The Chitauri came.
The Chitauri left.
In the end, what they left behind was Loki, the mastermind of this alien invasion, along with a number of Chitauri soldiers who failed to evacuate in time and, of course, a devastated New York City.
The good news?
Loki had been captured.
As for the remaining Chitauri soldiers still on Earth, they appeared to lose connection with their mothership the moment the spatial wormhole closed, collapsing on the spot like lifeless puppets.
When the portal sealed shut completely, the Chitauri still flying through the skies above New York lost power in an instant. One by one, they dropped from the sky like overcooked dumplings.
Clearly, this sudden invasion and Earth's desperate defense had ended in a hard-won victory for humanity.
The bad news?
New York took a beating.
The five blocks surrounding Stark Tower were hit the hardest, essentially ground zero for the entire battle. Most of the area was left in ruins.
Manhattan's other districts fared better relatively speaking. Compared to the immediate warzone, their damage was minor. But in comparison to the rest of the city, they still suffered significantly.
Other boroughs were affected too. But one area stood out.
"Jackson Heights, over in Queens," a voice reported. "There's a block that was nearly leveled by Chitauri forces."
"What?"
Inside the Helicarrier, Commander Maria Hill fully suited for combat was scanning satellite footage of the city when she addressed the Avengers through their earpieces. The team, still gathered at the primary battleground and relieved at Tony Stark's miraculous survival, heard her clearly.
"It's strange," Maria continued. "All of Queens was relatively untouched except that one neighborhood. According to the intel feed, the Chitauri that passed through Queens appeared particularly enraged. They converged on that area in force and bombarded it nonstop."
The original Avengers exchanged glances.
It was Steve Rogers, Captain America, who spoke first.
"Why that area?"
"No idea," Hill replied. "We have agents en route."
Then her tone shifted.
"All Chitauri life signals have ceased. Congratulations, Captain. We've won."
At those words, every Avenger exhaled in relief, turning to each other with smiles that, for the first time in hours, weren't weighed down by tension or dread.
That night, not just New York, but the entire country and much of the world was gripped by one thing: coverage of the Chitauri invasion.
Every news station ran nonstop broadcasts.
And with that, the original Avengers frontline heroes of the battle were officially unveiled to the public.
Captain America, Steve Rogers
Iron Man, Tony Stark
Thor, the Asgardian God of Thunder
Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff
Hulk, Dr. Bruce Banner
Hawkeye, Clint Barton
The serious stations focused on tactical breakdowns, interviews with experts, and government response.
The tabloids and gossip networks? They went all in on superhero rumors, conspiracy theories, and "exclusive" behind-the-scenes scoops.
The most buzzed-about figure, unsurprisingly, was the newly reappeared Captain America. Declared dead for decades, Steve Rogers had seemingly returned from the grave without aging a day.
In many ways, he was more than just a man.
He was a living symbol.
And now, that symbol had come back to life.
Not far from the screen, Hawk sat among a crowd of displaced survivors, chewing slowly on a piece of bread handed out by local church volunteers.
He watched the grainy, outdated 18-inch TV broadcasting yet another wild take on Captain America's "lost years."
He didn't really care about the gossip.
After all, his apartment building had been reduced to rubble. Not just his, either the entire block was wiped out. Everyone in that neighborhood was now technically homeless.
About half an hour after the fighting ended, a group of agents in black suits and black ties arrived and sealed off the whole district.
Some residents had tried to go back and salvage their belongings from the ruins. They were immediately turned away.
"Federal lockdown. No entry," the agents said.
Still, the authorities had done one decent thing. They relocated everyone to an unused hangar at LaGuardia Airport and partnered with nearby churches to provide food and supplies.
Even so…
Just as Hawk was about to take another bite of bread, a soft sobbing sound broke through the background noise.
He turned to look.
Seated a few feet away was a large, broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties, arms wrapped tightly around himself, curled into his knees. The sobs started quiet but quickly built into loud, gut-wrenching cries.
Someone nearby couldn't help asking, "What happened?"
"My house… it's gone!" the man wailed.
"Don't worry," another survivor said kindly. "We've all got home insurance. It'll be fine."
The crying man froze for a moment. Then, hearing that, he cried even harder.
Now the others were confused.
"Wait don't tell me you didn't buy insurance?"
"I did!" the man sobbed. "But I just called them. The insurance company said alien invasions fall under an exclusion clause. They're not liable for the damages!"
Everyone nearby went silent.
"...What?"
"Exclusion clause?"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"They won't pay out?"
"No way I'm calling mine right now."
Phones came out in a flash. One by one, the survivors frantically dialed their insurers.
Within a minute, more cries began to erupt.
A second voice broke into tears.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
In the blink of an eye, the entire hangar was filled with the sound of despair, echoing like waves of grief from people who had just realized they were about to become permanent members of New York's unhoused population.
Hawk sat in the middle of it all, surrounded by the crying. The noise and desperation were suffocating.
He felt a lump rise in his throat.
But then he paused.
Wait a second.
His apartment wasn't even his. It was federal housing a welfare unit provided by the government. In fact, it was scheduled to be reclaimed next year when he turned eighteen.
That's why he'd been saving so aggressively, living frugally, scraping together thirty thousand dollars. Because when he hit legal adulthood, the state would kick him out.
According to New York law, eighteen-year-olds are considered fully independent adults. No more support. No more shelter.
What's that?
Can't afford rent?
That's not the government's problem.
Plenty of people live under bridges or in the sewers. Go ask if they've got room.
So really… Hawk didn't have a house to lose.
No house. No insurance payout. No problem.
He snapped back to the present, looking at the sobbing, red-eyed survivors whose faces twisted in grief and fury.
Then, quietly, he stood up and walked out of the hangar.
He had a bad feeling someone in there might snap soon.
Possibly with a gun.