Though Loki called himself a god, divinity did not make him invincible. If his body were torn apart, he would still perish.
In another future, he would die strangled by Thanos' hand.
But when Thor rushed over now, he found no blood at all. The Loki torn in half dissolved into drifting ash, vanishing into the air.
"A clone!" Thor thundered.
This was no simple illusion. An illusion was only light and shadow, but a clone was matter given form—real, tangible, even possessing a fraction of its creator's strength.
That strength varied, depending on the source.
A clone shared sight, thought, and sensation with its master. Which meant Loki's humiliation at Hulk's hands—the brutal defeat and the undignified way it ended—had been transmitted directly to the real Loki. It was a disgrace he could never wash away.
No wonder he had begged for death. The humiliation had been unbearable. Ending the clone cut off the shame, but the memory lingered.
Thor's feelings were conflicted. "So Loki has advanced this far… he's mastered true cloning."
Relief, because his brother still lived. Worry, because his brother still lived. Somewhere out there, Loki's true body remained, ready to scheme and harm mankind again.
Lock stepped forward, exerting his will and forcing Banner's savage half back into dormancy. The green giant shrank, leaving the exhausted scientist unconscious on the ground. A S.H.I.E.L.D. officer hurried over with a blanket.
Looking at Banner's tattered state, Lock thought grimly: I should craft something stronger for him… super-elastic garments that survive his transformations. This spectacle is growing tiresome.
As for Loki's clone, even Lock found it unsettling. He had no memory of such a trick. Was this a ripple effect of his own interference in history?
It explained much. Loki's reckless attack on a nuclear reactor had baffled him. Not even Lock himself would gamble survival at such close range. Now it made sense—Loki had sent a disposable body.
Before further thought could be given, the sky itself split.
A colossal column of blue energy burst upward, punching a hole through the heavens. On the other side, the void of space was revealed—cold, endless, dotted with distant stars.
A wormhole.
The Chitauri invasion had begun.
Loki, realizing Lock and Thor had foiled his clone's ambush, had activated the Cube. The trap was sprung, and Thanos' army surged through.
Like a plague of locusts, the Chitauri swarmed. Their riders piloted sleek skimmers, wielding cruel energy rifles. On the streets below, beams tore apart cars and hurled fire across the avenues. Explosions thundered. Screams rang. Panic seized New York.
Then, from the widening breach, came leviathans—enormous mechanical dragons, plated in alien alloys of dull copper sheen. Entire buildings toppled beneath their weight, walls crumbling as tails swept with unstoppable force. From their hollow interiors, squads of Chitauri leapt down, sowing slaughter as they passed.
Thor's jaw tightened. "Brother… you have gone too far."
On the Helicarrier, alarms blared. The war had come.
Lock turned, his expression grim. "I will hunt Loki. The Stone he carries is the only key to closing that rift. The rest is yours."
He launched from the deck like a meteor, streaking toward the glowing pillar.
Thor and Iron Man followed into the skies.
Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Captain America raced for a Quinjet. Fury caught them at the hatch. "Take Banner."
Banner shook his head. "Director, the Cube's in plain sight now. You don't need me. Let me stay here. When it's over, I'll vanish again."
Fury's one good eye hardened. "We don't need Banner. We need the Hulk."
Despite his protests, Banner was ushered aboard. The Quinjet soared into the warzone.
Black Widow slid the hatch open. Banner, strapped near the door, paled. "Wait—what are you doing? Don't you dare—"
"Barton," Natasha said coldly.
Clint didn't hesitate.
"Don't—!"
They shoved him out.
He hit the ground with a thunderous boom. When the dust cleared, Hulk roared, shaking the battlefield itself.
"ROOOAAAAR!"
Chitauri swarmed toward the green titan, their skiffs pivoting, weapons blazing.
The Avengers struck.
Hawkeye took the high ground, loosing arrow after arrow into the sky, detonating alien skimmers. Thor summoned storms, hurling lightning to tear through clustered ranks. Iron Man strafed the streets, lasers cutting swaths through the enemy.
On the ground, Captain America rallied survivors, shielding civilians and leading them to safety. Black Widow darted through the chaos, blades and pistols flashing, ambushing isolated Chitauri.
Together, they steadied the city. Civilian deaths slowed. The invaders bled.
But their defiance only drew greater fury. More soldiers. More dragons.
And above it all, the wormhole yawned wider.
Lock reached the source—a device mounted atop a skyscraper, alien machinery humming around the Cosmic Cube. The blue glow poured upward, powering the gate.
And beside it, under the Cube's thrall, stood Dr. Erik Selvig.
Lock descended, laying a hand on Selvig's head. With a surge of will, he expelled the Stone's influence.
The doctor blinked awake, horror dawning. "Oh… no. What have I done?"
"It was not your fault," Lock said firmly. "Where is Loki?"
"I don't know. He told me to activate the machine… then vanished."
"Then leave this place."
As Selvig staggered toward the stairs, he pointed back at the device. "It's shielded. Nothing can break it. Only energy of the same origin can pass through."
"I suspected as much."
Still, Lock tested it. His fist crashed down.
The air thundered as the invisible barrier flared. Blue ripples exploded outward like the toll of a vast bell, shattering windows and shaking the whole building. Dust poured down in choking waves.
He drew back, eyes narrowing. Even at a fraction of his strength, the shield had withstood him. If he unleashed his full power, the barrier might still hold—while the building beneath collapsed on innocents.
Unacceptable.
The Cube was beyond brute force. Loki's hand was the key.
And Loki would be near. He was a creature of vanity, a voyeur of suffering. Lock was certain he lingered, watching his chaos unfold, drinking in humanity's pain.
Hidden. Smirking. Waiting.
But not for long.
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