after a lightning strike.
Director Fury turned slowly toward Thor, his expression unreadable. "Alright," he said, voice low. "I need someone to start explaining. Everything. What happened. Why you're here. Why there was a sentient death machine ripping through this town. And... him."
Thor nodded solemnly, planting Mjölnir at his side.
"Loki," he began. "My brother. He sought to claim the throne of Asgard while our father Odin was in the Odinsleep. In doing so, he broke ancient laws, sent the Destroyer to eliminate me."
He glanced at the smoldering remains of the street, then back at Fury.
"But what you truly wish to know is about him, Markus Tenebris."
Fury didn't answer. He simply nodded.
Thor exhaled. "He is not of the Nine Realms. That much is certain. He stands... beyond us. Not even the Allfather, in full strength, could challenge such a being."
Fury blinked slowly, the line landing heavier than most thunderclaps.
"His powers," Thor continued, "were not merely brute strength. He healed without artifact. He stopped the Destroyer without lifting a weapon. And he stored it away, somewhere, like one would pocket a coin."
"He stood taller than even the great Einherjar," added Volstagg, voice oddly quiet for once.
"And power radiated from him," Hogun said flatly.
Fury slowly turned to Sif. Her armor still shimmered from Markus's healing touch.
"He told me," she said, voice softer than before, "that if I merely speak his name, he will hear my prayer."
She looked directly at Fury. "Do you understand what that means, mortal?"
Fury was silent.
Sif stepped closer. "That is not divinity as we know it. That is not even Asgardian sovereignty. That is something… older. Greater."
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant crackle of still burning debris.
Then Fury finally spoke, his voice low and cold.
"So… he's not just another player on the board."
Thor shook his head.
"No. He is the one watching the board. And deciding whether it remains in play."
Fury turned, walking a few paces away, hands on his hips, head low. He stared at the ruin of the town, as if seeing it for the first time.
A long breath left his lungs.
"God help us," he muttered.
Because nothing else could.