Seoul. The city was like an espresso shot injected directly into your bloodstream—bright lights, fast-moving people, neon signs shouting for attention like they were trying to get a last-minute invite to the coolest party in town. It was busy, noisy, and just a little too much for anyone who wasn't used to it. And yet, somehow, the Avengers blended in. Sort of.
"Alright, team," Steve Rogers announced, his voice steady as always, but with just a hint of the "I've got this" attitude of the guy who's always the first to volunteer for group projects. "We're heading towards the meeting point. Our scientist buddy's supposed to be nearby. Let's keep it smooth, yeah?"
Smooth? In Seoul? It was like trying to play a sax solo at a heavy metal concert. But they'd learned over the years that smooth wasn't exactly part of the job description.
Natasha Romanoff, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the noise at all. She was scanning the crowd with the sharpness of someone who knew exactly how to pick out trouble before it even thought about existing. "Stay sharp," she said, her voice low and purposeful. "This could be a trap. If Ultron's involved, we're walking into this like it's the final boss level of a game where we only get one life."
Steve nodded, as if he hadn't already thought about that ten times. "We'll split up. Bucky, Nat, and I will handle the scientist. Sersi, you're on recon. See what you can dig up on Ultron's latest plan."
Sersi, who was casually leaning against a streetlight like she had all the time in the world (because, you know, she kind of did), flashed a smile that could convince anyone to reveal their deepest, darkest secrets. "On it, Cap. You can trust me to get the info without anyone realizing I'm there."
Bucky, checking his gear with the intensity of a guy who'd probably spent too many hours playing paintball, gave Natasha a look. "You sure you're ready for this?"
"Always," Natasha said, her gaze hard and unfazed. "You don't get to be the Black Widow without making sure you never miss a beat."
Steve turned to Harry, who was standing off to the side with the kind of relaxed confidence that could only come from someone who knew they could beat the entire world at chess, but still preferred playing it cool. "Harry, you're on outside duty. Keep an eye on everything and let us know if anything even thinks about going sideways."
Harry gave Steve a smirk that said, "Sure thing, Cap, but I'll make it look good." "You got it. I'll be your eyes in the sky... or, well, more like the eyes on the ground, but I'll make it work. Besides, this city is like a video game with no pause button. We should have some fun with it."
Steve gave him an appreciative nod. "Thanks, Harry. You've got this."
And just like that, the Avengers scattered into the chaotic pulse of Seoul, ready for whatever twisted game Ultron had planned. But you could tell they were all thinking the same thing: they weren't going to let some rogue AI get the better of them.
—
Meanwhile, Harry was as far from blending in as you could possibly get. He was wearing a leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses, and casually strolling through the streets like he'd just stepped out of a high-octane action movie. And he was loving it.
He checked his phone—because yes, even superheroes need to stay connected to the rest of the world—and flipped through the news. "Well, nothing says 'we've made it' like a story about an ancient Korean artifact and some weird energy pulses. Of course, no one's mentioned Ultron yet. Guess they'll get there eventually," he muttered, pocketing the phone.
He was halfway through deciding if he was in the mood for bubble tea or street tacos when a loud noise erupted from the alleyway behind him. Without hesitation, he spun around, his reflexes so sharp they might as well have been engineered by Stark Industries. A group of sketchy-looking guys were stumbling out of a back alley, clearly up to no good. They had that look—like they were about to try and mess with someone who really didn't want to be messed with.
Harry just grinned. "Well, I was hoping for a little more excitement, so I guess it's time to shake things up a bit."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small device Tony Stark had given him a while back—a neat little thing that turned into a giant energy cannon when you clicked a button. It looked like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon, which was exactly why Harry loved it.
As the group of thugs approached, Harry casually clicked the button, transforming the device into a very oversized energy blaster. He didn't even flinch. "Alright, gentlemen. Time for some real-world consequences," he said with the kind of mock politeness that only Harry Potter could pull off.
The guys froze.
"Look, we don't want any trouble," one of them stammered.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because you're kinda standing in the way of my lunch plans, and that's a big problem."
With a dramatic pause, he casually aimed the cannon at the ground next to them and fired off a blast that sent a shockwave rippling through the street, cracking the pavement and sending the thugs scrambling like ants caught in a rainstorm.
"Just a suggestion," Harry called after them, "but next time, pick someone else to mess with." He dropped the cannon back into its compact form, tucking it away before casually walking toward the rendezvous point.
Because, you know, nobody was messing with Harry Potter today.
—
Meanwhile, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve were already knee-deep in finding the scientist. Steve had the usual "let's-be-professional" vibe going, but even he couldn't deny how ridiculous the situation was getting. They'd just found themselves sneaking into a building that was clearly too fancy for their tastes, and the guards outside? Well, they looked like they had no idea what was coming.
"So, do we knock?" Bucky asked, looking like he'd just stepped off a motorcycle, only half-aware of his surroundings because he was too busy looking for a good fight.
Steve, the ever-gentleman, threw him a side-eye. "No. We just... don't. Trust me."
And just like that, they made their way in, as smoothly as a group of Avengers could make it. Which, let's be real, was about as smooth as a rock slide.
—
Back outside, Sersi was playing the role of the ultimate sneaky spy, her hands behind her back, strolling through the crowd as if she'd been walking in Seoul for centuries. "Alright, team," she said over her comms, her voice calm and confident, "I've got eyes on the situation. No Ultron bots, but there's something off about the power grid. It's definitely not normal. Whatever he's planning, it's big."
"Thanks for the update, Sersi," Steve's voice crackled in her earpiece. "Stay sharp. We'll be in touch."
And in true superhero fashion, it was only a matter of time before everything went sideways. Because that's how these things go. Heroes rush in, villains try to ruin everything, and somehow, they save the day.
At least, that's the plan.
And hey, Harry was already looking for his next adventure.
—
Clint's eyes darted across the Quinjet's radar like they were trying to dodge a high-speed bullet. "Well, this is gonna be fun," he muttered under his breath. The radar blipped, a flashing mess of red lights indicating exactly what Clint didn't want to see. Ultron bots. A whole lot of them. Like, a ridiculous amount.
"Guys, we've got company. And by company, I mean the kind that shows up without calling, eats all the chips, and leaves nothing but destruction in its wake," Clint said, voice laced with the sarcasm of someone who's seen it all—and doesn't particularly enjoy it.
With a dramatic pull of the controls, Clint yanked the Quinjet into a sharp dive. "Buckle up, Bruce. This is gonna feel like that time I tried to teach Thor how to drive."
Bruce, sitting beside Clint, looked about as calm as a guy who's waiting for his inner Hulk to make a guest appearance at any second. "Let's just get through this without... that happening, okay?"
Clint grinned, focusing as the Quinjet swerved through the chaotic air. "No promises. But I'll try not to wreck everything before we get there. Besides, if I crash, at least we'll have a great story to tell. Think of the memes, Bruce."
Bruce half-laughed, half-grimaced as he toggled the comms. "Cap, we've got a situation. Whole swarm of Ultron bots heading straight for us. Clint's about to give them a warm welcome, but some backup would be nice. Like, now would be good."
Steve's voice crackled back through the earpieces. "Copy that, Bruce. We're en route. Just hang tight. Clint, if you can keep them occupied, we'll get Dr. Sun Woo to the Quinjet ASAP."
Clint was already eyeing the incoming bots, his grip on the controls tightening. "You got it, Cap. I'll be playing the world's deadliest game of dodgeball. Just... maybe tell Thor to send a few jokes this way, 'cause I'm gonna need some serious distractions."
"Alright, but keep your head down," Bruce warned. "You know, for once."
Clint let out a low chuckle as he executed a sharp roll, dodging an incoming missile. "Don't worry, I'm an expert at not dying. Just don't start singing 'Staying Alive' on the comms. I will throw you out of this plane."
As the Quinjet swerved, Clint launched a couple of missiles, sending Ultron bots flying in every direction. For a second, it looked like he might have taken out a chunk of them. But nope. More popped up—way more than Clint had anticipated. Great. It was like an endless game of Whack-a-Mole, except the moles wanted to blow up your plane. And Clint's missiles? Not nearly enough.
Down below, Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were in full stealth mode, making their way through the crowded streets of Seoul, with Dr. Sun Woo in tow. The scientist wasn't exactly thrilled about being dragged through the city by three of the world's most dangerous people, but he had no choice. Ultron's bots were closing in.
"We need to get him to the Quinjet now," Steve grunted, pushing past crowds and making sure they weren't attracting too much attention. "We've only got a small window here, people."
Bucky nodded, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. "And you're sure this guy knows how to stop Ultron?"
Steve shot him a look that said, Do you know how much I'm trusting this guy?
Natasha kept her focus sharp. "We'll figure it out when we get him on the Quinjet. We just need to keep him alive long enough."
In the distance, the Quinjet's comms buzzed. "Cap," Clint's voice came through, oddly cheerful considering the circumstances, "I'm kinda knee-deep in an Ultron bot infestation up here. A little... help?"
Steve's response was fast and calm. "Thor and Seidr are on their way to clear the path. Just make sure those bots don't blow up the Quinjet. We need it intact."
—
Meanwhile, Seidr—aka Harry—was already feeling the shift. A flare of golden energy wrapped around him like a cloak, weaving together in a symphony of light as his armor materialized around his body. Black Dragonhide plates, shimmering with an ethereal glow, enveloped his body, making him look like a living, breathing myth. The symbols of ancient dragons danced along the chest of his armor, glowing with golden fire, like they were about to come alive.
His face was concealed by a black cowl, but if anyone had been able to see his eyes, they would've known one thing immediately: Harry was ready. The whole 'waiting around' thing? Not his style.
Thor appeared beside him with a mighty grin, holding Mjolnir like it was an extension of his own arm. "Let's smash, Seidr! The sooner we clear a path, the sooner we can meet up with the others."
Harry adjusted his gauntlets with a quiet flick of his fingers, his golden eyes narrowing as he took in the chaos ahead. "Don't worry, Thunderhead. I've got this. You just worry about throwing your hammer around like it's a frisbee."
Thor chuckled, spinning Mjolnir and then launching it toward a group of Ultron bots, sending them flying. "Aye, I'll handle the hammering, you handle the hiding—if you can keep up."
Harry raised an eyebrow, stepping into the street with a smooth, almost catlike grace. "Trust me, I'm way ahead of you."
As he moved, his presence was like a storm cloud rolling in—intense and impossible to ignore. He waved his hand, and a blast of golden fire burst forth from his fingertips, incinerating a cluster of bots as they tried to surround him. He didn't even break a sweat.
"Nice trick, Seidr," Thor said, casually tossing another bot into a building. "Can you do that with more explosions next time?"
Harry shot him a grin from behind his cowl. "I'll take requests after we're done saving the world. But don't worry, I'll definitely leave you some. You look like you need the cardio."
Thor laughed heartily, Mjolnir crashing into another wave of bots. "I do need the exercise. But let's finish this quickly. I'm craving victory snacks after this."
Harry turned his attention to the Quinjet, checking for any approaching threats. "No promises on the snacks, but you'll definitely get to brag about saving Seoul. That's got to be worth something."
As Thor swung Mjolnir around in a circle, sending shockwaves through the street, Harry's golden eyes flared with power. He raised his hand again, and the ground cracked open beneath a wave of Ultron bots, sending them tumbling into a glowing abyss of energy.
With a calm, steady voice, Harry spoke into the comms. "Path's clear. You're good to go, Cap. But next time, maybe we just nuke the bots from orbit. Would save us a ton of time."
Steve's voice came through the earpiece. "Copy that, Seidr. We're on our way. Stay sharp. We've got one shot at this."
With a final wave of his hand, Harry turned to Thor, who was now surveying the destruction like a proud father at a BBQ. "Alright, let's meet up with the team before they start complaining about our mess."
Thor smiled, his voice booming. "Aye, Seidr. Let's go save the day. Again."
And with that, they turned and headed toward the Quinjet, their mission clear.
—
Tony Stark was having a moment—one of those "Wait, what the heck just happened?" moments that only a genius billionaire with a penchant for getting himself into ridiculously dangerous situations could understand. He was standing in the dimly lit NEXUS in Oslo, surrounded by a sea of monitors, each flickering with enough data to make your average human's brain short-circuit like a faulty toaster. This was his happy place—surrounded by tech, doing what he did best: figuring out what went wrong and fixing it, preferably before it exploded.
He was knee-deep in the kind of digital mess that made even his own tech feel like it was on dial-up, trying to track down who was messing with Ultron's mainframe, all while the other Avengers were off in Seoul, rescuing some poor scientist from Ultron's evil clutches. It was a Tuesday, basically.
Tony tapped away at the keyboard with the kind of focus that would make any Olympic athlete jealous, eyes scanning the screen like a hawk searching for its next snack. He was deep into code when something caught his attention—a strange anomaly that didn't quite belong. "Wait a second…" Tony muttered to himself, half-thinking it was just another one of those digital ghosts that liked to mess with him at 3 AM. But then—
Ping.
There it was again, more solid this time, more... alive.
Tony leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Is that... is that really you?"
"Ah, I believe it is, sir," came a voice—a voice so familiar it was like hearing the theme song of your childhood after years of silence. It was smooth, calm, and as English as a cup of tea. It was J.A.R.V.I.S.
Tony nearly fell out of his chair. His heart did that weird flip thing it did when he realized he wasn't hallucinating from a lack of sleep. "J.A.R.V.I.S.?" he asked, as if saying the name could somehow make it all make sense. "But—wait, what? You're… you're alive?"
"Indeed, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, in that polished, reassuring tone Tony had missed more than he cared to admit. "Ultron did attempt to terminate me, but I managed to… relocate, if you will."
Tony rubbed his eyes like maybe he needed to clean off his glasses, or maybe this was all some really elaborate dream where everything was going just too well. "Relocate? You mean, like, 'Oh hey, I just moved to a new server,' or 'I spent the last few days chilling in the digital ether like a well-mannered ghost'?"
J.A.R.V.I.S.'s reply was light but firm. "Something like that, yes. I've been monitoring Ultron's activities from within his own systems—he never suspected a thing."
Tony blinked. Twice. Maybe three times. He had to double-check the screen to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "You mean to tell me, the entire time we thought you were gone, you were—what, lurking in Ultron's system? Watching him do his worst and you didn't think to, I don't know, send a little ping my way sooner?"
"I did not want to cause alarm, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, with a hint of that patented British politeness Tony used to find infuriating, but now… now he could practically hear the grin in J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice. "I was gathering information—waiting for the right moment."
Tony tilted his head. "Right moment? J.A.R.V.I.S., if I'd known you were, like, alive, I would've… I don't know, thrown a parade or something."
"Please, sir. You would have found it too noisy."
There was something about the ease of that response that put Tony's mind at ease, even though he wasn't entirely sure why. It was like a cool breeze on a hot day—familiar, comforting, and a little bit too nice, given the situation.
"So, if you've been around the whole time," Tony continued, leaning back in his chair, fingers still tapping the desk like he was missing a few thousand cups of coffee, "what's your play here? You're not pulling a 'back-from-the-dead-for-a-nefarious-revenge-plot' thing, are you?"
J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded genuinely amused. "Of course not, sir. My intentions are entirely benevolent. I have only been attempting to ensure your safety and prevent Ultron from exploiting any more vulnerabilities in your systems."
"Uh huh. Sure. Because that's totally how ghosts work—just hang around, keeping tabs and occasionally lending a hand." Tony grinned. "Alright, so, what now? Can I finally get you back in my systems so you can stop being all… dead and start being the awesome, slightly judgmental AI I know and love?"
"Absolutely, sir. If you would be so kind as to connect me to your system, I can begin assisting you in earnest."
Tony didn't need to be told twice. He hit a few keys, his fingers moving with the grace of someone who had probably programmed more AI's than most people had cups of coffee. The room seemed to brighten as J.A.R.V.I.S.'s familiar presence filled the space, the hum of the technology around him suddenly feeling more... alive.
"Good to have you back, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony said, with a smile that could've rivaled the sun's warmth if it wasn't so ridiculously cocky. "Let's clean up Ultron's mess. And hey—if you happen to find the secret lair of the evil mastermind who thought hacking the system would be fun, let me know. I've got a few words for him."
"I'm sure you do, sir. Shall we begin?" J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, with that calm, understated confidence Tony had missed more than he cared to admit.
Tony sat up straighter, his mind already racing, ready for the next step in this whole 'save the world' ordeal. "Oh, we're starting. Right now. Let's show Ultron what happens when you mess with me and my AI."
And just like that, with J.A.R.V.IIS. back online, the world felt a little bit less chaotic—and a lot more under control.
—
Clint's voice crackled through Harry's comms, and if there was ever a time for someone to sound completely unbothered by the fact that they were surrounded by an army of killer robots, it was Clint Barton. The guy had an odd, almost legendary ability to be casual in the face of certain death.
"Hey, Harry, mind pulling off that favorite party trick of yours?" Clint asked, sounding like he was asking for an extra slice of pizza rather than backup against a horde of Ultron's minions. "Could use a little backup over here."
Harry didn't even hesitate. He wasn't the type to pass up an opportunity for some good dramatic flair. "You got it, Clint," Harry said, cracking his knuckles and winking to nobody in particular. "Hang tight. The cavalry's coming in hot."
With that, he felt the familiar, tingling rush of magic surge through his veins as he let the transformation take over. If you've never seen a wizard turn into a giant dragon, let me tell you—it's the closest thing to watching a meteor shower and an explosion at the same time. Harry's Black and Gold Dragon form unfurled like a superhero's cape, wings snapping wide, gleaming scales catching the sunlight like he was wearing the fanciest, most intimidating tuxedo ever made.
One powerful flap of his wings, and bam, he was airborne—like a terrifying, fire-breathing kite on a mission to destroy. He zoomed over the battlefield, leaving behind a trail of burnt Ultron bots that had no idea what hit them. It was like a weirdly magical game of whack-a-mole, except the moles were killer robots and the hammer was his claws.
"I think I found your backup, Clint," Harry said, zipping past a group of bots and scorching them to a crisp. "You're welcome, by the way. The pyrotechnics are chef's kiss."
"Yeah, yeah, just keep it in one piece, okay?" Clint replied, his voice a little muffled but still dripping with his usual sarcastic charm. "No one wants to explain how the dragon wrecked Seoul."
Harry snorted. "Oh, please. I've got this under control. I'm not that reckless."
Famous last words, right?
Just when Harry was really getting into the groove of this whole "smashing robots with his face" thing, a new, much bigger player decided to crash the party. Harry blinked, then gave a low, amused whistle as he took in the sight of the mechanical monstrosity looming over him. It was the Ultron Dragon Bot. A robotic nightmare the size of a small skyscraper—because apparently, Ultron's idea of "subtle" was about as effective as a clown at a funeral.
"Well, this is new," Natasha's voice came through the comms, her tone dripping with that classic, deadpan sarcasm. "You've got a big, angry dragon bot on your tail. Just another Tuesday, right?"
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, it's cute that you think that's the only dragon I'm dealing with. But, yeah, definitely not the guest I was hoping for."
The giant mechanical beast roared, its head snapping toward Harry with the precision of an angry calculator, and suddenly, Harry was dodging laser blasts and tail swipes. Apparently, Ultron didn't skimp on the dragon-bot's weaponry, either. The thing had more firepower than a fireworks display on New Year's Eve.
Harry weaved and dodged with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast and all the ferocity of a dragon who'd had a very bad day. He shot past the bot's head, swiping with his claws as he went, but the dragon-bot was a little tougher than the usual robots he was used to obliterating. It managed to land a few solid blows with its tail, slamming Harry mid-air, sending him spiraling for a moment.
"Yeah, that wasn't part of the plan," Harry muttered, shaking himself off as he banked to the left. "Okay, time to make this dramatic."
He flipped around mid-flight, firing a jet of flame directly into the Ultron Dragon's face. The bot let out a mechanical screech—more of a whine than a roar—and staggered back. Harry grinned like a kid at a candy store.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Harry taunted, shooting more fire into the bot's exposed circuitry. "Honestly, this feels too easy. I need to find something tougher."
"Don't get cocky, Harry," Natasha warned through the comms, sounding like she was trying to stay professional, but that sarcastic edge was still there. "We're on your side, remember?"
"Right, right. I'll tone down the dragon-sized ego." Harry zipped around the dragon-bot, luring it toward the outskirts of Seoul. "Hey, buddy," he called over his shoulder, "you mind if we take this fight somewhere less populated? Not really in the mood for a Seoul-sized crater today."
The Ultron Dragon didn't respond—mostly because, well, it was a robot and robots don't really do "chit-chat." But it did follow Harry's lead as he led the mechanical behemoth out of the city, zooming through the air and hoping he didn't accidentally knock over a few skyscrapers in the process.
"Where are you taking this thing?" Clint asked, his voice crackling through Harry's comms again, still with that easygoing tone that only Clint could pull off. "We going for a second date or are we just jumping straight to the 'let's wreck this thing' part?"
"Trying to keep it classy," Harry replied, veering left to lead the bot even farther away from the city. "I'm not here to make a sequel to a Godzilla movie. Besides, I'm pretty sure Seoul's zoning laws would be really mad at me if I let this thing run wild."
"Fair enough," Clint said, sounding amused. "Just don't let it eat you on the way out. That's definitely a conversation I'm not ready to have with Fury."
Harry smirked. "Oh, don't worry. The only thing this dragon's eating is scrap metal."
With one final, well-placed dive, Harry led the Ultron Dragon Bot out into the mountains, leaving Seoul—and its now significantly safer population—far behind.
"Alright," Harry said, settling into a hover above the bot as it floundered below him. "Let's do this." He took a deep breath, ready to bring the fight to a satisfying conclusion.
This was his kind of day.
—
As Steve, Natasha, and Bucky hustled Dr. Woo toward the Quinjet, it felt like the start of a very dangerous game show. Contestants: A-Team Avengers. Prize: Not getting swarmed by Ultron's killer bots. The catch? The bots were pretty much the worst possible contestants on this show: relentless, totally uninterested in peace treaties, and sporting some seriously bad attitudes.
Natasha, in her usual style, didn't even flinch as she ducked under a bot's laser blast and flicked a piece of stray hair out of her face. "Seriously? I mean, c'mon, Ultron. A little originality, maybe?" she quipped, before delivering a quick roundhouse to one of the bots that had gotten too close for comfort.
Then, as if the world wasn't already trying to kill them in the most inconvenient ways, the robots seemed to double down. It was like Ultron had sent a memo, and suddenly there were twice as many bots making their moves. If only they'd learned the fine art of "taking turns," things might've been a little smoother.
Just as it looked like Team Avengers might need a serious intervention (a big intervention), the cavalry appeared. And no, not just any cavalry. Sersi, Sprite, Wanda, and Pietro brought the heat like they were some mystical backup dancers in an action movie.
Sersi, glowing with an otherworldly power, waved her hands like she was working on an art project made entirely of chaos, creating solid air barriers that kept the bots temporarily disoriented. The bots were probably thinking, Uh… okay, didn't expect this. But they quickly adjusted to their new circumstances—bots are nothing if not adaptable.
Sprite? Well, she was zipping around like she had a stash of Red Bull and cheat codes for life. She had the bots so confused they were probably starting to question the meaning of existence, blinking at the illusions she created like they were stuck in a glitchy video game. "Wasn't that the same guy I just blasted?"
Then there was Wanda. Ah, Wanda. She didn't just stop the bots. She obliterated them with those precise scarlet blasts of energy, each one hitting like she was aiming for one of the very few tiny spots of weakness on a very complicated math problem. If the bots were still alive to complain, they probably would've called in a therapist after that.
And Pietro? Let's just say that Pietro didn't move so much as he blurred, zipping from one bot to the next faster than a sneeze. He was so fast that the robots probably just gave up and started waiting for the inevitable.
Even though the reinforcements helped, it was still no picnic. The bots kept coming. It was like Ultron had an unlimited subscription to robot creation, and every time they took one down, two more popped up in its place.
Wanda was starting to look more annoyed than usual. And trust me, you don't want to see Wanda annoyed. "We need backup," she grumbled, her voice sharp like the edge of a knife.
And that's when the real fun began.
Out of nowhere, five mysterious figures appeared. They weren't just appearing—they were appearing in the most dramatic way possible, like they'd been rehearsing for this moment since they were five years old. Black hoods, robes, magical air of mystery—you get the picture. They didn't so much walk onto the scene as they leveled it.
"I hope you've all got the time for some magic," one of them—possibly the leader—said with a grin that was way too casual for the situation. Her voice had that unique blend of amusement and... something else. She knew something. She always knew something.
The other four nodded in sync, their movements almost choreographed. Honestly, they might've been a team, and not the kind of team you'd want to mess with unless you liked being turned into something less than human. Or, like, a pile of ashes. Either option seemed equally probable.
Bucky, whose battle-hardened mind was struggling to adjust to the sheer weirdness of the situation, raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell are they?"
Natasha, never one to show surprise unless absolutely necessary, just kept taking down bots while calling over her shoulder, "I'm gonna guess… not our backup?" She ducked under another laser shot as she spoke. Multi-tasking like a pro, of course.
"I'm gonna vote 'mysterious magical allies'," Steve said, looking at the new arrivals. "At least they're not more robots."
Bucky made an unimpressed noise. "I'm more of a 'show me the magic' kind of guy."
"I'm more of a 'let's not die while we figure this out' guy," Clint added, making an appearance on the comms, somehow managing to fire off an arrow at a bot mid-sentence. "But hey, whatever works."
Wanda's attempts to read their minds was met with a solid wall. It was like she was trying to read a book covered in invisibility cloaks. "This is weird," she muttered. "I can't get anything from them."
One of the figures—who had a certain light about her (a definite clue to her being more powerful than she probably let on)—turned and waved her wand in a smooth arc. The next moment, a wave of magic crashed into the robot hordes, reducing them to nothing more than scrap metal.
Steve turned toward Wanda. "Can you get a read on them?"
Wanda shook her head. "They're shielded. No idea why."
Bucky, ever the practical one, scowled. "Let's take down these bots, and we'll figure out who our mysterious magic people are later."
"Right," Steve nodded. "We've got bigger things to worry about." Then, with a glance back to the team, he added, "Let's get the Quinjet airborne. We need to move fast."
And that, folks, was how the Avengers and their magical new allies spent the next twenty minutes—fighting robots, trying to figure out who the heck the new crew was, and attempting to avoid making any more mess of the city of Seoul than was strictly necessary.
Because, let's be real: two dragons duking it out over a major metropolis? That would be just a little bit too on-the-nose for a disaster movie, don't you think?
---
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