Tony Stark’s newest Iron Man armor cut blazing arcs across the skies over Manhattan.
Repulsor fire and missiles tore through Chitauri fliers one after another, but for every enemy he destroyed, dozens more poured from the portal above Stark Tower.
The invasion had become a flood.
Then came the Leviathans.
The massive cybernetic beasts weren’t merely living weapons. Their armored flanks unfolded as they flew, releasing squads of Chitauri infantry onto the streets below, where terrified civilians scattered in every direction.
Even Tony couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Fortunately, reinforcements finally arrived.
A Quinjet roared into the battlefield.
Hawkeye piloted the aircraft while the other heroes fired from within, coordinating with Iron Man to blast wave after wave of Chitauri attack craft from the sky.
Unfortunately...
They skipped straight to the boss fight.
Instead of securing the streets or reducing the endless stream of enemies emerging from the portal, they flew directly toward the roof of Stark Tower.
For once, Loki got exactly the entrance he’d wanted.
With a single thrust of the Scepter, he impaled the approaching Quinjet.
The aircraft spiraled helplessly toward the streets below.
His triumph lasted only seconds.
Thor crashed down from the heavens like a thunderbolt.
Seeing his younger brother still obsessed with conquest, still refusing every chance at redemption, finally exhausted what little patience the God of Thunder had left.
He attacked without another word.
Loki fought back.
He always did.
Unfortunately, cleverness wasn’t much help against someone who had spent centuries fighting monsters across the Nine Realms.
Thor simply hit harder.
So Loki changed tactics.
His expression shifted into one of regret.
His shoulders slumped.
He looked... ashamed.
Thor hesitated.
Then, believing his brother had finally come to his senses, he stepped forward and embraced him.
Loki smiled.
Then drove the Scepter straight into Thor’s side.
Thor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"...You little..."
His roar echoed across the rooftop.
The God of Thunder responded with exactly the amount of restraint one would expect after taking a spear to the kidney.
Almost none.
He seized Loki and proceeded to beat him with unmistakable brotherly affection.
Loki quickly realized he’d pushed his luck a little too far.
Rolling free, he dove from the rooftop, landed neatly atop a passing Chitauri skiff, and escaped into the city.
Thor remained behind, clutching his aching side and glaring after him.
CRASH!
The battered Quinjet slammed into the street.
Its side hatch exploded outward.
Considering the number of crashes Quinjets survived, they were beginning to earn a reputation as the toughest vehicles ever built.
Lady Sif stepped out first, sword resting casually across one shoulder.
"...That was disappointing."
Peggy Carter climbed out behind her.
"What was?"
"The crash."
Sif shrugged.
"I’ve had rougher rides after drinking in Asgard."
She grinned.
"Boat races get pretty exciting after enough ale."
Natasha Romanoff stepped down last.
"Thanks for telling me."
She looked completely serious.
"If you’re ever driving anything again..."
"I’m taking a different vehicle."
"Tch."
Sif rolled her eyes.
"No appreciation for adventure."
Steve Rogers scanned the surrounding rooftops.
"Evenson should’ve arrived long before us."
Teleportation was much faster than flying.
"So where is he?"
Peggy tightened her grip on her weapons.
"Preparing a spell, probably."
"He doesn’t fight the way we do."
As she spoke, nearby Chitauri soldiers raised their rifles.
Peggy moved first.
She exploded forward in a burst of fel energy.
Fel Rush carried her through the enemy formation like a living blade, cleaving several Chitauri completely in half before they even understood she had moved.
The surviving soldiers barely managed to turn around.
Peggy was already floating behind them.
She flipped gracefully through the air.
Then...
Her transformation began.
Immense demonic wings unfurled behind her.
Curving horns emerged from her forehead.
Her skin darkened.
The fel runes covering her body ignited one after another.
Most striking of all were her eyes.
Twin emerald infernos blazed within them.
Twin beams of concentrated fel fire erupted outward, sweeping across the battlefield.
Every Chitauri caught within the beams was reduced to ash almost instantly.
Still hovering in the air, Peggy spoke in a calm, resonant voice.
"Now..."
"We fight."
The others stared.
This was the first time any of them had witnessed Peggy’s demon form.
The silence that followed lasted several seconds.
Then, almost in unison, everyone turned to look at Steve.
Their expressions carried varying degrees of sympathy.
Steve’s smile twitched.
Damn you, Evenson...
You’ve completely ruined my chances of ever having a peaceful retirement.
"Achoo!"
Several blocks away, Evenson sneezed violently.
He rubbed his nose.
"...Why do I suddenly feel like someone’s cursing my name?"
Just as Peggy had guessed, he was still preparing.
Even with the Eredar Twins’ assistance, wielding an Artifact Weapon far beyond his level wasn’t something he could simply do on a whim.
After receiving the fel rune branding, he’d staggered out of the house with his sleeves torn completely off.
Not for style.
For survival.
His arms couldn’t tolerate fabric touching them.
Aurecess had literally branded the runes into his flesh with a red-hot dagger.
No anesthetic.
Nothing.
The pain had nearly driven him unconscious.
For one glorious moment, he’d developed profound respect for every historical victim of branding torture.
To make matters worse, Aurecess had apparently decided consistency was optional.
One arm had been branded lightly.
The runes glowed a vivid crimson.
The other...
She’d cooked considerably longer.
The skin was charred black, and the runes reflected it with a deep obsidian glow.
When he’d demanded an explanation, the twins had cheerfully informed him that the two colors represented their individual blessings.
Despite the fact that Aurecess had personally branded both arms.
Apparently different cooking times counted as separate signatures.
He still wasn’t convinced.
But there wasn’t time to argue.
No amount of burn ointment was going to dull pain caused by fel fire anyway.
After climbing countless flights of emergency stairs, Evenson finally reached the rooftop he had chosen.
He exhaled slowly.
"...Finally."
Flying would’ve been much easier.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t.
And taking the elevator during an alien invasion seemed like an excellent way to become trapped inside a metal coffin.
He stamped one foot against the rooftop.
A vast violet ritual circle spread across the concrete.
With a practiced motion, he threw Ulthalesh, the Deadwind Harvester into its center.
The black scythe floated upright, suspended above the glowing runes.
"Sacrifices."
His voice was calm.
Taylor and the others immediately moved.
They carried over several barely-living Chitauri captives they had collected and placed them at designated positions around the ritual circle.
The spell had only just begun.
But it had already attracted attention.
"Master!"
One of the observers pointed toward the rooftop.
"Look over there!"
...
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