Just as the Avengers were brimming with confidence, Steve Rogers had already finalized his plan.
He pulled out a panoramic map of New York City, marking seven locations with red circles: Brooks, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Hell's Kitchen, and several others.
"Max, you'll take two nuclear bomb backpacks and plant them in Stark Tower and Oscorp Tower respectively. Remember, the operation must stay covert—don't let anyone detect your presence."
Rogers glanced at Electro, assigning him two critical tasks. Oscorp and Stark Industries were among New York's top corporations, their headquarters standing in the busiest commercial districts, surrounded by major enterprises from countless sectors.
Bombing these locations would indirectly cripple the American economic system.
Hearing this, Max nodded without hesitation. He had once worked at Oscorp as a circuit design engineer, but his introverted nature caused him to be overlooked, his work stolen, eventually leading to a bitter fallout with the company.
This mission was a perfect fit for him.
After briefing Electro, Captain America turned to Bullseye. "Bullseye, you know Hell's Kitchen better than anyone. That den of filth is yours."
Bullseye accepted the order eagerly.
Next, Rogers assigned tasks to Doctor Octopus and the Lizard, covering several major districts of New York City—some densely populated, others strategically vital.
He himself drove off with the remaining six nuclear bomb backpacks, secretly taking position near the White House.
As the presidential residence, the White House spans over 5,100 square meters—an imposing fortress with underground structures designed to withstand nuclear blasts.
A single nuclear bomb backpack can effectively destroy everything within a 15-mile radius. In truth, Rogers didn't even need to enter the building; simply burying one outside was enough to level the entire structure.
This time, he carried six. Once detonated, the combined force—equivalent to 6,000 tons of TNT—would easily overwhelm all so-called nuclear defenses.
More importantly, Rogers had carefully studied Gilgamesh's personality. He believed that with Gilgamesh's arrogance, even if he sensed a nuclear bomb nearby, he would never hide underground like a rat scrambling for shelter.
He was right—Gilgamesh simply wasn't that kind of person.
"It's just a nuclear bomb. So what if it hits me a few times?
"You think you can kill me?"
One man thought: I can't be killed, so there's no need to hide.
The other thought: I can be killed, so I'll bury it.
Such is the strange law of cause and effect—no one can predict who will suffer or who will be caught in whose trap.
After surveying the area, Rogers immediately retreated. That night, under cover of darkness, he quietly concealed the nuclear bomb in a sewer near the White House, setting the timer for 24 hours.
The 24-hour delay was to prevent complications. If other members of the Evil Alliance were delayed or interrupted, they might fail to plant their bombs on time.
Though Rogers had become tyrannical, cruel, and bloodthirsty, he retained a certain cold rationality. The members of the Evil Alliance were his core force; if they died, he would be left completely alone.
Even if he joined Hydra, he would have no supporters—merely another expendable foot soldier.
Therefore, even if he didn't care about these lackeys, he still had to ensure their safety.
After a tense, sleepless night, every nuclear bomb had finally been placed and armed. With a satisfied yet sinister smile, Rogers slipped away unnoticed…
The next day, the Avengers rose early and rushed to the White House to negotiate with Gilgamesh.
This was part of their pre-arranged plan: diplomacy first, force second—aimed at making him lift the curse and relinquish his claim to the throne.
It sounded far-fetched, but Nick Fury, now confident in his overwhelming power, felt he had every right to negotiate.
In the White House entrance hall—
Gilgamesh, clad in shimmering golden armor, stood silently on the bridge-like staircase on the second floor, arms crossed. His spiky blond hair framed his lowered gaze; even with his eyes closed, he radiated the aloof majesty of a solitary king.
That morning, all White House personnel had already evacuated. Gilgamesh clearly sensed that the Avengers were preparing for a decisive confrontation, so he ordered them out in advance.
Thus, he donned his armor and waited for them to come to him.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed closer. Nick Fury, wearing a black leather trench coat, strode in with the Avengers behind him. Commanding a team of heroes who were practically gods, he carried himself with unmistakable pride and confidence.
He surveyed the hall but found no trace of Gilgamesh. Just as he prepared to lead the team deeper inside, Captain Marvel suddenly grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Fury turned, only to see three sharp swords embedded in the floor in a triangular formation, their blades vibrating with a faint hum.
A cold sweat ran down his back—if Carol hadn't pulled him away, he would've been skewered instantly.
He looked up.
Gilgamesh stood arrogantly on the second-floor staircase, arms crossed, a disdainful smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down upon them.
Behind him, a golden wall of light flared to life. From its radiant surface, countless swords, spears, and halberds slowly emerged, all aimed directly at the intruders.
"Unauthorized entry into the realm of gods…" Gilgamesh's red eyes narrowed, and he suddenly roared, "Filthy wild dogs—how dare you show your faces before me again!?"
Before his voice had even faded, divine weapons poured from the golden gate like a storm of blades and spears, all locked onto the group below.
The overwhelming display immediately crushed the pride that had been swelling in Nick Fury's chest. Instinctively, he glanced at Carol. She gave a subtle nod. Encouraged, he straightened himself, stepped forward, and glared up at Gilgamesh with his single eye.
"On behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., I am officially ordering you to surrender immediately," Fury declared. "Vacate the White House and give up your claim to the throne. Otherwise… you may not get the chance to regret it."
Gilgamesh's brows twitched, and even the fingers tapping against his gauntlet froze—his anger rising like a wave.
"You miserable ant crawling beneath the heavens," he spat. "How dare you make demands of a god who looks down upon the world?"
He let out a furious laugh, shaking his head in mock pity.
"Tch… utterly shameless, you bastard."
His eyes snapped open, glowing with murderous intent.
"Since you refuse to embrace the glory of worshipping me… then in your final, desperate struggle—
Bow your head—
and die!!"
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