MSM Chapter 100 : Desperation's Gift

Quinjet - Minutes Earlier

Natasha pushed the Quinjet's engines to their absolute limit. The aircraft screamed through the sky. The hull vibrated from the strain, and warning alarms blared across the control panel.

Yelena sat in the co-pilot seat, her hands dancing across the weapons controls. "They're still gaining!"

Behind them, three figures pursued relentlessly. Nova led the chase, his energy propulsion making him the fastest. War Machine and Falcon followed, their flight systems struggling to keep pace with Nova's raw speed.

"I know!" Natasha snapped back, her eyes fixed on the radar. "Keep firing!"

The Quinjet's defense systems lit up the sky. Twin-mounted guns tracked the incoming targets, spitting bullets in controlled bursts.

War Machine barrel-rolled, avoiding the streams of gunfire. His armor's targeting system locked onto the Quinjet, but he held his fire—probably under orders to capture, not destroy.

Falcon weaved between the bullets, his flight pattern erratic and unpredictable.

But Nova was different. He flew straight through the gunfire, his helmet generating an energy shield that deflected the rounds harmlessly. The bullets pinged off the barrier like rain on glass.

"The shield's protecting all three of them!" Yelena shouted, adjusting her targeting. "As long as Nova's in front—"

"Then aim for the sides," Natasha interrupted. "Catch them when they break formation."

Yelena grinned despite the situation. "Now you're talking."

She adjusted the firing pattern, sweeping the guns wide instead of concentrating fire. The spray of bullets forced War Machine and Falcon to spread out, breaking away from Nova's protective shield.

Falcon banked hard to avoid a burst, putting distance between himself and the others.

That's when Yelena saw her opening.

She locked onto Falcon and fired. Three bullets struck his wing pack—the technical apparatus that gave him flight. Sparks flew from the damaged equipment, and black smoke began pouring out.

"Falcon's hit!" Yelena announced.

Through the rear cameras, they watched Falcon struggle with his controls. The damaged wing pack sputtered and failed, sending him into an uncontrolled descent. He fell toward a small island in the ocean below, his wings barely slowing his fall.

"Falcon's down," Natasha confirmed, her voice tight. "But we're not going to do any damage to anyone else."

Nova's shield was too strong. War Machine's armor was too thick. The Quinjet's guns weren't enough.

Natasha looked at Yelena as she spoke, "Drop the parcel."

Then turned in her seat to look back at Bruce, who stood in the cargo area, steadying himself against the turbulence.

"Bruce," Natasha said. "Swim to shore."

Bruce blinked. "What? Natasha, what are you—"

Yelena didn't give him time to finish. She yanked the controls hard, bringing the Quinjet into a steep dive. The aircraft dropped like a stone, descending to extremely low altitude until it was skimming just above the ocean's surface.

The belly of the Quinjet was so close to the water that spray kicked up against the hull.

"Yelena!" Bruce shouted, stumbling as the aircraft leveled out abruptly.

The floor beneath Bruce suddenly disappeared. A hatch opened directly under his feet, and before he could react, he dropped straight down into the ocean below.

The splash was lost in the Quinjet's wake. Nova and War Machine, focused on the aircraft itself and flying at high altitude, didn't notice the brief opening of the hatch or the figure falling into the water.

Bruce hit the ocean hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Cold water enveloped him as he plunged beneath the surface.

Inside the Quinjet, Yelena sealed the hatch and pulled the aircraft back up to normal altitude.

"He's gonna be pissed when he gets back," Yelena muttered.

"He'll live," Natasha replied. "Which is more than I can say for us if we don't—"

Yelena shushed her sister, "Ssh, don't jinx it!. I'll let you know that Bob and I are planning for a family already.

Nova suddenly accelerated. His energy output doubled, maybe tripled. He closed the distance in seconds, moving faster than the Quinjet's guns could track.

"He's powering up!" Yelena warned.

Nova's hands glowed with concentrated energy. He fired a blue beam that lanced through the air and struck the Quinjet's left engine. The explosion was catastrophic. Flames erupted from the engine housing, and the entire aircraft lurched violently to the side.

Alarms screamed even louder. The control panel lit up with red warning lights.

"Engine one is gone!" Natasha fought with the controls, trying to stabilize. "Compensating—"

Nova fired again. The second beam destroyed the right engine.

The Quinjet shuddered as both engines died. Without propulsion, the aircraft became a glider—and not a very good one.

"We're going down!" Yelena shouted unnecessarily.

Natasha didn't waste breath responding. She focused entirely on controlling their descent, angling toward one of the small islands dotting the ocean. If they were going to crash, better to crash on land than in the water.

The Quinjet dropped fast. Wind screamed past the hull. The island rushed up to meet them.

"Brace!" Natasha commanded.

The aircraft hit the ground hard. It skipped once, twice, tearing through sand and vegetation. Metal screeched as the hull scraped across rock. One wing sheared off completely, spinning away in a shower of sparks.

Finally, the Quinjet came to rest, half-buried in the sand of a small beach, smoke pouring from multiple points along its damaged frame.

Inside, Natasha groaned and pushed herself up from the controls. Her head throbbed, and her vision swam for a moment before clearing.

She looked to her right.

Yelena was slumped in the co-pilot seat, blood running down her face from a gash on her forehead. Her arm hung at an odd angle—dislocated shoulder, maybe broken.

"Yelena!" Natasha reached over, checking her sister's pulse. Still strong. Still alive.

Yelena's eyes fluttered open. "Did we... crash?"

"We crashed," Natasha confirmed. She looked down at herself, checking for injuries.

Nothing. Not a single scratch. Not even a bruise.

That didn't make sense. The crash had been violent enough to injure Yelena, but Natasha had come through completely unharmed.

She didn't have time to think about it.

The sound of repulsors firing reached her ears. Through the cracked windshield, she saw two figures landing on the beach.

War Machine touched down first, his armor's targeting systems immediately locking onto the downed Quinjet. His shoulder-mounted gun swiveled toward the cockpit.

Nova landed beside him, energy crackling around his hands.

Natasha's hand went to her sidearm, but she knew it was useless. Bullets wouldn't penetrate War Machine's armor. And Nova could deflect them with his energy powers.

War Machine stepped forward, his gun trained on Yelena's side of the cockpit. The telepath's control was absolute—he showed no hesitation, no recognition. 

Natasha was about to witness her sister die.

The thought hit her. Yelena—her sister, her family, one of the few people in the world who truly cared for her—was about to be executed right in front of her.

Time seemed to slow.

Natasha's breathing became heavier, faster. Her heart pounded in her chest. Anxiety, fear, desperation—all of it crashed over her at once.

And then she felt it.

Energy. Inside her. Moving, flowing, responding to her emotional state.

She didn't understand what it was. The awakening potion Lucien had given her—she'd felt different since then, stronger and faster. 

The energy surged through her body, concentrating in her muscles, her bones, her very cells. It was like mana, but she didn't know what mana was supposed to feel like. All she knew was that power was flooding through her, and her body was responding.

Her breathing grew even heavier. The world slowed down further, her perception sharpening to an impossible degree.

And then her body disappeared.

Not vanished—she could still feel herself, still see through her own eyes. But when she looked down, she saw nothing. Her hands, her body, everything had become invisible.

Stealth.

The word came to her mind unbidden, along with an instinctive understanding of what was happening. The energy—the mana—had responded to her desperate need to protect Yelena and had activated an ability she didn't know she possessed.

Natasha moved.

To War Machine and Nova, she simply vanished from the cockpit. One moment she was there, the next she was gone.

Nova's helmet suddenly lifted off his head. Not violently, not torn away—just lifted smoothly as if by invisible hands.

Nova's eyes widened in shock as his powers cut out immediately. The helmet was the source of his abilities, and without it, he was just a man.

Then he dropped to the ground as if something had struck him. Hard.

War Machine spun, his sensors trying to detect the threat. His HUD showed nothing. No heat signature, no movement, no target.

Then his suit started receiving impacts. Dents appeared across his armor—punching marks, perfectly circular, appearing one after another.

War Machine's shoulder gun swiveled randomly, its targeting system disrupted. Then it broke entirely, sparks flying from the damaged mechanism.

The armor around War Machine's arms began to tear away. Piece by piece, sections of his suit were ripped off by invisible hands. His chest plate buckled. His leg armor cracked.

The armor protecting his neck peeled away like tin foil.

Then War Machine dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Natasha reappeared in the same instant, standing between the two fallen heroes. Her body shimmered back into visibility, and the moment it did, her legs gave out.

She collapsed to the sand, breathing heavily, her entire body trembling from exhaustion.

The energy—the mana—was gone. Completely depleted. She'd burned through all of it in those few seconds of action.

But Yelena was alive. War Machine and Nova were down.

Natasha lay on the sand, staring up at the sky, trying to understand what had just happened.

She'd moved faster than she'd ever moved before. Hit harder than should have been possible. Turned invisible.

The awakening potion. It was all from that.

Natasha started laughing, the sound slightly hysterical. She'd become... what? A super soldier? A mutant? Or what?

Whatever she was now, it had saved Yelena's life.

That was all that mattered.

....

Inside the Facility

The voice came from behind, near where Bob was hiding. But it wasn't Bob's voice.

Lucien knew immediately who it belonged to.

Tony Stark.

Lucien's eyes flicked to the source. Tony was sitting with his back resting against the concrete pillar where Lucien had thrown him earlier. His face was pale, his eyes clear—not the glassy, controlled look they'd had during the fight.

"His head," Tony repeated, his voice weak but steady. "Cut off his head. It's the only way."

Lucien's mind raced. Was Tony out of the mind control? Or was this a trick by the telepath?

It didn't make sense for the telepath to give away Wonder Man's weakness. But it also seemed too convenient for Tony to suddenly break free of control right when Lucien needed help.

Regardless, Lucien didn't have much choice. Wonder Man was charging up some kind of attack, the purple energy concentrating on his chest growing brighter and brighter. Whatever he was preparing, it would be destructive.

Lucien had seconds to make a decision.

Trust Tony's advice or ignore it and try something else.

He looked at Wonder Man. The energy building in his chest was changing to red from purple... and red meant danger. Lucien could sense it—the power was enormous, easily enough to level this entire floor.

Tony's advice made sense, actually. If Wonder Man's body were just a shell for ionic energy, then destroying the shell might release the energy. And the head—the control center, even for an energy being—would be the logical weak point.

It was worth trying.

Lucien made his decision.

He reached into his inventory and summoned his daggers. The twin blades materialized in his hands, their edges gleaming in the dim light of the underground facility.

This time, he was summoning them not to test, but rather... execute.

.....

Author's Note:

Happy New Year, everyone!

Thank you for sticking with this story and following Lucien's journey through 2024. Your support, comments, and enthusiasm keep me motivated to write. Here's to more epic battles, character development, and plot twists in 2025!

Wishing you all a fantastic year ahead filled with great reads and amazing adventures.

Let's make this year even better than the last!

— FreakyHaru