"What a slaughter. One-sided doesn't even begin to cover it."
Martin drained the last of his coffee in one gulp and sighed.
"This guy's just too weak. The only thing even remotely noteworthy is that his rage seems to come from nowhere, and worse, it doesn't appear to have a ceiling," Megatron scoffed, arms crossed, towering over the unconscious green behemoth he had just pummeled into submission. Disdain etched every word.
Martin chuckled. "Don't underestimate him, Megatron. If you give this guy enough time and the right stimulus... he can become something truly terrifying."
Ordinarily, punching through a planet, or a star, for that matter, requires more than your typical Tier-4 lifeform. To achieve that, you need to hit at least sub-Skyfather level. Think base-form Thanos.
But for the Hulk? That's just the starting point.
According to the comics Martin remembered from his previous life, the Hulk's ultimate potential could reach the realm of the OBA Hulk, the incarnation born from the antithesis of the One-Above-All himself, the One-Below-All. His limits were beyond comprehension.
Even before that, there was Four-Armed Hulk, who once obliterated seven Watchers in a single blow. That put him firmly in the Skyfather tier. No exaggeration.
Then came Captain Universe Hulk and Worldbreaker Hulk, each capable of shattering stars with a single punch. Still technically sub-Skyfather, but monstrous nonetheless.
And Megatron?
Martin glanced at the Decepticon warlord.
As a Tier-4 being, Megatron's mechanical nature gave him considerable advantages over many organic counterparts, performing feats most others couldn't.
But in raw combat strength, he still fell short of the sub-Skyfather threshold. He could dominate a planet, sure, but only on that planet.
Meanwhile, the chaos hadn't gone unnoticed.
Outside Martin's home, dozens of agents, long since embedded in the area, were tense and grim-faced. They weren't sure what was going on inside, only that Bruce Banner had entered... and then the sounds started.
Bone-rattling crashes. Roars. Screams.
Was that the Hulk screaming?
Martin had made headlines before. When he emerged under the global spotlight, leading two million Transformers to annihilate the Abomination, his terrifying power had shaken the world to its core.
In many ways, Martin was even more terrifying than Magneto or Professor X, two of the most feared Tier-4 mutants alive.
A one-man army. With an army that never ends.
That's why Martin had made no effort to hide his power. In fact, he'd flaunted it. Intentionally. It was a message: if anyone was dumb enough to come looking for trouble, he'd show them what real trouble looked like.
Across the globe, governments and clandestine organizations were scrambling in urgent meetings.
But that night?
Martin slept like a baby.
With Megatron standing guard, and hundreds of disguised Cybertronians surrounding his home, nothing was getting through.
"So you want me to lead this project? Figure out how his abilities work?" Tony Stark asked, popping open a rare bottle of scotch and pouring himself a glass. His tone was casual, but the tightness in his eyes betrayed a different emotion.
"Buddy, you do realize that some powers just don't have a discernible mechanism, right? If he's a mutant, then it's already a huge problem. But if he's not a mutant? Then we've got an even bigger one."
Nick Fury glared at him with that one unflinching eye, the one that saw through every excuse, every dodge. Compared to the man Tony had been before his desert captivity, he had matured... marginally. Still a jackass, just not quite as catastrophic.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. exists to maintain global peace," Fury growled. "This guy? He's throwing off the balance. He's already a threat to the fragile stability we've barely managed to hold onto. We need everything—his habits, psychology, motivations. And above all, how to counter him if things go south."
Fury had long learned how to restrain gods with ideology and illusion. He bound Professor X with hope and moral obligation. Then used Xavier's pacifism as a leash to keep Magneto in check. Charles coddled the weak, and Erik respected Charles enough to mostly hold back.
But Fury knew what these men were capable of.
With Cerebro, Charles could erase half the planet in an instant. Magneto could flip the Earth's poles if he got angry enough. Either of them, if truly pushed, could end civilization with a thought.
That's the reality of Tier-4 lifeforms. You don't antagonize them. You don't fight them. Even if you win, they can drag the entire species down with them.
And now there was Martin.
On paper? Just a regular New Yorker. But somehow, by all metrics, he was Tier-4.
Which was a massive problem.
Another unpredictable, impossible-to-contain anomaly just walked onto the board.
Fury absently twirled a small communicator in his fingers, occasionally checking the feed. His biggest trump card? Carol Danvers. Captain Marvel. A terrifying sub-Skyfather powerhouse who could cross galaxies with her bare hands.
"I'll do some digging," Tony said, setting the glass down and stretching. "But don't get your hopes up about me taking orders. I'm in this because I'm curious, pure and simple. Those mechanical lifeforms... they fascinate me. I have to know how he broke the code between life and death."
He whistled low as the screen scrolled through countless Transformer profiles. His eyes sparkled with awe.
...
Meanwhile, as dawn broke, wind-whipped silhouettes arrived at the shoreline, worn from travel, yet burning with purpose.
At the head of the group stood an older man, white hair fluttering in the breeze. His face was cold, his gaze cutting.
He stared across the waters at the gleaming skyline of New York, and smirked.
"The Brotherhood," he declared, "is about to gain one hell of a new recruit."