Inheritance of ash

Fault Lines

Sam had been leaning against the wall of the cabin, helmet in hand, smirking. "Just so everyone knows — I've already got dibs on the best takedown of the day."

"Keep dreaming," Clint shot back.

The mission site came into view through the Quinjet's small windows — a squat, grey facility surrounded by trees, with a few guard patrols moving in predictable loops.

Steve gave the signal. "Thor, Tony, Sam — you're first wave. Go."

Thor rose immediately, Mjolnir in hand, grinning like he'd been waiting for this all morning. Tony stepped up beside him, mask closing over his face with a metallic hiss. Sam just shook his head and muttered, "Here we go," before snapping his wings open.

The back ramp opened with a hiss of cold air, and the three of them launched out — Thor flying ahead like a comet, Tony right behind, Sam diving low to scan the perimeter.

Bucky stood, rolling his metal arm once. "See ya," he muttered, then jumped without hesitation.

Bruce followed, pausing for just half a breath before letting go and leaping — halfway down, his roar shook the air as the Hulk hit the ground running.

Inside, the Quinjet was suddenly quieter. The second wave waited for the landing, the rumble of distant impacts shaking the floor beneath their boots. Vicky's heart was already racing, but her hands were steady. Peter glanced at her from behind the mask, and she could tell he was checking — not just if she was ready, but if she was okay. She gave him a small nod.

The ramp began to lower again.

"Let's move," Steve ordered, voice low.

The rest of them rose to their feet, weapons ready, the cold bite of the outside air rushing in as the Quinjet touched down.

The sound hit them hard — a deafening rattatatat of gunfire that cracked against the ground and the hull of the jet. The air smelled of gunpowder, metal, and cold.

Steve didn't waste a second. "Move!"

They spilled out into the chaos. Hydra agents were everywhere — dozens, maybe more, pouring from the fortified perimeter like ants from a broken nest, each one armed to the teeth.

Vicky's pulse surged, but she didn't hesitate. Green energy flared in her hands, snapping outward into a shimmering shield as bullets zipped toward her. The energy crackled against the metal slugs, sparks flying where they made contact before ricocheting away. She moved with Natasha on one side and Wanda on the other — just like Nat had ordered.

One agent came too close, and Vicky didn't even think — she dropped her shield and let her body move the way Natasha had drilled her for weeks. Left arm blocked the incoming strike, right knee drove hard into the man's ribs. She spun, her leg snapping up in a high kick that sent him sprawling.

Another tried from behind — Wanda's red magic yanked his gun from his hands, floating it in the air for a split second before crumpling it like paper.

"Focus forward!" Natasha barked.

"Yeah, got it—" Vicky's words cut off as something huge sailed across her field of vision — no, someone. A Hydra agent flew at least thirty feet before disappearing completely out of sight.

She blinked, turning toward the source.

Hulk was here. Big, green, and—oh my god—ripping a giant piece of the ground out of the earth to throw at another group of soldiers.

She'd never seen Bruce like this. She'd never even seen Bruce transform.

Cool. Really cool.

Hulk glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring. His lips pulled into a wide, smug grin.
"Hulk smash!" he declared, pounding his fist into the dirt for emphasis.