Among the deserted islands of the Pacific Ocean, one had been leased by the Midnight Suns. No signs of civilization, no engine hums. Just white sand, green palms, and azure water where the sky melted into the horizon.
On a blanket lay a basket of food, some books, and fruit. John was slowly rubbing sunscreen onto Jane's shoulders while she lazily flipped through the pages of her book.
In the distance, Cain was leading two flight attendants into the jungle, loudly laughing and promising to show them "his python." Near the shore, in the sunlight and spray, Mary was chasing Peter, squealing with laughter.
Jane zipped up her white swimsuit, rolled onto her back, and returned to her reading—but couldn't focus.
"Darling, what is it?" Jane closed her book and looked at John lying beside her. "You've been staring at the ocean for an hour. If I didn't know your tastes, I'd think a mermaid had enchanted you."
John turned to her, smiling as he gazed at her golden curls.
"My heart has room for only one. And as you can see, I'm happy with my choice."
He kissed her—gently, but warmly. Jane's cheeks flushed a soft pink.
[She still blushes from kisses. God, I love that.]
"But I'm right, aren't I?" Jane fanned herself with the book. "You only get like this when you're planning something. Serious planning. I haven't seen that look in six months. Not even before the Fing Fang Foom attack."
"A green lizard might've been a challenge for the Avengers, but not for the Midnight Suns," John snorted. "I've been thinking about our future."
His gaze slid to Mary. Her green swimsuit, her splashing through the water, the joy frozen in the moment—it all looked serene. But something in the picture struck a deeper chord.
"Peter's lucky," he said. "Let him enjoy it. This might be their last summer together."
"You've noticed it too," Jane said with an understanding smile. "We're witnessing the tragedy of Dorian Gray. The whole world is growing up—except her."
John took her hand. It was nice when your partner was smart and saw things clearly.
Over the past year, Mary had grown—taller, stronger. But inside, she still laughed at memes, sang along with the radio, and collected glossy magazines. Still the same bright, sixteen-year-old girl.
Peter, on the other hand, had grown up fast. Finished high school, became an Avenger, revealed his identity to the world, moved his aunt to a safe zone, and now worked in Tony Stark's lab. Soon he'd want a wedding, kids. But with Mary, that wasn't possible. She was an eternal teenager, and she wasn't planning to change.
Mary… she wasn't stupid. She understood everything, but chose to ignore it. She lived in the moment.
John and Jane, sipping coconut juice, watched with a philosophical calm as their girl lived out a romantic summer—one of many in her endless life.
The sunset painted the sky gold. Beneath the stars, they lit a fire. Cain returned from the jungle with a real snake. Like a seasoned chef, he cut the meat, seasoned it, and roasted it over the flames. Mary sat nearby, happily eating a fruit salad—Cain had made her a separate dish.
The flight attendants kissed Cain on both cheeks and headed back to the plane. It was time for them to return to the main island.
Of course, Mary took a firelit selfie with Peter for Instagram and posted it instantly. Within five minutes, it had racked up two hundred thousand likes—one of them from Tony Stark, who spotted Peter and immediately called him.
"Found time for cocktails, huh?" Tony's voice boomed over speakerphone. "New York needs Spider-Man. Gibbon's robbing the national bank. The Avengers are assembling."
John snorted.
"Seriously, Tony? The Avengers are catching monkeys now? What, no proper villains left?" A smile touched his lips. "Oh right—the Midnight Suns already took care of them."
"And you're here too, John," Tony's voice was full of condescension. "Maybe if you were actually Earth's Mightiest Heroes, you'd be working right now—like we are."
"I'm doing you a favor," John said lazily, watching the sparks in the fire. "By not showing up in New York, I'm giving the Avengers a chance to prove their worth before the government shuts the project down. By the way, I'm adding this to the debt you owe me for saving your ass from the Mandarin."
Tony swallowed hard.
"I already shared all my tech with you…"
John smirked. Stark's gizmos were meaningless next to technomagic. But poking at Mr. My-Tech-Is-the-Best's ego was one of John's favorite pastimes. No psychic tricks, no physical threats. Just unexpected appearances in Tony's kitchen and pointed reminders.
"We've used your tech wisely," Jane chimed in. "Hospitals around the world now run on Stark reactors. For free. And we didn't charge you a cent for the transportation. You should be thanking us, Tony."
Heh. Jane could be ruthless. She still hadn't forgiven Tony for that cheap shot about her "stealing" Mjolnir.
Distributing tech to those who actually needed it had hit Stark's finances hard. Tony chose to back off before his company completely imploded.
The Midnight Suns returned to their meal.
"Umm, guys?" Peter said sheepishly, phone in hand. "Can someone give me a lift to New York?"
"No problem," Jane set aside her plate and pointed to Mjolnir. "Just hold on tight."
"Thanks, Miss Foster."
Spider-Man flew off toward New York, but the sarcastic aftertaste of Tony's call lingered.
"Gibbon? Seriously?" Mary groaned. "I swear Tony made that up just to ruin my date."
"Yep. Guarding his son's chastity," John joked—and immediately got an elbow in the ribs from Jane.
"Gibbon does exist," Jane said, her face glowing as she read the news on her phone. "It says here he's a man in a gibbon costume with the strength of a gibbon…"
"Let me see a photo of this clown," Cain scoffed openly. "That's a supervillain? One failed bank robbery, now another one…"
Cain furrowed his brow and switched to a cranky old man voice:
"Back in my day, you had to kick at least ten superhero asses to earn the supervillain title," he said, smiling nostalgically. "Now all it takes is a mask and a fart on a bus."
"And Tony's calling in the entire team to deal with Gibbon," Mary was still fuming about her ruined date. "Is Iron Man seriously not enough?"
"As I said, the Avengers need to show off their powers or they'll lose funding," John spread his hands. "And that's why I love our team. No bosses. No protocols. If we want to relax—we relax. If we want to save the world—we save it."
The Midnight Suns chatted about their recent adventures until the fire died down. They packed the plates and blanket back into the basket, leaving the island as clean as they had found it.
A rainbow exploded from nowhere—like lightning without thunder. Three armored figures tumbled out of the light: a blond with a beer-soaked mustache, a dark-haired guy with a black eye, and a redhead whose gut hung nearly to his knees. Like the angels of Charlie—if Charlie were a drunk viking.
Old acquaintances. Thor's three best friends.
"We haven't forgotten the shame!" the blond bellowed—and promptly choked on air.
"Tremble, mortals!" the brunet drew his sword… and dropped it on his own foot.
"A ballad shall be sung of this slaughter!" the redhead belched, staggered, and nearly sat on his friend's sword.
The three Asgardian warriors charged, screaming. John hit them all with the Penance Stare.
They collapsed into the sand, mouths agape, eyes glassy. Drool trickled down as if someone had flipped their brain switches to "off."
"That's no fun," Cain grumbled, brushing sand off his boot. "I was gonna punt those clowns straight back to Asgard."
"Why did they even attack us?" Jane crossed her arms and held back a sigh, looking like a teacher exhausted by three failing students. "They should've learned last time they don't stand a chance."
"That's the nature of idiots," John said, spreading his arms. "I figured out back during the last interrogation—those three get blackout drunk and then try to avenge their losses. All I had to do was give them a little push."
"You planned this," Jane accused, but gently—almost out of habit.
"I needed fresh intel from Asgard," John admitted. "And those three constantly drink with Thor. They know all the palace gossip. To lure them out, we just had to stand in one place for a day. Like today."
"Dad," Mary whispered, pointing at the sky, "we're on Earth. Heimdall sees us."
"If he saw us, he'd have already yanked his friends back through the rainbow bridge," John waved her off. "Over time, I figured out Heimdall only sees what he's allowed to see. Wards like the ones around the Clubs are a blind spot for him. I threw a full illusion dome over the island. As far as Heimdall knows, Cain is just goofing around with the Three Stooges. We've got one hour to extract info."
"You're going to torture them," Jane said disapprovingly.
"Already did," John nodded toward the drooling imbeciles. "Think of it as a DUI penalty. Those drunkards could've chopped someone up."
Jane gave a silent nod. It fit her sense of justice.
"Cain, grab our guests," John said. "We'll question them on the Midnight Ship."
Cain effortlessly tossed the blond and the brunet over his shoulders. He nearly stumbled lifting the redhead by the belt. Re-adjusting his grip, he managed the weight, but the sand sank beneath him.
"How much does this pig weigh?" Juggernaut muttered. "Feels like five tons."
"Entirely possible," John said coolly. "That guy's superpower is in his gut—there's a dimensional pocket in there. Nothing he eats digests, it just gets stored and adds mass without changing his shape. Heard they paved all Asgardian roads with uru just to support his fat ass."
The Midnight Suns vanished in a swirl of light, while somewhere in Asgard, Heimdall munched on popcorn, glued to the show of Cain chasing drunk Vikings around a beach.
///
Forty minutes later, John exited the interrogation room, leaving the captives behind. He walked into the kitchen, where the team was already gathered, fully suited up. Underneath their casual clothes gleamed white technomagical armor—like living statues forged from liquid metal. The elemental energy shimmered in their hearts, their fingers, their eyes. Everything pulsed, breathed—as if the armor were skin, not plating.
And, of course, each wore a carefully chosen set of artifacts.
At Jane's belt gleamed miniatures of legends—Excalibur, Neptune's trident, Kusanagi. Shrunk down to keychain size by Pym particles, they still pulsed with power. All three had accepted her—by heart's purity, by honorable battle. They enhanced lightning, tore through space itself…
But in battle, she still relied on just one hammer.
Cain cracked his neck and adjusted the amulet made from the roots. It turned any ground—even concrete—into a swamp. Hercules' belt boosted his already massive strength to divine levels. And the necklace of Fin Fang Foom's teeth glimmered with a living threat—it allowed him to spawn twice as many clones, like in that old story: "plant a dragon's teeth, grow an army."
All three trophies were taken by force—and each of them growled if Cain went too long without a fight.
On Mary's fingers blazed the Mandarin Rings — ten miniature supernovas, each one ready to incinerate a target on her whim. Trident-shaped earrings danced on her ears, but within them burned a furnace: forged in Hell, they could ignite even a shadow. A rainbow pendant at her neck flickered every time the universe smiled at her — as if Luck itself winked and guided her through the storm.
And then there was John.
The Serpent Crown amplified his psychic powers to the point he could cast an illusion dome over an entire island. The ebony tarot cards with which he had foreseen that the warrior trio would show up today. And the Eye of Agamotto — a relic of hyper-intuition. One glance through the artifact was enough to know everything about a person.
John looked at the team through the Eye — and smirked.
Armor: flawless. Flesh: tougher than steel.
But their souls… their souls were fragile. Like spring ice over a river.
The artifact whispered: one Penance Stare, enhanced by the Serpent Crown, could take them all down. Souls needed training too — but that was impossible until they were free of the sickness.
They sat in the cabin of the Midnight Ship. Beyond the porthole, a hellish ocean flowed, reflecting the faces of the damned. The air was tight as a bowstring.
"Before you begin, answer one question," Jane said, fingers steepled. Her voice was distorted under the armor. "Why didn't you use your dark elf spy to gather this intel?"
"Doing your usual check, making sure I haven't crossed a line," John chuckled. "This time, interrogation was the only way. The dark elves are under Odin's boot. Loki, speaking for dear old Dad, forbade them from helping us.
Sure, dark elves love scheming. I spoke with their king. Said he could bend the rule for me — but the price was way too high."
John nodded toward Mary's fingers.
"I'm not giving up my rings!" the fashionista snapped. "They go perfectly with my gloves!"
"I thought the same," John smirked. "Besides, you don't trust dark elves in wartime. Loki's probably already paid them off to feed us disinformation. Nothing beats the good old-fashioned interrogation."
"Damn right, man!" Cain gave a thumbs-up. "Like my granddad used to say: never pay for what you can do yourself."
"We'll need to swing by the Dark Realm," Jane said unexpectedly. "Just thinking about dark elves makes Mjölnir itch."
Everyone stared at her.
"What?" Jane shrugged. "They're a race of liars and thieves. The whole galaxy suffers because of them. Wouldn't hurt to deliver a little justice."
[Hmm. The burning blood of Pendragon stirs in my knight-queen's veins. I like this side of her.]
"So. The odds aren't in our favor," John said, pressing his fingers together. "I thought that after Thor's release, things would calm down. That Heimdall would see us wandering and assume we'd forgotten about the golden apples.
That could've worked — if not for Loki."
At the mention of Loki, the room grew heavier. Jane clenched her fists, Mary shivered, and Cain muttered a curse. They all remembered how easily he'd played them for fools.
"Thanks to Loki's efforts, Asgard is at full combat readiness," John continued. "The dwarven forge hasn't stopped roaring. Every Asgardian — from warrior to child — now wields a ghostblade. It cuts through spells and wounds the soul. The Three Stooges were carrying just those kinds of weapons."
"Oh, hell," Cain groaned. "We're defenseless against that crap."
"Well… not exactly," John shrugged. "Yeah, because of the soul sickness, we can't cast protective veils or soul regeneration. But we do have enchanted armor — it'll hold up for a couple hits. If the Asgardians come at us all at once, we're dead. And they will attack. There are over fifty thousand of them. Even the children will charge at our eyes with ghostblades — and they won't flinch when we scream."
Mary flinched and moved closer to Jane, like to a lighthouse of hope.
[My words cut deep — but there was no other way. This wasn't Earth, where enemies could only bite and scratch. Here, one mistake — and you're ashes. And the team goes down with you.]
"And let's not forget the sorcerers," John added, his voice dropping like lead. "There aren't many in Asgard, but each one is worth ten Sorcerer Supremes. Ever heard of the Norn Stones? Asgardian artifact that multiplies any spell tenfold. A simple fireball becomes Armageddon. The moment we show up in Asgard, those mages will start throwing up wards and curses strong enough to crush a giant army."
"It's like walking into a Chelsea pub in an Arsenal jersey and asking where the bathroom is," Cain said knowingly. "They'll smash our faces before we get through the door."
"That's if we even can get through," John corrected him. "The gate's wards are stronger than the vault's. Only Odin or Heimdall can open them."
"Am I the only one who gets the urge to build a pillow fort and never come out just from talking about Asgard?" Mary moaned, hugging herself.
"Hang in there, girl. This is just the warm-up," John gave a crooked grin. "Okay, say we fight our way through the streets of Asgard — insanely hard, considering most Asgardians are elite warriors and berserkers immune to mind magic — but still doable.
Then comes the palace. There, we face our next trial: four guardians, hand-picked to counter us:
Frost Giant Laufey with the Casket of Ancient Winters — he's mine.
Thor with Gungnir in hand — waiting for Jane.
The Troll King, wielding the Earth Elemental Ring — he'll go straight for Cain.
And Surtur, crowned with Eternal Flame — stands against Mary.
They always sit in the banquet hall, right by the door to the vault. Slipping past them? Not happening."
"Any good news?" Mary groaned.
"That's just half the trials," John smirked at her expression. "The vault is guarded by Mangog — same kind of infinity avatar as us. But his power is madness and rage. Odin found him on a planet where everything was dead — except for him. He crawls on all fours, growls like a beast, and feeds on pain. He doesn't know fear. He doesn't know doubt. And he never sleeps."
"I won't be able to hit him," Jane said, clutching her hammer like it might have the answer. "He's just a dog. Guarding his master's house from thieves. From us."
"We're Robin Hood in this story," John corrected her. "Odin's a galactic-scale bandit. Vikings were never the good guys."
That worked. Jane softened. A bloodthirsty dragon lying on a pile of stolen gold — that, her knight's code could strike down with the hammer of justice.
"Beyond Mangog lies the vault," John continued. "It's sealed with a password — and only Odin knows it. Honestly, that trial worries me the least. At least the door isn't trying to kill us."
Mary giggled, pressing her palms to her cheeks. Even preparing for battle needed to be taken in small doses — or you'd go mad.
"Odin — he's the real terror," John said, clenching his jaw. "Right now, the All-Father is in a magical slumber. A deep one — not even a grenade under his pillow would wake him. But whisper the secret word into his ear… and that's all it takes. Frigga, Thor, Loki — the whole royal family knows it. Just one word, and our problems become very real."
Everyone leaned in, not wanting to miss a single detail.
"You didn't think Odin was just some senile old man who forgot how to cast a basic regeneration spell, did you?" John gave a crooked smile. "He wears that eye patch not for style. Under it is the most powerful ability in the universe — absolute wisdom. One glance at a problem — and the universe itself bends to whisper him the answer. You get what that means? One look, and the cosmos hands him the exact method to destroy us quickly and efficiently. His fingers will fall into the right pattern, like a password launching a nuke. No tricks. No banter to stall for time. No ace up the sleeve.One look — and it's game over."
A heavy silence settled over the table.
Mary shrank into her chair, as if she could feel Odin's gaze already.
Jane looked away — not from fear, but from understanding. A warrior knew when the stakes were too high.
"Freakin' Loki!" John slammed his fist on the table. "If it weren't for his scheming, all we'd need to do is slip past Heimdall and pluck four golden apples off Yggdrasil. No one would even notice we were there. But thanks to Loki, Yggdrasil is sealed, and every apple is locked inside the vault."
"I never run from a fight, but this feels like jumping into a coffin," Cain grumbled. "Maybe we back off? Look for another way to heal the souls?"
"There's no way back," John exhaled. "Loki set the board. The game's begun. Either we make the first move — or that army comes knocking on our front door."