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Above Stark Tower
Loki stood beneath the portal, scepter in hand. The holographic displays around Manhattan shifted. His face appeared again, but this time the broadcast reached beyond Earth.
"People of the Nine Realms!" His voice carried through quantum entanglement woven into the Tesseract's systems. "I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, son of Odin! I claim Midgard as my rightful domain!"
In space, on distant worlds, various empires received the transmission.
The Nova Corps intercepted it first. Irani Rael, the Nova Prime, watched with cold calculation. "Inform the Worldmind. Asgard is making a move on an unaligned world. Monitor the situation. Do not interfere unless they threaten Xandar interests."
The Kree Empire's Supreme Intelligence processed the information in nanoseconds. [Asgard claiming Earth? Interesting. Let them. Earth was a backwater. But the Tesseract... now that was worth noting. Flag it for observation.]
The Shi'ar Imperium's sensors detected the portal's energy signature. Gladiator himself reviewed the transmission. "Asgard extends its reach. Continue monitoring. If they succeed, we negotiate. If they fail..." He smiled. "We discuss trade agreements with the victor."
But the broadcast wasn't just diplomatic posturing.
"Allfather Odin!" Loki's voice carried equal parts mockery and desperation. "You who proclaimed yourself protector of these mortals! I invoke my birthright as Prince of Asgard! Come! Witness what your unloved son has accomplished!"
Silence answered him.
The Bifrost was damaged. Had been since Thor's battle with Loki months ago. Even if Odin wanted to interfere, he couldn't reach Earth. Not in time.
Loki's smile widened, brittle at the edges. "You see? Even Odin accepts my claim! I have proven myself worthy of a throne. If Asgard will not have me, then Midgard shall!"
Then lightning struck.
Not Storm's lightning. Not anything terrestrial. This was different. Pure. Divine. The kind of power that made world take notice.
Thor crashed through two Leviathans on his way down, Mjolnir screaming through the air. He hit Loki's platform hard enough to crack the roof, thunder rolling across Manhattan like a war drum.
"Brother." Thor's voice was ice. "What have you done?"
Loki's smile never wavered, but his knuckles whitened on the scepter. "Ah, Thor! You're late! I saved you a front-row seat for my coronation!"
"You murdered an innocent man! I saw Coulson's body! I saw what you did!"
"One death." Loki shrugged. "A small price for order."
Thor raised Mjolnir. "I will stop you, Loki. I will..."
A chariot exploded from the portal at impossible speed. Something launched from it mid-flight, too fast to track. An axe the size of a man crashed into Mjolnir with enough force to send Thor spinning across the rooftop.
Black Dwarf landed where Thor had been standing.
The Black Order member was massive. Eight feet of pure muscle and rage, wielding an axe that hummed with power. His skin was thick, armored, designed to survive planetary extinction events. His eyes showed no intelligence beyond a desire to kill.
"Gift from the Mad Titan," Loki said cheerfully. "He's been very helpful. Very... persuasive. About showing me my true purpose."
Thor recovered, spinning Mjolnir. "You made a deal with Thanos? Loki, you fool! Do you know what you've done?"
"I've claimed a kingdom!" Loki's composure cracked. "I've proven I am not weak! Not the spare! And not the shadow always three steps behind the golden prince!"
Black Dwarf attacked. Thor met him mid-swing, hammer against axe, godly strength against brute force. The impact shattered windows for three blocks.
And on every screen still broadcasting, the world watched two gods fight above Manhattan while a third proclaimed his dominion over humanity.
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​Manhattan - Multiple Fronts
The hero's momentum was completely shattered.
Luke Cage took a direct hit from a chariot's cannon. The blast didn't penetrate his skin, but the kinetic force launched him through a building. Concrete cracked, and steel bent. He didn't get up for ten seconds. By the time he recovered, three civilians had died.
Johnny Storm's flames flickered. He'd been burning hot for too long, using too much energy. A Leviathan caught him mid-flight, jaws closing around his torso. He burned hotter, desperate, but the creature's armor was designed to withstand stellar temperatures.
Ben Grimm leaped three stories to punch the thing's jaw open before Johnny could be crushed.
"Kid!" Ben caught him. "Ya gotta rest! You're burnin' yerself out!"
"Can't." Johnny's voice was weak. "Too many. Too many people still out there."
Danny Rand's Iron Fist flickered and died. The technique required perfect focus, perfect chi control. After an hour of continuous fighting, his hands were just hands again. Flesh and bone. He punched a Chitauri soldier. His knuckles broke. Pain lanced up his arm. He kept fighting anyway.
Jessica Jones flew through the air, carrying an injured Natasha, when a chariot clipped her. The impact sent them both crashing. Jessica took the worst of it, her body cratering the asphalt.
She didn't get up.
Natasha crawled over to her. "Jessica! Stay with me!"
"Can't... fly anymore..." Jessica's eyes were unfocused. "Think I broke... everything..."
The Mercs for Money were running out of ammunition. Deadpool's healing factor kept him alive, but even he was moving slower, wounds not closing as fast. Hit-Monkey's machine gun ran dry. Gorilla-Man's rifle jammed. Slapstick's powers couldn't hurt the large Leviathans.
They were losing.
The realization spread through the heroes like a virus. In a hundred small moments across Manhattan, exhaustion and despair took root. Tony's armor sparked, power reserves dropping into the red. Steve's shield arm trembled from overuse. Storm's lightning flickered, her connection to the weather fraying. Wolverine's healing slowed, adamantium claws dulled by Chitauri armor.
And then Loki's broadcast changed.
His face filled every screen. Every display. Every surface capable of projecting an image.
"You force my hand." His voice carried across Manhattan. No mockery now. Just cold certainty. "I offered mercy. You chose defiance. So be it."
He raised his scepter toward the Tesseract.
"Beginning from scratch."
The scepter's energy lanced out, blue light connecting with the cube. The portal, already massive, began to expand. Wider. Larger. The edges tearing reality itself, forcing the wound open beyond anything Selvig had designed.
The portal grew ten times larger in seconds. Then twenty times. The wound in the sky became a chasm, blue-black depths swirling with impossible geometry.
And through it, something emerged that made every hero's heart sink.
The mothership.
It wasn't alive like the Leviathans. Pure technology. A mile-long vessel bristling with weapons, covered in armor that gleamed like polished bone. It pushed through the portal slowly, inexorably, like a mountain forcing its way through a doorway too small to contain it.
The ship's shadow fell across six city blocks. Sunlight died beneath its bulk. The temperature dropped. Birds fell from the sky, stunned by the electromagnetic field radiating from its hull.
"Oh god," Tony whispered. "JARVIS, tell me that's not what I think it is."
[I'm afraid it is, sir. That vessel's energy signature suggests troop capacity in excess of ten thousand. Possibly twenty thousand. And those are just the soldiers. The ship itself is armed with plasma weapons capable of leveling city blocks.]
The mothership fully emerged. The portal stabilized around it, keeping the breach open. Hangar bays opened along its flanks. Launch tubes glowed with building energy. And from every opening, Chitauri poured out like a flood, like locusts, like the end of everything.
The heroes had been fighting hundreds. Now they faced thousands. Tens of thousands.
In Times Square, civilians stared up at the ship. Some screamed. Some ran. Some just stood there, frozen by the enormity of what they were witnessing.
In District X, Callisto's comm exploded with panicked voices. Reports of Chitauri overwhelming defensive positions. Bunkers at capacity. Nowhere left to run.
On the SHIELD Helicarrier, every alarm shrieked at once. Energy readings off the charts. Projected casualties climbing into seven figures.
The hope that had been building, the momentum gained from fury over Clint's death, evaporated.
This was it. This was how New York fell.
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