Due to the sheer speed of the mysterious object, H.A.M.M.E.R.'s satellites only managed to detect a silver streak before losing the signal entirely.
"Director, it must have interfered with our equipment," an agent reported.
"No kidding," Osborn snapped, resisting the urge to slap the agent. "Track its trajectory. Where did it go?"
"On it, sir!"
The object's trail was easy to follow—it had caused quite a commotion. Soon, they pinpointed its location over the Arctic continent. Satellites in orbit confirmed its presence.
Above the frozen tundra, a silver figure hovered, standing atop a sleek, surfboard-like craft. He seemed lost in thought.
"That's... a person?" The agents had initially assumed it was some kind of alien spacecraft, but now they saw a humanoid form—one that appeared to be made of liquid mercury.
It was the Silver Surfer, herald of Galactus. For a long time, he had roamed the cosmos, seeking sustenance for his master.
"Deploy agents to secure the target immediately. I want that being in our custody—dead or alive!" Osborn barked. The location, near Russian and Canadian territories, limited their influence. "Scratch that. I'm going myself. Call in Victor."
Victor von Doom—Doctor Doom. A master of both technology and sorcery, and a force to be reckoned with. He had recently entered an alliance with Osborn, who was assembling a team akin to the Avengers.
H.A.M.M.E.R. operatives scrambled, launching aircraft toward the Arctic.
...
Amid the vast, icy expanse, the Silver Surfer stood motionless above the frozen ground. His board pulsed, emitting a signal only Galactus could perceive, guiding the Devourer toward the planet.
But Norrin Radd was not Galactus' only herald. The cosmic entity would not arrive immediately.
A distant roar shattered the silence. The Surfer looked up to see massive aircraft approaching. The planet's inhabitants had noticed him, but he was indifferent—many worlds he had led Galactus to had intelligent life. None had ever been able to resist the World-Eater.
H.A.M.M.E.R. had arrived ahead of other factions. However, they kept their distance, wary of the alien's potential influence over their systems.
Armed agents surrounded him from all directions. Osborn's orders were clear: capture the target, no matter the cost.
"So, aliens look just like us..." one of the agents murmured as they closed in, surprised by the humanoid form.
"You there! Alien! You are—"
The squad leader, weapon drawn, addressed the Surfer nervously.
But Norrin Radd had no emotions, no independent thought beyond his singular purpose—finding sustenance for Galactus.
At the first sign of hostility, beams of brilliant silver light shot from his board, vaporizing the agents before they could react.
Osborn, observing from a distance, remained unfazed. He turned to the iron-masked figure beside him. "He's hostile, Victor. You know what to do."
"Do not command me, Osborn," Doom rasped, discarding his cloak to reveal an armored suit reminiscent of Stark's Iron Man technology.
Floating into the air, Doom chanted incantations, his hands crackling with arcane energy. The cosmic power emanating from the Surfer was palpable, an undeniable threat.
Before Doom could close the distance, the Surfer's board fired another blast of energy.
A shimmering shield materialized around Doom, absorbing the impact—barely. It flickered and collapsed after a single hit.
Doom darted aside, unwilling to take another direct strike. He retaliated, unleashing a storm of magical lightning, bathing the Surfer in a blinding glow.
But the attack had no effect. The Silver Surfer absorbed the energy effortlessly, his form like a void consuming Doom's power.
Doom soared through the air, his relentless assault proving fruitless. The Surfer remained unmoved.
Osborn observed with narrowed eyes. He had considered Doom a powerhouse, yet now he seemed inadequate. Either that, or the enemy was simply beyond their league.
They were running out of time. The longer they delayed, the more unpredictable the situation would become—and this was not their home turf.
"Bring my equipment," Osborn ordered.
H.A.M.M.E.R. agents hauled out a massive container, unveiling a specialized suit of armor and a flight module.
The Green Goblin armor—recently completed. It was infused with his own cutting-edge technology, resistant to electromagnetic pulses and graphite bombs.
As he donned the suit, a sinister surge of energy coursed through him. A wicked grin spread across his face.
With an unhinged cackle, Osborn took to the sky.
Below, Doom observed the Surfer intently. He had noticed a crucial detail—Norrin's reliance on his board.
"That board... it's a weapon!" Doom's eyes gleamed with greed. If he could seize and study it, his power would increase exponentially.
He shouted to Osborn, "The board is his source of power! If we take it, we can capture him!"
Osborn's gaze locked onto the hovering surfboard. He, too, recognized its potential. And he knew Doom wanted it.
Without hesitation, Osborn hurled a pumpkin bomb toward the Surfer. Simultaneously, Doom gathered his arcane might, preparing an even greater assault.
...
Meanwhile, Garus had returned to Earth. The massive blackout that had crippled America had not affected Sky Fortress—after all, it was a fortress of magic.
"Garus, this incident was caused by an extraterrestrial entity," Wanda said, activating a holographic display. The image of a silver figure riding a surfboard streaking across the United States filled the screen.
"That's the Silver Surfer?!"
Wanda tilted her head. "You know him?"
Garus nodded. "There's a legend in the cosmos—of a being who devours entire planets, guided by his heralds. This must be one of them."
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