A S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet, carrying Emrys and his retinue, banked sharply toward a massive aircraft carrier anchored in the mid-Pacific. From the air, the vessel looked like an island of steel, bobbing with the rhythm of the white-capped waves.
As soon as the jet's ramp lowered, Emrys was the first to step onto the flight deck.
A familiar figure was waiting. Natasha Romanoff, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that leaned more toward "deadly executive" than "secretary," walked toward him with a practiced, feline grace.
"Long time no see, Emrys." Natasha brushed a stray lock of crimson hair from her eyes, her gaze tracing him with a hint of playful mischief. "You left me behind to handle the Director's moods alone. Where exactly did you go to enjoy yourself?"
Faced with the Black Widow's charm, Emrys didn't blink. "Why, Natasha? Do you miss the feeling of me hanging you from a ceiling by your ankles?"
The flirtatious smile on Natasha's face stiffened by several degrees. She rolled her eyes, her professional mask returning. "You haven't changed a bit. Come on, the Director and the others have been waiting for hours."
As the rest of the group emerged from the cabin, Natasha's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait... why are there so many of you?"
Coulson, stepping out last, looked exhausted. "These two are related to the incident in New Mexico. According to Merlin, they're from a place called Asgard. And as for the last one..."
Coulson trailed off, glancing back at the hatch with a look of genuine trepidation.
The entire jet seemed to groan under a sudden, massive weight. A towering figure, standing nearly eight feet tall, ducked his head to clear the door and stepped onto the deck.
Natasha's jaw dropped. "What... what is that?"
"Allow me," Emrys said, a smirk playing on his lips. "This is my personal guard, Olsen."
The delay in their arrival had been calculated. Considering the escalating threats of this "Marvel" reality, Emrys had decided he needed more than just a couple of powerless gods at his back. He had summoned a veteran.
Olsen was a Chapter Master of the Fallen Angels. According to his own account, he had served the Imperium for five centuries before his "fall." The golden service studs embedded in his skull—the marks of a veteran—were proof of a lifetime of war.
To the humans, he looked like a man in his late sixties, his hair shocks of white and his face a map of deep, intersecting scars. But to Emrys, Olsen was a living fossil. A Space Marine of that age, still active and not interred in a Dreadnought, was a statistical anomaly—a testament to either extreme skill or a very dark destiny.
To blend in, Olsen had traded his power armor for a bespoke suit. Even the largest tailoring S.H.I.E.L.D. could provide was stretched to its limit across his massive frame, making him look like a Greek statue carved from obsidian and muscle.
When they reached the bridge, a frivolous voice cut through the hum of the electronics.
"You rascal! Four years without a word!"
Tony Stark walked over, a wide grin on his face. He punched Emrys in the shoulder with mock resentment. "You're finally back, and you didn't even call? I had to find out from a one-eyed spy?"
"I was 'recruited' before I had the chance to dial," Emrys replied, a rare, relaxed smile appearing as he shook Tony's hand. "You look well, Tony. The arc reactor suits you."
"It's a long story involving a cave and a very bad personality transplant," Tony sighed, throwing an arm around Emrys's neck. "Drinks are on me tonight. I promise you, we'll make up for lost time."
"Business first, Tony," Emrys said, interrupting the billionaire's plans for a gala. "This situation is heavier than it looks."
"Don't I know it," Tony muttered, his eyes flickering toward the monitors.
As they entered the main briefing room, Emrys noted that the Avengers were already assembled. Even Clint Barton was present, looking sharp and uncompromised.
"Everyone, this is Mr. Merlin Emrys," Coulson announced, acting as the group's faithful NPC. He gestured to the others. "And this is Olsen, his... bodyguard."
Coulson's voice dropped as he pointed to Thor and Heimdall. "And these two are... Merlin's servants."
"Servants?" Steve Rogers asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at the burnt, dark-skinned Heimdall and the blonde Thor in their simple clothes. "I... am I still behind on the times? I thought we moved past this. Especially with..."
Steve trailed off, looking uncomfortably at Heimdall.
"It's an Asgardian legal matter, Captain," Emrys interjected smoothly. "A debt of honor. Don't let the 1940s sensibilities cloud your judgment."
Bruce Banner stepped forward, offering a kind, hesitant hand. "Hello. I'm Bruce Banner. Physicist."
"Merlin Emrys. Rogue Trader," Emrys replied, shaking the doctor's hand.
Banner's smile faltered as he caught Emrys's gaze. He felt a strange, unsettling chill. Then, he looked at Olsen.
The veteran Space Marine's senses were honed by centuries of purging the unclean. He didn't see a physicist. He smelled something unstable, something monstrous, lurking beneath the skin.
Xenos? Mutant? No... Warp-taint, Olsen thought.
Instinct took over. The Space Marine's killing intent flared, a sudden, suffocating pressure that filled the room.
Banner's heart hammered against his ribs. Inside his mind, the Hulk let out a roar of primal fear, sensing a predator that didn't just want to fight, but to exterminate.
Banner stumbled back, crashing into a table. His skin turned a sickly shade of grey-green, his veins bulging as he fought to suppress the change.
"Bruce! Control it!" Natasha cried, moving toward him.
Olsen's hand went instinctively to his waist, gripping the hilt of his combat blade—a "dagger" to a Marine, but a short sword to a human.
"Stand down, Olsen," Emrys commanded, stepping between them. He placed a hand on Olsen's arm and projected a wave of psychic calm toward Banner. "My apologies, Doctor. My guard is... traditional. He senses your 'other half' and views it as a threat to my safety."
Banner gasped for air, his eyes returning to normal. He looked at the expressionless Olsen with genuine terror. "Your guard... he almost scared the Hulk right out of me. I've never felt anything like that."
The tension in the room remained high, the first meeting of Earth's Mightiest Heroes and the scions of the Imperium ending in a cold sweat.
Nick Fury stepped forward, his boots clicking on the metal floor. "Now that everyone's had a chance to measure their heart rates, let's get to why we're actually here. We have a war to stop."