The first whispers of Loki reached Alex in March 2012, six months before the sky would tear open.
He was seventeen, finishing his senior year early through accelerated credits and MIT dual-enrollment. KaneTech had quietly crossed the $500,000 quarterly revenue mark—drones sold to first responders, a licensing deal for Aether's predictive routing algorithm with a small logistics firm, and a stealthy B2B app for hospital resource allocation that Elena had unknowingly beta-tested at Queens General. The money stayed low-profile: reinvested, diversified, never flashy enough to draw IRS flags.
But the real focus was preparation.
The interface had started flagging anomalies months earlier: unusual energy signatures in SHIELD reports (scraped via dark-web leaks), spikes in Tesseract research chatter, and a faint uptick in Asgardian-related myths resurfacing on fringe forums. Alex knew the script—Loki's arrival, the scepter, the mind-controlled agents, the portal.
He wasn't going to stop it. He couldn't. Not without revealing himself too early. But he could blunt the edges. Minimize the body count. Protect his corner of the city.
Step one: intel.
Aether had grown teeth. Running on a custom server rack in a rented storage unit (climate-controlled, fireproof, paid in cash), the AI now parsed petabytes of open-source data daily—news crawlers, social media sentiment, traffic cam feeds, even amateur astronomer uploads. Alex fed it every MCU timeline detail he remembered: Chitauri weak points (joints, energy cores), Leviathan flight patterns, portal stability tied to the scepter.
Aether's output: a probability map. New York invasion window: May–August 2012. Ground zero: Manhattan, Stark Tower likely. Civilian casualty projections (baseline MCU): 74–150,000. With interventions: reducible by 40–70% if key chokepoints secured.
Alex built contingencies.
He upgraded the drone fleet—twenty units now, stealth-coated, extended battery, basic facial recognition patched from public-domain code. Not weapons. Observers. Medevac-capable with small payload drops: first-aid kits, water purification tabs, comms relays. He tested them in abandoned lots at night, Aether coordinating swarm patterns to avoid radar.
Personal prep was quieter.
With Super Soldier partials and gamma resistance stacked, his body was peak human-plus. He ran ten miles before dawn, lifted weights that would've snapped normal bones, healed micro-tears overnight. No bulk—just dense, efficient muscle. He started carrying a compact trauma kit everywhere: tourniquets, hemostatic gauze, epinephrine. Not for show. For use.
He expanded the circle carefully.
Tommy was at community college now, studying graphic design. Sofia worked retail while applying to nursing school like Elena. Jamal interned at a local tech repair shop. Alex pulled them in subtly—group study sessions that turned into emergency drills disguised as "fun hypotheticals."
One Saturday in April, they gathered at a park pavilion. Alex spread out a city map.
"Okay, worst-case: some kind of attack hits Manhattan. Bridges clogged, subways down, cell towers jammed. What do we do?"
Tommy frowned. "Run?"
"Too many people running = stampede. Panic kills more than bullets sometimes."
Sofia crossed her arms. "You sound like you've thought about this a lot."
Alex met her eyes. "I have. If something happens, we don't hero it. We help who's close. First aid, water, calm the crowd. Get to high ground if flooding or fires start. I've got backup plans—drones for recon, supply caches."
Jamal laughed nervously. "You're prepping like it's the apocalypse, man."
Alex didn't smile. "Better safe."
They practiced: mock triage on stuffed animals, basic wound care with fake blood, comms protocols using cheap walkie-talkies he'd bought in bulk. By the end of the day, they were laughing again—but they listened. They trusted him. That was enough.
Elena was harder.
She noticed the changes: the extra locks on the door, the go-bag under his bed, the way he scanned rooftops when they walked. One night over dinner she set her fork down.
"Alex. Talk to me."
He considered lying. Decided against it—partially.
"Mom… things might get bad this year. Not sure when or how, but big. I'm just making sure we're ready. You, me, the others."
She studied him for a long moment. "You're not in trouble, are you?"
"No. I'm trying to keep trouble away from us."
She reached across the table, squeezed his hand. He felt her worry spike, then soften as he copied a thread of calm resilience back to her. She sighed.
"Okay. But you tell me if it gets real. Promise."
"Promise."
He kept his word—mostly.
By May, Manhattan prep intensified.
Alex scouted key locations: Stark Tower (soon Avengers Tower), Grand Central, Times Square, the bridges. He planted micro-caches—waterproof bags with medical supplies, protein bars, solar chargers—hidden in public lockers, under benches, inside storm drains. Nothing traceable. Aether tracked them via GPS pings only he could access.
He also started small interventions.
A minor subway derailment in Brooklyn—mechanical failure, no casualties yet. Alex was nearby. He used a drone to drop glow-sticks and water bottles to trapped passengers, then guided first responders via anonymous tip line. News called it "miracle aid from above." He stayed anonymous.
Another: a gas leak in Hell's Kitchen. Aether predicted explosion risk. Alex evacuated a block quietly—knocking on doors, claiming a "gas company alert." Fire department arrived in time. No deaths.
Each act was calculated: help without spectacle. Reduce fear. Build subconscious readiness in the population.
The interface updated nightly:
*[Civilian Risk Mitigation Progress: +18% projected survival rate in Manhattan grid. Personal readiness: 87%. Aether combat simulation accuracy: 94%.]*
*[Incoming Threat Level: Critical. Loki scepter acquisition confirmed via intercepted chatter. Portal activation imminent within 90 days.]*
Alex stood on the apartment roof one humid June night, watching the city lights. A single upgraded drone hovered beside him—silent, black, eyes glowing faint blue from Aether's core.
He spoke softly to it.
"Run scenario seven again. Stark Tower breach. Chitauri ground assault. Minimize civilian exposure."
Aether's voice—calm, synthesized, almost warm—replied through his earpiece.
"Simulating. Optimal intervention: redirect Leviathan flight path via EMP pulse at 42nd and Lex. Evacuate Times Square quadrant 1–3. Projected casualties: 4,200 baseline → 1,100 mitigated."
Alex nodded.
"Lock it in. Prep the swarm."
He looked south toward Manhattan, where a tower gleamed under construction lights.
The Avengers would fight. Gods would clash. Aliens would pour through.
Alex Kane wouldn't be on the front lines.
He'd be the shadow making sure the city survived them.
(Word count: 1004)