James watched from above, analyzing data streams. The readings confirmed what he suspected: Rogers was already at a disadvantage.
"Captain America," he murmured under his breath, "the only man brave enough to go toe-to-toe with a god, like it's just another mortal man and not a god"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James knew alot about (Iron Man)Tony Stark, (Hulk)Bruce Banner, and Thor Odinson's power and character—but (Captain America)Steve Rogers wasn't a hero he really knows about other than the MCU.
In his previous life, some people had debated endlessly online: "The movies exaggerated Cap's power. Realistically, he'd be crushed instantly, by the aliens in pure brute alone."
James had never agreed. This was a different universe. And men like Steve Rogers didn't survive wars by luck. There is also a possibility that his still evolving, that he hasn't reached the peak of what the serum could give him.
Now was his chance to observe him up close.
He stood by the rear hatch of the Quinjet, watching the fight unfold below through his visor. Rogers moved with precision—discipline and instinct, but clearly outmatched.
"Cortana," he murmured, "analyze his combat characteristics. I want baseline readings—speed, strength, and dexterity. I've always wondered about his real power level."
[ Understood. But based on current readings, his velocity and reaction time fall below your accelerated-state range. Power output are lower than your current peak. ]
James hummed. "You're right. When I triggered my adrenaline mode, everything looked slowed down—people, bullets, the world itself. But he doesn't have that. He's merely operating at enhanced-human levels, not superhuman yet."
He kept watching. Below, the fight was one-sided. Loki toyed with Rogers, each blow throwing the Captain back harder than the last, the only reason he didn't go down yet is because of his skills and experience.
From the cockpit, Natasha Romanoff's voice came over comms, sharp with frustration. "Agent Gibson—aren't you going to help him?"
"I'm observing his combat capabilities," James said, not looking up. It was a legitimate answer, but the timing made him sound indifferent.
Romanoff sighed, motioning to the pilot. "Turn us around. Bring us in low. Open the nose ports."
The Quinjet's front canopy shifted, and the rotary cannon came out.
Loki's gaze flicked upward. His scepter flashed, unleashing a bolt of blue energy that narrowly missed the cockpit. The pilot jerked the controls, skimming away over the plaza.
The sudden roll sent a tremor through the cabin. James's armor compensated instantly—gyros stabilizing his stance. Designed for sharpshooting, the Umbra Sentinel Mk II balanced him as though the floor never moved.
"Pull up," he ordered coolly. "Rotate and hold rear-door alignment. I'll handle this."
His tone was commanding. The working relationship between him and Romanoff had improved after Rio, but moments like this always sent it backward.
She still doesn't fully trust him and tries to do her own thing to ensure mission success. Both were Level 6, but command had put him in charge of this operation. He intended to keep it that way.
James turned back to the viewport, extending the Nexus Arms (Electro Magnetic) Archshot Sniper Rifle from its folded position on his back. The barrel locked with a hiss of compressed air. He didn't fire—yet. His helmet display tracked Rogers's and Loki's movement through Cortana's sensors.
Below, Rogers went down hard again, slammed into the marble by Loki's staff. Still, he pushed up, panting, and charged once more.
"I think I understand something," Cortana said suddenly.
James's brow lifted. "Go on."
[ His strength and speed are still limited—but his endurance is extraordinary. Every time he's struck down, his vitals stabilize faster. His power isn't dominance; it's perseverance. ]
James exhaled through a quiet laugh. "He just keeps getting up. That's his advantage—attrition. He doesn't overpower you; he outlasts you. In World War II, that made him unstoppable. Against gods, it just makes him human again, a very annoying human that just doesn't go down."
He readied the Arcshot Sniper Rifle on his shoulder. "Alright. Time to end this."
The Sniper's reactor flared as his heart rate spiked with it, activating his adrenaline mode. The world slowed to a crawl.
"F-HMMM-VZZZZ-THWUMM!!"
A pulse of compressed energy roared from the sniper rifle, streaking across the night sky like a falling star. The round struck Loki square in the chest, launching him backward into a flight of stone steps.
Before he could rise, James fired again. The second impact folded the Asgardian over, armor sparking where the beam struck. Even gods had limits—and Loki wasn't one of the stronger ones.
Rogers exhaled in relief, picking up his shield. The Quinjet descended, engines whining. James dropped from the ramp in his black armor, weapon still raised.
Loki, bruised but grinning, slowly raised his hands. His golden armor dissolved into emerald cloth. "I surrender," he said with theatrical grace. "Though I must admit—your weapon is fascinating."
James didn't answer. He didn't trust the smirk. Loki was known for misdirection and trickery, not bravery.
Rogers retrieved the scepter, binding Loki's hands while the Quinjet's crew secured him. As they lifted off again, the cabin fell into silence—broken only by the hum of the engines.
After a few minutes, Rogers asked, "Why'd you wait so long to shoot?"
Loki chuckled darkly before James could answer. "Oh, there's tension here. I can feel it."
His voice dripped with mockery. James knew exactly what he was doing—sowing discord, baiting them into conflict. If he could trigger Banner into transforming aboard the Helicarrier, the entire ship would be doomed.
James wasn't about to give him that satisfaction. He leaned back in his seat, calm as steel. "Nice try, Loki. Your tricks don't work with me."
He turned to Rogers. "Captain, I let you fight him on purpose. I needed to observe your combat ability firsthand. You've got courage, but you're facing a new era—enhanced humans, aliens, god, and tech that rewrites peoples understanding of physics. The old war's over."
Rogers frowned. "You're… analyzing me?"
"Something like that." James gave a faint smile. "We'll talk after we're back aboard. Now's not the place or time to talk about it."
As he said it, a sudden crack of thunder rolled across the clouds. Lightning split the horizon, bright enough to blind the Quinjet's sensors. The once-clear night turned black with rolling clouds and zigzagging lightning.
Loki stiffened in place. His smug grin wavering to fear.
Rogers glanced at him. "What's wrong? Scared of thunder?"
Loki swallowed, voice quiet. "Not of thunder. Of him."
James chuckled. "Right. Your brother should be here for you."
He walked to the rear hatch and keyed it open. Wind howled through the cabin as heavy rain began to fall .
"Let's give Thor a proper welcome," he said, watching the lightning converge in the distance.
And somewhere beyond the clouds, the god of thunder was watching.