Ordinary firearms didn't do much damage to the Chitauri, but they could knock them off their flyers. One of Kingpin's men happened to grab an enemy's weapon and realized it was an energy gun—he snatched it up and started using it, delighted.
The Chitauri didn't seem to be the brightest, and their weapons were pure idiot-proof design: simple, easy to use. Just point at the target and pull the trigger. No recoil, and no fussing with a magazine.
Two or three men working together could bring down one alien, then grab its weapon. The gangsters traded up from popguns to real firepower, and the pace of killing—and of being killed—began to quicken.
Kingpin looked fat, but he was solid muscle underneath, and the ordinary Chitauri couldn't do him much harm. There wasn't a flicker of fear in this future emperor of the underworld's eyes; he killed three in a row without breaking stride, while Bullseye, not far off, swiftly picked off two more.
Hm? By some strange twist, Kingpin caught a startled cry. The whole city was fighting now, and a woman's shout really shouldn't have registered as anything—but he turned toward the sound anyway.
Across the street a car lay overturned by the curb, and a stylishly dressed woman was in a bad way, her calves slick with blood, backing away without stop. A Chitauri bore down on her step by step, leveling a weapon like a spear. There was fear in the woman's expression, yet she wasn't wholly ruled by it; her eyes kept darting around, as if searching for a way to save herself.
Kingpin took in the scene and, without a word, hurled the dumbbell beside him.
A dumbbell that a normal person would have to strain to lift was, to him, no heavier than a fruit knife.
With a wet thunk, the dumbbell smashed into the back of the Chitauri's skull. The thing dropped dead without so much as a grunt.
"Come shelter at my place for now. What's your name?"
"Vanessa."
At the moment Kingpin met the love of his destiny, gunfire rolled without pause through every corner of the city.
Beyond the organized military, National Guard, police, and agents holding the line in their separate quarters, countless civilians took up arms and chose to fight as well.
Some were slaughtered by the Chitauri; others treated the enemy as if they were nothing. Prey and hunter traded places fast in this great city—one second you were the hunter, the next, the prey.
Inside Weasel's bar, a crew of mercenaries beat the Chitauri black and blue, then sat back down to keep drinking and swapping tall tales.
At the New York Sanctum, a defensive spell circle rose up, and every foot soldier that came near was blasted to powder.
As for anything that ventured close to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters—there was no coming back. Wolverine hacked them all to pieces.
"Professor, has Magneto still not agreed to fight?" Daisy asked Professor Xavier through the White Queen's telepathy.
"I'm afraid not. Erik is still holding to his conditions—it's going to be very hard to persuade him." Regret filled every word from the old man.
Daisy gave a cold laugh. Magneto was actually trying to bargain with them—saying he'd fight only if mutants were granted formal recognition. It was a joke. Humanity wasn't yet at that desperate a point, and he wasn't that important.
Watching the number of enemies in the city climb higher and higher, she sent in the robot soldiers to join the fight.
The military, S.H.I.E.L.D., and Hammer Industries deployed five hundred robot soldiers in all, loaded with a full complement of ammunition. The five hundred machines fanned out across every intersection in the city. With their support, soldiers everywhere quickly closed ranks and reorganized. Using those anchor points to control the whole, they locked down every crossing tight and laid out defensive line after defensive line—a fishnet that sieved the free-flying Chitauri again and again.
Duang! Captain America's shield flew out and knocked down three foot soldiers in a row. Crossbones's special-ops team had all been placed under his command now, and leading this pack of elites, Steve Rogers charged at the front like he was back in World War II. His blood ran hot; after half a year sunk in gloom, the man who'd woken from the ice had found his reason to live all over again.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents truly are elite. It's an honor to lead you!" he said, brimming with passion.
The pack of Hydra men exchanged looks, each finding the whole thing absurd. How were they supposed to answer that?
Luckily they were all kitted out in standard American gear, faces hidden behind masks—otherwise they'd surely have given themselves away.
"My subordinates are elite, of course. Come to my side." Crossbones, in full battle dress, stepped out of the shadows and issued the order to his men.
The special-ops team looked at one another. They believed Crossbones really had been brainwashed, and with Daisy—a near-boss of Hydra—keeping them in check, not one of them was willing to go over to his side.
Fight side by side with the aliens and kill fellow humans? Was he joking? They were Hydra men with ideals. If humanity were all wiped out, who would there be left to rule? Standing with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the superheroes to fight the aliens—that was the right call, no question. As one, they raised their muzzles.
"Traitors!" Crossbones lifted his hand and aimed a shot at one of his own trusted men.
Captain America, ready for it, raised his shield to block. "You're a warrior full of honor. Let me help you."
Cap strode toward Crossbones. He meant to knock the man out, and whether that meant treatment or something else afterward, he'd leave to S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrange.
Crossbones fired two shots straight at him, both stopped by the shield, and the gap between them closed fast.
"This is to help you—it's not personal!" Cap threw the man's own famous line back at him, then drove a punch at Crossbones's gut.
Crossbones flinched in surprise, twisted aside to dodge, and lashed out with a flying kick at Cap's ribs.
Loki's Scepter hadn't just twisted Crossbones's mind—it had also unlocked the body's limiters on strength. His speed and power had shot up enormously, and for a moment he and Captain America were locked in a fight too close to call.
Battle raged everywhere in the city. Black Widow and Spider-Woman worked well together, the two of them constantly on the move, reinforcing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wherever they were needed.
Hawkeye stood atop a high-rise, not an arrow wasted, and soon shot a quiver empty. Daisy teleported two more over to him.
The Storm siblings were still in Europe, so Reed and the Thing had to guard the Baxter Building on their own. The two worked in seamless coordination, and many unarmed civilians took shelter inside the tower.
Hammer Industries had its own security detail. Justin Hammer, the king of tall talk, and the mob's old strategist were both terrible shots, but for morale's sake they'd pop off a pistol round now and then to look busy. The fiercest one here, of course, was the Maid, who revealed her powers in front of others for the first time: with a razor-sharp Adamantium knife and a body that could turn to mist, she killed the foot soldiers one clean stroke at a time.
Stick, Elektra, Matt—each of them stepped out of their doors as well, quietly joining this fight of humankind against the aliens.
The Long Island villa came under assault fifteen minutes after the Chitauri descended, but under Wanda's magic the invaders were wiped out clean, with no power to resist at all. The occasional straggler that slipped through the net was caught by Mr. Rhino and Dumpling—and afterward Wanda blew their heads open with her magic.