100 Tyrskelion

The Quinjet hovered in a holding pattern above the Potomac River, cloaked from the rest of the world as they surveyed the Triskelion. The Avengers were fully suited in their battle armour as they readied themselves for the fight against Hydra.

Steve stood by the viewport, watching the SHIELD headquarters like a general surveying a battlefield. Harry Potter stood beside him, his eyes glowing faintly. In a corner, Bruce was hunched over a tablet, filtering security feeds.

“The Security Council’s inside,” Bruce finally said once he received the confirmation. "Pierce is leading them to the conference chamber. Facial ID confirms everyone’s in place.”

“Are the civilians where they need to be?” Harry asked.

Tony spun in his seat, fingers flying across a holographic display. “All non-Hydra personnel have been herded to the secure zones. Romanoff’s impersonation of Sitwell is... disturbingly accurate. Honestly, she’s scaring even the Hydra agents. It’s making sure that everyone stays in line and follows instructions.”

A flicker of amusement passed through the jet.

“Fury?” Harry pressed.

“En route,” Clint confirmed. “ETA 90 minutes. Hill and Coulson are with him.”

Steve nodded and signalled Rhodey to circle the island. The Quinjet circled the Triskelion in a wide arc as the Avengers took in the battlefield below.

“Clint can perch on that tower there,” Rhodey said, gesturing to the guard tower that marked the entrance of SHIELD headquarters. “Not much of a height advantage, but with most of the fighting centred on the main bridge and minimal aerial presence, it’ll do.”

Clint leaned forward in his seat, squinting through the cockpit glass. “I’ve had worse. It should work fine.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Bruce muttered without looking up from his tablet.

Harry traced the tower’s silhouette with his eyes, already calculating enchantments in his mind. “I’ll fortify the structure with magic. Should hold against light explosives and sustained fire.”

“That’d be great,” Clint said, giving Harry a grateful nod. “For once, I won’t have to relocate mid-battle.”

 Clint continued as he pointed out the ports on the island. “Those ferries running in and out of the island, Hydra’s going to use them once they realise the tide of battle is shifting.”

 “Add ‘naval blockade’ to the checklist,” Tony muttered, already rerouting satellite scans to track the surrounding water routes. “I’ll handle the east docks. Rhodey, you take the west. We’ll give them the Titanic treatment if they so much as sniff those lifeboats.”

Steve nodded. “Torch anything that looks like an exit. I don’t want a single agent slipping through. And while you’re at it, scan underwater too. Submersibles, escape pods to make sure we aren’t hit with surprises.”

“We should concentrate the fighting on the front bridge,” Thor said, pointing at the structure. “Force them through a narrow path. Contain their numbers before they try to swarm us.”

That drew a pause. Heads turned toward him.

Tony blinked, his brow lifting with disbelief. “You think they can overwhelm us? They’re human, Thor. Guys with rifles and bad haircuts. This isn’t exactly an invasion from outer space.”

“What I meant,” Thor said, clearing his throat and gesturing more at the second bridge connecting to the island, “is that we should destroy the western bridge, cut off their retreat and let none escape our wrath.”

Tony grinned, clapping a hand against Thor’s armoured back. “Now that’s the spirit. I was worried you were going soft on us.”

The team laughed at Tony’s quip.

“Harry?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“That’s a simple fix,” Harry replied, already stepping forward. With a flick of his hand, cast a Notice-Me-Not charm cloaking the entire area. The world seemed to blur for a moment, as if reality itself chose to look away.

Then Harry wrote a few runes on the air, tracing them out with his fingers and with a murmur of incantation, the runes flared to life. With a gentle blow, the runes floated towards the bridge, enlarging in size and coiling around the bridge like a web tightening around its prey.

A deep groan echoed through the concrete structure. Cracks spiderwebbed across its supports. And then, with a low rumble, the western bridge buckled and collapsed in on itself. The massive structure plunged into the river below. The magic shimmered one last time, erasing the spectacle from sight as though it had never happened.

“The spell should wear off when the fighting starts,” Harry said calmly, lowering his wand.

Thor let out a booming laugh and clapped him on the back. “Now that is more like it.”

The Quinjet completed its final sweep of the Triskelion airspace before touching down near the eastern check post. Harry stepped out first, eyes scanning the perimeter. He raised his hand toward the guard tower Clint had chosen for his perch. Golden runes spiralled outward, embedding themselves into the structure like ethereal armour. A shimmering barrier wrapped around it.

"Perch fortified," Harry called up.

"Appreciated," Clint replied as one by one, the Avengers filed out of the Quinjet. They moved like seasoned warriors as they took their places just behind the massive bridge gates, looking towards the Triskelion.

Steve took the centre, shield glinting in the light. Tony and Rhodey stood in each flank. Thor rested Mjölnir on his shoulder like a warhammer in waiting. Bruce inhaled deeply, centring himself before letting the Hulk within stir. And Harry, stood just beside Steve.

“Thirty minutes to go,” Tony announced, glancing at the HUD in his helmet. “Cap, you’re live.”

Steve took one resolute breath and, with a calm and commanding voice that echoed across every comm line within the Hydra-controlled Triskelion, delivered the speech to warn them of what to come. As his voice rang out through the halls of the Triskelion, down into the command center and through every hallway, “Agent Sitwell”—still under Natasha’s disguise—rallied the troops for war.

But back on the bridge, the Avengers stood still, in formation. “So,” Tony broke the quiet, as he casually glanced sideways, “why exactly are we standing here in a neat little line again? Because I can name seven different ways we could flatten this entire building without even scuffing our boots.”

“Because we want them to come fight us,” Rhodey replied dryly. “It’s called bait.”

Tony scoffed as he surveyed the towering Triskelion. He then pointed lazily toward the structure. “Look at this! We’ve got Thor; he could light it up with one angry swing. I’ve got enough bombs to vaporise it three times over. Harry can just wave his wand, and poof, it never existed. And if we’re feeling theatrical, Banner can go full wrecking ball and bring the house down the old-fashioned way.”

Bruce raised a brow but said nothing.

 “But we agreed that this was the plan,” Rhodey pointed out.

“You all agreed,” Tony corrected, gesturing broadly. “I’ve been complaining that this is a terrible plan since the moment someone said, ‘Let’s give the genocidal cult a fighting chance.’”

Thor nodded solemnly. “I must admit, I find myself in agreement with Stark.”

Tony blinked. “See? Even Sparkles gets it.”

Thor continued, eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the Triskelion. “There is no challenge. We lose the advantage of surprise, and gain only… waiting. This battle is not a contest of strength. It is a chore.”

Bruce gave a sideways glance. “You just want to start hitting things.”

“Obviously,” Thor said, as if that were the most logical answer in the universe.

“It’s symbolic,” Steve said firmly as his eyes stared at the Triskelion. “If we roll in and level SHIELD like it’s nothing, the world won’t see justice; they’ll see a coup. Us toppling institutions with a flick of the wrist? That’s how tyrants operate. Not heroes.”

He turned to the team. “When we stand and fight, take hits, bleed alongside the people we're trying to protect, it means something. It reminds the world we’re not above them. We’re part of them. We struggle too.”

Tony snorted. “That’s cute. But we have a literal god on the roster, Cap. We're always going to be symbols of power, no matter how we dress it up.”

“Yes,” Harry added, “but it’s how we use that power that defines what we become in their eyes. A benevolent dictator is still a dictator, just one bad day away from tyranny. We may have gods among us, but the Avengers were never meant to be gods. We’re protectors. That means being visible, fallible, human… even if we’re not.”

His voice dropped slightly, as if speaking to something heavier beneath the surface. “If they don’t see our humanity, they’ll never trust us. And without trust, we’re just another threat waiting to fall.”

Tony opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again.

“…Okay, fine.” he muttered. “But I maintain this, standing in a line like parade floats while we wait to be shot at is still the worst part of this plan. We could’ve at least brought snacks.”

“It’s all a show,” Clint muttered as he broke formation, moving toward his tower. “And don’t worry, the cavalry’s here.”

His voice crackled through the comms just as the first rumble echoed across the bridge. From the far end of the Triskelion’s main causeway, a convoy of armoured vehicles rolled into position, their mounted .50 caliber turrets swiveling toward the Avengers. Behind them, columns of Hydra foot soldiers in tactical gear fanned out in formation.

Overhead, a squadron of SHIELD-marked quinjets began to circle, their slow arc boxing the Avengers in like vultures preparing for a feast.

Without hesitation, Harry cast a Protego around the team. A shimmer of iridescent light flared to life in front of them.

“Finally,” Tony exasperated, flexing his gauntlets.

Brock Rumlow’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers just as all the vehicles took their position.

“I just want you to know, Cap, this ain’t personal.”

Without a second to breathe, the armoured line across the bridge with their mounted .50 calibre rifles began to thunder as they pelted the Avengers. High above, the Quinjets opened fire. The noise was deafening, the visuals overwhelming with flashes of orange fire and streaks of tracer rounds.

But within the chaos stood the Avengers, untouched, unbothered, safely encased in the soft, glowing dome of Harry’s Protego Maxima. Bullets sparked harmlessly against the magical barrier, lighting it up in rhythmic pulses like a heartbeat. Smoke swirled around them, but inside, it was almost tranquil.

Tony glanced up at the shield, sighing. “This whole bullet versus magical forcefield thing had novelty the first few times. Now it’s just dull.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow, watching the impacts dance along the shield’s curve. “You mean the part where you can’t brute-force your way through it?”

Tony scoffed. “Come on. If I really wanted to, I could—”

“Nope.” Harry interrupted casually.

Tony huffed, then turned to Bruce. “Alright, fine. Hypothetically, how would you counter a magical shield? No magic allowed.”

Bruce's eyes lit up with scientific curiosity. “Well, if we’re working off the theory that it has a finite energy source, then maybe a high-frequency vibrational—”

“Nope.” Harry cut in again, smirking this time.

Tony grinned. “See? That’s the problem. Magic cheats.”

They chuckled lightly, but it lingered for only a second too long.

“You guys want to compete on who makes the biggest explosion?” Clint asked casually over comms. An arrow shot from his perch, arcing through the air before slamming into a Quinjet’s engine. The blast was instant as bright orange flame spiralled into the sky as debris rained over the river.

“I like this game,” Tony chimed in, raising his hand cannon and firing at another ship. The Quinjet went up in flames. “I’m pretty sure mine was bigger.”

“Debatable,” Clint replied dryly.

“My turn,” Rhodey joined in. He launched a shoulder rocket into the underside of a fleeing Quinjet, right where its fuel lines connected. The resulting explosion thundered, shaking the broken bridge they stood near.

“I think I’m in a good lead,” Rhodey said smugly.

Thor stepped forward, eyes lighting with lightning. “I like this contest.” He hurled Mjolnir into the sky, channelling a furious bolt into the hovering ship. The Quinjet didn’t explode; instead, it sparked violently, then spiralled down into the river with a screech.

“Tough luck, Point Break,” Tony quipped. “Some performance issues today?”

Thor frowned.

“My turn,” Harry said. He raised his hand, muttered a spell, and with a sweep of his arm, several Quinjets in the air shuddered. They pulled inward, collapsing into one another like puppets on invisible strings. The impact triggered a concussive, unnatural explosion that lit the clouds.

“That’s cheating,” Tony called, but his voice didn’t carry the usual bite, more akin to a kid who lost. He followed up with a barrage of shoulder rockets as a line of controlled detonations, painting the sky behind them like a fireworks show.

Thor, undeterred, called down more lightning. This time, the crack of it echoed like a drumbeat across the island, and two more quinjets exploded mid-air.

Bruce’s voice came next. “I think I can top that.” He stepped forward, shirt already tearing as the Hulk surged outward. With a thunderous roar, Hulk leapt onto the last Quinjet, grabbed the frame with both hands, and ripped it open like a can.

The pilot inside screamed.

The ship spun, uncontrollably, crashing violently into a line of Hydra’s armoured vehicles. The resulting fireball roared to life, engulfing the machines in seconds as bodies scrambled for cover. Hulk didn’t stop. He tore into the line of vehicles with a feral growl, tossing one with a single arm like it weighed nothing.

With the last Quinjet wreckage still smouldering, Hydra's armoured vehicles refocused, unleashing a barrage of gunfire and rockets at the Avengers' position.

Harry raised his hand. “Time to clean up,” he muttered.

The air shimmered as an invisible force wrapped around the vehicles. One by one, the tanks and transports groaned, metal shrieking in protest as they lifted into the air like children’s toys. Harry’s eyes narrowed. With a flick, the whole fleet crushed inward—dozens of tons of reinforced armour collapsing into a dense, compact ball of scrap.

He swatted his hand once, and the metal orb shot over the bridge like a cannonball, landing in the river with a distant splash. It sank slowly into the depths, hissing and bubbling as it vanished beneath the surface.

“Subtle,” Tony said dryly. Then he stepped forward.

His gauntlets hummed to life. Twin lasor beams sliced out, cutting through the remaining vehicles. The tanks split cleanly in half, their top sliding off like the lid of a soup can.

The last of the vehicles groaned as they were torn apart, and then came the charge.

With a roar that shook the ground, Hulk launched himself over the wreckage and into the crowd of Hydra infantry. Bodies flew like rag dolls. Screams rang out as the green behemoth tore through the soldiers with primal force, each swipe of his arms sending men sailing through the air, smashing into concrete and metal.

From above, Clint’s arrows rained down. Explosions bloomed like fireworks across the battlefield, tossing Hydra agents into the air in arcs that were almost artistic in their violence.

“Cluster at the left, thirty meters,” Clint called. Another arrow was loosed. Another eruption of fire and screaming bodies.

Rhodey lifted into the sky, his shoulder-mounted gatling gun whirring to life with a mechanical snarl. What followed was a symphony of gunfire as tracer rounds streaked through the Hydra lines, mowing soldiers down like crops before a harvester.

Then came thunder.

Thor descended like a meteor, Mjolnir spinning in a blur of crackling energy. Lightning exploded outward as he landed, arcing from his hammer into the surrounding troops. The air sizzled. Dozens collapsed in convulsing heaps, weapons twitching in dead hands.

And still, they kept coming.

Tony dove into the chaos. His repulsors lit the field like camera flashes, each burst vaporising armour, searing flesh, knocking men flat. Hydra’s lines buckled under the weight of his presence, their formation breaking like dry twigs.

Harry followed, sword drawn, his robe fluttering as he carved a path through the confusion. His strikes were swift as each slice severed the torso of his intended target.

Steve was the last to enter the fray, charging forward on foot.

Across the battlefield, Hydra soldiers screamed for backup. But everyone stood their ground, defiant even in the face of the impossible. They fought like men who had nothing left.

Even as the skies rained fire and gods walked among them, the Hydra soldiers dug in. They took cover behind burning wrecks, rallied beneath cracked insignias, and shouted orders over the thunder of collapsing metal. The chain of command was in tatters, but it didn’t matter. They fought.

A young soldier with ash smeared across his face leapt from the remains of a half-melted vehicle, clutching a rifle whose barrel was already warped by heat. He screamed as he fired, not out of anger but defiance. His bullets pinged harmlessly off Captain America’s shield, but he didn’t stop. Not until Steve surged forward and struck him down with the flat of his shield.

Another squad formed a line behind a flipped transport truck, their weapons aimed at the charging Hulk. They fired as one, streams of bullets tearing into his chest and arms. It didn’t slow him. The last thing they saw was a green fist the size of a tire barreling toward them before the world turned black.

Above them, Iron Man flew picking off isolated groups. One soldier managed to fire a rocket in his direction. Tony dodged it easilty, sent back a pulse blast that flipped the man through the air. He hit the ground hard but tried to rise again, only to be flattened by the shockwave of another blast nearby.

Even as fire licked at their heels and lightning cracked across the sky, the Hydra forces didn’t retreat. Some dragged wounded comrades behind makeshift barricades. Others fought back with bayonets and sidearms, closing in with whatever resolve they could muster. A few managed to land blows, one even cracked Thor across the head with a heavy baton. It did nothing. Thor barely noticed before backhanding him into unconsciousness.

Magic danced like a storm on the ground as Harry moved through the battlefield, sword gleaming. His strikes weren’t cruel, but they were final. He disarmed, he stunned, he shielded but he never hesitated. The Hydra soldiers that crossed his path fell in silence without even noticing the swing that ended their lives.

Rhodey circled high above, raining down bullets while Clint’s arrows found their marks with unerring speed each explosion pushing the soldiers further back, herding them like cattle.

Still, they held the line.

They moved with the discipline of trained soldiers, shouting warnings, calling for ammo, shielding each other when the blasts came too close.

This wasn’t a battle anymore. It was a slow, suffocating collapse. The Avengers were not just winning, they were inevitable. And for all Hydra’s slogans and certainty, their comeuppance was due. Hope died slowly and loudly as the 7 men took down their army effortlessly.