The city had learned to pretend.
Broken buildings were patched, power lines reconnected, and reporters told everyone to "stay calm" while S.H.I.E.L.D. quietly vacuumed up pieces of reality that didn't fit anymore.
King Toxic watched from a rooftop as dawn crept over Manhattan, licking an energy bar like it was gourmet cuisine.
> "Protein, carbs, quantum fuel... whatever keeps me from imploding before lunch," he muttered.
The streets below were mostly empty except for one black van parked too long and too still. He zoomed his vision—space lenses bending reality to focus. The license plate shimmered wrong. Cloaked.
> "S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance van number six today," he sighed. "If they send one more drone, I'm mailing them an invoice."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a paperclip, and tossed it over the edge. Halfway down, it folded itself into a spinning orb of compressed space and slipped through the van's roof.
A moment later, sparks erupted and the engine smoked.
> "Oops," he said flatly. "Guess the warranty didn't cover dimensional sabotage."
---
1. The Briefing That Never Happened
In another part of the city, an encrypted channel hummed alive inside a repurposed subway station. Three men in black suits stood before a holographic projection of the destroyed Nexatek facility.
"Energy readings spike again last night," one said. "Subject T-0 is active."
A voice from the shadows answered, smooth and sharp: "Good. The Leviathan Project requires chaos."
> "But what if he—"
"Don't what if me, Agent," the voice interrupted. "He's a variable. Not a threat. Yet."
---
2. King Toxic's To-Do List (In No Particular Order)
He scribbled it on a napkin while crouching atop a skyscraper antenna, chewing on what might've been pizza but could've been alien matter by now.
1. Find whoever keeps building cosmic Roombas.
2. Figure out why the sky hums when I sleep.
3. Maybe get therapy. (Or caffeine.)
4. Track the Leviathan energy signature.
He crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the air. It hung there, floating lazily in defiance of gravity.
> "Space obeys me," he said, smirking. "But coffee still tastes like sadness. Go figure."
Then—something pulsed.
A tremor through the city grid, faint but familiar. The same signature from the corrupted Stark mech. Except this time, it wasn't mechanical. It was human.
---
3. Enter Splice
King Toxic folded through reality, dropping from a rooftop into an abandoned data center in Queens. Wires dangled like vines. The air crackled.
In the center of the room, a figure floated cross-legged above a broken supercomputer. Skin pale, hair white with streaks of circuitry, eyes flickering with static.
> "You took your time," the figure said. Voice distorted, glitching between tones.
"You're the famous Riftwalker, right? The universe's favorite cosmic accident."
King Toxic leaned against a pillar, arms folded.
> "And you are?"
> "Name's Splice. I bend data. You bend space. Together, we could turn reality into a sandbox."
"Or," King Toxic said, "I could turn you into a Rubik's cube."
Splice chuckled, a sound like feedback through an old speaker. "Feisty. You don't get it yet, do you? The Leviathan Project wasn't to create energy—it was to create gods."
King Toxic's smirk faded. "Funny. I don't remember signing up for the pantheon."
---
4. The Leviathan Code
Splice gestured, and a dozen holographic screens flared to life. They showed Manhattan, glowing veins of energy spreading beneath the streets—blue fractal patterns pulsing like a heartbeat.
> "The city's turning into a conduit," Splice explained. "They're feeding off residual Rift energy—your energy. You're the key."
> "And you're what, my tech support?"
> "More like your reflection," Splice grinned. "We're both corrupted by the same code. But I learned to embrace the glitch."
King Toxic sighed. "You know what the difference between us is, Splice?"
He flicked his wrist, and the air shimmered, bending around them like water.
> "I break things on purpose."
The floor warped, reality folding inward like a crushed soda can. Splice vanished in a flash of light—escaping through a data stream, leaving only laughter echoing in the static.
---
5. The Joke That Wasn't Funny
King Toxic stood alone, the holograms still flickering. The city map glowed brighter—veins of blue light converging on one word pulsing at the center:
> LEVIATHAN.
He rubbed his temples. "Of course it's called something biblical. Couldn't be 'Project Nice Weather' or 'Operation Cozy Blanket.' Nope. Always Leviathan."
He pocketed the data core from Splice's console, looked toward the skyline, and grinned—half exhaustion, half defiance.
> "Fine. You want gods?" he muttered. "Let's see how they handle a devil."
He folded space beneath his feet and vanished into the morning air, leaving the echo of his laughter rolling through the ruins like thunder.