Marvel MK: CH 168 – Chitauri Leviathans

The stolen Quinjet landed with a quiet, almost mocking grace on the pristine front lawn of the Xavier Mansion. The ramp lowered, and Dr. Selvig, looking dazed and frail, was escorted out by an imposing figure of Loki, the God of Mischief, and a mind-controlled strike team.

From the lawn, Alex Summers’ voice was a sharp, defiant crackle. “Enough! The Professor has told us your plan. You better stay right there!”

Loki stepped down from the ramp, his boots leaving no impression on the perfectly manicured grass. He stopped just before the mansion’s front gate, a slow, condescending smile spreading across his face as he took in the assembled X-Men—Alex, Logan, John Proudstar, Colossus, Bobby Drake, and the rest, all standing as a grim, determined line of defense.

“Ahh,” Loki purred, his voice a silken, venomous thing. “The ethnostate of the wretched kind.”

SNIKT.

Logan’s claws shot out, the sound a sharp, metallic promise of violence.

“There is no use, Loki,” John Proudstar said, his voice a low, steady rumble. “Give up and undo all this.”

Loki’s smile only widened. “Oh, that giant void above?” he said with a dismissive wave. “That’s not me. I’m just here to bring my army now, if you’d be so kind.”

He took a step forward but was stopped by a shimmering, golden barrier that flared to life, its light a warm, defiant contrast to the oppressive darkness of the sky.

“No use,” Colossus said, his voice a deep, resonant thing. “Jack has provided us with a barrier ahead of time.”

Loki looked at the barrier, then at a small bird that flew effortlessly through it. “Oh, but you know,” he mused, “it’s only a matter of intention. And the mind… is a wonderful thing.”

He reached a hand out, and to the X-Men’s astonishment, it passed through the barrier as if through smoke. He stepped through, his form a ripple in the golden light. “It’s a shock for primitive beings to see such control of mind and body,” he said, his tone one of pure, unadulterated arrogance. “But alas, your time is already ticking.”

“Fuck it,” Bobby and Alex said in perfect, frustrated unison.

They attacked. A blast of pure, concussive plasma and a wave of razor-sharp ice shot toward Loki. But he was a phantom, a whisper, evading their attacks with an infuriating, effortless grace.

Just then, a blur of black and gold shot from the sky. A Jack clone landed with a ground-shattering BOOM, his staff slamming down where Loki had just been, a massive crater forming in the pristine lawn.

But from the staff itself, a figure rose, its form a shimmering, translucent illusion. “Imbecile,” Loki’s voice echoed as the illusion solidified. He raised his hands, and a wave of green, magical energy washed over the X-Men. They staggered, their eyes glazing over as they turned, their own powers now aimed at the Jack clones who were just arriving.

But before the chaos could truly begin, a Quinjet, sleek and black, descended from the sky.

“Better hurry,” Hank’s voice crackled over the comms.

The side hatch opened, and Jean Grey, her eyes burning with a controlled, psionic fire, flew out. She cut through Loki’s minor illusion like a blade through silk. The X-Men snapped out of it, their gazes clearing.

In that single, clear moment, a Jack clone moved. He was on Loki in an instant, the God of Mischief apprehended, his arms pinned behind his back.

“Got you, reindeer,” the clone said, a triumphant grin on his face. “A-plus on changing your plans. Now, what to do with Amatsu?” He looked up at the void-black sky.

Loki just laughed.

Another clone appeared and kicked him square in the jaw. “Shut up, you pleb.”

Moira MacTaggert rushed from the mansion. “Thank god you’re all okay.”

“Is Selvig alright?” Jack’s clone asked.

Jean, who had already placed a gentle hand on the scientist’s forehead, answered. “He will be alright. He hasn’t eaten while working 24/7 for Loki. He needs medical attention.”

“I’ve already disabled the plasma reactor,” Moira added. “Even if he wants to use it, he’ll need ten hours to reactivate it.”

The clone bent down, his face inches from Loki’s. “Hear that, dumbass? Your plan failed. Now tell me, what’s your deal with Amatsu, and what does he get from you?”

Loki just laughed, a wild, manic sound. “AHAHAHA… Oh, the jester trying to save the world! Is this the greatest play of all? Even Odin would sacrifice the one eye he has left to watch this!”

The clone grabbed Loki by the hair, yanking his head up. He activated his Fiery Gaze, his golden eyes burning as he pierced through the layers of deception. And then, he saw it. The Loki in front of him was not real. He looked around. There was no scepter.

He let go, a single, frustrated curse escaping his lips.

“Goddammit.”

…

Tony Stark crashed onto the landing pad of Stark Tower, his Mark VI armor a battered, smoking wreck. He stumbled forward, and the gantry system, a marvel of automated precision, whirred to life, its robotic arms disassembling the busted suit piece by piece as he walked the balcony pathway. He stepped into the penthouse, the last of the armor clattering away behind him, and went straight to the bar.

He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid a small, steady comfort in a world gone mad. "You can show yourself," he said to the empty room.

Silence.

"It's no point doing this," Tony continued, his voice a lazy, unconcerned thing. "I have this talisman given to me by Jack. I can see you."

A figure shimmered into existence in front of him. Loki. "How?" the God of Mischief asked, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Tony just shrugged and took a long drink. "I don't. It's actually toilet paper I used my snot on. Here." He casually tossed the crumpled, disgusting piece of tissue at Loki, who recoiled in disgust. "Drink?" Tony offered.

"Why are you here?" Loki asked, ignoring the offer. "The rest of your team, even Jack Hou, are going to the mansion."

"I can see it in your eyes," Tony said, his tone shifting, becoming sharp and analytical. "You can trick them with your own mind, but I know enough about you to know that that secluded mansion will not bring you the fame you want. So, God of Mischief, what's your deal with turning the sky into a void?"

"Well," Loki purred, "you mortals always look downwards toward a puddle of mud to see the sky." He pointed the Scepter at Tony's chest, its blue gem glowing with a cold, malevolent light. "Now, what will your friends do when you fight them instead?"

Tink.

Nothing happened. Loki stared, confused. His Scepter, the key to his entire plan, had failed.

"Oh, performance issues?" Tony said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "First time? Don't worry, we just gotta keep the foreplay—"

Loki, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, cut him off. A giant, green projection of a hand materialized and swatted Tony out of the tower. He plummeted through the air, the city a dizzying blur below. From a hidden compartment in the tower, the Mark VII suit shot out, a red and gold blur that caught him mid-fall. As the armor clamped shut around him, he roared, his voice a triumphant, amplified thing.

“NOW, JACK!! NOW!”

From a corner of the penthouse, where he had been standing in perfect Bodily Concealment, a Jack clone attacked. He slammed his staff down on the spot where the Tesseract machine was supposed to be, the spot he remembered from his own fragmented, movie-based memories.

The staff passed straight through. There was nothing there.

Loki smiled. “Oofff. Too much thinking for monkeys can have side effects. One of them is hallucination.”

He snapped his fingers. The illusion around them dissolved, revealing the true scene. The Tesseract machine was not in the penthouse. It was on the rooftop, a massive, chaotic apparatus of crackling energy and alien metal, far more unstable than the compact device Jack remembered. As it was revealed, Loki remotely activated it.

“No!” Jack’s clone shouted, his voice a mixture of shock and disbelief. “There should be a Selvig here! He should be here to tweak and adjust the machine!”

“I don’t know where you get that idea,” Loki sneered, his own voice a rising crescendo of divine arrogance. “But you think I’d be stupid enough to let my mind-controlled insect be a part of the main show?! I’M THE MAIN CHARACTER! I’M THE ONE WHO WILL CONQUER THE DOMAIN WHERE ALL PANTHEONS ARE SALIVATING! MY GLORIOUS PURPOSE!”

The clone unleashed his Peach Blossom Storm, a hurricane of razor-sharp petals that shot toward Loki. But as they touched him, they transformed, their delicate pink turning a sickly, iridescent green, becoming a swarm of buzzing beetles that fell harmlessly to the floor.

High above, a beam of pure, blue energy shot from the Tesseract into the void-black sky. Amatsu’s darkness tore open, a swirling, circular portal to another world.

“BEHOLD!” Loki roared. “THE POWER OF MIND IN THE DIVINE!”

Tony flew back to the penthouse. He saw the clone, staring up at the impossible portal. “Is that what you saw?”

The clone didn’t look at him. His golden eyes were fixed on the sky, a dawning, terrible understanding on his face. “He changed his plan,” he whispered. “No… In the first place, the plan we saw was never meant to be realized. It was always much bigger than the plan we saw.”

…

Meanwhile, in the silent, cold expanse of outer space, Amaterasu’s divine form was knitting itself back together. The golden ichor had stopped flowing, her wounds sealing under the raw, unfiltered light of the distant sun. She was at 70% capacity, her power returning, but the memory of the void was a fresh, chilling scar. She floated beside a clone of Jack Hou, their two forms a strange, silent pair against the backdrop of a shrouded Earth.

“Amatsu is cloaking the planet,” she said, her voice a quiet, awestruck thing. “I’ve never seen him do this before.”

“What?” the clone asked, his usual manic energy gone, replaced by a grim focus. “He’s never done this before?”

“It is the dominion of the outer gods,” Amaterasu explained, a dawning horror in her eyes. “He has absorbed them. He is using their power.”

“Fuuucckkk,” the clone breathed. “He got more buffed up?!”

Amaterasu’s eyes widened, a sudden, brilliant realization cutting through her fear. “The Three Treasures…”

“The what?”

“The Three Sacred Treasures of Japan!” she said, her voice now full of a desperate, renewed hope. “The Kusanagi no Tsurugi, the Grasscutter. The mirror, Yata no Kagami. And the jewel, Yasakani no Magatama.”

The clone’s eyes lit up. “The sword, the mirror, and the jewel. I’ve got the jewel on one of my clones. And the mirror… it’s at my house. In my collection.”

“And the sword is with Phoebe,” Amaterasu finished, her voice a whisper. “Wait… you have two of the three treasures on you?”

“It’s not important,” the clone said, his mind already racing. “What’s important is that we inform Phoebe and the others about this. Now.”

…

High in the Himalayan mountains, the mystical city of K’un-Lun had just returned to Earth. But as the warriors stepped out, they were not greeted by the familiar, serene landscape. The ground was littered with the mangled, grotesque corpses of Oni and Shinma demons.

“Jiangshi,” one of the elders breathed, his face pale.

“What the hell happened?” Danny Rand asked, his fists already glowing with the light of the Iron Fist.

“I don’t know,” Lei-Kung said, his own gaze sweeping over the carnage. “But we’d better help.” With a roar, he launched himself at a still-twitching Oni, his fist a blur of golden light. He then realized the creature was absorbing his chi, while being immune to any attack that wasn't infused with it. “Reserve your chi!” he commanded his warriors. “But make every strike count!”

Just then, a flash of saffron and gold shot past them. It was a Jack clone, dressed in the robes of a Buddhist monk, the sacred jewel, Yasakani no Magatama, hanging from his neck like a simple necklace. He didn’t stop, his destination clear, his speed a blur against the snow-capped peaks: Japan.

Another clone landed at Jack’s house in the Golden Peach. The streets were filled with people, their faces pressed against the shimmering, golden barrier, their voices a desperate, pleading chorus. The clone ignored them. He dropped into his house and saw that his collection was untouched. Bullseye’s knife, Logan’s motorcycle… it was all still there. He began to search for the mirror.

He found it in the kitchen, sitting in a dish rack, a faint, sticky residue of what looked like maple syrup on its sacred, reflective surface. One of the other clones had been using it as a plate.

There was no time to be angry. He grabbed the mirror, leaped back onto Zephyr, and shot into the sky, heading for Japan.

As he flew past, the people on the ground saw him, their desperate pleas turning to angry, hateful shouts. He was ignoring them. He was abandoning them. He was the monster they had always been told he was. Their fear and desperation twisted into a raw, ugly rage, and they began to hurl insults and slurs at his retreating figure.

Just then, another clone flew down from a nearby rooftop, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Kekekeke,” he laughed, his voice a low, dangerous thing. “Got cocky, are we?”

The Jack clone pointed toward Stark Tower, his expression a grim, almost gleeful declaration. “That will be coming.”

And it did.

From the swirling, chaotic portal above the tower, a tide of living metal and alien fury poured out. The people, who had been hurling insults and slurs at the Golden Peach’s barrier, flipped back to a state of pure, primal terror. They began to bang on the barrier again, their angry shouts turning to desperate, pleading cries.

The clone just laughed. “Kekeke, are you guys cyborgs or something? Do you have a switch to turn on and off your racist remarks?”

Just then, a Quinjet, its engines screaming, shot from the sky. The back ramp opened, and Captain America, on a motorcycle, launched out, his landing a perfect, ground-skidding halt. The Quinjet immediately banked and flew back toward the tower.

“Jack!” Cap shouted over the growing din of the invasion. “Can you make a bigger barrier?”

The clone just shrugged. “Why should I? These people are ungrateful. And they said Mario’s pizza is not good.”

Steve flipped open his helmet, his face a mask of earnest, desperate sincerity. “Please. They’re still people of this Earth.”

The clone let out a long, frustrated groan. “Aaggrrhh, you got my soft spot. Alright, people!” he shouted to the terrified crowd. “I’ll make a second layer of barrier! Say thanks to Captain America!”

The crowd, exhausted and relieved, was silent.

“SAY YOUR THANKS!” the clone roared.

A chorus of weak, but sincere, “Thank you, Captain America!” finally answered him.

“Good.” He flared out a handful of his paper charms, and with a swipe of his staff, he drew a second, wider outline of the barrier in the air. In an instant, it solidified, a new, expanded wall of golden light. “Go!” he said to Captain America. “I need to control this barrier!”

Steve smiled. “Thanks.”

“By the way,” the clone added, “I’ve already spread my other clones throughout the world. Fight what’s in front of you. Leave the Earth’s safety to me and my other clones.”

“I owe you more than you could ever imagine,” Steve said, his voice full of a profound, heartfelt gratitude.

“Just give me your autograph after we’re done,” the clone shot back.

Cap put his helmet back on. “Consider it done.” He revved his bike and shot off toward the tower.

The clone watched him go, then turned his gaze to the iconic, twin silhouettes of the World Trade Center. “I hope you’ll be okay,” he whispered.

Just then, the first of the Chitauri Leviathans, a monstrous, biomechanical serpent, emerged from the portal.

“Jack!” Tony’s voice crackled through the comms. “What is that?!”

The real Jack, a blur of golden fire in the sky, drop-kicked the Leviathan, the impact a thunderous boom. But it didn’t last long. Susanoo was on him, their divine battle a chaotic, destructive dance.

“Fight them!” Jack’s voice roared through the comms. “I’ll go for the portal and kill the control mothership!”

But Susanoo would not let that happen. As Jack reached the portal, the storm god body-checked him, sending him hurtling back toward the city. He then stood guard at the portal, a silent, immovable sentinel.

Jack looked up and saw more Leviathans emerging. One of them, instead of descending upon the city, flew straight up, disappearing into the void-black sky.

“Guys!” Tony’s voice was a sharp note of alarm. “One of the centipedes flew up and is gone!”

…

Meanwhile, in Japan, the void sky grumbled. Shiro Yoshida and a Jack clone were in the middle of the ongoing evacuation efforts. The clone looked up. From the blackness, a Chitauri Leviathan, the one from New York, emerged, its monstrous form a terrifying silhouette against the unnatural twilight.

“What the fuck is that?” Shiro breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and pure, unadulterated terror.