Nick Fury stood before the immense floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the row upon row of towering skyscrapers, watching his own reflection in the glass. He let out a quiet sigh. After night after night without sleep, the hairline that had just started to recover was tragic all over again. What was even more disheartening—the dark circles under his eyes were growing thicker by the day.
Lately, life had been brutal for the unlucky chief. "Overwhelmed" barely covered it. Research into the Tesseract had finally, finally reached a breakthrough, and before anyone could even celebrate, it summoned that disaster of a man, Loki.
Loki lived up to his name as the Asgardian god of bad news. The moment he showed up, he hit Nick Fury with a one-two combination punch that left his liver aching.
Fury's right and left hand—his top agent Hawkeye, no, not that Mihawk—was compromised by Loki and turned against him. The lead astrophysicist on the Tesseract project, Erik, no, not that Magneto—also got recruited and became the enemy's lackey. And the underground base that had swallowed billions of dollars in investment? Reduced to ashes, nothing but a pile of dust.
That was money… no, that was the blood, sweat, and tears of the Divine Sword Bureau!
On one side, Fury was fending off the endless, nagging delegates from the five major nations—who only dared show their faces when Zodhis wasn't around. On the other, he was sending teams out in a frantic search for the Tesseract. The results were decent, actually. They'd confirmed one thing: Loki was a master at hiding things. His own useless henchmen hadn't found so much as a single hair.
Damn it. The Divine Sword Bureau was already so much more powerful than S.H.I.E.L.D.—how could garbage like this still exist on the payroll?!
Of course, Fury knew full well the only reason the Bureau carried any weight was its director, Zodhis. The man alone was nine-tenths of the organization's representative power; everyone else was just along for the ride, a glorified set of leg ornaments.
Zodhis himself found it exasperating. He hadn't even revealed that he was a super-soldier who could fight, and yet somehow he still ended up being the big shot everyone clung to.
But Nick Fury, ever the man with more bolt-holes than a rabbit warren, was not about to gamble everything on his people's luck. While he sent men to track down that irresponsible, habitually-absent director of theirs, he also dispatched others to find S-class hero Bruce Banner. Banner was the only one who might actually be able to track down the Tesseract.
"You have a certain flair."
"Thanks for the compliment."
"But clearly, I need more than just that. I need a great deal more. You understand my meaning?"
Loki sat in the vehicle, feeling the night breeze wash over him, and spoke to his—for the moment, at least—very loyal subordinate.
"I will bring liberation, and you shall be the vanguard of that liberation. But you alone are not enough."
"Understood," Hawkeye replied, every bit the professional.
"In Queens, there's a big brute who worships strength. In Manhattan, there's an Iron Man. I believe they could become quite useful reinforcements."
"Lead the way." Loki nodded, pleased.
Of course, Loki was well aware that the people of Midgard were bizarrely strong. Most were pathetically weak, but a few were outrageously powerful. He understood that in a direct confrontation, victory was far from certain. But this time, Loki had not come alone.
Ignoring the temporary squad of Chitauri warriors he had with him, there was an entire army waiting in the rear—an army on a planetary scale. If he couldn't win one-on-one, he'd simply bury them under sheer numbers. No matter how durable someone was, they would eventually run dry.
Gods are meant to stand high above, and humans are meant to bow and submit. They should feel fear. They should obey the words of a god. To raise a sword—or even a fist—against a god… those who dare resist shall be returned to death and nothingness.
In his mind's eye, Loki could already see himself ruling the entire world.
Divine Sword Bureau, the Helicarrier.
Not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier, of course. Zodhis had found that one hopelessly outdated—only that chrome-dome Fury treated it like a prized treasure—so he'd personally built this one. It served as the Divine Sword Bureau's headquarters.
"Everyone, we've got a lead on Loki's location."
"Where?"
"Stuttgart, Germany. 28 Kuning Street. Loki showed up at a charity gala."
"An alien big shot comes to Earth to play philanthropist… am I supposed to take that as a personal insult?"
The ultimate capitalist, Stark, spread his hands, signaling that he was the undisputed king of charity around here.
Hill ignored Stark completely and went on.
"Ben. Natasha. The Deputy Director wants you two to move out immediately and bring him in."
"Understood!"
"I'm on it."
The Thing, Ben Grimm, and Natasha answered and headed for the door.
"What was that bald-headed leather jacket thinking? Does he actually believe Iron Man can't measure up to a rock man and a lady spy?"
The showboating Stark was not about to be left behind. Defeating an alien in front of a European audience—how could he possibly miss out on a stage that spectacularly cool?
Hill didn't stop him. Her silence was tacit approval, and she reported the situation to the unlucky chief. Dr. Banner, who had just arrived, was escorted to the laboratory.
Germany.
In the north square of Kuning Street, a dense, dark mass of people knelt in rows. Loki was alone, and yet they groveled in submission, too terrified to resist. Just as Loki himself had said—in their bones, humans revered strength; they craved a supreme ruler. His arrogant rantings finally enraged one old man. The old fellow was blunt to a fault; he didn't mince words and openly called Loki two-faced.
To be shamed like that in public—Loki, whose pride was as fragile as glass, dropped his false smile. He raised his scepter, ready to make an example of the man, to show everyone the price of defiance.
A blue energy bolt shot from the scepter. In the next second, there should have been torn flesh and splattered blood.
In the critical moment, the Thing, Ben Grimm, dropped from the sky and planted himself in front of the old man. The energy bolt struck Ben square on, and didn't even chip off a speck of stone dust. After all, this was a stone-skinned man who had been beaten down countless times and tormented by monsters just as many. Under all that abuse, he had evolved—the rock surface of his body had reached a level of hardness comparable to diamond.
The kneeling crowd panicked and fled in every direction. Loki cast them a cold glance and let them scatter.
A Quinjet hovered twenty meters overhead. Natasha activated its mounted weapons, targeting Loki. Her voice rang out through the loudspeaker.
"Loki, put down the weapon and surrender."
Loki's lips curled into a wicked smile. For someone who considered himself the rightful King of Asgard, telling him to put down his weapon was the same as an insult. A murderous glint flashed through his icy gaze, and without hesitation, he snapped his scepter up and fired another energy bolt.
Loki's action sounded the horn for battle. Up in the air, under Natasha's expert control, the Quinjet swerved and dodged the energy bolt, narrowly but cleanly. But Loki, still extended from his attack, couldn't retract in time. The Thing, Ben Grimm, lunged forward and drove a brutal fist straight into Loki's face.
Smack!
The sound was sharp and clear, like a slap. Loki's body rocked from the impact, his face a mask of pure fury.
He was not the Thor who had once been cast down to Earth, stripped of his powers. His divine strength was fully intact, his physical specs far beyond anything a human of Earth could imagine. And mind you, Loki was a Frost Giant—fifty tons of strength, with a body density to match. A punch from Ben the Thing was no more devastating to him than a boxer taking a solid right hook.
/-\
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