The Chitauri came.
The Chitauri left.
They left behind the architect of the invasion—Loki—along with scattered soldiers who had failed to retreat in time, and a devastated New York City.
The good news: Loki had been captured. The remaining Chitauri forces on Earth had collapsed the moment the portal closed. Without contact with their command network, they simply shut down.
Across the city, alien soldiers and their machines dropped from the sky like powerless debris.
The invasion was over.
Earth had won.
The bad news was the cost.
New York had taken massive damage.
The area around Stark Tower—roughly five city blocks—was the worst hit. It had been the center of the battle and looked like a war zone.
Other parts of Manhattan had also suffered heavy destruction, though nothing compared to the main battlefield.
Then there were the other boroughs.
Except one area stood out.
"There's a district in Jackson Heights that was nearly flattened."
The voice of Commander Maria Hill sounded over the Avengers' comm channels aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier.
The original Avengers were still recovering from the fight when Hill pulled up satellite imagery of New York.
"It's strange," she continued. "The Chitauri bombarded that one neighborhood almost exclusively. According to our data, the units operating in Queens seemed… unusually aggressive there. They converged on that block before leveling it."
The Avengers exchanged puzzled looks.
Captain America spoke first.
"Any idea why?"
"Not yet," Hill replied. "Agents are on their way to investigate."
There was a brief pause.
Then she added calmly:
"All Chitauri life signals have disappeared. Congratulations, Captain."
"We won."
The Avengers let out a collective breath.
For a moment they simply looked at one another.
Then smiles spread across their faces.
That night, every television station in New York—and most of the world—broadcast coverage of the invasion.
The heroes of the battle were impossible to ignore.
The Avengers had been revealed to the public.
Captain America — Steve Rogers.Iron Man — Tony Stark.Thor — the God of Thunder.Black Widow — Natasha Romanoff.The Hulk — Bruce Banner.Hawkeye — Clint Barton.
Serious news networks focused on the details of the battle.
Less serious channels preferred rumors, gossip, and wild speculation.
The most popular topic of all was Captain America.
A war hero who had supposedly died decades earlier had suddenly returned without aging a day.
The story practically wrote itself.
Lucas Kane sat on a folding chair in a temporary shelter, chewing slowly on a piece of bread while watching the coverage on an old eighteen-inch television.
Volunteers from a nearby church were distributing food to displaced residents.
Lucas's apartment building was gone.
Completely gone.
In fact, the entire block had been evacuated.
Less than half an hour after the battle ended, government agents in dark suits had sealed off the entire neighborhood.
Residents weren't even allowed to return to search the rubble.
The official explanation was simple.
Federal quarantine.
No entry permitted.
Fortunately, the authorities had arranged temporary housing.
The displaced residents of the district were now gathered in a rarely used hangar at LaGuardia Airport.
It wasn't comfortable, but at least it was dry and warm.
Lucas took another bite of bread.
Behind him, someone suddenly began sobbing.
Lucas glanced over.
A large man in his mid-thirties sat hunched over, arms wrapped around himself. His shoulders shook as he cried.
At first the sound was quiet.
Then it grew louder.
Another survivor nearby looked concerned.
"Hey… what's wrong?"
"My house," the man choked. "It's gone."
The other survivor tried to reassure him.
"Hey, it's okay. That's what insurance is for."
That only made the man cry harder.
The group around them looked confused.
"What's going on?"
"You didn't buy insurance?"
"I did!" the man wailed.
"Then what's the problem?"
"I called the company."
He wiped his face miserably.
"They said alien invasions are listed under the exemption clause."
The surrounding group froze.
"…What?"
"Exemption?"
"No way."
"Insurance companies can do that?"
"I'm calling mine right now."
Phones came out instantly.
Within a minute—
Another person started crying.
Then another.
And another.
Soon the entire hangar echoed with the sound of dozens of newly homeless New Yorkers realizing they weren't getting any insurance payouts.
Lucas sat there surrounded by the chaos.
For a moment, his nose stung slightly.
His apartment was gone too.
Then he paused.
Wait.
That apartment hadn't actually been his.
It was government housing for orphaned minors.
Once he turned eighteen next year, he would have been forced to leave anyway.
That was exactly why he had been saving money so aggressively.
After eighteen, the federal support system ended.
From that point on, he would be on his own.
No housing.
No assistance.
Just adulthood.
Lucas leaned back slightly.
Right.
So technically…
The insurance situation didn't affect him at all.
He never owned the apartment.
Which meant the insurance company refusing payment wasn't his problem.
Lucas slowly stood up.
The emotional atmosphere in the hangar had become dangerously volatile.
A room full of angry New Yorkers who had just lost their homes—and their insurance payouts—was not a safe environment.
He quietly walked toward the exit.
Because if things escalated…
Someone was probably going to start shooting.