“Kingpin, what are you doing here?” “Who is this ‘Loki’?” “And who, exactly, are you people?” With Captain America present, Nick Fury finally felt he had the leverage to assert himself.
He stepped forward, his mind swirling with a thousand burning questions.
When Coulson had initially pushed to investigate Kingpin, Fury had blocked it—Fisk was a cash cow for too many senators; touching him meant crossing the most powerful men in Washington.
But the “Aurora Event” demanded answers, and those operations had been pushed into the shadows.
Now, it was clear Coulson had been right: Fisk was deeply entangled with extraterrestrials.
And S.H.I.E.L.D.
wasn’t even the one holding the cards.
The realization clawed at Fury’s composure.
If aliens with superior technology were operating on Earth—and that technology was being funneled into the criminal underworld—the entire planet was on a knife’s edge.
Fisk’s expression flickered between shadow and light as he processed the question.
As the Emperor of the New York underworld, he was accustomed to power.
In the past, anyone who dared question him like this would already be feeding the sharks in the harbor.
But here?
The playing field had shifted.
S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony Stark, even the U.S.
military—these were forces he couldn’t simply crush.
The realization stung.
What was an “Emperor of the Underworld” compared to this?
He had wasted years playing games with vigilantes like Daredevil.
The world was far larger, and far more dangerous, than he had ever imagined.
This ‘Trial of the King’ was his ticket to the summit of the planet.
Even if it meant living as a dog, he would cling to that leash with everything he had.
Fisk stiffened, his massive, rotund frame bowing in a theatrical, clownish display of subservience.
He gestured toward the armor-clad god.
“Allow me to introduce: Thor Odinson, son of the Great Odin, Lord of Asgard, and the God of Thunder.” Thor stood a little taller, his chest swelling with pride as the titles echoed.
To the others, however, the claims sounded like a fantasy novel brought to life.
“Hey, Egghead,” Stark’s voice crackled from within the Iron Man armor.
“I don’t remember you mentioning this party was a ‘Mythological Convention’?” Fury’s face, already dark, darkened another shade.
He glared at Stark.
“Stark, I never took you for a racist.” “Tony, can it!” Captain America snapped.
He knew perfectly well that the only reason they were currently throwing punches at a god was because of Stark’s insufferable mouth.
It’s a miracle Howard managed to produce something like this, Rogers thought, shaking his head.
Seeing the collective glare, Stark threw his hands up in mock innocence.
“Fine, fine.
It’s all yours.” Fury turned his back on Stark and focused on Thor.
“You claim to be the God of Thunder.
I apologize, but that sounds…
absurd.
We have always treated those as stories in a book.” Being questioned by the very people he protected stung Thor’s pride, but he needed Midgard’s support for the throne.
He forced himself to be patient.
“The Nine Realms are planets, connected by the World Tree,” Thor explained.
“When the planets align, spatial overlaps occur, creating gateways.
Jotunheim once used these to invade Midgard, intending to shroud your world in eternal ice.
My father, the All-Father Odin, led our armies to repel the Frost Giants and reclaim their relic, the Casket of Ancient Winters.” “The same happens throughout the realms.
Ambitious men always seek to conquer what is not theirs.
Our duty is to keep the peace.
Through our rule, the Nine Realms remain stable.
Your world has known peace for millennia because of our protection.” The realization hit the room like a physical weight.
They were the big brothers of the cosmos, and we just spent the last ten minutes trying to beat them to death.
Everyone’s expression turned awkward.
Even Kingpin, despite his resolve to play the dog, couldn’t stop his eyelid from twitching.
Only Nick Fury maintained his stoic, master-spy mask.
“If you claim to be Earth’s guardian,” Fury countered, “why the silence for so long?
And why appear now?” Thor grinned, visibly excited at the prospect of the competition.
“To compete for the throne!
My father is old.
He will choose between the three of us: whoever gains the support of Midgard and defeats the other two shall be the new King of Gods!” “So that’s it,” Fury murmured.
The Aurora Event months ago must have been the arrival of ‘Loki’—the Trickster God.
Now came Thor.
And if the myths held true, there was also a ‘God of Light’ named Karsa.
They’re treating Earth like a damn playground.
“Do you even intend to ask our opinion on this?” Captain America asked, his voice tight.
He was a man of democratic ideals; Asgard treating Earth like a pawn for their family squabbles offended every fiber of his being.
Thor looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language.
“Subjects obey their King’s command.
Is that not natural?
Do you wish to receive the protection without fulfilling your obligations?” Captain America was silenced.
It was an argument he couldn’t counter: if they had been shielded for thousands of years, what right did he have to complain about the price?
Stark, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t resist.
“I couldn’t care less about your alien family drama.
This ‘King of Gods’ contest?
It sounds like a game of house played by children.” “If you can’t say something useful, keep your mouth shut!” Fury snapped, silencing Stark before he could escalate things further.
Fury was furious.
Did these gods not understand?
If the new King was a warmonger, the mortals would be the ones forced to pay the price in blood.
They weren’t players; they were the casualties.
If the Asgardians demanded they go to war, the choice wouldn’t be theirs to make—it would be a demand backed by the power to level their cities.
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