Impact Site – New Mexico Desert
The Bifrost's aftermath still scorched the desert floor when the second beam struck.
Coulson and his agents had been inspecting the intricate burn patterns left by the first arrival, the one that had deposited four armored warriors who had promptly marched toward town. The inscriptions in the sand were fascinating, geometric patterns that seemed to follow no earthly mathematics. Coulson had already ordered photographs from every angle.
Then the sky tore open again.
This time, the light was darker. More violent. It slammed into the earth with enough force to send a plume of dust and debris billowing outward, momentarily blinding everyone present.
When the dust settled, something stood in the crater.
It was a suit of armor. But to call it a suit implied a wearer, and this thing clearly had none. It stood nine feet tall, composed of a dark, enchanted metal that seemed to absorb the harsh sunlight. Spikes lined its shoulders, and its "face" was nothing but a slatted visor of impenetrable darkness.
"Is that Stark?" one agent asked, his voice uncertain. "Some new prototype?"
Coulson studied the figure through narrowed eyes. "I don't think so. This is probably related to yesterday's intruder."
And to Arthur Hayes's warning.
Coulson had hoped the man was wrong. Looking at the metal giant before him, he knew he wasn't.
But protocol was protocol. Coulson lifted his megaphone and stepped forward. It was foolish, perhaps suicidal, but Phil Coulson was nothing if not by the book.
"This is Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. You are deploying unregistered weapons technology on United States soil. Identify yourself immediately."
The Destroyer stood motionless.
"I repeat: identify yourself and state your purpose. Failure to comply will be met with—"
There was a pop of displaced air, and Arthur Hayes appeared beside him.
"Really, Phil?" Arthur asked, looking at the megaphone with amusement. "You're trying to give a parking ticket to a Doomsday weapon?"
"Standard protocol," Coulson replied, though relief flickered briefly in his eyes. "What is that thing?"
"Later." Arthur's attention fixed on the metal giant. He extended his magical senses, probing the construct's signature.
The Destroyer.
It was exactly as he remembered - towering, implacable, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen.
But something was different.
The power radiating from it was far more intense than he'd anticipated. This wasn't the manageable threat from the movies. This was something that made Arthur's magical senses scream warnings.
The Destroyer's faceplate began to open, revealing a building glow of molten orange within.
Arthur rose into the air, floating up until he hovered at eye level with the giant. Though he kept a healthy distance between them.
"Well, well," he called out, his voice carrying across the desert. "The pretender king sends his toy soldier. I'm flattered, Loki. Truly. Did stealing your brother's throne leave you feeling insecure?"
The orange glow building behind the faceplate flickered. Arthur had the Destroyer's attention, or rather, Loki's attention through it.
"Or perhaps 'king' is too generous a title," Arthur continued, drifting backward as he spoke. "Throne-warmer might be more accurate. Seat-polisher. Royal placeholder until the true heir returns."
The beam came.
Arthur Apparated.
He reappeared fifty feet to the left as a torrent of orange fire incinerated the space where he'd been floating. The heat was intense even from this distance.
"Coulson!" Arthur shouted. "Get your people out of here! Now!"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents needed no further encouragement. They scrambled for their vehicles, years of training overriding the shock of what they were witnessing.
Arthur continued his taunting, drawing the Destroyer's attention away from the retreating convoy.
"Is that the best you can do?" He Apparated again as another blast scorched the air where he'd been. "I would wager your brother could do better, and he doesn't even have a giant metal puppet! What troubles you, Loki? Performance anxiety? Compensating for something?"
—
In Asgard, seated upon the throne of the Allfather, Loki's hands tightened on the golden armrests until his knuckles went white.
His eyes blazed with fury as he watched through the Destroyer's senses.
This mortal. This insignificant insect.
The memory of the previous night still burned—that endless, humiliating fall through the sorcerer's portal. Minutes that had felt like hours, tumbling through an infinite void with no ground to reach, no walls to grasp, nothing but the sickening sensation of perpetual descent. By the time the mortal had deigned to release him, Loki's dignity had been in tatters.
And now the wretch dared to mock him again. Daring to—
No. Loki forced himself to think clearly. The mortal was stalling. Buying time for the others to escape.
"You seek to buy time for the insects?" Loki murmured, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Then the insects die first."
He sent a new command through the Destroyer's enchantments.
—
Arthur was preparing another taunt when the Destroyer moved.
Not walked. Not marched.
Flew.
The metal giant shot into the sky, rocketing toward Coulson's convoy at speeds that left Arthur momentarily stunned.
It can fly? There had been nothing like that in the movies. Nothing in the canon he remembered. The Destroyer had always been depicted as a walking juggernaut, terrifying but slow.
This was something else entirely.
"Damn it," Arthur hissed, and Apparated.
He materialized directly in the Destroyer's path, fifty feet above the fleeing vehicles. There was no time for clever tactics. No time for a complex spell.
A bracelet on Arthur's wrist shimmered. Nanites flowed outward in a silver wave, rapidly forming a massive gauntlet around his right hand. Vibranium-infused metal condensing into a weapon in less than a second.
Simultaneously, Arthur reached deep into his chi reserves. Golden light erupted around the gauntlet, blazing like a small sun. The energy crackled and sang, reinforcing the already formidable metal.
The combination of vibranium and chi blazed with power.
Arthur drew back his fist and met the charging juggernaut head-on.
The impact was catastrophic.
A shockwave erupted outward, flattening everything in a hundred-foot radius. The air itself seemed to scream.
But the Destroyer didn't stop.
It didn't even slow down.
Arthur's gauntlet held, the vibranium absorbed the impact, and his chi reinforcement prevented the kinetic backlash from pulverizing his arm.
But the sheer mass and momentum of the metal giant was unstoppable. Arthur was swatted aside like a child trying to stop a freight train, sent spinning through the air as the Destroyer continued its descent toward the convoy.
No time to think. No time to recover.
Arthur stabilized himself a hundred feet up and thrust both hands forward. A massive golden portal bloomed into existence directly in the path of the fleeing vehicles.
In the lead SUV, the driver's eyes went wide. "Sir, there's a—"
"Drive through it!" Coulson's voice crackled over the radio. "Don't stop!"
The first vehicle plunged into the portal and vanished. The second followed. The third. The fourth.
The Destroyer was almost upon them, its faceplate opening once more—
The last SUV crossed the threshold.
Arthur snapped the portal shut.
The Destroyer passed through empty air, its prey gone. It spun, searching, but the convoy had been deposited three miles away.
Arthur floated in the sky, catching his breath.
He had badly underestimated the Destroyer.
The movies had made it look manageable. Terrifying, yes, but still something that mortal weapons could at least slow down. The reality was something else entirely.
This was a weapon forged by Odin himself. A weapon meant to fight Celestials. And Arthur had tried to punch it.
Idiot.
Arthur scolded himself. He had leaned too hard on canon knowledge, trusted that the world would behave the way the story said it should. He should have known better by now. Canon had a habit of sanding down edges, of making monsters weaker so heroes could shine brighter.
At least the lesson hadn't cost him anything serious. His body was intact. Only his pride had taken a hit.
Below, the Destroyer turned toward the town once more and resumed its march, relentless and uncaring.
Arthur could continue fighting. He could pull out his full arsenal and destroy it.
But this wasn't his battle.
This was Thor's test. Thor's moment of redemption. The point where a god either rose… or didn't.
Arthur let out a slow breath.
It was time for the hero to step forward.
He Apparated away, leaving the Destroyer to continue toward its destiny.
He only hoped Thor's friends were stronger than the films had made them look.
Otherwise...