But inside Antony's head, the commentary was… considerably less heroic:
Go with you to the Dark World? Are you kidding me?
That place is a dead rock—no lights, no crowd, not a single spectator. How am I supposed to farm popularity there? With what, dust?
And please. I already know how this ends—you're going to lose.
The Aether is an Infinity Stone. It's the physical embodiment of universal law.
Thor, you really think you can destroy an Infinity Stone with just a hammer? Dream on.
Once Malekith absorbs the Aether and the Convergence hits—nine realms lining up—he'll absolutely sense the other half on Earth.
All I have to do is head back home, crack open a cold soda, and wait for the boss to knock.
Alien invasion, Earth in crisis, all of humanity watching, every camera on the planet rolling…
That's when I step in and delete Malekith.
Stone in hand. Popularity maxed. World saved as a bonus.
That's what you call—
—a clean sweep.
-----
The Operation Begins
Jane Foster was weak, barely able to stand, so Thor carried her in his arms.
Loki took the pilot's seat of the Dark Elf scythe ship.
"You know how to fly this thing?" Thor asked skeptically.
"I am a god, Thor," Loki replied, fingers dancing across the control panel.
"And the interface is fairly intuitive… more or less."
BOOM—!
The ship lurched into the air, clipping and snapping two massive stone pillars on the way up.
"Watch where you're going!!"
"Shut up! I'm adjusting to the sensitivity!"
As their ship tore out of the palace, Antony lifted off alone and landed before Heimdall.
The gatekeeper still stood at his post—unable to see the Dark Elves, yet unwavering in duty.
"I'm returning to Earth," Antony said calmly.
"Odin's orders. More or less."
Heimdall studied him for a long moment, then said nothing.
He plunged the sword into the control slot.
BOOM—!
The Bifrost ignited.
Antony vanished from Asgard.
-----
Washington, D.C. — The White House
Rain hammered down in sheets. Thunder rolled across the sky, as if heralding disaster.
The fireplace in the Oval Office burned bright, yet President Matthew Ellis still felt cold.
His whiskey glass was empty—but he kept swirling it anyway, ice clinking softly against crystal.
"You're saying…" Ellis swallowed, voice dry as he stared at the most powerful superhuman on Earth.
"…They're coming? Again? Aliens?"
Antony sat casually on the edge of the President's desk, like an old friend stopping by.
His star-spangled cape was soaked, water dripping onto the polished floor.
"Not just aliens, Matthew," Antony said, helping himself to a crystal decanter from the cabinet.
"A bunch of lunatics who want to turn the universe into a pitch-black graveyard. Dark Elves. Even the name screams 'evil.'"
"Dark Elves…" Ellis loosened his tie and slumped back.
"My God. I thought they were fairy tales. Where's S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why hasn't Fury reported this?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Antony scoffed.
"By the time those bureaucrats finish their paperwork, Dark Elf ships will be barbecuing on your South Lawn."
He leaned in, eyes locked with the President's.
"Listen to me, Matthew. A crisis is also an opportunity."
"An opportunity?"
"Ever seen Independence Day?" Antony gestured toward the storm-dark sky.
"The movie?" Ellis blinked.
"Exactly. Before the invasion, the President was just another politician getting roasted by the media. And after?"
Antony smiled thinly.
"He climbed into a fighter jet and became the leader of humanity."
"You're the President, Matthew. You're the face of this nation. The Battle of New York was the Avengers' show—Nick Fury's circus. You were just a background extra hiding in a bunker."
Ellis flinched. That one hit.
"But this time is different," Antony continued smoothly.
"The whole world knows Earth is a target. Fear is spreading."
"And fear," Antony whispered, voice intoxicating,
"is the strongest adhesive there is."
"People want a hard leader. A President who flips off alien scum and kicks them back into space."
Antony painted the vision in the air with his hand.
"Picture it—standing before the ruins of Capitol Hill, telling a battered world that humanity fought back and won."
"Tell me, Matthew… how do you think history remembers you?"
Ellis's breathing quickened. Fear gave way to ambition.
"You'll surpass Roosevelt. Surpass Lincoln."
"You'll be the fifth face on Mount Rushmore."
"And all I need," Antony said lightly, sliding a glass toward him,
"is your cooperation."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is blind and deaf—so let Vought handle defense. Give me the authority. Stand with me. Silence the paper-pushers."
"We share the glory."
Ellis stared into the amber liquid for three seconds.
Then he drained the glass.
"Done," the President said, slamming it down, eyes burning.
"Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. Homelander—win this for us."
"As you wish, Mr. President."
Antony dipped his head politely, smile flawless.
"This is my Earth. I won't let anyone take it."
-----
New York — Vought International Headquarters
In the CEO office, Jessica Jones clutched the metal window frame with white-knuckled force.
The reinforced alloy bent and warped under her grip.
Her face was deathly pale. Cold sweat beaded across her forehead.
Dark crimson energy pulsed faintly through the veins in her neck—the Aether inside her stirring violently.
"Damn it… damn it…"
She cursed under her breath, trembling as she yanked open a drawer and grabbed a bottle of painkillers.
She didn't bother counting.
A handful went straight into her mouth—dry swallowed, no water.
It barely helped.
The soul-scorching agony kept surging in relentless waves.
BANG!
The office door flew open.
Jessica snapped around, red light flaring briefly in her eyes.
Instinctively, she turned away, snatched up her sunglasses, and jammed them on.
"Who the hell let you in?! Get out! I said no one enters without my—"
"Is that how you welcome your boss, Jewel?"
That familiar voice—teasing, calm, unmistakably reassuring.
Jessica froze.
Three seconds passed.
Then she slowly turned around.
--------------
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