The night was quiet in Washington, D.C. Despite the chaos unfolding in New York, the nation's capital carried on as if nothing had changed. The traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue flowed steadily, and pedestrians moved about as though the alien invasion were happening in a distant world, not their own.
But beneath the calm surface, everyone knew the truth. The invasion hadn't just shaken Manhattan—it had shifted the world itself. Nothing would ever be the same.
Daniel felt it, too. Since the Chitauri descended on Earth, he'd noticed a subtle but unmistakable rise in magical energy. It wasn't dramatic—more like a gentle ripple across a vast ocean—but enough to confirm what he already suspected: the planet's natural environment was changing.
That increase in magical activity meant one thing—more extraordinary individuals would soon begin to emerge. If Tony Stark's reveal as Iron Man had kicked off a new era, then the Chitauri invasion had shattered the old world order entirely.
After leaving the White House, Daniel lingered in D.C. for a few more days while Stark returned to New York. He had business to attend to—consultations with S.H.I.E.L.D. regarding alien tech recovery, examination of the Mind Scepter, and further study of the space-time device salvaged from the battlefield.
Though General Ross had shown up in Manhattan under the guise of confiscating alien weaponry, that was mostly a power play in the heat of confusion. In the end, all alien artifacts had been handed over to S.H.I.E.L.D. to handle under global supervision.
After all, this wasn't just an American issue anymore. Even though the invasion happened on U.S. soil, every major nation demanded involvement. The pressure on Washington was immense. Turning things over to S.H.I.E.L.D. was the only reasonable way to ease international tensions.
That, in fact, had been the original purpose of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founding—a global security organization designed to transcend national interests. But even so, the organization remained heavily influenced by the United States.
Of course, those with clearance knew that Fury had French roots, but officially, he was listed as a U.S. citizen born in the 1970s.
S.H.I.E.L.D. might act globally, but in practice, it operated most efficiently within U.S. borders. Operating in powerful foreign nations—particularly those across the Pacific—was significantly more difficult. In those countries, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reach was minimal.
Daniel's continued stay in Washington wasn't just about the tech. After debriefing the President on what happened—especially the battle in orbit—he was asked a difficult question: Would something like this happen again?
Unlike Stark, who dodged the question, Daniel gave a direct answer—yes.
He didn't mention Thanos by name, but he did explain who the Chitauri were: a vast alien civilization with superior technology and a population far outnumbering Earth's. Even that limited information left the President visibly unsettled.
Ironically, while the Insight Project was publicly marketed as a defensive strategy, its real purpose was far more sinister. Hydra had planned to use the S.H.I.E.L.D.-built helicarriers to eliminate anyone on Earth deemed a threat to their rise—using a predictive algorithm to identify targets.
But the idea of building more helicarriers wasn't a Hydra invention. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the U.S. government had already begun planning future fleets even before Insight took form. The successful construction of the first helicarrier proved it was possible. More would follow.
Hydra's scheme was to hijack the system—not just control the algorithm, but the entire fleet.
Even getting that first helicarrier off the ground had been a challenge. The World Security Council was reluctant to approve the budget, fearing that S.H.I.E.L.D., already too aligned with U.S. interests, would become a tool of American military dominance if given such power. Only when the U.S. offered to cover most of the cost and promised S.H.I.E.L.D. operational autonomy did the plan scrape through.
Now, after the invasion, everything had changed.
In the wake of the Chitauri attack, countries around the world—America included—rallied behind S.H.I.E.L.D. They offered more funding, more freedom, and more trust. The organization would now lead global efforts to prepare for extraterrestrial threats. The recovery of alien weapons and tech from the New York battlefield was fiercely contested, but ultimately fell under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority.
And yet, Daniel knew this consolidation of power came with risks. He subtly suggested that S.H.I.E.L.D. would need greater oversight. After all, if so many nations were going to place their trust—and their security—in one organization, it was only natural they'd want to keep it in check.
He didn't need to spell it out. The politicians picked up on it instantly. Their instincts—honed through years of rivalry and self-preservation—kicked in. They understood. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to become the world's dominant security power, it had to be monitored carefully.
Daniel had no plans to remain in this political storm much longer. He intended to return briefly to New York, then travel to the Netherlands to pursue unfinished business.
He had already secured plenty for himself—alien weapons, classified information, and the global recognition that came from standing alongside the Avengers during Earth's darkest hour. That alone had built him a strong foundation for influence and power.
And the public image was handled too.
Unlike the others, Daniel wasn't technically an Avenger. He was a U.S. Army officer, operating under the Department of Defense. He wore a military uniform during the battle, which made it easier for the government to present him as a heroic soldier rather than a vigilante. The media loved that.
Still, even with the extra attention from the press, he wasn't the star of the story. Stark and Thor dominated the headlines.
Tony was already a media darling. Thor, with his mystique and royal status from Asgard, was a perfect fit for sensational headlines. The U.S. had dropped all pretense of secrecy—aliens had invaded; what was left to hide?
Stark's Iron Man suits were rooted in technology, which kept public perception grounded. But the Manhattan battle changed everything. The presence of Hulk, Thor, and Daniel—whose magic had been whispered about since his earlier fight with the Abomination—forced the world to confront a different kind of reality.
Before, those names had only circulated in certain corners of the internet. Even in New York, few truly knew who or what they were. Rumors swirled, and some media called Daniel "the magician," but there was still a haze of speculation.
Now that haze was gone.
The Avengers, and Daniel alongside them, had become global icons of the extraordinary world.
But ironically, they had little connection to the actual supernatural landscape of Earth. The real hidden powers were scattered elsewhere: the Knights of the Round Table in England, the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj, the mutant students of Xavier's school, the cloaked Inhumans, and even the Brotherhood hiding in the shadows. Those groups made up the backbone of the true supernatural world.
The Avengers weren't part of those ancient circles. But after New York, the world didn't care.
They had become the new face of the extraordinary.
And no one dared question their right to it—not with Mjolnir in Thor's hand.
Governments across the globe began investing in their own versions of the Avengers. Some intensified research into advanced technology, others quietly loosened restrictions on known supernatural individuals. Policies were shifting. Control was giving way to cooperation—and recruitment.
Even the U.S. had begun assembling a new team, one meant to rival the Avengers in strength and capability. The project was still in its early stages, but Daniel had picked up enough during his White House conversations to know one thing: they wanted him on that team.
Not to lead it, though. That much was clear.
They trusted him and respected him. But handing over the reins of such a powerful group required more than battlefield valor and public approval. It would require faith—and full control.