On the battlefield in Sokovia, a bizarre sight appeared: a tiny pink teddy bear and a massive white teddy bear. They looked as if they came from the same toy factory—only one was small and the other was as big as the Hulk.
But that wasn't the strangest part. As soon as the pink bear began to wiggle its bottom, the enraged white bear charging at Steve abruptly slowed. Under Steve's stunned gaze, the white bear came to a halt, lifted its massive paws onto its hips, and began to wiggle its enormous white rump. Remarkably, both bears wiggled in perfect synchronization, like looking in a funhouse mirror.
"What is that?" Natasha ran over. Banner stood nearby, bewildered. He had been ready to revert to Hulk, only to see the fearsome white bear break into a booty-shake routine.
Tony, having retrieved the Mind Scepter, joined the onlookers. He raised his hand and blasted a HYDRA soldier who'd tried to sneak up on them, then watched the bears dancing. Pink bear and white bear, dancing in unison.
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As the white bear joined the wiggle-fest, its huge form shrank with each gyration until it reached the same pint-size height as the pink bear. The two spun toward each other, clasped paws, and finished with a single pirouette, like a graceful waltz. They then paused in a courteous bow, waving their little paws at the audience.
Steve looked at the bear that had pummeled him earlier. "I got smacked by that thing?"
His spirits somewhat revived by the spectacle, Steve clapped cautiously at first, then with genuine enthusiasm. Both bears took their bows, paws pressed together.
On the ride home, the jet went to autopilot. A cluster of Avengers gathered around the white bear, which sat obediently on the cabin table. Thor strode up to it, hands on hips, quietly staring. "So… the Captain got beaten up by it?"
"Yeah," Steve grumbled, still not wanting to revisit the topic. No matter, mission accomplished: the HYDRA base was destroyed, Baron Strucker captured, and the Mind Scepter back in their hands.
Back on the jet, Barton piped up, "Hey, can somebody pay attention to me?"
Natasha, hearing him, laughed and patted the pink bear's head. "You'd better stay put."
"Fine," Barton sighed, "but who's going to check on Banner?" Banner sat alone, lost in music, guilt weighing on him after his rampage as the Hulk.
Natasha went to comfort him and even asked Thor, "What did you think of the Hulk?"
Thor, ever dramatic, replied, "The screams of the injured echoing at the gates of Hel."
Seeing Natasha's horrified look, he backtracked. "Not the screams of the dead, but of the injured. Some cried out, and some complained of sprains and joint pain."
Banner buried his face in his hands. Natasha realized asking Thor to soothe him had been a serious misstep.
Meanwhile, the pink bear scampered through the cabin. The white bear quietly sat watching its smaller counterpart. The pink bear climbed onto Barton, gently examined his wound, then hopped down to stand beside the white bear, who cocked its head in confusion.
The pink bear pulled out a phone and queued up a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Entranced, the white bear leapt down from the table to sit before the screen.
"Where'd it get a phone?" Steve asked.
Barton sighed, "Just took mine a minute ago." He realized too late that the bear had swiped it.
The two bears sat in the corner, occasionally hopping to the rhythm of their bear dance. Steve eyed the white bear warily since he'd been on the receiving end of its strength, after all.
Tony proposed a victory celebration. Thor beamed because Asgard always held grand feasts after a war. Steve agreed. "Fantastic. I wish John could join us."
At the mention of John, the cabin fell silent. Tony knew about the rift between Steve and John, so he kept quiet too. Thor, unaware of the tension, continued grinning. "John's in London running a school as headmaster. His mead is the best I've ever tasted, though it packs a punch."
Natasha glanced at Steve, then turned and scooped up the pink bear. Thor suddenly changed the subject, reminiscing about Asgardian revelries that lasted for days. On Earth, these simple pleasures felt just as precious.
The jet turned toward the old Stark Tower and the new Avengers Compound.
In London, John finally emerged from his laboratory. He waved the lingering dust from the blast aside with his hand and flicked his wand, sending a mini-tornado swirling the smoke out the open door.
He took a deep breath. "That was potent." He glanced at Basil, whose white feathers were now flecked with ash.
Basil shook himself vigorously, scattering the dust, clearly annoyed by the debris. John quietly promised new fish treats to placate him.
Once the lab was clear, John stepped inside. Among the shattered remains of the furnace, a golden heart floated in midair. The moment John entered, the heart throbbed slowly and heavily, like a dying heartbeat.
John reached out and gently took it in his hand. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship: pure gold etched with glowing magical runes. Each beat sent ripples of power into the air. Runic patterns flickered across its surface before fading away. This was a living heart, or rather one on the verge of life.
John's gaze grew earnest as he murmured, "This is a Magic Heart, so beautiful, so powerful, like a golden apple."
Basil hopped onto a fallen table and tilted his head at the heart.
Lawrence approached the grisly scene, his wand trembling slightly as the full horror became apparent. The needle arrays around the cage rims were still wet with blood, suggesting they had been used recently to contain victims who had tried desperately to escape. The positioning of the bodies indicated a systematic execution rather than a chaotic battle.
"This wasn't a vampire feeding," Lawrence muttered, crouching beside one of the corpses. "These are execution-style killings."
The other Aurors spread out around the blood pool, their faces pale in the dim light. One pointed to spent shell casings scattered across the stone floor. "Muggle firearms, just as intelligence warned. But whoever did this cleared out before we arrived."
Lawrence examined the needle arrays more closely. They appeared designed not just to contain, but to weaken magical resistance, suggesting the perpetrators understood both magical and non-magical methods of control. The victims showed signs of prolonged captivity before their deaths.
"We need to contact the Ministry immediately," Lawrence declared, standing. "This isn't just a vampire nest, it's something far worse. Someone was using this place as a prison and execution site."
As they documented the scene, Lawrence couldn't shake the feeling that they had stumbled onto something much larger than a simple Dark creature investigation. The combination of magical containment devices and Muggle weaponry suggested a sophisticated operation that bridged both worlds.
The ancient castle had become a tomb, and whoever was responsible had vanished into the Northern European night, leaving only questions and the stark evidence of their brutality behind.
Lawrence swallowed his nausea and examined a body whose skull and heart had been shot through. He noticed fangs at the corners of its mouth.
"A vampire?" he gasped. "Dead?"
He could hardly believe it. Vampires did die, but under the moon's silver glow, their bodies turned to ash. Yet this corpse, killed by ordinary bullets, had not turned to ash. It lay intact like a human.
How could such a thing be possible?
Lawrence's face grew grave. "We must call in the higher-ups immediately."
What force could kill an immortal creature and leave its body whole?