"Agent Coulson is dead."
The bridge command room was in shambles. SHIELD's logistics personnel were cleaning up the chaos...
Thanks to the joint efforts of Iron Man and Captain America, the damaged third engine which had been destroyed in the explosion was finally repaired, preventing the massive flying fortress, the Helicarrier, from spiraling out of control and crashing.
Medical teams moved through the vast interior of the ship, searching for and treating the wounded from the attack. Fortunately, the HYDRA agents led by Barton had only aimed to create enough chaos to facilitate Loki's rescue from the detention cell.
There had been no large-scale firefight, and the number of casualties was not as high as initially feared.
The most significant damage to the Helicarrier had likely been caused by the fierce battle between the god of Thunder (Thor) and the Hulk.
The former had fallen for Loki's trick and been locked inside the special cell SHIELD had built for Banner, plummeting in freefall from 9000 meters in the air. The latter had vanished without a trace after destroying a fighter jet...
"This was found in Agent Coulson's jacket. He'll never get the chance to ask for your autograph now." The one-eyed Director tossed a stack of cards onto the table, the bloodstains on them glaringly vivid.
They were vintage Captain America collector's cards, a series that had remained popular since their release last century. If auctioned online, they would undoubtedly attract hordes of comic book fans.
Nearly every child in this country had grown up reading comics about the war hero Steve Rogers. Coulson had been one of them. To put it bluntly, Captain America had been his childhood idol.
"We're operating blind. Communications are down, we can't locate the Tesseract, Banner and Thor are both missing... and I've lost my most capable right-hand man. All of this is my own fault." Nick Fury braced his hands on the table, playing the sympathy card.
While Coulson's death genuinely saddened him, his instincts as a seasoned agent told him this was also a rare opportunity... one that could unite these unruly fragmented Avengers.
Tony looked somber, Steve remained silent. Both had come to understand the brutality of this war. When someone in the team bled, suffered, or gave their life, all conflicts temporarily faded away.
"Stark was right. We were) planning to use the Tesseract to develop advanced weapons. But I didn't put all my chips on that. Instead, I invested in a far riskier project." Fury spoke deliberately, seizing the moment to make the Avengers set aside their differences, "That project was my vision; the Avengers. Bringing together the most remarkable people on Earth, allowing them to achieve their greatest potential. When humanity needs them most, these superheroes will stand together to face threats even SHIELD can't handle."
The bald Director's tone was sincere, his words impassioned. He knew exactly how to sway his audience. Captain America was a pure idealist, a believer in freedom and justice, while Tony Stark was far more pragmatic.
Grandiose speeches about saving the world and averting crises wouldn't move these two. One was a WWII veteran who had witnessed the cruelty of war and the hypocrisy of politics, the other a former arms dealer who understood the cold calculus of real-world interests.
They weren't wide-eyed rookies who'd abandon all skepticism after a rousing monologue from Nick Fury and pledge themselves to SHIELD.
"Coulson believed in this ideal until his dying breath. He believed in the existence of superheroes."
Tony lowered his head, the usual smirk gone from his face. He had known Agent Coulson. The man had saved Pepper during the Obadiah Stane crisis and later served as SHIELD's liaison.
Their relationship had been decent.
Right now, Iron Man felt as if he'd just crawled out of that damp Afghan cave all over again. He was filled with rage, yet also carrying a weight of guilt and regret. Such complex emotions were rare in his thirty years of life.
The word "regret" seldom appeared in Stark's vocabulary. Only twice before had he truly felt it: When he had failed to say goodbye to his father before the man's death, and now, when an innocent good man had died in his stead.
"Third time's the charm... ha." Tony let out a hollow laugh as he left the command room.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to pick a fight with Rhodey or share a drink with Sean.
Unlike Captain America, a hardened soldier who has faced battlefields thick with smoke and gunfire, and had grown numb to the daily reality of comrades falling; Stark had spent the first half of his life as a carefree playboy.
If Coulson's death had shaken anyone the most, it was undoubtedly Stark.
This former arms dealer turned superhero, with his trademark goatee and unshakable confidence in his own genius, carried the pride (and burden) of believing he could save everyone...
....
While the Avengers were left in disarray, Thor had returned to Asgard...
From the distant golden halls of the realm, Odin had forcibly summoned his eldest son back, an act that left the Thunder god who was still reeling from his setbacks on Earth stunned. He knew the immense cost such an act demanded.
"What's happened?" Thor questioned as soon as he materialized in a brilliant column of light upon the Bifrost.
Heimdall, the gatekeeper of Asgard, claimed to know nothing.
Crossing the Nine Realms under one's own power was an immense drain, and teleporting others was even more taxing. Even for Odin, repeated use would push him beyond his limits.
Thor strode toward his father's palace...
Asgard stood upon a colossal island. Its golden spires towered like mountain peaks, and its structures gleamed like a forest of spears under the sun.
As he entered the city via the Rainbow Bridge, every citizen paused to bow at the sight of their prince clad in majestic armor, his vibrant cape billowing.
Their reverence came from genuine admiration, not mere deference to royal blood. Compared to the scheming Loki, the people far preferred the valiant Thor, a reflection of Asgard's warrior traditions.
Entering the palace, Thor passed through a long dimly lit corridor lined with murals depicting the epic tales of Odin's father, King Bor, and his victory over the Dark Elves.
As he progressed, the murals shifted, their vivid colors illustrating Asgard's brutal wars with Jotunheim and Odin's battles against the Frost Giants.
As a child, Thor had vowed to become a king as wise and mighty as his father, one who could grant Asgard peace and prosperity...
"Father, why have you summoned me?" Thor bowed before the old man seated upon the throne and recounted his experiences on Earth, "I haven't yet recovered the Tesseract."
The old king who was clad in golden armor, an eagle-helmet upon his head, the eternal scepter in his hand, and with two ravens perched upon his shoulders, spoke gravely, "A new crisis approaches. This time, it is not Earth, but Asgard."
He was Odin, King of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms...
The once-mighty ruler now sounded weary. His single remaining eye carried a weight of foreboding. Perhaps Heimdall had not yet seen it, but Odin had sensed it; a looming threat.
In his mind's eye, vast steel legions surged through the void, assembling like an unstoppable tide. Serpentine mechanical beasts, Leviathans, the apex war machines of the Chitauri, slithered through the boundless dark of space.
"War is coming, Thor." Odin sighed deeply.
The towering figure rose from his throne, his gaze piercing beyond Asgard's borders.
A thousand years ago, none would have dared challenge him. But now, the infamous tyrant of the cosmos could no longer suppress his ambitions...
"Asgard does not surrender. Nor do we fear death. We relish battle, we love war." Thor lifted Mjolnir, his voice resolute.
He did not yet know who would bring this war, but Asgard had never feared any foe. From the Dark Elves ten thousand years ago to the Frost Giants a millennium past, they had never known defeat...