Although Baron Strucker knew very well that even if this mysterious man and his bizarre dog were surrounded by his soldiers, they might not necessarily be hurt, having the weight of armed men around him still gave him a measure of false comfort. The Hydra leader clasped his hands behind his back, posture stiff, and forced his voice into something steadier than he actually felt.
He asked again, this time with more force: "Who are you, and how did you get in here?"
The question had barely left his lips when the strange atmosphere thickened once more, cutting his words short like a blade through silk. Strucker's eyes twitched. This was turning into a day of the impossible, every passing moment more bizarre than the last.
And it wasn't just him.
Outside the fortress walls, even the Avengers watching through their feeds or perched at their vantage points exchanged uneasy looks. "Okay, is it just me, or does this guy break every law of physics I ever learned?" Clint muttered under his breath, adjusting his bow as if it might help him process what he was seeing. Natasha's narrowed eyes never left Luke and Doggo, but she didn't disagree. Even Thor had tilted his head, murmuring to himself about "sorcery."
But inside, Strucker alone was the one who hadn't managed to adapt.
Hydra rifles were raised, black barrels all trained on Luke. The tense silence was shattered not by bullets but by a crisp, mechanical chime in Luke's mind.
[Ding, Hydra member Clyde is threatening to shoot the host. The weapon in his hand has negatively mutated and exploded.]
[Ding, Hydra member Thompson is threatening to shoot the host. The weapon in his hand has negatively mutated and exploded.]
[Ding, Hydra member…]
The notifications cascaded like falling dominoes.
A beat later, the explosions began. The most update n0vels are published on novel⚑fire.net
It wasn't the earth-shattering roar of missiles, but the sharp, localized crack of firearms failing catastrophically. Muzzles burst apart like fragile tin cans, metal shards hissing and clattering to the stone floor. Smoke curled into the air, acrid and biting.
The Hydra soldiers stared slack-jawed, their hands stinging, some with burns blooming angry red across their palms. They could only gape at the smoking ruins of their weapons, their discipline fractured by confusion.
"What the hell…?" one whispered, voice trembling.
Luke, meanwhile, barely reacted. His eyes slid lazily over Strucker as though the man was a background prop. Instead of answering the earlier question, Luke crouched slightly, resting a hand on Doggo's shaggy head.
"Go," he said calmly, "check if the target is here."
Doggo gave a sharp bark of acknowledgment. Luke had already told him on the way who they were looking for, even describing Pietro's features. The husky wagged his tail once, and then, before the soldiers' horrified eyes, his body rippled.
Not swelling into a monstrous beast, not changing into unnatural colors this time, instead, it was something subtler yet infinitely stranger. Two additional heads sprouted seamlessly from his shoulders. Three sets of bright, mischievous eyes blinked in unison.
And then, with a shimmer, Doggo split.
Where there had been one dog, there were suddenly three identical copies, same markings, same stance, same eager wag of the tail. They moved as if they shared a mind.
The Hydra soldiers stumbled back, muttering curses, disbelief etched across their faces.
The three dogs bounded off in separate directions, their noses twitching furiously, paws tapping against the stone like a drumbeat. The sound echoed down the corridors as they scattered, each a phantom on the hunt.
Strucker's jaw slackened. He could only watch as Luke finally straightened and leveled his gaze on him. His sluggish expression betrayed how far beyond his limits he was.
First the energy shield outside his castle had failed, then a stranger and his dog had descended from the sky, then every weapon in the room had exploded like toys. And now, three dogs where only one had stood.
It was a nightmare written in absurdity.
"Could this be a dream?" Strucker muttered aloud, disbelief cracking his voice. Almost desperately, he pinched his arm hard enough to bruise.
Luke's lips curved into a faint, amused smile. "No," he said softly, "you aren't dreaming."
The calmness of the words hit harder than a shout.
Strucker swallowed. "Who the hell are you? What's your purpose here?" He asked it for the third time, but his confidence was fraying at the seams. Hydra was used to enemies like S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, even rival villain factions, but nothing .
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, at least, carried rules and boundaries. Capture, interrogation, imprisonment, that was their way unless the mission was specifically about assassination. But this young man radiated uncertainty. His motives were unreadable, his powers incomprehensible.
"Oh, by the way," Luke asked suddenly, almost casually, "do you have a guy named Pietro here?"
The name was a blade. Strucker flinched. It was only a flicker, but Luke caught it instantly. The recognition, the attempt to smother it behind a mask of authority, it was all there.
The Hydra soldiers, stripped of firearms, instinctively moved closer to shield their commander, forming a human barrier. Their purpose was clear: protect Strucker, no matter the cost.
Bolstered by their presence, Strucker's spine stiffened. His voice regained a cold edge. "You've come to the wrong place. There is no Pietro here. Tell me your identity and your purpose, or you will not leave this place alive."
He gestured sharply to his men. They had no guns, but daggers gleamed at their belts. In this fortress, hundreds more soldiers could be rallied. Already, one had slipped away to sound the alarm. Reinforcements would soon swarm in with advanced weapons and numbers overwhelming enough to crush this man and his strange pet.
Strucker clung to that thought, clung to it like a drowning man clutching driftwood. He told himself there was nothing to fear. His confidence flickered back into place like a mask hastily worn.
But Luke was not known for his patience.
Since being injected with the perfected version of Extremis, he had yet to truly test its limits in battle. His lips curled into a strange smile, an ember of anticipation in his eyes.
Then, without warning, his body flared with heat. The glow of Extremis bled across his skin like fire under glass.
And in the blink of an eye, Luke was gone from where he stood, reappearing directly before Strucker.
The Hydra commander staggered back, a gasp tearing from his throat.
His soldiers reacted instantly, daggers flashing as they lunged. But their courage was wasted. Against Luke, ordinary men with steel blades were ants rushing a wildfire.
[Ding, Hydra member Clyde is trying to stab the host's heart. The dagger in his hand has negatively mutated, heating to a temperature of a thousand degrees.]
The air filled with the sudden, sickening stench of charred flesh. Clyde shrieked, dropping the glowing, half-melted dagger as he clutched his blackened hand, rolling on the stone floor in agony.