Aftermath and the Call to Assemble

The chaos and smoke of Kolkata, India, were completely swept away by the sea breeze of the Pacific Ocean. On the terrace of Stark Villa, the sunlight remained as generous as ever.

Xiao Han settled back into the enormous beanbag chair, as if crossing half the globe to "put a big green guy to sleep" had been nothing more than a stroll through the backyard. He scooped up a large spoonful of freshly opened strawberry cream ice cream, put it into his mouth, and narrowed his eyes contentedly.

"Next time, I need to make that one-eyed guy reimburse my ice cream," he muttered indistinctly. "That place in India didn't even have a decent cold drink stand."

The atmosphere inside the villa, however, was entirely different. Pepper sat in the study, staring at a computer screen frozen on a carefully edited clip of footage that had just been transmitted through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal encrypted channel.

The footage captured only the process of Hulk being forcibly suppressed by an invisible force, driven to his knees, and finally collapsing as the green faded from him, along with the fleeting glimpse of a blurry yet unmistakable gray figure on the rooftop. There was no sound—only suffocating silence and the devastation of the ruins.

Pepper's palms felt cold. Even after the footage had been processed, the visual impact of that sheer overwhelming power still made her chest tighten. She closed the video, took a deep breath, and picked up the communicator. "Happy, come to the study."

Happy entered quickly. His face still showed the exhaustion of dealing with the attack in the front yard, but his gaze was alert. "Miss Pepper?"

"Make arrangements. Contact the best security equipment suppliers." Pepper's voice regained its usual efficiency, but there was an unquestionable resolve in it. "This isn't an upgrade. We're completely rebuilding the villa's outer physical barriers and surveillance systems.

"The budget... has no limit. Also, add two more refrigerators to Mr. Xiao's room... and fill them with every flavor of ice cream he likes."

Happy froze for a moment, then seemed to understand something. He nodded heavily. "Understood! I'll handle it right away!" He turned and left, his steps steadier than before. His awe of power had now become a more practical drive to act.

Inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier, the massive flying fortress.

The atmosphere was as heavy as lead. On the enormous command center screen, those few seconds of silent footage played over and over: Hulk collapsing like a mountain, the rooftop figure vanishing.

Nick Fury's single eye was fixed on the screen, his knuckles whitening from the force of his clenched fist. Behind him, Commander Hill and several core scientists were pale-faced.

"The energy readings... still can't be analyzed." A gray-haired gamma ray expert spoke in a dry voice, thick with frustration. "The pressure field applied to the target, Hulk, in that instant... doesn't conform to any known physical model! There was no energy radiation, no force field fluctuation. It was like... like space itself had been warped and given a will!"

"The movement pattern of the target individual, 'Sun's Son,'" Hill said, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor, "still can't be determined as either super-speed or... spatial teleportation. Satellite tracking failed completely after he left the Indian slum area, as though he evaporated."

"Hulk's vital signs?" Fury's voice was low and raspy, like sandpaper scraping.

"Stable. Doctor Bruce Banner has regained consciousness. His vitals are normal, but he's extremely weak and psychologically traumatized," the medical agent reported. "Agent Romanoff is escorting him back to the Helicarrier. They're expected to arrive in two hours. Doctor Banner's memories of what happened during his loss of control... are vague."

Fury remained silent. On the massive screen, the footage of Hulk being forcibly suppressed and driven to his knees looped once more. It was an absolute, despair-inducing display of power.

A chill rose up Fury's spine, stronger than when he had first seen the Tesseract. Xiao Han's existence was like an unpredictable Sword of Damocles hanging over Earth's head. He could easily quell a Hulk-level disaster, but who could guarantee that his next intervention would not bring even greater destruction?

"Initiate the highest-level information lockdown." Fury's voice was cold. "All raw data from the Kolkata incident, including satellite feeds, ground surveillance, and agent recorders, is to be sealed in Leviathan-level encrypted archives. Access is restricted to me alone. Publicly, we will state that Hulk's rampage was successfully contained by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents using a new nonlethal energy suppressor."

"Yes, Director!" Everyone accepted the order solemnly.

"Once Doctor Banner arrives, arrange the highest level of medical observation and psychological counseling," Fury added. "Also, notify Stark. Tell him to rein it in and not cause any more trouble on my Helicarrier." He was referring to Tony's hair-trigger temper.

Two hours later.

The enormous hangar doors of the Helicarrier slowly opened, and a Quinjet landed smoothly. The hatch opened, and Natasha Romanoff stepped out first. Her face was still somewhat pale, but her eyes had regained an agent's calm.

Behind her, two medical personnel carefully supported the unsteady Doctor Bruce Banner. Banner looked utterly frail, his complexion ashen. Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes were filled with confusion, fear, and profound exhaustion. He wore a temporary S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform that looked slightly oversized on him.

Waiting beside the hatch was Tony Stark, wearing his signature gold-and-red Mark IV armor with the faceplate open. His arms were folded, and his face wore its usual flippant expression, though deep in his eyes lurked a trace of barely concealed curiosity and... schadenfreude?

"Hey! Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s 'sky hotel,' Doctor Banner!" Tony's voice came through the armor's speakers with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Enjoy your trip? Heard India's pretty hot. Did you get in a little 'intense exercise' while you were there?"

Banner's body visibly stiffened, and a flash of pain and embarrassment crossed his eyes. Natasha shot Tony a warning glare.

"Stark, say less." A steady voice came from nearby. Captain Steve Rogers, dressed in a retro leather jacket, walked over with his tall frame held straight. His gaze settled on Banner, carrying sincere concern and the understanding of someone who shared a similar burden. "Doctor Banner, how are you feeling? Do you need to rest first?"

Banner looked at Rogers, then at Tony in his high-tech armor with his merciless mouth, before finally turning his eyes to Natasha. Remembering the despairing green rage amid the ruins and the terrifying memory of being forcibly pressed down by invisible might, his lips trembled. In the end, he only managed to force out a hoarse sentence. "I... I think I need... some quiet."

"Of course, Doctor." Rogers immediately gestured to the medical personnel. "Take the doctor to the prepared medical room."

Banner was helped away, his back a lonely sight.

Watching Banner leave, Tony shrugged. His faceplate closed, and he turned to Natasha. "So, Little Red Riding Hood, how did you deal with that 'Green Godzilla'? Did Fury pull out some black-tech toy he'd been hiding?" He clearly did not yet know the truth.

Natasha's expression instantly became extremely complicated. She looked at Tony, yet seemed to see through him to that gray figure sitting on the rooftop, suppressing Hulk with one hand. Her lips parted, but in the end, she merely shook her head tiredly. Her voice carried a barely noticeable dryness. "The new suppressor... was very effective. Don't ask, Stark." She did not want to remember, much less explain.

Tony sharply caught the abnormality in Natasha's tone and that trace of fear she was trying so hard to conceal. Beneath his faceplate, his brows furrowed. A new suppressor? A suppressor that could make Natasha look like that? Instinctively, he felt things were not so simple.

Just then, Fury's distinctive deep voice sounded through the shipwide broadcast, interrupting everyone's thoughts:

"Attention, all personnel. Target Loki has been located. Location: the charity banquet at Kleist Opera House in Stuttgart, Germany. I repeat, the target has been located! Captain Rogers, Stark, report to the briefing room immediately! Operation codename: 'Phantom of the Opera'! I repeat, 'Phantom of the Opera' begins immediately!"

At last, the horn calling them to assemble had sounded!

Tony's faceplate snapped shut, and his engines gave a faint hum. His flippant expression was replaced by fighting spirit. "Finally, it's the protagonist's turn to take the stage!" He looked at Rogers. "Come on, Popsicle! Let me show you what modern warfare looks like!"

Rogers tightened his grip on the Vibranium shield in his hand. His eyes were resolute as he nodded.

The two quickly headed toward the briefing room. Natasha watched their departing backs, then glanced in the direction Banner had gone. Finally, her gaze seemed to pierce through the thick hull of the Helicarrier and reach the distant California coast. The shadow cast in her heart by that figure sleeping beneath the sunlight was heavier than the threat Loki posed.

The center of the storm had shifted to the heart of Europe. And on the terrace of Malibu Villa in California, far away.

Xiao Han's super-hearing clearly caught Fury's order aboard the Helicarrier, Tony's declaration of battle, and Rogers's steady response. He even "heard" the roar of the Quinjet's engines starting up, as well as the sonic boom when it left the Helicarrier and tore through the sky toward Germany.

He slowly turned over, letting the sunlight warm his back. Feeling his power steadily grow in tiny streams, he sighed comfortably.

"Phantom of the Opera?" The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible curve, amused as though he were watching a show. "Pretty artistic name. Too bad the lead is such a lousy magician."

He scooped up the last spoonful of ice cream, put it in his mouth, and closed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Hopefully this 'opera' won't disturb my sunbathing."

"If it gets too noisy..."

He paused, as though considering it.

"...then I'll let the bearded uncle clean up his own mess."