The sky above churned with otherworldly fire, the Chitauri portal a gaping wound bleeding light and death into the world below. New York was a canvas of flame and shadow, its streets littered with debris and running figures, the howl of sirens drowned beneath the roar of alien warcraft.
At the platform's edge, Loki stood tall, cape streaming like a banner of conquest, his golden horns gleaming in the harsh blue light of the Tesseract's beam. The screams from the streets rose to him, a symphony of chaos he conducted with the faintest smile. He shifted his grip on the scepter, feeling its crackle of power run up his arm, and closed his eyes for a moment to savor the devastation.
Then —
A thunderclap.
It split the sky in two, reverberating through the steel of the tower. Mjolnir came spinning down from the heavens in a blur of silver, and with it, Thor.
The God of Thunder slammed onto the platform hard enough to dent the deck, the shockwave knocking loose a few bolts from the railing. He rose from his crouch, eyes blazing, cape whipping in the storm winds that followed him.
"Loki!" he bellowed, voice like rolling thunder.
Loki's eyes flicked open lazily, as though he'd been expecting no one else. He turned slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.
"Ah," he purred, drawing the word out like fine wine. "Brother."
Thor began to advance, his boots loud against the metal, every muscle coiled and ready.
"It ends now," Thor growled. "Turn off the Tesseract. End this madness. Or I swear — by Odin's beard, Loki — I will destroy it."
Loki arched one perfect eyebrow, head tilting. His reply was quiet, but all the more cutting for it.
"You can't," he said simply, almost pityingly. "Even you, with all your righteous fury, cannot stop what has already begun. The Tesseract is beyond your reach. And the war…" His lips curved wider. "The war is already won."
Thor stopped, nostrils flaring, knuckles white around Mjolnir's handle.
"You have learned nothing," he said, voice low. "Even now, you choose vanity over wisdom. Very well then—"
He lifted Mjolnir, lightning crackling across his shoulders. "So be it."
The words were still echoing when Loki lunged.
A blur of green and gold and deadly grace, he came at Thor with the scepter hissing, its tip glowing with Tesseract energy. Thor raised Mjolnir to meet it with a deafening CLANG, sparks showering the deck.
The two gods collided like storm fronts.
Loki ducked low, swept his scepter in a sharp arc for Thor's knees — but Thor stepped into him, using his gauntleted forearm to block, then slammed the hilt of Mjolnir hard against Loki's ribs.
Loki stumbled back, coughing, but still grinning.
"You really ought to thank me, you know," he sneered. "I've given Midgard something to believe in again. A glorious cause to unite them—"
"You've given them ruin," Thor roared, charging forward.
Loki whipped around, stabbing out with the scepter's blade. Thor caught it, their arms straining, and with a roar shoved Loki back several paces. The edge of the blade sparked as it scraped against Mjolnir's head.
"You always did enjoy breaking my toys," Loki said darkly, and suddenly whipped the scepter toward the giant R in STARK, sending a bolt of energy ripping through it.
The letter groaned, cracked, and tore free.
"Loki—!" Thor shouted as the glowing metal plummeted down the side of the tower, shattering windows on its way to the streets far below.
Loki twirled the scepter once in his hand, smirking through the blood running from the corner of his mouth.
"Oh, come now," he said, his voice almost playful. "What's one more piece of rubble in a city that's already crumbling?"
Thor's breath came hard, his shoulders squaring, Mjolnir spinning in his hand as the storm above thickened and blackened.
"You speak of glory," Thor said, his voice deadly quiet now. "But you are nothing more than a coward in golden armor."
Loki's smile thinned into something sharper.
"Careful, brother," he hissed. "You sound almost like Father."
Thor's eyes flashed with lightning.
"Then let me remind you—"
He lunged forward, and this time it was Thor who struck first, swinging Mjolnir wide in a dazzling arc. Loki blocked, but the force sent him skidding across the deck, sparks flying from his boots. Thor closed in, blow after blow, Mjolnir hammering against the scepter, driving Loki back with every strike.
Loki gritted his teeth, his grin finally faltering as he found himself pressed to the very edge of the platform. He looked down briefly, at the swirling chaos below, then back at Thor — his eyes alight with fury and desperation now.
"This isn't over," he snarled.
"It ends," Thor shot back, "now."
And with a roar, he swung Mjolnir once more — sending Loki flying off his feet, crashing hard into the far railing.
Loki slumped for a moment, dazed, his armor cracked in places — but even then, even broken and cornered, he managed a low chuckle, his voice hoarse.
"You really are… predictable."
Thor stalked toward him, Mjolnir still humming with lightning, his jaw set like stone.
Loki just raised his eyes, lips curling into one last wicked smile, and whispered:
"Come on, then, brother. Let's finish this."
And the storm raged on.
—
MIDTOWN MANHATTAN — 42ND STREET & 6TH AVENUE
The streets were chaos.
Civilians screamed as they ran, dodging overturned cars and falling glass. Smoke and fire rose from half a dozen nearby buildings, and the air was filled with the ear-splitting shriek of Chitauri hovercraft roaring past, their cannons cutting bright orange scars into the streets. Taxi doors swung open mid-block as their drivers abandoned them; mothers clutched their children and ducked behind whatever wreckage they could find.
Somewhere overhead, Iron Man streaked past in a blur of red and gold, firing into the sky at yet another wave of alien soldiers diving through the portal. His blasts lit up the avenue briefly — but the Chitauri kept coming, pouring through in endless numbers.
At the corner, tires screeched as two black-and-white NYPD cruisers swung into the intersection. Their sirens wailed uselessly against the din of war. The doors swung open and uniformed officers spilled out, some drawing sidearms, others staring upward in mute horror.
A hovercraft zipped overhead, strafing the street and blowing a yellow cab clean off its wheels. The cops ducked instinctively as debris clattered around them.
A grizzled Police Sergeant, his hat askew, shoved his door shut and stood with his hands on his hips, glaring up at the sky as though he could chew the invaders out of it if he just tried hard enough.
Beside him, a wide-eyed Young Cop, maybe mid-twenties, took off his cap and just gawked.
"Holy…" he whispered, voice lost somewhere between awe and terror.
The Sergeant spat on the sidewalk, scowling.
"That ain't holy, kid. That's something else."
Another hovercraft roared low, its cannon sparking as it peppered the block. Shop windows shattered. Sparks danced across parked cars. The young cop ducked down behind the cruiser door and looked at his boss like he was insane.
"What the hell do we even do against that?" he shouted over the din, waving his hand at the carnage above. "We got nine-millimeter! That thing's a goddamn spaceship!"
The Sergeant didn't answer immediately. He just squinted into the smoke and fire, his jaw working.
Then, slow and deliberate, he drew his service revolver and checked the cylinder, spinning it with a click before snapping it shut.
"What we always do," he said, voice low but steady. "We hold the line."
The young cop blinked at him like he'd just declared war on the sun.
"You serious?"
The Sergeant shoved his cap back into place, nodded once, and stepped out from behind the car.
"Damn right I'm serious." He raised his voice, turning on the other officers who were still taking cover. "Alright, boys! You heard me! Get the barricades up, get the civvies out of here! You see one'a those ugly bastards on the ground, you put it down. Move!"
The other cops exchanged nervous glances — then one by one, they straightened, drew their weapons, and started hauling orange barricades into place.
The young cop stayed crouched, staring after his sergeant for a beat longer before muttering under his breath:
"…gonna get us all killed, man…"
But he stood anyway, checked his sidearm, and followed him into the street.
Overhead, another leviathan roared as it slithered out of the portal, blotting out the sun as it descended toward the city.
And still, the New York cops held the line.
—
The sky above Manhattan was nothing short of hell on fire.
The blue beam from the Tesseract burned through the clouds, punching open the swirling portal from which the Chitauri poured in waves — sleek hovercrafts, shrieking fighters, even one of those armored sky-beasts that looked like a giant metal eel with teeth. The city below was a war zone, car alarms wailing beneath the chaos of falling debris, fires spreading street to street.
And slicing through the maelstrom, roaring like a predator in its prime, came the Marauder.
The black-and-gold corvette banked hard left, its engines screaming a brilliant orange as it wove between skyscrapers. On its bridge, Daphne Greengrass sat cross-legged in the co-pilot's chair, her blonde hair pulled back into a loose braid that still managed to frame her cool, porcelain face. She twirled her wand idly between her fingers while her other hand adjusted the fire-control console like it was a game.
Beside her in the pilot's chair, Riyo Chuchi's slim hands moved with fast, elegant precision over the controls, her pale blue cheeks just faintly flushed as her eyes darted between readouts. Her blonde hair, trailing over her shoulders swayed as she leaned into the throttle and pitched the corvette to avoid a falling hovercraft carcass. She was sweetness in a pilot's seat, with nerves of steel.
Daphne tilted her head lazily, then pressed her comms.
"Stark, we're on heading northeast. Looks like your little invasion party's running a few minutes behind."
Somewhere below, a flash of scarlet-and-gold armor weaved through the horde — Tony Stark, alive and snarking through it all. Alan Ritchson's grin practically audible in his voice.
"Well, would you look at that," Tony muttered to himself, eyeing the Marauder as it cut clean through the sky. "Wizard gets himself a flying fortress. Figures. Guy always gets the coolest toys."
Another voice joined the line — rich, warm, and impossibly calm. Harry Potter.
"You're literally wearing a flying suit of armor, Stark," Harry said dryly. "Maybe sit this one out before you hurt yourself."
Tony scoffed into his mic.
"Yeah, yeah, Merlin. But tell me — does it have cup holders? Don't answer that." He cut hard right, taking a few potshots at a pursuing squad. "Marauder, feel like joining the party? Swing by the park — I'm about to lay out a buffet."
Riyo's lips twitched faintly as she toggled the comms. "Copy that, Mr. Stark," she said, her voice as soft and sugar-edged as it was cool and businesslike.
Daphne just smirked faintly and leaned back, murmuring,
"It's adorable when he thinks he's the main character."
Below, Iron Man caught sight of Thor and Loki still clashing on Stark Tower's platform — a godly lightshow of hammer and scepter. He boosted past, chuckling.
"Hey, don't kill each other while I'm gone!" he called out, banking at an impossible angle that sent half the Chitauri tailing him crashing into each other.
The horde swarmed after him like angry bees — exactly what he wanted.
Behind him, the Marauder dove into the chase, engines screaming.
On the gunnery deck, Clint Barton sat at the primary cannon yoke, his fingers already twitching with anticipation. He leaned forward, his crooked grin spreading wide across his face.
"Alright, Red," he called over his shoulder. "You're on starboard. I'll take port. Try not to ruin my high score."
Natasha Romanoff, red hair pulled tight and eyes cool as ice, didn't even look up as she powered up her station. "You'd have to set one first," she replied flatly, her deadpan voice cutting through his bravado.
"Cute," Clint muttered, grinning anyway. "Watch this."
The Marauder's forward double turbolasers spat blazing white fire into the sky. The first salvo ripped through three Chitauri riders in a single pass, disintegrating them into scrap and ash.
"Ho-lee hell," Clint whooped. "This thing's got kick!"
"Focus," Natasha murmured, her own cannons lighting up as she neatly bisected a fighter that tried to slip past them.
Above them, Iron Man zipped back into their field of fire.
"Alright, kiddos," Tony quipped over comms, looping above their line of fire to let the pursuing horde overcommit. "Line 'em up, knock 'em down. Mama's hungry."
The Marauder's cannons roared again, fire raining down through the Chitauri ranks. One hovercraft exploded in a flash of blue fire; another clipped a building and spun out into the street below.
Daphne's cool voice came over comms.
"You're welcome, Stark."
Tony chuckled, looping higher.
"Love you too, Ice Queen. Don't chip a nail."
Below, Clint punched another burst through a larger Chitauri squad and grinned wildly.
"Oh yeah," he crowed. "I'm getting one of these when this is over. Just gonna park it in the driveway."
"You can't even parallel park," Natasha deadpanned, her next shot splitting another alien craft into flaming pieces.
"Details!" Clint called back, adjusting for another volley.
Together, Iron Man and the Marauder swept through the chaos side by side — scarlet and gold and black and gold, slicing through the invasion like two blades. Smoke billowed in their wake. Below them, fires burned, but the skies…
For the first time all morning, the skies started to look like they might belong to Earth again.
—
The Marauder tore through the gray Manhattan sky like a blade, twin turbolasers shrieking as another squad of Chitauri ships erupted into burning shrapnel. The city below was fire and screams and ruin, but from up here… it was just another battlefield.
On the bridge, Riyo Chuchi leaned into the yoke with predatory precision, her hair swaying with the motion, blue eyes sharp and bright beneath her golden hair. Sabrina Carpenter sweetness had been replaced by cold command.
Harry Potter stood beside her, long black coat unbuttoned, emerald green eyes catching the light as he watched another Chitauri leviathan slither through the portal above the city. His jaw flexed.
"Riyo," he said, his voice calm but with an edge. "You're in charge here. Find me somewhere to drop the team. And make sure it's a place we don't get shot to pieces the second we step off."
Riyo shot him a quick, sly little smile as her fingers danced over the throttle.
"Oh, don't worry. I'll find something. Try not to break too many buildings before I pick you back up."
Harry's lips curved in a faint smirk.
"Not making any promises."
He pivoted and strode out, coat flaring.
"Everyone—cargo bay. Now," he ordered, not raising his voice. He didn't have to.
Boots thudded on the deck behind him as the rest followed: Daphne, icy and perfect, glancing at her nails as though this was just another evening at the Ministry; Susan, checking the charge on her wand-blade; Fleur, that radiant Margot Robbie grin sharpening with the rush of adrenaline, hair wild; Val, a golden-haired wolf with a predator's gait; Dacey Mormont, tall and smirking with a faint growl of excitement under her breath; and Allyria Dayne, every step dangerous, dark curls wild and her gray-blue eyes glittering like knives.
Steve Rogers, broad-shouldered and steady, fell in behind them, his sharp jaw set, blue eyes wary but unflinching.
"Care to explain what exactly we're walking into?" he called over the roar of the ship's guns.
Harry didn't even glance back. He just fished a small silver key from his pocket.
"We're about to show Loki and his bugs what overkill really means."
That earned him a quiet, skeptical grunt from Bruce Banner, trudging along at the rear. "Oh good," Bruce muttered. "Because nothing about this has been overkill already."
Natasha Romanoff only raised an eyebrow, her feline smirk hidden under her scarlet hair. Clint Barton muttered something about how he still hadn't seen a quiver on board yet, but nobody listened.
The cargo bay doors hissed open, and the group stepped inside.
Aayla Secura and Shaak Ti were already at work, crouched over a massive metallic chamber set in the floor. Aayla's amber eyes flicked up at Harry, Anya Chalotra's smoky voice cutting through the noise.
"All systems are primed. Final unlock sequence underway."
Shaak, sleek and deadly even in a jumpsuit, finished punching in the last string of commands, her British accent clipped and even.
"Whenever you're ready, Commander."
The chamber opened with a hiss of vapor, and the lights in the bay dimmed just slightly as something inside powered up.
It was a robot.
Burnished bronze plating, joints polished to a deadly gleam, its frame skeletal but somehow… imposing. Its clawed fingers flexed faintly, and its head—narrow and skull-like—lifted in a mechanical twitch.
Steve stopped in his tracks, staring up at it.
"That's… a robot."
Harry stepped forward, turning the key in the panel at its chest.
"That," he corrected, "is HK-47."
Bruce squinted. "And HK stands for…?"
"Hunter-Killer," Harry replied, almost lazily.
The robot's optics flared crimson. It straightened, joints whining, and a low, gleeful laugh issued from its voice modulator.
"Ahhhh. Master," it purred in silky menace. "It has been too long since my servos were lubricated with the precious fluids of meatbags. Please… please tell me it is time."
Clint tilted his head, arms crossed. "Okay, I'm officially creeped out."
HK's head swiveled unnaturally, red optics fixing on Clint.
"Observation: New meatbag. Archery-based. Likely inferior to blaster technology. Catalogued."
Harry tapped his wrist, projecting a glowing hologram of the city skyline—the portal, the Chitauri swarming like ants. He pointed at the army.
"These. The Chitauri only. No civilians, no friendlies. Clear?"
HK's optics brightened even further, almost hungry.
"Statement: Master. This veritable banquet of inferior organisms shall be reduced to steaming chunks of carbon. It is… delightful."
Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You're unleashing that on a city?"
Harry smirked, emerald eyes glinting as he clasped HK's shoulder.
"Relax. HK only kills what I tell him to."
Daphne, from the sidelines, added lightly, "Most of the time."
Harry shot her a glare over his shoulder.
The comms crackled, Riyo's calm voice breaking through.
"Landing zone locked. Cargo ramp in thirty seconds."
Harry leaned in, speaking quietly to the droid.
"You heard her. Time to earn your keep."
"Eager acknowledgment," HK-47 hissed, claws flexing with a faint snikt. "Commencing meatbag extermination protocols. Ohhhh… so many meatbags. So little time…"
Clint looked at Natasha, then Steve.
"I think I liked it better when our toys just shot arrows."
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, "This… will go great. Definitely."
The ramp lights turned red as alarms chimed and the Marauder shuddered, thrusters kicking in for descent. HK stalked forward to stand beside Harry at the lip of the ramp, its claws flexing in anticipation as it murmured to itself:
"Ahhh… the meatbags will scream so sweetly…"
Harry just smiled faintly.
"Welcome to New York."
And as the ramp lowered, firelight spilling up into the bay, they prepared to make Loki's invasion a whole lot messier.
—
The Marauder banked hard over a rising column of smoke, Riyo Chuchi's hands dancing across the controls with sharp precision. Her blue skin gleamed in the red light of the cockpit as she weaved the corvette between burning skyscrapers and weaving skiffs.
Below, the streets of Manhattan boiled in chaos—screams and sirens mixing with alien roars and the crack of blaster fire.
"Closest I can give you," Riyo called back into the comms, her usually honey-smooth voice edged with wry humor as the ship bucked under enemy fire. "I can't exactly land without carving a few more craters in your precious city, and you've already made enough of those."
At the edge of the ramp, Harry just grinned, emerald eyes glinting, his long coat snapping in the wind.
"Don't scratch my ship while we're gone," he called over his shoulder.
Riyo's lips twitched as she fired back, sweet and dry.
"Your ship? Please. I fly her."
"And I paid for her," Harry shot back, already stepping into position.
"Jump!" Riyo barked, cutting through their bickering.
One by one, the team leapt into the chaos.
Fleur landed first, her blonde hair like a ribbon of gold as she rolled gracefully, wand in hand. "And zis, mes amis," she murmured with a wicked little grin, "is where we dance."
Val crashed down next, a thunderous impact that cracked the pavement beneath her boots. She rose like a Valkyrie, rolling her shoulders and already scanning for targets. "Let's move. They won't kill themselves."
Dacey and Allyria dropped next, each moving like predators—Dacey's dark braid swinging behind her, Allyria's eyes like daggers as she unsheathed her twin knives.
Natasha and Clint followed, landing light and sharp, already syncing up without a word.
Bruce came last, thudding down in a crouch, his hands flexing as he straightened with a grimace. "Still not a fan of jumping out of perfectly good ships," he muttered.
Harry, Steve and HK-47 landed together, the droid unfolding smoothly, claws flexing, optics already scanning as it murmured:
"Statement: Ah. The smell of burning meatbags in the morning."
Above, the Marauder roared off into a wide circle, Riyo's voice crackling over comms.
"Perimeter established. I'll keep their skiffs contained. Try not to die before I come back for you."
"Love you too," Harry replied lazily, already striding ahead.
"Alright," he called over his shoulder, voice dropping into that deadly calm. "Let's clean up."
They barely made it to the next intersection when a pack of Chitauri foot soldiers rounded the corner, their armor clattering, rifles up.
Steve instinctively stepped forward, shield raised. "On me—"
"Statement: Master, allow me," HK interrupted coolly.
Then he was gone—nothing but copper and claws.
The first Chitauri barely had time to raise its weapon before HK was on it. He ripped the rifle out of its hands, spun it like a club, and crushed the alien's head with a wet crack. The body crumpled like paper.
"Observation: Inferior skeletal structure. Noted."
Two more charged him. HK ducked low, moving with unnerving fluidity, driving one claw through one's chest plate while his other arm shot up to catch the second by the throat. He smashed them together, then flung them aside like broken toys.
"Amusement: Meatbags. So… delicate."
One tried to flee down an alley, but HK's optics flared. He raised one thin arm and fired a tight red bolt, blowing a hole clean through the alien's back.
Fleur let out a soft gasp and muttered something sharp and very French.
Daphne only arched a perfect blonde brow and said,
"Well. That's one way to make an entrance."
Clint whistled low and shook his head. "Yeah… definitely afraid of their toys now."
Val smirked faintly. "Then stay out of the way, archer."
Steve lowered his shield slightly, watching the droid with a wary frown. "It doesn't even hesitate…"
Harry passed him with a smirk. "That's the point."
The last two Chitauri rushed HK together. He sidestepped them both with mechanical grace, caught one in a chokehold, and drove his claws through its ribs while shoving the other face-first into the street. The sound of crunching metal and bone filled the air.
HK straightened, his red optics glowing, and turned back to Harry.
"Statement: Area cleared of active meatbags, master. Awaiting further slaughter directives."
Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.
"Good droid. Keep it up."
"Satisfaction: Oh… I intend to."
Bruce muttered, "We sure it's on our side?"
Harry shot him a wolfish grin. "He's on my side. That's good enough."
Above, the Marauder's turbolasers ripped through another skiff. Over comms, Riyo's voice came again, sweet but urgent.
"Perimeter's holding, but streets ahead are looking thick. You might want to hurry it up."
Harry rolled his neck, cracking it with a faint grin, and kept moving.
"Then let's make this quick."
Behind him, HK flexed his claws and murmured to himself with dark glee.
"Ah… so many meatbags. So little time."
Natasha fell into step beside Harry, glancing back at the trail of broken Chitauri in HK's wake. "You know," she said dryly, "I think I like him."
Harry just smirked faintly, emerald eyes hard as they fixed on the burning city ahead.
"He grows on you."
And with the ground shaking beneath their feet and the sky still tearing itself apart above, the team advanced—an unstoppable force, with one homicidal droid already humming merrily about the carnage yet to come.
—
The team pounded up the shattered on-ramp, boots crunching glass and concrete as smoke curled skyward. Around them, the city burned. Stark Tower's beam still tore through the clouds like a divine spear, and the hole in the sky only grew wider, vomiting yet another wave of Chitauri into the chaos below.
At the top of the ramp, they stopped. Even Harry, for a heartbeat, let his eyes narrow in awe.
It came through.
A Leviathan.
The massive, armored war-beast dropped through the rift with a roar that shook the steel bones of the city. Its jagged, metallic fins cracked open like a bird of prey's wings as it glided down, crushing an entire rooftop with its bulk. Its hide shimmered with alien runes, its flanks bristling with gunports and warriors clinging to its armor like barnacles. Skiffs flitted around it like wasps around a predator.
Steve squared himself and muttered, his voice a low growl:
"We've gotta get back up there…"
The Chitauri responded to the beast's arrival like ants to a signal, soldiers leaping from skiffs into windows, blasting civilians still trying to escape.
At Harry's side, HK-47 tilted his head, his crimson optics fixed on the Leviathan's monstrous silhouette. The sound of its guttural roar made the overpass quake underfoot.
"Query," HK said, his voice as calm and chilling as ever, "master… shall I be adding that to my kill list?"
Harry's emerald eyes glimmered as he smirked. "If you can bring it down, HK… be my guest."
HK's optics flared with something close to joy.
"Acknowledgment: Delightful. Commencing… creative targeting analysis."
Steve raised his comm and keyed the Avengers frequency. His voice was clipped, commanding:
"Stark — you seeing this?"
Overhead, Iron Man streaked past, banking to keep the Leviathan in sight. His voice crackled through comms, full of wry disbelief.
"Seeing it, Cap. Still working on believing it. Banner's there with you, right? Tell me the Big Guy's ready to make his entrance."
Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bruce, who stood a few paces back. His hands were clenching and unclenching, his breathing already heavier, his skin beginning to flush faintly green around the edges.
"Banner's here," Steve replied grimly.
Tony's laugh was a short, sharp bark in his ear.
"Good. Keep me posted. Feels like we're gonna need our secret weapon sooner rather than later."
He boosted upward after the beast, engines roaring as his HUD painted the Leviathan in layers of red schematics.
"JARVIS," Tony barked, his tone darker now, "find me a soft spot."
"Analyzing structural weaknesses now, sir," came JARVIS's dry, perfectly polite reply.
Above, the Leviathan smashed through another office tower, sending glass and rebar tumbling in a deadly cascade.
On the ground, Val drew her sword in a hiss of steel, her long blonde braid snapping behind her as her blue eyes locked on the creature. "That thing's not just for show," she muttered.
Fleur stepped into place next to her, wand already raised. Her feral grin was at odds with her elegant features as her French accent cut through the din:
"Zen we should stop admiring it, no?"
Dacey crossed her arms, expression flat. "Anyone else get the feeling this day's not done kicking us in the teeth?"
Allyria gave her a sidelong look, one dark brow arching. "And here I was hoping it'd get fun."
HK's head swiveled toward the women, his claws flexing with an audible snikt.
"Observation: Messy meatbags produce the most satisfying splatter patterns, mistresses. Requesting permission to engage the Leviathan directly."
Harry clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, his smirk sharp.
"You've got the green light, HK. Just… try not to flatten the whole block while you're at it."
HK gave a mechanical chuckle that sent a shiver up Susan's spine as she muttered to Daphne, "Is it… smiling?"
Daphne, her ice-blonde hair whipping in the wind, deadpanned: "If it is… I don't want to know why."
HK's optics flared.
"Statement: I shall endeavor to contain my enthusiasm, master. No promises."
Steve squared up, adjusting his shield, eyes on Iron Man as he arced up toward the creature, his voice dropping into that quiet, steady leadership tone.
"Eyes up. When Banner's ready, we hit it hard and fast. No hesitation. Understood?"
"Oui," Fleur said.
"Got it," Clint muttered.
Natasha just murmured, "Always."
Bruce exhaled through gritted teeth, his hands trembling now as his voice deepened faintly.
"Oh, I'm getting there…"
Dacey leaned in toward Daphne, voice pitched low. "If he hulks out before that thing lands on us, we're calling that a win, right?"
Daphne's lips curved ever so slightly. "Don't jinx it."
Above them, Iron Man locked his targeting systems on the Leviathan, muttering to himself, "Alright… you ugly son of a—"
"—let's dance."
And as his repulsors flared to full burn, and the Leviathan roared its challenge to the city below, HK's claws flexed in giddy anticipation as he hissed under his breath:
"Oh yes… the hunt begins."
The overpass shook as the team spread out, and the war for New York climbed to a whole new level of chaos.
—
The storm above roared like a wild beast uncaged.
Black clouds churned, forked lightning lashing through the heavens as if summoned by Thor's own fury. Rain slicked the fractured rooftop in silver streaks, soaking the brothers as they grappled in the eye of their shared storm.
Thor had Loki pinned now, one massive hand gripping his brother's tunic, the other clamped around the wrist still clutching that cursed scepter.
Below them, Manhattan writhed in flame and ruin — streets choked with smoke and ash, alien warships carving the skyline apart, screams rising from every corner. It was Midgard's darkest hour. And still Loki smiled.
"Look at this!" Thor bellowed, shaking his brother violently, his voice booming louder than the thunder above. "Look around you, Loki! Is this what you wanted? Is this your glorious purpose?!"
Loki's green eyes flicked lazily toward the burning city, then back to Thor, his mouth curling in a faint, mocking smirk.
"Glorious… isn't it?" he murmured, his voice dripping venom.
Thor snarled, his rage barely contained as he wrenched Loki closer until their foreheads almost touched.
"You think this madness will end with your rule?" Thor demanded, his tone raw with hurt beneath the anger. His grip on the trickster's lapel tightened as lightning crackled across the head of Mjolnir, still clenched in his other fist.
Loki's smile widened, sharp as shattered glass.
"You still don't see, do you?" he whispered. "It's too late. Too late to stop it. The world bends now… and it bends to me."
For the briefest moment, Thor's eyes softened. His voice dropped, heavy with desperate conviction.
"No, brother. It doesn't have to be this way. We can still stop it… together."
That — for a heartbeat — gave Loki pause. His breath hitched, his gaze faltered. For an instant, the mask of arrogance cracked, and something old and broken shimmered behind his eyes.
But just as quickly, it was gone.
The grin returned, colder than before, and his voice turned to silk and steel.
"Together?" Loki echoed, almost sweetly.
Then his hand twitched.
Thor's eyes went wide as cold steel slid between his ribs.
"Sentiment…" Loki hissed against his ear, twisting the blade.
Thor roared in pain, staggering back as the knife wrenched free. Lightning leapt from his shoulders, scorching the air. His knees buckled, but he didn't fall — not yet.
By the time he looked up, Loki was already standing, scepter in one hand, dagger still slick in the other.
Thor tore the blade from his own side with a guttural growl, blood dark against the storm-soaked steel.
"Loki!"
Loki's only reply was a mocking bow, low and theatrical, his grin cutting through the rain.
"Long live the king," he murmured.
And then he was gone — spinning on his heel, cloak snapping behind him as he dashed for the edge of the roof.
"Stop!" Thor barked, lunging — but too late.
Loki leapt, cloak billowing, arms spread wide as though the air itself bowed to him. The wind caught him, spinning him gracefully as a Chitauri skiff swept beneath him in perfect synchrony.
He landed in a crouch on the hovering craft, hair plastered to his face, emerald eyes blazing.
The Chitauri surrounding him hissed and bared their weapons, flanking their master as the skiff banked away from Stark Tower.
Loki straightened slowly, turning to face Thor still silhouetted against the lightning-struck tower.
He raised one hand in a lazy little wave, his grin cruel and triumphant.
"You're welcome to try, brother!" he called through the storm, his voice carrying despite the howl of wind and fire.
And then he laughed — a rich, manic laugh that echoed off the ruins of Midtown as the skiff carried him back into the chaos, the alien horde closing ranks around him like wolves around a black king.
Thor stood at the edge of the rooftop, chest heaving, blood and rain running down his side, watching Loki disappear into the smoke and ruin he'd made.
He gritted his teeth, fingers curling so tight around Mjolnir's handle that lightning sparked between his knuckles.
The storm above seemed to growl with him, thunder rolling as though the very skies shared his rage.
"So be it," Thor muttered darkly, his jaw set, his eyes blazing as he lifted Mjolnir high.
The hammer began to glow with white-hot light, arcs of power snapping and hissing in the air around him.
The god of thunder stepped forward, ready to bring down the fury of Asgard upon his wayward brother.
And the storm roared its approval.
---
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