Coulson turned to Sitwell, his voice sharp with command authority. "Get everyone in vehicles. Follow that thing. I want real-time observation of its objectives and capabilities."
The agents scrambled into their SUVs. Coulson climbed into the lead vehicle and immediately called Director Fury, phone pressed to his ear as they began pursuit.
"Sir, we have a situation. Unknown hostile entity, approximately twelve feet tall, apparently constructed from advanced alloys—"
Sitwell sat in the passenger seat, listening to Coulson's report with barely concealed frustration. He desperately wanted to contact Alexander Pierce, to report this development to HYDRA's leadership. But with Coulson right beside him, he could only wait for an opportunity.
Later, Sitwell thought. Pierce needs to know about this.
The Destroyer marched through the town with single-minded purpose, following Loki's mental commands toward Thor's location. Anything in its path was systematically destroyed—parked cars vaporized by thermal beams, buildings reduced to rubble, storefronts collapsing as the construct's massive weight crushed foundations.
Then it turned toward a gas station.
The Destroyer's faceplate opened, energy gathering for another devastating blast aimed directly at the fuel pumps.
Smith's eyes widened. It's going to blow up half the town.
He moved.
One moment he was observing from a distance. The next instant, he'd closed the gap and delivered a devastating punch to the Destroyer's torso. The impact rang like a massive bell, and the construct staggered backward several steps, its targeting disrupted. The gathering energy dissipated harmlessly.
Asgard - Throne Room
Loki sat forward sharply, his consciousness jarring from the unexpected impact. Through the Destroyer's vision, he saw a human—just a mortal—standing between his weapon and its target.
"Crush this insect," Loki commanded, pouring more power into the remote connection.
The Destroyer's entire frame glowed red-hot. Its faceplate opened fully, and a concentrated beam of thermal energy erupted forth—hot enough to melt steel instantly, precise enough to bisect a man.
Smith dodged.
The beam carved a molten trench through the street where he'd been standing microseconds before, asphalt bubbling and liquifying. Smith appeared beside the Destroyer and threw another punch.
The construct was ready this time. Its arm came up to meet Smith's strike.
Their fists collided with apocalyptic force.
BOOM.
The sonic boom shattered every window within a hundred yards. The shockwave rippled outward, creating pressure waves that made ears pop and chests tighten. Parked cars rocked on their suspensions.
In the lead S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle, Coulson fumbled for the second-generation scouter, pulling it from its protective case and activating the device. He fixed the eyepiece in place and targeted Smith's fighting form.
"Let's see exactly how strong you are," Coulson murmured.
Numbers flickered across the display, climbing rapidly.
150... 200... 280... 300... 440... 500...
The scouter sparked. Smoke erupted from its housing. Then it exploded with a sharp crack, breaking into pieces that fell from Coulson's face.
"Damn it," Coulson muttered, touching his face to check for burns.
Sitwell stared at him. "Equipment malfunction?"
"Smith's combat power exceeds five hundred points." Coulson's voice was carefully neutral, but his mind raced. Five hundred was where the detector maxed out before failing. Smith's actual power could be significantly higher—six hundred, seven hundred, maybe more.
"That's impossible," Sitwell breathed. "Five hundred points? That's..." He couldn't even finish the thought. Five hundred was beyond anything they'd measured in human physiology. Beyond Captain America, beyond the Hulk's baseline measurements.
Several blocks away, Thor and his companions watched the battle unfold.
Sif's voice carried professional respect. "Midgard possesses warriors of genuine strength. Impressive."
Hogun nodded grimly. "I wouldn't want to face the Destroyer's beams directly. That human is either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish."
"Who is he?" Thor asked, unable to identify the fighter from this distance.
Darcy had binoculars pressed to her eyes, tracking the combat. "It's Smith Doyle! Oh thank God, we're saved!"
Jane and Dr. Erik visibly relaxed at the name. If Smith Doyle was here, they had a chance.
Thor studied the distant figure with new appreciation. "He's powerful. Very powerful."
"He's the strongest human on Earth," Darcy said, pride evident in her voice. "We call him the God of Earth. He's like Superman walked out of a comic book and decided to live here."
The Warriors Three exchanged glances, each processing this new information about Midgard's capabilities. Their assumptions about this realm needed serious revision.
Sif made a decision. "The Destroyer came for Thor. We should support this 'God of Earth' in defending him." She looked at her companions. "With me."
They nodded as one and sprinted toward the battle.
Asgard - The Royal Chambers
Odin observed through his mystical awareness, his consciousness divided between monitoring the throne room and the battle on Midgard.
Thor's evacuation efforts pleased him—finally showing concern for innocent lives, thinking beyond personal glory. That was progress.
But Loki's combat effectiveness with the Destroyer was pathetic.
The Destroyer was Odin's masterwork—a weapon forged by combining power from every god in the ancient pantheon, designed to battle the Celestials themselves if necessary. In the right hands, it could devastate armies, level cities, challenge cosmic threats.
And a single Midgardian was holding it at bay.
Unacceptable, Odin thought. If I'm going to test Thor's worthiness, the threat needs to be genuine.
He released more of the Destroyer's power, allowing it to access deeper energy reserves.
Smith felt the change immediately.
The Destroyer's next punch carried exponentially more force. The impact sent Smith rocketing backward, his trajectory uncontrolled, his body slamming through a house's wall in an explosion of brick and timber.
Sif saw her opening. She circled behind the Destroyer while it focused on where Smith had crashed, leaping from a nearby rooftop with her spear raised high. "For Asgard!"
She drove the spear downward with all her considerable strength, aiming for the gap between the Destroyer's helmet and shoulder plates.
The blade struck—and skittered off harmlessly, unable to penetrate the suddenly reinforced armor. The impact force traveled up the spear shaft and into Sif's arms, sending her tumbling through the air. She hit the ground hard, her weapon clattering away across the street.
"Now!" Volstagg and Hogun grabbed Fandral by the arms and shoulders, spun him in a circle to build momentum, then launched him at the Destroyer like a living projectile.
"For Asgard!" Fandral shouted, raising his sword high as he flew through the air.
The Destroyer's hand came up in a contemptuous backhanded slap.
CRACK.
Fandral reversed direction faster than he'd been thrown, his body ragdolling through space before crashing into a parked car. The vehicle's front end crumpled under the impact. Fandral groaned, struggling to move, pain lancing through his ribs.
Volstagg and Hogun stared at the Destroyer with new wariness. This wasn't a remotely controlled construct operating at minimal capacity. This was a threat—something that could kill them all if they made mistakes.
Fandral forced himself upright, using the destroyed car for support. He'd thought the Destroyer would be weakened without a pilot actively wearing it. He'd been catastrophically wrong.
Thor saw his friends failing, saw them wounded and outmatched. He stepped forward, resolve settling over him like armor. "Loki!" he called out. "Brother! I know you sent this! I'll speak with you! There's no need for—"
The rubble of the destroyed house exploded outward.
Smith emerged from the debris in a corona of white ki flames, his aura visible now—raw power radiating from him in waves that made the air shimmer. The sky darkened overhead, clouds gathering in response to the surge of energy.
His eyes locked onto the Destroyer with absolute focus.
Then he moved.
Mach 20. Six miles per second.
Smith appeared directly in front of the Destroyer and delivered a punch that snapped the construct's head sideways. The enchanted metal dented, the faceplate crumpling under the impact force.
Smith didn't pause. He threw a combination—left, right, uppercut, each strike landing with thunderous booms that echoed across the entire town. The Destroyer staggered backward, unable to stabilize, each impact driving it further off balance.
Windows that had somehow survived the earlier sonic booms now shattered completely. Car alarms wailed. People blocks away felt the pressure waves.
Smith focused on the Destroyer's neck joint—the same structural weakness Thor had exploited in the original timeline, the point where a single hammer blow had separated head from body.
If Thor can dismantle this thing with one hit, then I should be able to do the same, Smith thought grimly.
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