103 Afghanistan

The Avengers were gathered in one of the mission briefing rooms aboard the newly rebranded Avengers Helicarrier as it cut across international airspace toward the Afghanistan border. Their target was a Hydra stronghold buried deep in the mountainous terrain of eastern Afghanistan. Intelligence gathered by SHIELD and verified through cross-border surveillance had identified the compound as the central node for Hydra's operations across the Middle East. This was the command post from which Hydra was coordinating paramilitary strikes, funding regional insurgents, training operatives and milita, and funneling illicit resources through black-market arms networks.

It was a surgical strike aimed at decapitating Hydra's influence across an entire region. It would be a destabilizing blow that would leave hundreds of Hydra-reliant independent operations leaderless, disconnected, and vulnerable to follow-up raids. The SHIELD dossier had listed multiple high-value targets expected to be on-site such as commanders, financiers, and ideologues who’d stayed safely underground for years. Everyone aboard the Helicarrier understood the gravity of the mission.

Everyone, that is, except for the Avengers.

Despite being fully geared up for combat (with the exception of Tony Stark, who insisted on suiting up in the hangar "for dramatic effect"), the team looked more like a group of friends on a long-haul flight than a strike unit en route to dismantle one of Hydra’s most important installations.

The meeting room, had instead become a makeshift lounge. Steve sat at the head of the conference table, shield resting casually against his chair, listening with a bemused smile as the others debated their next R&R day. Natasha had her feet propped on the table while absentmindedly sharpening a knife.

Bruce was reclined in one of the corner chairs, thumbing through a book but clearly eavesdropping on the debate, occasionally offering dry, deadpan commentary without looking up. Clint had somehow found a bag of pretzels and was tossing them into his mouth.

Harry had a mug of team steameing quietly in his hand listening in to the conversation that had all the energy of a college common room, not a military operation.

 “What about bowling?” Steve suggested. “We can do teams of two or four, book out a whole alley. Maybe invite Laura, Jane, and Pepper; if they’re not busy.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Clint said eagerly. “It’s been a while since Laura and the kids came by. Lila and Cooper keep asking when they can hang out at Avengers Tower again.”

“We should bring them over,” Thor added with a nod. “The children are delightful. But no game night again, last time I lost a round of charades and Jane wouldn’t let me forget it. What about roller skating? Jane and I have been practicing. I would like to demonstrate my superiority in balance and flair. Let us see who among you can perform the most majestic acrobatic stunt!”

“No chance I’m going toe-to-toe with a literal god who can fly,” Tony interjected. “And I’m not trying to outflip the two gymnasts in the room either,” he added, gesturing at Natasha and Clint. “I say we keep it simple: movie night. Popcorn, pajamas, surround sound. I heard Kingsman and Edge of Tomorrow are solid. We can do a double feature and actually unwind for once.”

“I’d prefer something without explosions,” Bruce offered from the corner, glancing up from his book. “Maybe Birdman or something dramatic. We’ve been in enough action scenes lately.”

“Oh come on, Birdman?” Tony scoffed. “Isn’t that the one that’s one long existential midlife crisis with jazz drums?”

Natasha added. “I'd watch The Big Lebowski again.”

This caused everyone to shout ‘No’ loudly.

“We’ll vote on it after the mission,” Natasha said, raising a finger like a teacher restoring order to a rowdy classroom. “But the real question is; what is Harry cooking for us this time?”

She turned to Harry with a sly smile, and like clockwork, every head in the room followed hers. All eyes landed on him, brows raised, anticipation thick in the air.

Harry blinked. “I see democracy is alive and well, when it’s about food.”

“I want cheeseburgers,” Tony said immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the question all day.

“Steak and fries,” Steve added, nodding like he was placing a standard-issue order from the ‘American Hero’ menu.

“Texan barbecue!” Thor boomed, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. “With ribs, and sauce, and those crunchy onion circles!”

“Sashimi,” Clint cut in, already pulling out his phone like he was ready to place a sushi order right now.

“Tandoori chicken with Garlic Naan and Dal Makhani,” Bruce mumbled.

Harry blinked at the barrage of demands.

Natasha smirked and leaned in, one eyebrow raised. “So, Potter, what’s it going to be this time?”

“Is no one even going to ask what I want to make?” Harry asked, faux-offended, glancing around the room.

Clint didn’t even look up. “We did that once. You cooked whatever Natasha wanted.”

“That’s not fair—” Harry started.

“When we let you choose,” Tony cut in, “we’re basically outsourcing the decision to Romanoff. It’s not Harry’s kitchen, it’s Natasha’s palate.”

“So no,” Tony concluded, dramatically crossing his arms. “No more delegation. You choose yourself, or we revolt.”

Natasha leaned back, smirking. “Or, you could try sucking up to me, and maybe I’ll sweet-talk my fiancé into making what you want.”

“Pamper you with what, exactly?” Clint asked, hands in the air. “Lover-boy over there can literally conjure anything. We bring you snacks, he brings you Paris.”

Everyone nodded solemnly at that. The facts were the facts: Harry Potter was the ultimate simp fiancé, and no one else stood a chance.

“Harry, just pick something,” Steve said with finality.

Harry raised his hands in surrender. “Can’t we vote on it too?”

The groan that followed was unanimous.

Their laughter and bickering were cut short by the familiar, gravel-toned voice of Nick Fury echoing through the meeting room.

“Let’s roll out.”

Just like that, the mood shifted. The ease on everyone’s faces faded, replaced with focus as they rose from their seats. The Avengers didn’t need to be told twice when it was time to work.

The corridor from the meeting room to the hangar bay was long and lined with SHIELD personnel, all busy with preparation. But as the Avengers passed through in formation the agents paused, one by one, exchanging knowing looks and small smiles.

To them, the sight was reassuring. The heavy hitters were here. The agents had no illusions: they were support and clean-up, the after-party. One younger technician, barely in his twenties, elbowed his partner as Thor strode past, hammer slung casually over his shoulder. “Man, it’s like sending in a hurricane,” he whispered.

“Better them than us,” the other murmured back.

Over the murmur of voices, Harry walked in step beside Fury and asked. “So, how did the senate meeting go? What are they saying now?”

Fury let out a humorless snort. “They want their money back.”

Harry raised a brow.

Fury continued, “The Senate’s position is simple: either SHIELD comes back under governmental control, or they drag us through every court on the planet. World Security Council’s singing the same tune. They’re scrambling for leverage. Budget threats. Legal challenges. Petition to the United Nations”

Harry chuckled dryly. “So now that SHIELD isn’t dancing to their tune, they’ve decided to weaponize red tape.”

 “They can’t control us through oversight anymore, so they’re trying to choke us with bureaucracy instead.” Fury muttered.

“And here I thought saving the world on a weekly basis earned us some goodwill,” Harry said. “Apparently, free global security and disaster response isn’t enough of a bargain.”

Fury gave him a sidelong look. “Goodwill has an expiration date when there’s power involved. And we’ve got too much of it.”

“Just pay them back,” Tony said casually from behind.

Fury turned around, clearly already losing patience. “Stark, we’re talking about billions of dollars. The helicarriers alone ran us four and a half billion each. That’s before counting weapons, facilities, black ops, pensions—”

Tony waved a hand. “Sure, sure. That’s what accountants are for. Have them comb through SHIELD’s books, itemize everything. Services rendered, global crisis interventions, alien invasions averted. Then charge them for it. Toss in licensing fees for all the SHIELD tech they ‘borrowed’. I bet we come out in the black.”

Fury squinted at him. “That’s not how this works.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s how it could work. They want to drag us into court? Fine. Let’s bury them in paperwork and audits. Or,” he added, gesturing toward Harry with a grin, “we could take the fast lane. Have wizard-man here conjure a few billion in solid gold ingots. Send them express delivery to every finance ministry that wants a refund.”

Harry looked amused. “I could even charm the gold to scream ‘stop whining’ every time they open the vault.”

Fury groaned. “You people are going to get me killed.”

Fury was speechless. Not because he didn’t expect something outrageous from Stark, but because Stark had just casually suggested conjuring billions of dollars in gold like it was pocket change. Did the man even grasp the geopolitical implications of magic-forged bullion raining down on the global economy?

“Jokes aside, I don’t know about the gold ingots,” Harry said, rubbing his chin with faux-seriousness. “But I think Tony has a point.”

Fury shot him a horrified look.

“Let’s get our best lawyers and accountants to audit SHIELD’s entire operation—tally every alien invasion, world-saving, and civil war we’ve defused. Factor in the sale of non-essential assets, back-bill for Hydra clean-up, and invoice the governments accordingly. Whatever’s left over, we’ll cut a cheque. Or better yet,” Harry added with a grin, “a novelty-sized cheque. Like the kind you see in charity galas.”

“You are not serious,” Fury muttered, but the way everyone was boarding the Quinjet suggested otherwise.

“Oh, and we’ll gift-wrap the user manuals for the countries that want their tech back,” Harry continued, climbing aboard. “We can even throw in a ‘thank you for your cooperation’ fruit basket.”

Fury shook his head in disbelief. “We need to be more astute about this. There are consequences.”

Harry turned, one foot in the jet. “Since when did you start talking like a politician?”

“Since we became the biggest contractor for privatizing world peace,” Fury snapped. “And you two decided to reinvent international diplomacy with a wizard and a wallet.”

Harry just smirked and gave him a wink as the hangar doors began to close behind them, the Quinjet engines humming to life.

“Relax, Fury,” Tony called out as he suited up. “Worst case scenario, we send them a fruit basket made of gold. Everybody wins.”

Once Harry settled into his seat and the rear hatch sealed shut, the raced towards through the air toward the Hydra compound. Outside, Tony flew alongside them, keeping pace in his suit. Harry turned toward Steve. “So, Cap, what’s the plan?”

Steve glanced around at the team and gave the world’s simplest battle briefing: “The plan is to attack.”

Tony’s smirk practically crackled through the comms. “Now that’s the kind of strategic complexity I can get behind.”

Without waiting for a cue, he peeled away from the Quinjet like a missile. The Iron Man suit flared to life as he dove toward the compound. Below, the desert-bleached Hydra base looked deceptively quiet, nestled against the rock formations like a hornet’s nest.

Until Tony opened fire.

Twin beams of energy lanced down, vaporizing two mounted anti-aircraft cannons before the first panicked shout could rise. The operators barely had time to blink before a third turret exploded in a fireball.

The Hydra compound were first confused at what was happening, then came chaos. Sirens blared. Radios crackled. Uniformed agents scrambled like ants, some diving for their weapons, others bolting to reinforced bunkers or shouting orders no one was listening to.

“Contact! We have contact!”

“Who’s attacking us?!”

“Is that Iron Man?!”

“Where did he come from?!”

Tony swooped overhead again, unleashing a precise salvo that turned an armored jeep into a firework. “You know,” he said casually over comms, “you’d think after half a decade of me blowing up secret bases, they’d stop installing these cute little turrets like they actually do something.”

“Tony,” Steve said firmly, “don’t get cocky.”

“Oh I’m way past cocky. I’m in style points territory now.”

As another cannon went up in flames and Hydra agents started shouting in four different languages, the real battle had officially begun.

And Tony Stark was having a blast.

For the first time in living memory the scorched skies above this stretch of the Middle Eastern desert began to darken.

Not just a passing cloud. Not a dusty overcast. But an apocalyptic shroud.

Storm clouds rolled in with unnatural speed, boiling across the heavens like waves of ink crashing against an invisible shore. The temperature dropped in seconds. The blistering heat gave way to a sudden, electrified stillness. Hydra agents froze where they stood, their heads craning skyward as a distant rumble turned into a deafening roar.

Thunder cracked.

Lightning followed, not from the clouds, but from the sky itself. The heavens screamed as if they had waited centuries for this moment.

Then he came.

A streak of lightning crashed into the heart of the base, and when the flash faded, Thor stood tall amidst the rising dust and flame. His red cape billowed like a banner in the storm winds. His hammer, Mjölnir, pulsed with divine energy, arcs of lightning snaking up his arms and across his armor like living veins of power.

With a war cry that echoed like thunder across the desert, he charged.

The first strike from Mjölnir flattened a Hydra armored vehicle and sent three nearby agents flying through the air like ragdolls. A second swing unleashed a shockwave that cracked the very concrete beneath his feet.

Panicked radio chatter turned into terrified screaming.

“It’s the thunder god!”

“Get inside! GET INSIDE!”

“The sky—it’s attacking us!”

The rain finally broke, a torrential downpour that steamed off the desert floor and hissed across burning wreckage. It drenched the base, but did nothing to extinguish the fury of the storm.

Because the storm had taken human form.

And it was swinging a hammer.

In the back of the quinjet, Bruce Banner exhaled slowly. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment—but the tremor in his fingers betrayed what was coming.

The familiar ripple of rage began crawling under his skin. His breath hitched, his pulse thundered like a war drum in his ears, and the green fire inside him answered the call.

His spine arched. Muscles bulged. His shirt tore like tissue paper.

Within seconds, the calm scientist was gone. And in his place stood a ten-foot-tall engine of destruction, muscles rippling and eyes glowing with barely contained fury.

The Hulk let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the jet's walls. Without a word he charged up the loading ramp like a battering ram with legs. Clint barely had time to curse before the ramp shook violently under Hulk’s full weight. The quinjet lurched, its stabilizers groaning as the green giant launched himself into the open air.

The sound barrier cracked as Hulk descended like a meteor, limbs outstretched, wind howling past him. And then—impact. The ground shattered where he landed, sending up a tidal wave of dust, sand, and shredded concrete. A shockwave blasted outward, flipping a tank, scattering Hydra agents like bowling pins, and toppling an entire watchtower in the process.

A stunned silence hung for just a moment.

Then Hulk stood, lifted a jeep over his head, and hurled it halfway across the compound with a guttural roar.

“HULK SMASH!”

The battlefield obeyed.

 “JARVIS, you’re up,” Natasha called, already pulling her sidearm from its thigh holster as she moved toward the rear end of the jet. 

“I have control, Miss Romanoff,” came the AI’s response. The controls on the quinjet shifted automatically, stabilizers adjusting mid-air to prepare for full autopilot hover.

The rest of the team had already gathered around Harry like a family huddle before a game.

Harry held out his hands. “Hold on tight.”

Steve nodded, securing his shield to his back, while Clint checked the tension on his bowstring before gripping Harry’s shoulder. Natasha was already at his side, fingers wrapped around his forearm. With a faint crack, the four vanished from the ramp.

They reappeared just outside the compound, at the ridge overlooking the cave system. The terrain was harsh and sun-scorched, rocks jutting out like broken teeth, but Steve and Clint moved like predators through it, weapons ready. They advanced toward the primary entrance in tight formation, sweeping corners, checking for enemy movement.

Meanwhile, Harry turned to Natasha, gave her a nod and with a second crack, the two vanished again, reappearing silently at the rear entrance of the cave network. It was time to flush out the commanders.

While the heavy hitters kept the battlefield roaring with chaos with Iron Man slicing through anti-aircraft guns like they were party favors, Hulk turning armored vehicles into scrap metal with a single punch, and Thor introducing the desert to its first proper thunderstorm in centuries, the remaining Avengers swept through the cave system ruthlessly.

From both ends of the cave system, the strike team closed in.

Steve and Clint swept in from the front like seasoned professionals on a mission they’d rehearsed a hundred times. Clint moved with eerie silence, picking off guards before they could blink. One unfortunate Hydra agent rounded a corner just in time to catch Steve’s shield to the chest, ricocheting him into unconsciousness and knocking over two more behind him.

On the opposite end, Harry and Natasha materialized out of thin air one with a wand, the other with twin pistols. A Hydra commander barely had time to open his mouth to scream orders before Natasha shot out the lights and Harry wordlessly transfigured the ground beneath them into slick ice. The ensuing chaos could’ve been scored to a Looney Tunes soundtrack with the visuals of feet slipping, weapons clattering, bodies piling up in confusion as the pair darted through like wraiths in a storm.

It wasn’t even a fair fight.

Every corridor Hydra fled through turned out to be a trap. Smoke grenades would pop from one end, followed by a magically reinforced shield or a flurry of arrows from the other. One commander tried to rally his men behind a heavy blast door, only for it to glow orange and disintegrate under Harry’s wand.

“We surrender!” one of them finally shouted, arms raised, eyes wide with panic.

“Too late,” Clint muttered, not even looking up as he tagged a fleeing agent with a taser arrow.

By the time the dust had settled, the cave was cleared, the Hydra lieutenants subdued and zip-tied in humiliating poses, and every hidden data server was tagged for JARVIS to remotely hack.

It wasn’t so much a battle as it was an eviction with extreme prejudice.

Hydra hadn’t stood a chance.

 “Fury, any runners from the secret passageways?” Harry asked as he stepped over a pile of Hydra weapons.

“We’ve got them,” Fury’s voice crackled through the comms. “Coulson and his crew are corralling the last few stragglers. Not a rat left untrapped.”

“Good. Send in the sweep teams.”

Right on cue, the sky shifted.

From above, clouds parted as the Avengers Helicarrier shimmered into view. It loomed massive and ominous, blotting out the sun like a descending god of order, casting a colossal shadow over the battered Hydra base.

Moments later, the air filled with the whir of rotor blades as a swarm of Quinjets peeled away from its belly and descended to the battlefield. Like a well-oiled machine, they touched down across the compound. Hatches opened, and waves of SHIELD agents poured out. Scientists in clean white lab coats followed close behind, already unpacking scanners, containment units, and data harvesters. Drones zipped overhead, mapping every square meter of the ravaged facility.

Harry turned as Tony hovered down in full armor.

“Any sign of hidden labs?” Harry asked, brushing a bit of ash off his coat.

“Negative,” Tony replied, scanning the area with his HUD. “No power signatures, no illusion fields, no trapdoors, no last-minute villain monologues hidden in some backroom computer. This site’s officially boring. Call it a day.”

Harry looked around as the base bustled with SHIELD agents cleaned up their mess and nodded for his team to move out.

Just like that, the job was done.

The battlefield fell silent. Smoke curled lazily into the sky. Hydra’s last holdouts were zip-tied and hauled into containment, their weapons scattered and their secrets bagged. With the heavy lifting complete, the Avengers left the cleanup to SHIELD. As the quinjet lifted off, sweeping above the smoldering remains of the enemy base, the team settled into their seats, already shifting from battle-hardened warriors to relaxed wisecrackers.

“Drop me off in London, will you?” Thor called out as he brushed soot from his armor like a man dusting flour off an apron. “Jane has a big presentation on wormholes this Thursday. I need to be there for her rehearsal. And I expect all of you to show up on Thursday. It would mean a lot to her.”

“We’ll be there,” Bruce said with a grin, Tony nodding beside him. “I’m curious to see if she’s updated her rotating event horizon theory.”

“She has,” Thor beamed.

Steve gave a polite smile. “Will we even understand any of it?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Natasha replied. “Don’t worry, Thor. We’ll all be there. Front row.”

“Excellent,” Thor said, leaning back like happily.

Outside, the desert shrank beneath them, fading into the distance as the quinjet raced through the skies. Inside, the Avengers had already moved on, joking, teasing, planning dinner.

Another Hydra base down. Another mess cleaned up.

Just another day at the office.