Gilgamesh picked his way through the collapsed house's rubble, shifting broken beams and shattered bricks until he found what he was searching for. He emerged victorious, holding a clay jar sealed with wax.
"Asgardian mead," he announced, brushing dust from the container's surface. "Over a thousand years old. I've been saving it since the last time I helped them fight the Frost Giants." He grinned, examining the jar for cracks. "Lucky it was stored against the far wall. Survived Thena's rampage."
He found three intact cups amid the debris and poured golden liquid that seemed to glow with its own inner light. The aroma alone was intoxicating—honey and starlight and something indefinably divine.
Smith accepted a cup, studying the liquid's peculiar luminescence. "Asgardian mead. That's quite the vintage."
"From Odin's own cellars," Gilgamesh confirmed, settling onto a bench that had somehow survived the destruction. "A gift for services rendered. I've been waiting for the right occasion to open it."
Smith took a sip. The flavor exploded across his tongue—complex, layered, unlike anything terrestrial. He could feel the divine essence in it, energy that suffused his cells with warmth. "Remarkable. I should ask Thor to send a batch when he returns to Asgard. Or perhaps visit myself to experience their cuisine firsthand."
Fox accepted her cup more cautiously, the golden glow reflecting in her eyes. Wine from over a thousand years ago, from a realm of gods. She took a small sip.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming.
Fruity sweetness flooded her senses, but underneath it ran currents of raw power. Energy surged through her body like electricity, making her nerves sing. Her head swam, the world tilting slightly sideways.
Gilgamesh's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no. I'm sorry!" He quickly took the cup from her hands. "I thought your physiology would be similar to Smith's—enhanced but able to handle divine substances. You can't drink any more of this. Your body isn't adapted for it."
Fox sat down heavily on the bench beside Smith, the single sip already making her pleasantly fuzzy. "Not your fault," she said, her words only slightly slurred. "I'm just... too weak for god-wine."
Smith glanced at her, his analytical mind already working through the problem. Fox's power level had remained static for months. Her gun skills and assassin training were still exceptional by human standards, but when facing truly powerful opponents—Eternals, Asgardians, enhanced individuals with triple-digit power levels—she was outmatched.
The symbiotes hadn't chosen her, bonding instead with Wesley, John, and Eddie. That avenue was closed.
Which left ki training.
I'll need to speak with Korin, Smith thought. See if he can teach her the basics. Fox has the discipline and dedication. With proper instruction, she could at least achieve flight and energy projection.
"How long until Thena wakes?" Smith asked, setting aside the strategic planning for later.
Gilgamesh considered, counting mentally. "Another hour, maybe two. The episodes drain her. She'll need time to recover." He raised his cup. "We can talk while we wait."
What followed was an expansive conversation that ranged across millennia. Gilgamesh proved surprisingly talkative—whether from isolation, the quality of the mead, or the novelty of meeting someone who actually knew about Asgard and the wider cosmos, Smith couldn't determine.
But the Eternal spoke of ancient battles, of helping defend the Nine Realms from Frost Giant invasions, of feasts in Asgard's golden halls and sparring with warriors who'd since passed into legend.
Smith found himself genuinely engaged, his transmigrator knowledge allowing him to ask intelligent questions and offer insights that delighted Gilgamesh. They discussed Odin's military campaigns, the construction of the Bifrost, the nature of the Infinity Stones, and the cosmic hierarchy of powers that most Earth humans never knew existed.
"Wait," Gilgamesh said at one point, leaning forward with sudden excitement. "Thor Odinson is on Earth right now?"
Smith nodded.
"He was banished by Odin as punishment for recklessness previously. Though he's since proven himself worthy and regained his power"
Gilgamesh laughed, the sound booming across the empty landscape. "That little brat! I wonder if he even remembers me. Last time I saw him, he was barely 500 years old, still learning to properly wield Mjolnir."
"We can ask him," Smith said with a slight smile. "He'll be competing in the Dragon Ball tournament."
"Really?" Gilgamesh's expression grew thoughtful. "This tournament of yours is gathering quite the collection of power. Gods, sorcerers, immortals..." He glanced at Smith. "And whatever you are."
Before Smith could respond, movement from the table drew their attention.
Thena stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She sat up slowly, looking around in confusion at the destroyed house, the intact table she'd been laid on, and the three people watching her.
"What happened?" Her voice was hoarse. "Did I have another episode?"
She pointed at the rubble that used to be their home, her expression apologetic and resigned in equal measure.
Gilgamesh's face softened. "You're awake. That's what matters."
Thena slid off the table, her movements still slightly unsteady. Then her gaze locked onto Fox, and she froze.
The madness had passed. Now she could actually see what had triggered it.
"It really is like looking in a mirror," Thena breathed, stepping closer. "I'm Thena. What's your name?"
Fox stood, extending her hand for a proper introduction. "Fox. And if Gilgamesh hadn't told me you were five thousand years old, I would have sworn you were my long-lost twin sister."
Thena smiled, taking Fox's hand. Then, impulsively, she sat down beside her on the bench. "Then just treat me as your sister. We look too similar for it to be mere coincidence."
Fox felt something shift in her chest—an unexpected warmth, a connection she hadn't anticipated. Despite the age difference, despite the cosmic impossibility of their resemblance, it felt... right.
"Sister," Fox said, testing the word. Then, more confidently, "Elder sister."
Thena's smile widened into genuine delight.
Smith shook his head, a wry expression crossing his face. Women's friendships always seemed to form through inexplicable alchemy. One moment they were strangers, the next they were sisters.
Gilgamesh didn't seem troubled by the development. If anything, he looked pleased that Thena had found someone who made her smile like that. If he hadn't known for certain that Thena had never had children, he might have suspected Fox was some distant descendant whose genes had reverted to ancestral form.
He raised his cup. "A toast! To Thena gaining a new sister!"
All four raised their drinks—Fox's now replaced with ordinary beer that wouldn't knock her unconscious—and drank deeply.
They talked for another hour, the conversation lighter now, ranging across topics both serious and trivial. Eventually, Fox guided the discussion back to business.
"Thena, I should explain why we're here." Fox pulled out the gold coin. "We represent the Dragon Ball tournament. We need to confirm whether you'll participate and what wish you'll make if you win."
Thena accepted the coin, turning it over in her fingers. "I've been waiting for you since I found the Dragon Ball. Yes, I'll participate." She met Fox's eyes. "My wish is for the dragon to cure my Mahd Wy'ry. Permanently."
The raw hope in her voice was painful to hear.
The fear of losing herself completely to the madness.
Fox nodded, making a note on her phone. "Your wish has been registered. As a participant, you can bring up to ten spectators. We'll arrange transportation to the venue before the tournament begins."
Gilgamesh perked up. "Ten spots? Thena, should we contact the others? Get the whole team together to cheer you on?"
Thena considered this, her expression conflicted. "It would be wonderful to see everyone again. But gathering all the Eternals scattered across the world in just a few days..."
"You have five days from now until the tournament starts," Smith clarified.
Thena looked at Gilgamesh, weighing the logistics. "We can try. Send out the call. Whoever makes it, makes it. But I won't be disappointed if some can't come in time."
Fox stood, offering her hand to help Thena up. "Then we'll see you in five days."
The newly declared sisters embraced, an odd sight given their identical faces. When they separated, Fox and Smith walked back toward where they'd parked their vehicle.
As they drove away, Fox glanced back at the ruined house, the ancient tree, and the two Eternals already discussing reconstruction.
"I have a sister now," she said quietly, still processing the impossibility of it.
Smith kept his eyes on the road. "Stranger things have happened."
"Name one."
"Dragon Balls that grant wishes. Norse gods competing in tournaments. Thousand-year-old Chinese warlords. Vampires immune to sunlight. Take your pick."
Fox laughed despite herself.
Bulma and Melina's delivery went considerably smoother.
They arrived at Tony Stark's Malibu mansion in the afternoon, were immediately admitted by JARVIS, and found Tony in his workshop surrounded by holographic displays of armor schematics.
"Bulma!" Tony looked up from his work, a genuine smile crossing his face. "And Melina. What brings you two to my humble workshop?"
"Humble," Bulma snorted. "Right. Your 'humble' workshop cost more than most countries' military budgets."
Tony's grin widened. "True. So what's the occasion?"
Bulma produced two gold coins, setting them on Tony's workbench. "Tournament's starting in five days. These are your tickets—one for you, one for Pepper or whoever else you want to bring."
Tony picked up one of the coins, examining it with the same analytical focus he applied to his technology. "Just five days' notice? Cutting it close."
"You're a genius billionaire," Melina said dryly. "I'm sure you can manage to clear your schedule."
"Fair point." Tony pocketed both coins. "Same rules as last time? Fight until someone yields or gets knocked out?"
"Essentially," Bulma confirmed. "Though the competition's gotten significantly tougher. We've got actual gods competing this time."
Tony's eyes gleamed with competitive fire. "Good. Winning against enhanced humans is one thing. Beating a god? Now that's a story worth telling."
They spent another hour in the workshop, Bulma and Tony falling into their usual pattern of trading theoretical physics concepts and engineering innovations. Melina watched with patient amusement as they sketched equations on holographic displays and argued about particle acceleration rates.
Finally, Bulma glanced at her watch. "We should go. Got a long flight back."
Tony walked them to the door, already mentally cataloguing armor upgrades he'd need to implement before the tournament. "See you in five days. Try not to make the competition too easy."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bulma called back.
Three days later, the Fraternity headquarters meeting room filled once again.
Smith sat at the head of the table, Fox to his right. Around them gathered the teams who'd delivered tournament invitations across the globe: John Wick and the gunsmith, Selene and Michael, Alexei and Mr. X, Wesley and Cross, Bulma and Melina.
"Reports," Smith said simply.
One by one, they detailed their deliveries. The wishes varied wildly in scope and selfishness:
Thor Odinson: Resurrect Loki
Xu Wenwu: Resurrect Ying Li
Karl Mordo: Strengthen Earth's dimensional defenses
T'Challa: End Racial Dicrimination
Thena: Cure Mahd Wy'ry
Tony Stark: Undecided