Marvelous Meditations #79

With a roar, Ross charged again, and the city trembled as their battle raged on.

Nathan barely had time to react before Ross was on him, swinging a massive fist. He dodged left, but even then, the sheer force of the blow shattered the pavement where he had stood. His thrusters flared, sending him rocketing backward, but Ross followed, faster than something his size had any right to be.

Nathan twisted in the air, activating his energy absorption systems. His suit flared with light, converting the kinetic force of Ross' last strike into a focused blast. He thrust both hands forward, releasing the stored energy in a brilliant explosion that sent Ross skidding back, leaving twin trenches in the asphalt.

But the Red Hulk laughed.

“You really think you can burn me, Cross?” Ross growled, smoke rising from his scorched skin. “I eat fire for breakfast!”

He lunged again, faster this time. Nathan parried the first strike with the Muramasa Blade, the cursed steel biting into Ross’ knuckles. The general let out a sharp grunt, but the wound was already sealing itself.

Ross countered with a brutal knee to Nathan’s ribs, sending him flying into a crumbling building. The structure gave way under the impact, dust and debris swallowing him whole.

But Nathan was already moving. He burst through the rubble, a blur of red-hot thrusters and shining steel. The Muramasa Blade whistled through the air as he aimed for the kill.

Ross turned at the last second, but it wasn’t enough.

The blade struck true, cutting deep—too deep.

A wet, sickening slice filled the air, followed by a roar of pain.

Ross stumbled back, his face twisting in shock as his right arm fell away, landing with a heavy thud. Blood—dark, unnatural, seething with gamma energy—splattered across the ruined street.

For the first time since his transformation, Ross looked truly shaken.

Nathan, however, wasn’t celebrating.

Because in that split second of triumph, he had exposed himself.

Ross lunged, his remaining arm closing around Nathan like a vice. Before Nathan could react, Ross lifted him off the ground, crushing his ribs with terrifying force. His armor groaned, Vibranium straining against the sheer pressure.

Ross’ snarl turned into a smirk.

“You really are something, Cross,” he growled, tightening his grip. “Always so damn precise. A cold, killing machine. Almost perfect… if not for those rare little outbursts of emotion.” His smirk widened. “Like today, like that day years ago... pathetic.”

Nathan's breath was ragged, but he managed a bitter smile. He didn’t bother arguing. Ross was right.

Ever since coming to this world, Nathan had strived to master his emotions before mastering the world around him. Control was his strength. His weapon. He had spent years thinking three steps ahead, moving five steps ahead, winning before the fight even began.

But the moments he let his emotions get the better of him?

They were few.

And each time, it had cost him dearly.

The worst was that night—the night he had lost Lily. He had been reckless, consumed by rage. He had stormed into Ross’ office, blade in hand, ready to end him. But fury had made him sloppy. Instead of Ross’ heart, his knife had buried itself in his side.

It was a mistake he hadn’t repeated since.

Until now.

Now, standing here in the ruins of New York, with Ross’ fingers crushing his ribs and his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, he realized he had done it again.

He had let his anger blind him.

Ross smirked down at Nathan, his crimson features twisted with satisfaction. "I suppose you can't be perfect," he mused, his tone almost disappointed. His fingers flexed, tightening just enough to make Nathan’s armor groan under the pressure. "Though I wish you were."

He let out a long sigh, shaking his head as if lamenting the inevitable. "Then again... it doesn’t really matter. I'm ruined now, Cross. I'll have to leave my home and soon enough, you’ll be a dead man.”

With that, he squeezed harder.

The pressure was immense. A normal man would have been crushed already, bones turned to powder. But Nathan was far from normal. He remained silent, staring into Ross’ burning eyes with something colder than hatred—resolve.

Instead of struggling, instead of screaming in agony, Nathan moved toward the pain.

His arms and legs wrapped around Ross’ remaining arm like a vice, locking himself in place.

For a moment, his expression softened, turning almost serene. “Seems I’m destined to fail after all…” he murmured. His voice was quiet, lost beneath the roar of the fires consuming the city around them. “There’s still more of the bastards who hounded her out there… but I’ll settle for taking you down with me.”

Then, the world began to glow.

Red. Blue.

A searing intensity radiated from Nathan’s suit as the Extremis serum in his blood and the Arc Reactor in his chest surged into overdrive. The metal beneath Ross’ grip burned white-hot, Vibranium absorbing and amplifying the volatile energy coursing through Nathan’s body.

Ross’ eyes widened.

The heat licked at his skin, burning hotter than any fire he had endured. "What the hell are you doing?!" he roared, trying to shake Nathan loose.

Nathan’s lips curled into a savage grin. “I’ll see you in hell, you bastard.”

Inside his helmet, the countdown began.

10.

Ross howled in rage and began thrashing, flailing his arm, trying to rip Nathan free. He slammed him into a ruined truck, then into the side of a crumbling building, sending dust and debris flying. But Nathan was like glue.

9.

Ross clawed at him with his remaining hand, sharp nails tearing into the Vibranium plating, sending sparks flying. His molten breath seared the air, but Nathan held firm.

8.

Heat waves distorted the air around them. Nathan could feel the raw energy building inside his body, straining, desperate to be unleashed. Not yet. Just a little longer…

7.

Ross’ mind was a storm of fury and desperation. He had fought wars, crushed nations beneath his heel. He had survived assassination attempts, betrayals, and the wrath of gods. He refused to die here, not at the hands of a man.

6.

"Cross, let go!" Ross snarled, swinging his arm wildly. Nathan’s back slammed into the pavement with a sickening crack, but he held on.

5.

Nathan felt his body screaming in protest, but his grip was unyielding. He had already made peace with this.

4.

Ross' snarl turned into something almost panicked. "Damn you!" His muscles tensed, preparing for one final, desperate gambit. If he could just—

3.

A deafening crack split the sky.

Before Ross could react, before Nathan could even register what was happening, a bolt of lightning exploded from the heavens.

Pure, divine power slammed into Ross’ massive frame. The force sent him hurtling backward, his body convulsing violently as electricity danced across his searing red skin. His muscles locked, his scream drowned out by the sheer fury of the storm itself.

Nathan fell, gasping as his systems struggled to regulate the sudden shift in energy. His suit flickered, the Arc Reactor stabilizing before it could go critical, the power of the lightning serving to fill the Vibranium in his suit to the brim.

He barely had time to process what had happened before he felt it.

The air around him was alive.

Static crackled, carrying the scent of rain and ozone. The wind howled, swirling the dust and debris into a storm of its own.

Then, from above, a voice—calm, unwavering, and fierce as the tempest itself.

"That is enough."

Nathan turned his head, breathing heavily.

And there she was.

Storm had arrived.

Though taken aback by Storm’s sudden arrival, the gears in Nathan’s mind were already turning. He had been prepared to end this—to detonate himself, the Arc Reactor, and the overcharged vibranium in his suit in one cataclysmic blast that would reduce Ross to nothing. It was the only viable way to kill something that could match the Hulk in sheer brute force. And yet…

Storm’s lightning had changed things. His suit had absorbed more energy than it was ever designed to handle, the vibranium thrumming with unstable, volatile power. If he let it build much further, it would burn him from the inside out. But if he used it—

His eyes snapped to Ross.

The massive brute was still reeling, his hulking form twitching from the residual electricity coursing through his body. His muscles spasmed, his breath came in ragged, angry gulps, but he was already recovering—fast.

Nathan moved.

"Ross!" he roared, his voice a guttural snarl of rage and vengeance.

The Muramasa Blade sang through the air, slicing through Ross’ thick, smoldering flesh. The edge sank deep into the junction between his neck and shoulder, carving through superheated muscle and sinew like a blade through butter.

Ross let out a howl of agony, his blood—a deep, unnatural crimson—gushing from the wound. His body spasmed, but before he could react, before he could so much as breathe, Nathan’s suit shifted.

The fingers of his gauntlets elongated, sharp vibranium claws bursting forth. With a savage growl, Nathan drove them into Ross’ massive chest.

The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield.

Ross's eyes widened in rage and shock as he felt the claws dig deep, piercing through layers of dense muscle and bone. His massive, clawed hands instinctively grasped at Nathan’s arms, trying to rip him away—but it was too late.

Nathan’s thrusters flared, carrying both of them into the air, Ross’ massive form hanging over him as the claws sank deeper.

"You deserve worse than this," Nathan growled.

Then, he let go.

Not of Ross—but of every ounce of energy surging within him.

The Arc Reactor in his chest whined, the glow intensifying until it burned white-hot. The vibration plating of his suit shimmered with unstable, condensed power. Extremis-enhanced blood boiled in his veins, fusing with the raw electricity Storm had fed into the suit.

Nathan roared, "BURN!"

The world erupted.

A beam of pure energy—blinding, searing, unrelenting—ripped through Ross’ chest.

It speared through him, a thick, incandescent pillar of destruction that split the sky itself. The ground below cracked from the sheer force of it, a deafening boom shaking the ruined cityscape.

Ross let out a scream—a raw, animalistic bellow of pain and fury—as the blast tore through him. His body convulsed, his molten blood sizzling as it vaporized in the searing heat. The sheer force of the attack sent him staggering back, his massive form struggling against the torrent of energy ripping through his very core.

But Nathan didn’t let up.

He clenched his fists tighter, his body locked in place as he channeled everything—the Arc Reactor, the vibranium, the Extremis serum coursing through his veins—into the attack. The beam burned brighter, its edges crackling with unstable energy, pushing Ross further and further back.

Ross’ roar became a gurgle as the light consumed him. His massive frame, once an unstoppable juggernaut of rage and destruction, began to crumble. The flesh around the wound disintegrated, his ribcage glowing white-hot before shattering into dust.

"Cross!" Ross howled, his voice raw, desperate. "You think this changes anything?!"

His glowing red eyes locked onto Nathan’s, his face twisted in agony and rage. "You think you’re any better than me?! Look at you—LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE become!"

Nathan’s expression remained stone-cold, but his fingers twitched ever so slightly.

Ross grinned through the pain, blood bubbling up in his throat. "You’re a monster too, Cross. Always were, always will be. But at least I had a cause!"

Nathan’s voice was calm, quiet—almost gentle. "And look where it got you."

With a final push, Nathan let out a sharp exhale and poured everything into the blast.

The energy reached a breaking point.

Ross’ body ruptured, his torso splintering as the sheer force of the attack tore him apart. His remaining arm disintegrated, his legs buckled, and with one last, defiant roar, his form collapsed.

The explosion that followed was deafening. A pulse of energy rippled outward, shattering what remained of the street, obliterating nearby vehicles, and sending a wave of fire and dust into the air.

When the light finally dimmed, there was nothing left.

No body. No bones. No trace of the man who had once been General Thaddeus Ross.

Just ash, carried away by the wind.