With a sudden burst of energy, Whiplash was sent tumbling across the nightclub floor, rolling in embarrassment before coming to a stop.
The energy whip meant to finish Iron Man crackled erratically on the ground, its power source disrupted.
Before Whiplash could recover, Captain America retrieved Tony Stark's Mark V suitcase armor.
"If you've got any tricks left, now's the time," Cap said, tossing the suitcase toward his ally.
Tony's face lit up. "You read my mind."
He pressed both hands into the suitcase. With a mechanical whir and metallic hiss, the portable armor unfolded and latched onto him, piece by piece.
By the time Whiplash was back on his feet, Tony Stark had vanished—replaced by the fully armored, battle-ready Iron Man.
Now, Iron Man stood tall beside Captain America.
And above them loomed—
A Kryptonian who wasn't about to let Iron Man hog the spotlight.
From a VIP lounge overlooking the chaos, Heisenberg rose, his muscles half-bared beneath his silk robe. He clapped slowly, drawing the attention of the stunned patrons.
"Wait—is that the owner?"
"The guy who took down Kingpin?!"
"He's the one who wiped out Kingpin's enforcers and claimed his turf?"
"Why's he stepping into this? This is Iron Man's fight!"
"Dude's in pajamas!"
Despite the disbelief, many couldn't help but admire the imposing figure—and for some, especially the women in the crowd, the view.
Heisenberg's voice cut through the murmurs like a knife.
"If you're hurt, call a hospital. I'll cover it. If there's a mess, I'll clean it up. Tony, you wreck my floor again, you're paying for it—sofa included."
Then he turned, locking eyes with Whiplash.
"And you—did you even bother checking whose territory this is?"
"You absolute—"
CRACK!
Before he could finish, Heisenberg's open palm collided with Whiplash's face. The sound echoed.
Whiplash staggered, spinning once, before crashing to the ground.
The crowd erupted.
"He knocked him down—barehanded?!"
"Is this guy even human?!"
"Tony, better watch out. I think Heisenberg's tougher than you!"
As Whiplash tried to rise again, Heisenberg's eyes glowed crimson. A controlled heat vision beam pierced the crude arc reactor on Whiplash's chest, overloading it. Sparks flew.
"Reactor's unstable," Heisenberg muttered. "Wouldn't want radiation leaking into my bar."
With Whiplash down for good, the party resumed like nothing happened—just another night in New York.
Someone had already called the cops. Not that it mattered. The guests kept drinking, retelling the story with extra flair.
Meanwhile, Heisenberg, Tony, Cap, Coulson, and Happy relocated to the rooftop villa.
They lounged on beach chairs beneath the stars while a private chef grilled meats by the pool.
Tony picked at his plate. "No burgers? Really?"
Heisenberg shrugged, tossing a whole roasted wing into his mouth.
"You're in my house, Stark. We eat real meat here."
Coulson, ever the polite gentleman, tried to suppress his surprise—but the food really was good.
"When you eat the bones," Heisenberg explained, "it's like biting into pure flavor. Trust me—bone-in is the way meat was meant to be enjoyed."
Swallowing his food, he turned to Tony with a teasing grin.
"So… what's it like?"
Tony raised an eyebrow. "What, almost dying?"
"No—being rescued by your uncle."
Tony nearly choked on his drink as the others burst into laughter.
After swallowing the grilled meat and taking a sip of wine, Tony Stark suddenly slammed his glass on the table.
"You're taking advantage of me!"
Heisenberg chuckled. "Oh, not me. I'm talking about your Uncle Rogers."
He pointed at Captain America with a smirk.
Tony squinted at Steve Rogers suspiciously. After a moment of silence, he tilted his head.
"S.H.I.E.L.D., huh? I've got ties with them, but... this guy looks really familiar…"
"Well, yeah. You've seen the old war photos. Only back then, he had a mask on," Heisenberg said as he tossed a cold bottle of beer to Rogers.
"C'mon, Cap. Isn't this the perfect moment to say hello to your nephew?"
Rogers caught the bottle with a grunt. "Even aliens have heard of me?"
Heisenberg leaned back, grinning. "Read a few comics when I got to Earth. Captain America—Hitler's worst nightmare, Howard Stark's best buddy. You're practically a celebrity."
Tony's jaw dropped. He stopped mid-chew, staring. "Wait. Captain America?! You're... still alive?"
"I…" Rogers hesitated, but before he could finish, Tony jumped in again, eyebrow raised.
"So, you're still alive, huh? Then you probably know Aunt Peggy married someone else."
"I…!" A vein twitched on Rogers' forehead.
Tony kept going, now rubbing his beard in mock thought. "Or maybe you're like my dad—Mr. Charisma, never settling down. You stayed young, Cap, but you never went back for Peggy? Poor woman. She used to babysit me, you know."
Heisenberg let out a booming laugh. "Oh, I really like your mouth, Stark!"
The tension in the room melted a bit with his laughter, easing the strange reunion between Avengers and this powerful newcomer.
---
Downstairs, S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Barbara Morse (codename: Mockingbird) was already negotiating with the NCPD.
A man had died in Heisenberg's nightclub, and several bystanders caught the moment on video—Heisenberg unleashing brutal, lethal force.
But Barbara moved fast. With her elite team and federal credentials, she filed the incident as a case of justified lethal force against a confirmed international criminal—Whiplash.
The press wouldn't see it that way, but legally? Heisenberg walked clean.
This was why Heisenberg had ties with S.H.I.E.L.D.
Power didn't make trouble disappear. The stronger you were, the more enemies you attracted. Heisenberg knew this. That's why he needed structure. Subordinates. Legal cover. Influence.
And someday, he would build his own legal department—one to rival Wilson Fisk's empire.
---
Meanwhile, at the Triskelion—S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ:
A high-security wing of the compound, was on high alert.
A quinjet touched down, agents forming a tight perimeter. Dozens held weapons in trembling hands. Not out of cowardice, but caution.
You don't not prepare when he is on board.
Thankfully, the one exiting the aircraft was Bruce Banner—ragged clothes, weary eyes.
"Well, this is a warm welcome," he muttered. "Didn't know I was worth a military parade."
Agent Natasha Romanoff stepped out behind him. "It wasn't for you."
Before she could clarify, an agent approached. "Dr. Banner, Agent Romanoff. Apologies for the tension. There was an incident at Heisenberg's nightclub. Stark was attacked, Rogers was drawn in, and... Heisenberg killed again. Hence, the alert."
Banner and Natasha exchanged a look.
Bruce gave a sigh. "You guys… sure know how to party."
Natasha just shook her head. "Come on. Let's not get involved in their mess right now. Fury wants to see you."
"Sure. Lead the way."
---
Inside Director Nick Fury's office:
Natasha opened her mouth, but Fury raised a finger to his lips.
She paused.
Then Fury, voice barely a whisper, said, "Don't say his name. Intel suspects he might not monitor us 24/7, but if his name triggers a response algorithm, we're screwed."
"…Paranoid much," Banner muttered, but nodded.
Fury turned to him and extended a hand. "Dr. Banner. Glad you came. Trust me—we're not like Ross."
"Hope so," Bruce said, shaking his hand.
Fury turned to Natasha. "Our plan to pull Stark into the fold hit a snag. We were using Whiplash as bait—staged conflict. But Heisenberg got involved. Coulson and Rogers have made progress with Stark, but…"
"Hold up." Bruce raised a hand. "This he you're talking about… I'm guessing he's the one I'm supposed to be the counterbalance to?"
Natasha nodded.
Bruce frowned. "So you don't want to stop him. You want to contain him. Same trick you pulled on me—keep me close, then use me as a leash on him, and him as a leash on me."
Fury didn't flinch. "And what would you prefer, Dr. Banner? That I deploy every asset to kill him? Or would you rather we handle you like Ross did?"
Bruce held his hands up. "Alright, alright. I get it. No need to push. Just... acknowledging how your chessboard looks."
He slumped into the couch, sighing. "If not for Heisenberg being so terrifying, I wouldn't even be here. So yeah—guess I owe him."