Reborn as a Saiyan in marvel

The dimly lit room was eerily silent, save for the strained breathing of two bound women. Their bodies were constrained by thick, unyielding ropes that dug into their skin, leaving deep imprints on their wrists and ankles. The gags shoved into their mouths muffled any attempt at speech, but their eyes, their eyes were a different story. They locked gazes, their expressions full of unspoken words, their thoughts connected in the only way they could communicate in this moment.

The air around them was heavy, thick with tension, yet a strange, fleeting sense of hope surged within their chests. It was faint, barely a whisper against the onslaught of despair that had settled deep in their bones. But for a moment, just a moment, they believed that perhaps there was still a chance. Perhaps they weren't completely alone. Their gazes softened for an instant, a silent exchange of understanding and determination.

But that fragile hope was shattered almost instantly.

SLAP!

The sound of skin meeting flesh echoed in the chamber, sharp and unforgiving. Ophelia's hand, cold and unrelenting, cracked across Sif's face with a force that reverberated through the stillness. The blow left a stinging, crimson mark on Sif's delicate features. Her lip split open, blood welling up in an instant, dripping down her chin as she staggered, dazed. The goddess's knees buckled, her vision dimming as the sharp pain from the strike overtook her senses. It only took moments before her head lolled forward, her body unable to hold on any longer. Unconsciousness claimed her, and she crumpled to the floor like a broken doll.

Anissa's eyes widened in horror, her heart racing in her chest. Her breath hitched as her body trembled with a mix of shock and fury. Her teeth clenched against the gag, her rage burning through every fiber of her being. The bond she shared with Sif, the unspoken sisterhood, screamed in her mind, urging her to act. The world around her seemed to slow as her glare shifted to Ophelia, venomous and full of murder.

Her killing intent radiated from her like an invisible storm, dark and oppressive, wrapping around Ophelia with such intensity that even the venomous woman herself faltered for the briefest of moments. It was a gaze that spoke of untold wrath, of retribution to come.

Ophelia's lips curled into a cruel smirk, her eyes glinting with twisted amusement. She relished the fear and helplessness in Anissa's gaze. She stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each footfall heavy with menace. The soft rattle of Anissa's chains was a futile protest against the inevitable.

"Did you know that I took your man against his will?" she rubbed her bulbous pregnant belly, "The way his unconsious body touched me, the way he filled me up and wrecked my insides!" She grabbed her shoulders and shivered at the arousing thought.

The Viltrumite struggled, her muscles straining beneath the poison coursing through her veins. The venom had already weakened her, clouding her strength, but her fury still burned bright. She wrenched against the ropes, her every movement a testament to her desperation. Yet, for all her willpower, it was no use. Her body betrayed her, too worn and too broken to resist.

Ophelia reached her, her hand hovering above Anissa's face with a sickening calmness. The nails that glinted like jagged shards of glass were coated in a special venom, one that had brought even the most formidable foes to their knees. She grabbed Anissa's face with a cruel firmness, forcing her head to tilt as she extended her razor-sharp claws.

Anissa's body tensed in anticipation of the inevitable. Her veins, already stretched thin from the poison, bulged beneath her skin as if trying to escape the agony that was coming. And then, it came. The slashing pain of Ophelia's nails cut through her flesh, leaving deep, agonizing gashes across her cheek.

"AHHHHHH!" The cry ripped from Anissa's throat, muffled by the gag, but no less primal in its intensity. Her body quaked as the pain radiated through every inch of her, every nerve alight with fire. The venom took root, spreading like wildfire through her bloodstream. Her veins throbbed violently, her skin tightening as though it could no longer contain the agony.

For a few agonizing seconds, Anissa's mind teetered on the edge of madness. But eventually, her body, pushed beyond its limits, surrendered. The roar of pain dulled to a low, hollow murmur in her ears. Her body went limp, her consciousness slipping away like water through cracked hands. And in the darkness that consumed her, she found nothing but silence.

High above, the battle raged on in the skies, with the Avengers slowly gaining ground against their formidable adversaries. But just as it seemed like they might finally turn the tide, the entire battlefield shifted, gravity, once a distant influence, suddenly became a merciless force. Iron Man, who had been flying high with repulsors blazing, was ripped from the air and slammed to the ground with a violent force, the weight of the world pressing him into the earth below. His suit groaned under the strain, systems flickering as it struggled to compensate.

One by one, the others followed, pulled toward the ground like marbles in the hand of a cruel child. Spider-Man, ever the acrobat, instinctively tried to spring to his feet, his senses honed for moments like this. But this gravity was unlike anything he had faced before. He struggled against it for a mere second, a brief flash of defiance, but it wasn't enough. The weight intensified, crushing him down, forcing him into the unforgiving pavement below.

"HAAAH!" Peter's voice was raw, a guttural sound of sheer exertion as his body trembled against the immense pressure. His veins bulged, burning under the strain as if his very blood was protesting the unnatural force pressing in on him. Every muscle screamed, but the gravity kept pushing him lower, deeper into the ground, until he felt as if his bones might snap under the weight.

His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but only one bubbled to the surface, weak and out of place: "What the hell, are we fighting Darth Vader or something?"

His voice was laced with exhaustion, a last desperate attempt to cling to his sense of humor. But even the joke, weak as it was, drained him further. With a heavy breath and a final, pained gasp, Peter's eyes fluttered, his consciousness fading, his body too battered and beaten to continue the fight. He went limp, his limbs slack against the pavement as darkness overtook him. The world went quiet, save for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Hulk, whose rage burned ever fiercer, seemed to thrive in the chaos, his red eyes glowing with wild fury. He stomped forward, his every step sending tremors through the ground. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, untamable. But as he neared Zola, he felt the weight of the gravity press harder, trying to bend his immense strength to its will. His massive fists clenched, his muscles bulging under the strain, but he wasn't ready to be stopped yet.

"BOOM!" The ground cracked beneath Hulk's feet as he took another defiant step toward Zola, whose expression was one of sheer disdain. Zola's eyes narrowed, not in fear, but in contempt, as if Hulk were little more than a bug to be squashed under his heel.

"BOOM!" Another step, even as the gravity continued to fight him, pressing against his every movement. The Hulk's roar of defiance filled the air as he spread his massive arms wide, summoning all the might of his form into one epic display of raw power. His hands collided in a thunderous clap that sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

"CLAP!"

Zola's gaze remained indifferent, but his eyes flickered with a dangerous glow as he manipulated the very fabric of space around him. He bent the gravity with a flick of his wrist, redirecting the massive kinetic force from Hulk's clap. It twisted through the air like a living thing and, with a sickening crack, struck Hulk squarely on the chin.

"CRACK!" The sound was deafening, a sharp, brutal noise that echoed through the chaos. Hulk's body was sent hurtling backward, his massive frame flying through the air like a ragdoll. The force was so great that it seemed to suspend him for a moment, as though time itself had slowed down in the wake of the impact.

Zola wasn't finished. With a flick of his fingers, the gravity around Hulk intensified, and it became as if invisible hands were pounding him into the sky itself. Fists of crushing gravity formed above the green giant, hammering down relentlessly, each strike landing with a sickening thud.

"CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! BOOM!"

Each blow sent Hulk spiraling through the air, his body a ragged, broken thing, caught in the grip of Zola's cruel manipulation. With every impact, the Hulk's body seemed to lose its grip on the ground, tumbling from one strike to the next. He was nothing more than a plaything in the hands of the mad scientist.

And then, with one final, crushing blow, a massive gravity fist, an unrelenting force, slammed into the Hulk from above. The sheer power of it sent him plummeting back to the ground, his massive body tearing through the sky like a meteor falling to Earth.

"BOOM!"

The impact was catastrophic. Hulk crashed into the floating landmass with a force that shook the very core of it, and as he fell, the destruction was unimaginable. Buildings, innocent, unsuspecting, were crushed beneath him as he tumbled into them. The roar of his descent was drowned out by the deafening collapse of structures, as walls crumbled, and debris rained down in every direction.

The result was horrifying. In his wake, hundreds of people, innocent civilians who had sought refuge in the buildings, were caught in the chaos. They had no time to flee, no chance to escape the devastation Hulk had unknowingly caused. Their screams were lost to the crushing weight of destruction as their lives were extinguished in an instant.

High above the chaos, in the swirling maelstrom of combat, the Black Panther moved like a shadow, silent, lethal, and resolute. His heart thudded with a singular purpose, a cold fire igniting within him. The death of his father still haunted him, the wound still fresh in his soul. But today, the man who had caused that wound, the one responsible for T'Chaka's death, Zola, would pay.

The Black Panther's vibranium claws gleamed in the dim light, extending from his hands like deadly talons. His focus narrowed, his senses honed. The entire world seemed to fade away until only Zola remained in his line of sight, the hated figure at the center of his rage. The robot Nazi bastard who had killed his father would not escape justice.

With a barely audible whisper, his voice carrying the weight of a kingdom's sorrow and vengeance, he murmured, "This is for my father." His claws swept through the air in a fluid arc, the intent to sever the head of the snakem, Zola's cold, unfeeling neck.

But Zola, ever prepared, anticipated the strike. With a terrifying precision, a blade of vibranium, a jagged extension of his own twisted form, shot out from his body with the speed of a serpent's strike. It plunged deep into the right side of Black Panther's chest, the metal spike thrusting through his flesh and halting his strike just before it could reach its target.

"SHNK!"

Pain exploded through T'Challa's chest, his breath catching in his throat as the sharp metal tore through him. Blood trickled from the wound, staining his black suit with crimson. The force of the strike twisted his arm, locking it in place. But Zola was not finished.

The spike extending from his body twisted with a sinister, mechanical precision, its sharp end embedding itself deeper into Black Panther's side. Then, as if mocking the king's struggle, the spike elongated further, lifting T'Challa off his feet and impaling him into the stone wall. The young king's body was pinned against the cold surface, the weight of the metal leaving him struggling, gasping for breath as blood seeped from the wound.

Zola's gaze turned from his work with cruel amusement, a grin curling at the corners of his lips. His voice dripped with mocking superiority. "Bad kitten!" he sneered, his eyes savoring every second of Black Panther's torment.

T'Challa's vision blurred with pain, but his pride, the pride of a king, of a warrior, refused to let him submit. His body remained tethered to the wall, unable to move, but his spirit was still alive. He would not die here.

But Zola's attention shifted as he casually created an illusory weapon out of the very fabric of space and gravity. An executioner's axe, massive and gleaming, materialized in the air. With a casual flick, he summoned it to his side before making his way toward Iron Man, who was struggling to regain control after being incapacitated by the gravity. Zola lifted the axe high, the very air trembling with its power.

In a single, fluid motion, the blade came down, fast, decisive, merciless.

"SHNK!" The axe cleaved through the massive Hulk-Buster armor as if it were made of paper, cutting clean through its metallic arm. Sparks erupted from the exposed circuitry as the limb fell away, severed at the joint, and the Hulk-Buster staggered, its power flickering and unstable.

But Tony Stark, ever the improviser, wasn't ready to surrender just yet. With desperation fueling his every move, he initiated the charge for his central repulsor beam, his hand trembling but determined. A plan began to form, one final effort to turn the tide.

A surge of energy blasted from the repulsor, a concentrated beam of pure power aimed straight for Zola's core. But Zola, with his unmatched control over gravitational forces, anticipated the strike. His hand shot out in a motion that seemed almost lazy, but it held a terrifying finality.

An oval-shaped barrier of raw gravitational force materialized in front of his chest, and the repulsor beam veered off course, circulating in a twisted spiral. The very energy Tony had unleashed, instead of hitting its target, was redirected back toward him.

"SKKK!"

The Hulk-Buster suit groaned, its systems failing under the weight of the reversed blast. The metal around Tony melted away in a shower of sparks, the frame collapsing into molten slag. The smaller Iron Man suit beneath was revealed, but it was no match for the force Zola had at his disposal.

With an instinctive motion, Tony fired a desperate volley of mixed fire, laser blasts, mini-missiles, and a barrage of energy pulses aimed at Zola's direction in one final bid for escape. The air around them shimmered with the force of the attack.

"BOOM!"

The explosion rocked the battlefield, a massive cloud of fire and smoke engulfing the area. Zola was blasted back, the shockwave knocking him off his feet. He was hurled toward the stairs leading up to his throne, crashing into them with a sickening thud as debris rained down around him. The explosion sent a ripple through the gravitational hold on the Avengers, and just like that, they were freed from the oppressive force that had held them in place.

A collective breath was released, a momentary flicker of hope rising among the heroes. But before they could fully take in their newfound freedom, a roar, filled with rage and raw power, shattered the fragile silence.

"RAAAAAHHHHH!"

The sound reverberated through the canyon, primal and unrestrained. The ground trembled beneath them as the Hulk, his body visibly larger and more powerful, surged forward. His muscles rippled with newfound strength, his eyes glowing with uncontainable fury. He was a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless.

His legs coiled like springs, and with an explosive burst of power, he launched himself forward. His massive frame tore through the canyon his own rampage had created, his feet pounding the ground with earth-shaking force. The landscape seemed to bend beneath his feet as he ran toward the floating landmass where he had fallen moments before.

And with a deafening roar, the Hulk leaped into the air, propelled by sheer strength and fury. He was coming back and this time he was going to be the one doing the smashing.