Nick Fury was a man who had spent his entire life preparing for the impossible, but as he stared at the golden-clad figure standing in the center of the frost-coated chamber, he realized his preparations were woefully insufficient.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to put that spear down," Fury said, his voice level despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn't reach for his weapon—not yet. He needed a read on this intruder.
Loki, still feeling the lingering vibrations of the spatial jump in his very marrow, looked around the room with a sense of weary disdain. He glanced at the glowing blue gem at the tip of his scepter, feeling the Mind Stone's cold pulse. He was on Midgard. He was home.
"I think not," Loki whispered. He didn't waste time with a greeting. He raised the scepter and fired a concentrated bolt of blue energy directly at Fury's chest.
Only Clint Barton's preternatural reflexes saved the Director. The archer tackled Fury to the ground just as the beam hissed through the space where Fury's head had been a second before, vaporizing a computer monitor behind them.
"Open fire!" Barton yelled.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical team didn't hesitate. A hail of submachine gun fire chewed into the center of the room. But Loki didn't even flinch. To an Asgardian, small-caliber bullets were little more than annoying insects. He blurred into motion, moving with a speed and grace that defied human physics.
He lunged forward, the blade of his scepter finding the throat of the nearest guard before the man could even scream. In a single, fluid rotation, Loki plucked two throwing knives from his belt and flicked them with casual precision. They buried themselves in the chests of the shooters on the balcony.
Five seconds. That was all it took for the room to become a graveyard.
Barton rolled to his feet, reaching for his sidearm, but Loki was already there. The God of Mischief seized Barton's wrist in a grip that felt like a hydraulic press. Barton grunted, his bones groaning under the pressure, but he didn't back down. He stared into Loki's eyes with a defiance that made the god pause.
"You," Loki murmured, his voice sounding like silk over a blade. "You have a spirit that hasn't been broken yet. Let's fix that."
He pressed the tip of the scepter against Barton's sternum. A surge of pale, sickly blue energy flowed from the scepter, crawling up Barton's veins like a poison. Barton's eyes rolled back, turning a void-like pitch black for a heartbeat before settling into a cold, glowing azure. His grip relaxed. He stepped back, holstered his weapon, and stood at attention.
Loki grinned, the expression devoid of any warmth. He turned his attention to the rest of the survivors, systematically placing the scepter against their hearts.
Nick Fury, having crawled toward the Tesseract's housing, watched the horror unfold. He knew he couldn't win a physical fight. He reached out, grabbed the handle of the lead-lined case containing the Cube, and began to back away toward the shadows.
"Put the case down, Director," Loki called out without looking back. "I really do need that for what's coming."
Fury stopped, slowly turning to face the intruder. He was looking for an opening, a weakness, anything. "And you are?"
"I am Loki, of Asgard," the god replied, his chin lifted in an arrogant tilt. "And I am burdened with a glorious purpose. One that your primitive mind couldn't possibly fathom."
Dr. Erik Selvig, still reeling from the energy surge, stumbled forward. "Loki? I know that name from the myths. You're... you're Thor's brother."
Loki's face darkened at the mention of the Thunder God. The jealousy that had fueled his betrayal in Asgard flared up like an open wound. "We have no quarrel with you, 'Prince' Loki," Fury said, trying to regain the narrative.
Loki laughed, a dry, mocking sound. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot, Director. But the boot doesn't care. I bring you a gift. I bring you a world without attachments."
"Attachments to what?"
"To freedom," Loki said, spreading his arms wide. "Freedom is life's greatest lie. It is a burden that weighs you down, causing nothing but chaos and pain. Accept my rule, and your hearts will finally know the peace of the grave."
He reached out and tapped the scepter against Selvig's chest. The doctor's eyes instantly clouded over with the same blue glow that infected Barton.
"Your peace sounds a lot like slavery," Fury spat, stalling for every second he could.
"Director, he's stalling," Barton said, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. "The portal is collapsing. This whole facility is going to go sub-critical in less than two minutes."
Loki glanced at the swirling blue vortex above the Tesseract. He had no intention of being buried under a mountain of dirt. "Then let us depart."
Without a word of warning, Barton drew his pistol and shot Nick Fury twice in the chest. The Director collapsed, the air leaving his lungs in a pained wheeze. Barton grabbed the Tesseract case and led Loki toward the underground parking garage.
Outside, the world was ending.
Agent Maria Hill, who had been overseeing the loading of the Phase Two prototypes onto trucks, heard Fury's frantic voice over her comms. "Hill! Barton has turned! They have the Cube! Stop them!"
She didn't hesitate. She jumped into a S.H.I.E.L.D. jeep and tore off after the black SUV that was screaming out of the tunnel.
Back in the lab, Fury groaned, clutching his chest. His bulletproof vest had saved his life, but his ribs were definitely cracked. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the black spots in his vision, and headed for the emergency helipad.
The Pegasus base was screaming now. The spatial energy from the Tesseract had severed the mountain's structural supports. Centered on the test field, the ground began to sag, then vanish.
Phil Coulson, who was still at the main gate, felt the earth tilt. "Forget the gear! Everyone out! Move, move, move!" He watched as massive crates of experimental tech were swallowed by the yawning chasm opening in the center of the base.
Fury jumped into the waiting helicopter just as the tarmac began to crumble. From the air, he watched in silent horror as the billion-dollar facility collapsed in on itself, a massive plume of dust and blue energy rising into the sky.
'That's going to be a hell of a line item on the budget,' Fury thought grimly.
Below, Hill was engaged in a high-speed chase through the collapsing tunnels. She was a world-class driver, but she was going up against Clint Barton. He leaned out of the SUV window and fired a single, perfectly placed shot that blew out her front tire. Her jeep flipped, skidding into a pile of rubble. She was alive, but she was out of the fight.
Loki looked back from the SUV, seeing the helicopter pursuing them. He didn't even look bothered. He raised the scepter and fired a single bolt of energy. The helicopter's tail rotor disintegrated, and the bird spun out of the sky, crashing into the desert floor.
Nick Fury crawled out of the wreckage, his trench coat torn and his face covered in soot. He watched the SUV disappear into the horizon.
"Director, do you copy?" Coulson's voice crackled over the radio. He was standing on the edge of the massive crater where the base used to be.
"I'm here," Fury said, his voice gravelly. "The Tesseract is gone. Hostiles are mobile. Hill?"
"I'm clear," Hill reported, coughing through the dust. "But we've got casualties everywhere. The base is a total loss."
Fury looked at the rising sun. "Issue a Level Seven alert. Assemble every asset we have. We're going to war."
"What about the Initiative, Sir?" Coulson asked.
Fury fell silent. The Avengers Initiative had been officially scrapped by the World Security Council, but he didn't care about their signatures anymore. He thought of Tony Stark. He thought of Steve Rogers. And then, he thought of a golden-eyed boy who had vanished six months ago.
"Start the protocols," Fury said.
In a dark, rain-slicked alley in Russia, Natasha Romanoff was currently "interrogating" a group of black-market arms dealers by pretending to be their captive. Her phone rang.
"Listen, I'm right in the middle of something," she said into her earpiece, her voice sweet and terrified. "This idiot is about to tell me everything."
"Natasha, Barton's been compromised," Coulson's voice said.
The sweetness vanished from her face instantly. "Put me on hold."
In a blur of motion, she took down the four armed men around her without even untying her hands from the chair. Thirty seconds later, she was walking away, high heels in one hand, phone in the other.
"Is he alive?"
"We think so. But Loki has him. I need you to go find the big guy."
Natasha stopped in her tracks. She knew exactly who "the big guy" was. "Coulson, you know Stark doesn't trust me after the whole 'undercover assistant' fiasco."
"Not Stark," Coulson replied. "I'll handle the billionaire. I need you to go to India. Find Banner."
Natasha closed her eyes. Dealing with a god was one thing. Dealing with a green monster that could level a city was another. "Oh, my God," she whispered in Russian.